It took me two long days of bus journey just to get to the starting point of my journey. Even today Zanskar remains so remote from the outside world that entering its valley itself can be termed an adventure. My bus from Leh slowly pushed through the mountains of Ladakh to halt in Kargil for a night. Resuming the journey next morning at an unearthly hour of 2am, we travelled past some magnificent mountains, rivers and glaciers for good 15 hours before entering Padum, the largest town in Zanskar Valley. I can’t complain – it is too picturesque a landscape to be bothered about the long journey.

My real journey though, was to begin only from Padum. From here, where there are no further roads to access deeper parts of Zanskar, we walked by foot for several days to emerge at the other end of the valley. At the other side in Himachal, Buddhism makes way to a predominantly Hindu population. The arid mountains start getting greener. The language spoken, the design of the caps that people wear, the dressing habits and food habits are all very different. The walk feels like going in a fairytale world through a long tunnel and emerging in an altogether different universe.

The trek begins from Padum and goes along Lungnak and Kargyak Rivers, passing through several villages in the heart of Zanskar. The path then climbs suddenly to Shingo la, a pass and the highest point in the trek where snow remains several meters high all through the year. It then descends into the valley of Bhaga River steadily going down in a boulder strewn terrain, eventually exiting in Darcha Village in Himachal Pradesh.

I started trekking on a sunny morning in August, initially walking along a road being built by the Border Roads Organization. The road under construction will eventually make this trek into a motorable path, but that day may come a decade later. However, the length of the actual trek is slowly coming down every year as BRO makes its progress into the mountains. The first day’s walk was entirely on an unmetalled motor road, at the end of which we camped next to a small lake in Raru Village.

Villages like Raru in Zanskar Valley make me wonder at the resilience of these people to the forces of nature. These villages deeper in the valley have no access to roads. It can take three to four days of walking to get to the motor road from the farthest village. Even this access remains open only for about four months in a year, after which the valley is covered in snow and cut off from rest of the world. Yet, there are so many villages that have flourished in the valley for several centuries now. The villages are almost self sufficient, growing all their food in the short summer season and stocking up for the long winter.

Barley ready to be harvested in Zanskar Valley

I made long walks every day during the trek, hopping from village to village seeing life in the valley. I frequently encountered monasteries that served the spiritual needs of the people. I saw young monks with sparkling eyes giggling away happily. I watched people working hard in the fields, cutting their summer’s harvest. I saw herders taking their flock of sheep for grazing in the mountains. The valley was abuzz with activity and preparing for the winter that would set in a month’s time.

Phugtal Gompa

The highlight of trek was the short detour to Phugtal Gompa, a monastery that seems to be hanging out in the middle of a steep mountain wall facing a river. Not every day does one see a place of worship located so far away—a trek of two to three days in the mountains—where you encounter an 800-year old monastic center appearing suddenly in a near-inaccessible place. Perhaps a remote place makes people congenial too: even in a place like Ladakh where people are largely friendly and cheerful, I haven’t seen smiles that are so warm and welcoming as in Phugtal.

Gumburanjan Peak

The path took me along a river most of the times. It was Lugnak River when we started from Padum, and later along Kargyak River that descends from the glaciers near Shingo La. All along, the mountains were arid except for patches of green near the villages. Sometimes it was a precarious walk along steep slopes where loosing alertness would get you tumbling down a valley several hundred meters below. While the first few days are walking along arid slopes with lot of scree, the landscape suddenly widens into a green and rocky expanse near the village of Shi, two days before Shingo La. Just across a bend in Shi, the giant massif of Gumburanjan with a near-vertical rock-face suddenly baffles the trekker who is never ready for such a surprise. Gumburanjan is so huge and tall that every other mountain next to it appear no more than its shadow. Its slopes are so steep that they fail to contain any snow. Despite its hostile looking peak, its base is an interesting contrast of an unlikely flat terrain full of lush grass fed by mountain stream originating from the rear slopes of the massif. It is also a temporary home to nomad shepherds who pitch a camp and let their flocks graze freely in the plains and the slopes.

Lake at Shingo La

Walking further up, Shingo La adds to the drama of the landscape. The high pass has several glacial slopes that are always filled with snow and has many streams gushing down the mountain in all possible directions. A lake across the pass adds to the surprise and give a new high to the senses already overwhelmed with the beauty of the landscape.

Beyond Shingo La, it was still a long walk of two to three days where one had to descend continuously from a height of above 5,000 meters to less than 3,500. It snowed heavily as we crossed Shingo La, which slowly morphed into a rain as we lost altitude. Arriving after 9 days back in a highway at Darcha and suddenly exposed to a steady traffic of trucks on Leh-Manali highway, I almost wanted to turn back return deeper into the mountains!