Yesterday’s journey from Gangtok to Lachen set the stage for our Himalayan adventure, and this morning, the real exploration began. We arrived in Lachen after a long, winding drive, leaving behind the bustle of Gangtok for the serene, high-altitude quiet of North Sikkim. The roads, carved through dense forests, hinted at the untouched wilderness we were about to experience.

Lachen, the “big pass,” lived up to its name, acting as a gateway to the even higher Himalayas. By evening, the village was enveloped in a tranquil stillness, a world apart from city life. The only sounds were the occasional whispers of the wind, a reminder of our remote location. Our modest hotel offered a warm refuge from the biting cold, and anticipation for the coming day lulled us to sleep.

A Chilly Awakening and the Road to Thangu

This morning, our day started with a chilly awakening at 4:30 a.m. The night had left a dusting of rain and snow, transforming the landscape into a frosty, ethereal scene. The temperature hovered at zero degrees Celsius, and the lack of electricity meant a bracingly cold start. We bundled ourselves in layers of warm clothing and stepped out into the fragile, pre-dawn light, ready to continue our journey towards Thangu.

The first light of day painted the snow-covered peaks in shades of pink and gold, casting a surreal glow across the landscape. After our chilly morning start in Lachen, the sight was truly breathtaking.

The road to Thangu, our next destination, unfolded before us, a narrow ribbon snaking through valleys dusted with fresh snow. At 13,000 feet, Thangu marked the threshold of the high Himalayas, a small, tranquil settlement and the last civilian outpost before the rugged, uninhabited military terrain began. It’s a crucial stop for trekkers venturing into the remote regions of North Sikkim, such as Chopta Valley or Muguthang.

Here, we were acutely aware of the need to acclimatize to the thinning air. We moved slowly, breathing deeply, and pausing often to absorb the awe-inspiring beauty of the place. The pristine, snow-laden vistas were a stark reminder of the raw, untamed nature of this high-altitude wilderness.

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A word of caution: your body is slowly getting acclimatised since you are gaining altitude while driving on that stretch. It is suggested not to overexert yourself by running around since the body is still adjusting to the lowering levels of oxygen. The best way to deal with this is to walk slowly, take deep breaths, and let your eyes feast on what nature has to offer.

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The landscape here is breathtaking, with narrow roads weaving through dense forests and valleys that are often covered in a light dusting of snow, even in the summer. The calm, crystal-clear waters of the Teesta River cut through the valley, a stunning contrast to the surrounding rocky, snow-covered terrain. The tranquility of the place is palpable, with the silence broken only by the occasional rustling of the trees or the distant call of birds. While waiting, we wandered to a nearby stream, but mindful of the altitude change, we moved slowly to let our bodies acclimatize.

While the scenery in Thangu is undeniably captivating, its true significance extends beyond mere aesthetics. This high-altitude settlement serves as a crucial acclimatization point for trekkers and travelers venturing to even greater heights. As oxygen levels diminish, the body undergoes subtle yet significant changes, demanding a cautious approach to ensure well-being. Thangu’s tranquil environment provides the ideal setting for the body to adapt to the increasing altitude and decreasing oxygen levels.

At these elevations, where the air thins and the body experiences stress due to reduced oxygen, maintaining hydration and energy is paramount. Salt tea, a traditional local remedy, plays a vital role in aiding travelers and trekkers in their acclimatization and sustaining their stamina during the ascent.

Beyond its health benefits, salt tea holds deep cultural significance within Himalayan communities. For centuries, it has been an integral part of daily life, particularly for indigenous nomadic tribes like the Bhutias and Tibetans, who traverse these high altitudes and rely on local remedies for health. It’s a drink shared among friends and family, fostering bonds of hospitality and warmth in a challenging environment.

In Thangu, we took a moment to savor a warm cup of this traditional salt tea, sipping it slowly as we absorbed the surrounding beauty. This tea, infused with Himalayan salt, is believed to balance hydration, boost energy, and strengthen the immune system, providing the perfect antidote to the high-altitude chill.

The gentle, steady warmth of the tea countered the cold air, inducing a sense of calm as we acclimatized. The comforting, earthy taste, combined with the knowledge of its health benefits, made it an essential part of our journey. The simple ritual of drinking salt tea, surrounded by the awe-inspiring mountains, felt like a bridge between ancient traditions and the modern-day traveler, offering both nourishment and a connection to the land.

