It began, as so many Indian journeys do, in Delhi — a city that thrums with energy: horns, heat, a million small collisions of life. But beyond the din, some 450 kilometres to the north, lies another India, quiet and remote, where two great Himalayan rivers meet in an embrace of green and gold.
Pancheshwar, on the Uttarakhand–Nepal border, is where anglers come in search of the golden mahseer — a fish of mythic beauty and unrelenting power. And from where I have recently returned.
It takes roughly 12 hours to reach this hallowed spot and as the kilometres rolled northwards, Delhi’s chaos gave way to a softer rhythm. Past Tanakpur, the plains finally begin to lift into pine forest and terraced farmland. Leaving the bustling market town of Lohaghat, a couple of hours further on, there are tantalising glimpses of the mighty Himalayan peaks.
The drive, while long, is part of the adventure — an initiation into the Indian art of the road, where traffic, animals and people dance a crazy jig to get from A to B. Vibrantly painted lorries, adorned with parandas (tassels) to ward off the evil eye, weave through the traffic – their bumpers bearing the instruction ‘horn please.’
The final few kilometres into Pancheshwar seemed the most precarious of the lot – recent landslides rendering the hair-pin, one-track road barely passable in places. We travelled the entire route by road, stopping for a couple of quick breaks and a picnic lunch en-route. It would be wiser to do part of the journey by air or rail, cutting the road travel to a more manageable six hours.
Pancheshwar itself is little more than a cluster of houses and a border post. The rivers define everything here: the Saryu, jade-green and swift; the Mahakali, broad and brooding, marking the frontier with Nepal. It’s on the banks of the Saryu that The Himalayan Outback has set its fishing camp. Four spacious tents (with a couple extra erected to accommodate our larger than usual party), sit along the bank providing simple, yet comfortable accommodation with proper beds, air con and adjacent bathrooms with running water and flushing loos. A backdrop of downstream views adorns the dining area, the setting for a variety of delicious fare served during the week.
The camp team, along with the fishing and trekking guides, are a delightful bunch. They know the rivers and the surroundings intimately and go above and beyond to ensure their guests are happy.
Fishing on these rivers requires patience. The mahseer do not give themselves up easily. The reward, when it comes — the line pulling tight, the reel screaming — is electric. Even a brief fight with a mahseer, its scales flashing like molten metal, is enough to justify the pilgrimage. Many an angler has visited the temple overlooking the famous ‘confluence’, its red flags fluttering in the wind, enlisting celestial help for good fortune on the fishing front.
Pancheshwar’s appeal goes beyond the water. Footpaths criss-cross the hills offering timeless routes through pine forests, past terraces of wheat and millet, past homes with slate roofs and marigolds in the doorway. The trekking here is an immersion into rural life unchanged in rhythm if not in pace. An absolute delight.
To travel here is to experience India in its raw, elemental form — where luxury is replaced by connection with the wilderness. The journey is long, the fishing uncertain, but that is the point. Pancheshwar doesn’t bend to convenience. It invites you to pause, to listen, to learn what patience feels like in a place where the Himalayas descend into water.
In the end, the real catch isn’t the golden mahseer at all. It’s the rare stillness found where two rivers meet — a borderland between countries, between ambition and surrender. I would return in a heartbeat.
Note: My trip was a mixed party of ten friends; fishers and non-fishers. The set up here is one of those rare few that accommodates fishing fanatics and those with little interest on the piscatorial front. With birding, rafting, walking, school and village visits, there is plenty to entertain everyone for a wonderful week’s holiday.
For further information on fishing for golden mahseer in Pancheshwar please contact Charlotte Chilcott or Charlotte Opperman or call the office on +44 (0) 1980 847389
