People often ask me when I started hiking.

The answer depends on which version of the story I tell.

If you ask when I first walked among the hills, the answer is: as a child.

I grew up in Ooty, nestled in the Nilgiri Hills of Tamil Nadu, India, where winding roads, mist-covered hills, and long walks through the mountains were simply part of everyday life. Back then, I never thought of it as hiking. It was just life.

If you ask when I became a hiker, the answer is much later.

It happened in my mid-thirties, when life quietly led me back to the mountains—not because I was searching for adventure, but because I was searching for myself.

After moving to the United States in 2008, life gradually became busier. Like many young families, work, responsibilities, and motherhood naturally took center stage. After my daughter was born in 2011, I found myself feeling unlike the person I used to be. Looking back, I often wonder if I was experiencing postpartum anxiety or depression. I never sought a diagnosis, but I knew something wasn’t right.

My health had begun to decline. I was gaining weight, spending most of my time indoors, and slowly losing the connection I once had with nature. More than anything, I realized I needed something that was mine—a reason to step outside, move my body, and simply breathe.

So I made one small decision.

I would start hiking.

Mission Peak: Where It All Began

Interestingly, my relationship with Mission Peak began long before it became part of my life.

In 2008, shortly after moving to the Bay Area, people often told me, “If you live in Fremont, you have to hike Mission Peak at least once.” Curious, I decided to give it a try.

I completed the hike, came back down, and remember saying to myself,

“Well, I’ve done Mission Peak. I don’t think I ever need to come back here again.”

At the time, it was simply another trail.

I had no idea that this mountain would one day become one of the most meaningful places in my life.

Years later, after my daughter was born, I found myself returning to that very same trail—not because I wanted another adventure, but because I needed a reason to step outside, move my body, and find my way back to myself.

What I thought would be an occasional hike slowly became a weekly ritual.

Without realizing it, Mission Peak became the place where I found my way back to myself.

It gave me time to think, to heal, and to rebuild my strength—one hike at a time.

Today, Mission Peak is more than just my home trail. It is where every major expedition begins. Before I leave for a distant mountain, I return there to prepare. And when I come home, I climb it again—not for training this time, but to say thank you.

In many ways, Mission Peak has become my temple.

One Trail Led to Another

Mission Peak gave me something I didn’t realize I was looking for.

It gave me confidence.

As the weeks turned into months, I found myself exploring trails beyond my neighborhood. What began on the familiar slopes of Mission Peak gradually led me to some of California’s most beautiful landscapes—from the granite peaks of Yosemite to the volcanic terrain of Mount Lassen and the dramatic coastline of Big Sur.

With every new trail, my world grew a little bigger.

Then one day, I asked myself a question.

“What if I tried something even bigger?”

That single question changed the course of my hiking journey.

It eventually led me to Colorado’s fourteeners, and years later, to mountains I had once only dreamed of visiting—including Everest Base Camp, Mt Fuji, Machu Picchu, and many more that continue to shape my life.

The People Along the Way

The mountains also introduced me to people.

Some became close friends and shared countless miles beside me. Some walked with me for only a season. Others chose different paths, while new companions joined the journey.

Over the years, I realized that hiking partners may change, but the mountains remain.

Today, I hike in many ways.

Sometimes with friends.

Sometimes with a group.

Sometimes completely alone.

Each experience has taught me something different—not only about the mountains, but about myself.

What the Mountains Gave Me

Looking back, I realize hiking was never just about reaching summits.

It gave me back my health.

It gave me confidence.

It introduced me to lifelong friendships, moments of solitude, and places I never imagined I would see.

Most importantly, it reminded me that it is never too late to begin.

You don’t need to climb the world’s highest mountains.

Sometimes all it takes is a few steps on a nearby trail.

You never know where that first trail might lead.

YOUR MOUNTAIN IS WAITING

Looking back, I realize that this journey was never about reaching summits.

It began with a simple decision to step outside, take care of my health, and spend time in nature.

I never imagined that those first few steps would lead me from my hometown in the Nilgiri Hills to Mission Peak, and eventually to mountains around the world.

Every trail has shaped me in ways I never expected. Every mountain has left me with something to carry home.

But perhaps the greatest lesson the mountains have taught me is this:

It is never too late to begin.

You don’t have to climb Everest.

You don’t have to trek to Machu Picchu.

You don’t even have to call yourself a hiker.

Sometimes, all it takes is a short walk through a nearby park, a local trail, or a quiet place where you can hear your own thoughts again.

Nature has a remarkable way of healing us.

Not because it solves our problems, but because it gently reminds us to slow down, breathe deeply, and keep moving forward—one step at a time.

If these pages inspire even one person to step outside, look up at the trees, find a nearby trail, or discover a mountain of their own, then this journey has come full circle.

Because every mountain begins with a single step.

And perhaps…

your mountain is still waiting for you.

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