Dharamkot: Finding Silence in the Dhauladhars

The Monday Morning

It was a Monday morning, and I was already drained. I sat at my desk, staring blankly at a monitor filled with code I'd written just the Friday before but which now looked like a foreign language. My only companion was a sugarless almond milk cappuccino. Cursing the routine, I did what any sane person pushed to the brink would do: I opened my phone and booked a bus to Dharamshala.

I didn't even think about it. Dharamshala has always been tucked away in my subconscious, probably because of those childhood dreams of watching a match at the HPCA stadium with the Dhauladhar ranges as a backdrop. I told my manager I'd be WFH for the week, stuffed a rucksack, and just left. No stay, no itinerary.

The Best 25 Rupees I Ever Spent

I reached Dharamshala around 8 AM. It was late May; the sun was scorching, but the wind had that unmistakable mountain chill. The Dhauladhars stood there in humungous solidarity, making the city below look tiny. While the taxis were quoting astronomical prices to reach McLeodganj or Dharamkot, I hopped onto a government bus for 25 rupees.

That bus ride was my first "best decision" of the trip. I met an old uncle who spent the ride telling me about hidden spots far from the typical tourist trails. I'm definitely not going to name them here. Some magic is better left unmapped.

The Long Walk to Stillness

Public transport doesn't go all the way to Dharamkot. When I asked a local how to get there from McLeodganj, he looked at me and said, "4 KM hi hai, jawaan aadmi ho, chale jao paidal" (It's just 4 KM, you're a young man, just walk). With two laptops weighing down my rucksack, I had my doubts, but that was the motivation I needed. I started the climb.

When I finally reached the hostel, the view was so serene that all my "explore everything" plans evaporated. I realised I could spend the whole week right there, doing absolutely nothing. At the reception, I met a fellow solo traveller from Kanpur, and we decided to head toward Bhagsu Waterfall. It's a bit commercialised, with loud music and snack stalls everywhere, but if you climb to the very top, you'll find Cafe Shiva. The vibe there, with the mist from the falls and the right music, is something else.

Triund: Standing Beside the Giants

The next day was for Triund. While many take the difficult trail from Bhagsu, I chose the route via Gallu Falls. It's manageable, though it has its steep stretches. I took my time, not because I was tired, but because the view demanded it. I even took a few nap breaks along the way.

After four hours, you reach the top, and suddenly, the steep final 30 minutes feel like a small price to pay. You are standing right beside the Dhauladhar range. To one side, snow-covered giants; to the other, a panoramic view of the valley below.

A Night Under the Stars

I stayed the night in a rented tent. There's something deeply humbling about watching sheep and goats graze near shepherds' huts as the temperature drops. Lighting a fire is prohibited to preserve the grass. I stayed up almost all night. No network, no distractions. It was just me, the mountains, and a sky so full of stars. It felt like the moon was just flexing its beauty.

The Art of Doing Nothing in Dharamkot

The rest of my trip was a slow blur of cafes and thoughts. I spent three days in Dharamkot just "being". I just sat in the cafe for hours. There is a Israeli Market in lower Dharamkot; cafes there are really good.

The Carrot Cake That Won My Heart

I really liked the carrot cake of Little Buddha Cafe; I visited there on my last day. I liked the cake so much, I asked them to parcel it. They didn't have boxes, so the guy there creatively cut a milk tetra pack to pack it for me. That kind of effort? in this economy?

In the end, I never even made it to the stadium. Dharamkot became my black coffee, my unfiltered thoughts, and my quiet sanctuary. It's a place where I felt I could spend the rest of my life, but as always, there is always a Monday. Next time, I'll see the stadium.