In a snug little cafe in Thangu, we also enjoyed a hearty breakfast of hot Maggi noodles along with our salt tea, a perfect, comforting meal for the high altitude.

Ascending to Gurudongmar: A Sacred Lake at 17,800 Feet

As we continued our ascent from Thangu, the road twisted and turned, climbing ever higher. The air thinned noticeably with each kilometer, and the verdant landscape gradually gave way to a stark, wind-swept terrain. We passed the final checkpoint at Giagong, where the world opened up into a vast, untouched expanse, a privilege to witness. Majestic snow-capped peaks surrounded us, creating a sense of being at the edge of the world, witnessing timeless beauty.

Our destination was Gurudongmar Lake, a place of awe and reverence at a staggering 17,800 feet (5,430 meters). As the largest lake in Sikkim, its strategic importance is paramount, situated just a few kilometers from the India-China border. While Indian nationals are permitted to visit, foreign nationals are restricted to areas like Chopta Valley and Yumthang Valley.

The journey to Gurudongmar took us through an increasingly harsh and desolate landscape. Approaching the lake, the last vestiges of greenery disappeared, replaced by vast stretches of barren earth interspersed with occasional snowdrifts. The air was thin, cold, and crisp, each breath a reminder of the extreme altitude. The road, a narrow ribbon winding through snow-covered hills, was bordered by towering peaks that seemed to pierce the sky.

Gurudongmar Lake ranks among the top 15 highest lakes in the world and is the second highest lake in India, following Cholamu Lake, also in Sikkim. Cholamu Lake, even closer to the Indo-Tibet border, requires special permits from the Indian Army and is rarely visited by tourists due to the challenging terrain.

Arriving at Gurudongmar Lake, we were greeted by a breathtaking sight: serene turquoise waters, partially frozen, surrounded by snow-clad mountains. The early morning sun bathed the lake in a golden glow, causing it to shimmer like a jewel in the wilderness. Buddhist prayer flags fluttered in the strong wind, their vibrant colors contrasting with the white and blue of the mountains and water.

The lake, sacred to both Hindus and Buddhists, is steeped in legend. According to one legend, Guru Padmasambhava blessed the lake’s waters, and locals believe it possesses healing powers. The quiet beauty of the place evoked a deep sense of respect for the land.

Guru Nanak’s journey to Gurudongmar Lake holds great importance in Sikh history, closely linked with regional legends. According to Sikh tradition, Guru Nanak is believed to have visited Gurudongmar Lake, where he is said to have thawed a section of the lake, providing essential water.

The lake’s divergent religious significance—sacred to Guru Padmasambhava for Sikkimese Buddhists, but associated with a different historical narrative by Sikhs—precipitated conflict. The construction of a Gurdwara by Assam Rifles was viewed as an intrusion, ultimately resulting in the Sikkimese government and High Court ceding control of the site to the Lachen Monastery.

Walking around the lake was challenging. The path was slippery, and the thin air made each step laborious. Despite the difficulty, we walked around 300 meters along the perimeter. The sight of the half-frozen lake, surrounded by the Khangchengyao range, was truly majestic. The lake’s unique feature, a perpetually unfrozen section in the middle, even during the harshest winters, is believed to be divinely blessed.

The sacred nature of Gurudongmar Lake is deeply rooted in the lives of the people in the surrounding regions. Its proximity to the Indo-Tibet border adds to its significance. The air, though thin and difficult to breathe, felt pure and untouched.

At this altitude, the human body faces significant challenges. We were aware of the effects of altitude sickness, pacing ourselves and taking deep breaths. The cold and lack of oxygen made it difficult to stay outdoors for long. As the weather near the lake tends to deteriorate in the afternoon, we decided to depart early, anticipating the approaching storm clouds.

Chopta Valley and Kata Patthar: A Winter Wonderland

Descending from the sacred and serene Gurudongmar Lake, we began our journey to Chopta Valley—a realm of contrasts, where the stark wilderness of high-altitude terrain gradually gives way to the vibrant beauty of lush green valleys. At 13,200 feet, Chopta Valley revealed itself as a landscape of stunning harmony, where meandering rivers like Thangu, Chopta, and Lassur Chu carved their way through snow-covered fields, their crystal-clear waters shimmering under the pale sky. The rugged peaks that framed the valley were steeped in the kind of beauty that one would expect from the most untouched parts of the world—raw, pure, and untamed.

