TRAVEL: BUTTERCUPS AND BUTTERFLIES
If truth be told, it was the first time in years that I actually touched a butterfly. Vivaciously bright, they flit from one buttercup to another across the meadow overgrown with the yellow flowers that recall Wordsworth’s field of daffodils.
Beyari’s butterflies are worth all the trials it takes to reach their haven in the hills in the Kaghan Valley. The jeep ride along the almost non-existent road leading to the meadow has its travails, not the least being the process of unfolding your body upon reaching the destination after a cramped two-hour drive from the main road junction of Mahendari. It is said that the more cramped you are the better are the chances of stability, otherwise you would roll like boiled peas on a plate.
Driving on the luxurious main road between Naran and Kewai, the turn to Beyari is so inconspicuous that one has to be lucky not to miss it. And when you do manage the sharp turn, there is a distinct feeling of having bid au revoir to civilisation. With each turn of the road, the mountains close in upon you protectively and then suddenly the empty juice cartons, chips packages and flying shoppers, so ubiquitous in our urban lives, all disappear.
Manoor and Beyari in the Kaghan Valley are nearly untouched by civilisation and worth a trip
Beyari, the village named so because of the Beyar tree forests around it, is a mere half-a-dozen wooden shacks that stock food items, such as juices of unfamiliar brands and colourful biscuit packets. This is the last point from where you can buy edibles of any sort to last you for the next few days you plan to live in isolation, further on at the Manoor Conserve.