I didn’t go to McLeod Ganj looking for a trek. I went to escape. My job had drained me, my routines felt meaningless, and I needed space—physical and emotional. I found myself wandering through the colorful streets of McLeod Ganj, soaking in Tibetan chants, warm butter tea, and the subtle buzz of wanderers who were searching, just like me.

That’s when I heard someone mention Indrahar Pass. “It’s not as famous as the others,” they said, “but the views… unreal.” I Googled it that night. Snow-capped ridges, deep valleys, dramatic skies. It didn’t take much convincing. I booked a local guide and packed my borrowed gear. I wasn’t ready, but maybe that was the point.

From Dharamkot to Triund – The Calm Before the Storm

We started from Dharamkot early in the morning. The trail to Triund was one I’d heard of, but walking it was something else. It was steep, sure, but the views made up for every bit of breathlessness. The valley opened up behind us, pine forests whispered ancient secrets, and the Dhauladhar range peeked through the clouds like a promise.

By afternoon, we reached Triund—a wide, grassy ridge with panoramic views. Clouds drifted in and out like slow-moving waves. I dropped my backpack and lay on the grass, watching eagles circle overhead. That night, as we huddled around a tiny fire, the stars above Triund felt so close, I swore I could hear them crackle.

But I knew this was only the beginning. The real trek began the next day, and with it came a whole new level of challenge.

The Trail Gets Real – Snowfields, Scree, and Stormy Skies

From Triund, the trail to Snowline and Laka Glacier was tougher. Gone were the easy switchbacks. The path narrowed, rocks shifted under every step, and the altitude began to whisper doubts into my ears.

Laka Glacier wasn’t a typical glacier—it looked more like a massive field of ice and scree. We set up camp on a flat patch, surrounded by white silence. There was no cell signal, no city sounds, no escape from myself—and strangely, that felt freeing.

The next morning, we started early for Indrahar Pass. It was cold, the kind that seeps into your bones. The climb was relentless—slippery rocks, snow patches, and steep ridges that seemed to go on forever. At one point, I slipped and bruised my knee. My guide offered to turn back, but something inside me pushed forward. I was here for this. For the challenge. For the version of me on the other side.

The Moment of Glory – On Top of Indrahar Pass

After nearly five hours of climbing, I saw the cairns marking the Indrahar Pass. I could barely believe it. I dropped to my knees—not from exhaustion, but from overwhelming emotion. At 14,245 feet, everything looked different: the Kangra valley stretching far below, the Manimahesh Kailash ranges in the distance, clouds rolling below us like ocean tides.

The wind was harsh, but I didn’t care. I had made it. Against sore legs, dizzy spells, and a thousand doubts—I had made it. It wasn’t Everest, but it was my summit. And for the first time in a long time, I felt proud of myself.

We sat there in silence, sipping chai from a thermos, letting the moment sink in. I don’t remember the exact words I spoke, but I remember the feeling—of peace, of victory, of complete presence.

The Descent – Leaving the Mountains, Carrying the Lessons

The way down was brutal on the knees, but my heart was light. We passed the same trails, the same boulders, the same forests—but they felt different now. Maybe because I was different. The mountains didn’t change. I did.

We reached McLeod Ganj two days later. I checked into a tiny homestay and took the longest hot shower of my life. My body was aching, my shoes were wrecked, and my skin was sunburnt—but I was smiling.

Every time I looked at the Dhauladhar range after that, I saw a friend, not a stranger. I knew what those peaks looked like up close. I knew what it took to stand on that pass. And I knew that if I could do that, I could face just about anything.

Final Thoughts – Why Indrahar Pass Will Always Be Special

The Indrahar Pass trek isn’t for Instagram likes or bragging rights. It’s for seekers. For those who want a raw, unfiltered encounter with the Himalayas—and themselves. It’s tough, it’s humbling, and it’s absolutely worth it.

If you’re looking for a trail that challenges your body and nourishes your spirit, this is it. Go with an open heart. Leave your ego behind. And be ready to come back changed.

Because some treks aren’t just about reaching a place—they’re about coming home to yourself.