As we drove through the valley, a gentle snow began to fall, and the landscape transformed before our eyes. What had been a green valley was gradually cloaked in white, the soft snowflakes adding an ethereal touch to the already magical environment. The snow, though light at first, began to cover the sides of the road, turning the entire valley into a pristine winter wonderland. The beauty of this place was so overwhelming, it felt like a dream—an untouched corner of the world, where the earth and the sky seemed to merge in a spectacular display of nature’s artistry.

As we continued our journey, the road to Kala Patthar beckoned. This lesser-known destination, perched at 14,850 feet, was an entirely different experience—a land of stark contrasts where snow was not just an aesthetic element but an all-encompassing presence. Here, the landscape shifted dramatically from the green expanse of Chopta Valley to an arid, almost desert-like terrain—surrounded by black cliffs that rose sharply from the white expanse like sentinels against the sky.

Kala Patthar is uninhabitable for most of the year, except for occasional nomadic Tibetan herders who bring their yaks to graze in the summer months. The road to Kala Patthar is a dead-end, and vehicles are not allowed to go any further. Reaching the end of the motorable road felt like arriving at the edge of the world, where civilization and life, as we knew it, seemed to have vanished, leaving only the pure, raw beauty of nature.

The temperature had dropped significantly by the time we reached Kala Patthar, and it was snowing heavily. The landscape was draped in an almost surreal layer of white, the snowflakes swirling around us as if time itself had stopped. I had never seen so much white in my life—everything around us, from the ground to the sky, was covered in snow. The experience was both humbling and exhilarating, as if we had stepped into a painting—a world frozen in time, where the only movement was the soft descent of snowflakes.

Despite the harsh cold and the thick snow, the human spirit found comfort in small joys. At Kala Patthar, we were welcomed by a few makeshift stalls offering warmth in the form of hot drinks. We couldn’t resist the temptation of steaming cups of coffee and shots of brandy—two simple pleasures that seemed to make the cold more bearable. The makeshift stalls, set up under plastic covers to shield from the relentless snowfall, sold tea, coffee, boiled eggs, and brandy—exactly what was needed to warm up in this freezing wilderness. The warmth from the drink seemed to seep into our bones, a welcome contrast to the biting cold around us.

We huddled near the stalls, savoring every sip of coffee and every bite of boiled eggs, the strong flavor of brandy warming us from within. The experience was surreal—not only because of the stark beauty of the place but also because of how it felt to be so far removed from the world we knew. There was something profoundly humbling about being in such an extreme environment, where life itself felt fragile yet resilient, just like the hardy plants and the occasional yak that managed to survive here.

We wandered around in the snow, taking in the raw, untouched beauty of Kala Patthar. As I walked in the deep snow, I felt a sense of peace and solitude that only high-altitude landscapes like these could offer. The silence was profound—broken only by the sound of our own footsteps crunching through the snow and the occasional gust of wind that sent the snow swirling into the air. The entire scene was a reminder of how small we are in the grand scheme of things, and yet, how connected we can feel to the earth when we pause and take in the vastness around us.

At that moment, it was clear that this place—this high-altitude desert of snow and stone—was not just about reaching a destination. It was about experiencing the extremes of nature and embracing the challenges it presented. The harsh cold, the snow, the isolation—all of it was a test of endurance, and yet, it was also a gift. The beauty of Kala Patthar, in all its stark, rugged glory, was a reminder of nature’s power to awe and inspire.

As we left Kala Patthar, heading back toward the warmth of civilization, I couldn’t help but reflect on how this experience would stay with me forever. It was not just about the snow-covered peaks or the remote location—it was about the way this place made me feel alive in a way that few other places ever could. The experience was a profound reminder of the power of nature, the peace that comes from being in a place far removed from the distractions of everyday life, and the deep, lasting impact that such moments can have on the soul.

Kala Patthar, with its overwhelming beauty and its challenging environment, had given me a lifetime experience. And as I looked back one last time at the snow-covered landscape, I knew that this was a place I would never forget—its white expanse, its black cliffs, and the overwhelming sense of peace that enveloped me would stay with me, like a dream etched into my memory.

