This was the Mussoorie Wildlife Sanctuary, and the journey here asked for no conquest of peaks. It blossomed instead as a passage through the woods, a trail that invited patience rather than endurance. Water revealed itself in scattered streams, each one feeding narrow tributaries that stitched the land together. Banj oak, chir pine, deodar, rhododendron and Himalayan maple completed the gathering, an assembly of the mountains’ old residents. I had known another trek once, in Menchhukha, Arunachal Pradesh, where thorns tore at the legs, and the climb demanded resolve. That summit rewarded effort with a wide, arresting view. This forest asked for something else entirely. It offered ease, stillness, and a rhythm that soothed rather than tested.