Back to Lachen, Onward to Lachung

After our awe-inspiring visit to Gurudongmar, Chpta Valley, and Kala Patthar we made our way back to Lachen for a brief respite, readying ourselves for the next leg of our journey to Lachung, a serene town nestled at 9,600 feet. As we set off, the road began to reveal its natural beauty once again, each twist and turn taking us deeper into the heart of North Sikkim’s wild terrain. One of the first stops, after crossing Chumthang, along the way was the Bhewma Falls, an unforgettable cascade of water that thunders down from a height of 275 meters. The misty spray from the falls felt like a refreshing embrace, an invigorating contrast to the cold mountain air.

Bhewma Falls, known locally as Amitabh Bachchan Falls after a famous film scene shot here, carries with it a certain cinematic charm. It is believed to have gotten the name Amitabh Bachchan Falls from the Bollywood star Amitabh Bachchan, who is very tall. The locals call it Bhewma, meaning “Red Snake” in their dialect, a name that evokes an image of fluid motion and serpentine beauty. The waterfall’s sheer power and grandeur left us awestruck. There’s a wooden platform set up by the villagers, made from bamboo and logs, which allows visitors to get up close to the falls.

A small fee of ₹10 per person is required to access the platform. However, we chose to enjoy the magnificent view from the roadside, sipping on steaming cups of tea from one of the stalls nearby. The mist from the waterfall added a cool touch to the warm tea, making it a perfect pause in our journey.

Lachung: A Quiet Escape into the Mountains

As we continued our drive, the landscape shifted once again, guiding us to Lachung. The town, whose name means “small pass” in the local language, felt like a peaceful haven after the high-altitude challenges of Gurudongmar. Lachung’s charm lies in its simplicity. Once a bustling trading post between Sikkim and Tibet, it now thrives primarily on tourism. The wooden houses, many adorned with colorful Buddhist prayer flags, and the monasteries dotting the town seem to preserve the essence of an era long gone.

When we arrived at our hotel, Cliff View Residency, located a little off the main town, exhaustion hit us hard. The altitude, the travel, and the overwhelming beauty of the past days had taken their toll. Despite the allure of the town and its tranquil setting, we opted to rest. We decided not to venture into the town that evening, knowing that the following day would bring more adventures—Zero Point and Yumthang Valley awaited us.

Instead, we stayed in the warmth of our hotel, a peaceful retreat with panoramic views of the surrounding mountains. We relaxed, enjoyed a quiet dinner, and let the serenity of the place lull us into a well-earned rest. The hum of the mountains outside seemed to be a gentle lullaby, encouraging us to recharge for the day ahead.

Lachung’s Rich History and Modern-Day Allure

Lachung holds deep historical significance. Before the annexation of Tibet by China in 1950, it served as a key trading post between Sikkim and Tibet, facilitating the exchange of goods and culture. Today, much of that history remains etched in the town’s atmosphere—its wooden homes and monasteries stand as quiet witnesses to times long past. While the trading days are over, Lachung has found new life as a stopover for tourists heading to the famed Yumthang Valley. Tourism has injected a new economy into the town, but despite the influx of visitors, it still retains an air of calm and authenticity.

As I lay in bed, the quiet of Lachung enveloping me, I couldn’t help but reflect on the journey so far. Traveling through North Sikkim has been more than just about reaching destinations; it has been about surrendering to the journey itself. The mountains here don’t merely serve as backdrops—they test your resolve, humble you with their grandeur, and, in return, reward you with moments of indescribable beauty. Each step of the journey, from the icy stillness of Gurudongmar to the verdant greens of Chopta Valley, has felt like adding a brushstroke to a living canvas of wonder.

In the stillness of our hotel room, with the anticipation of Zero Point and Yumthang Valley stirring inside me, I felt a deep sense of gratitude. This journey had already given me more than I could have hoped for—new landscapes, new experiences, and a renewed sense of awe. Tomorrow would bring new adventures, but for tonight, I was content to rest, knowing that the sacred paths we walked through were still echoing in my heart.

The mountains, in their quiet majesty, had become more than just a destination; they were now a part of me. And as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t help but feel immensely grateful for the privilege of walking these sacred paths.