Why Do I Keep Going Back to the Himalayas?

People often ask me why I keep going back to the mountains.

Honestly, it's a fair question. The Himalayas have given me freezing nights, dusty trails, altitude headaches, aching muscles, long road journeys, and enough discomfort to make a beach vacation sound very appealing. And yet, every time I return home from a Himalayan trip, I find myself looking at maps, saving trek itineraries, and wondering where to go next.

The strange thing is that no two Himalayan journeys have ever felt the same. From the barren cold deserts of Ladakh to the green valleys of Kashmir, from the dreamy snow-covered peaks near Keylong to the peaceful foothills of Uttarakhand, every region seemed to have its own personality.

Some mountains challenged me. Some surprised me. Some calmed me down. And some completely shattered my expectations. Maybe that's why I keep going back.

August 2023:

I always thought the Himalayas would look somewhat similar everywhere — snowy mountains, cold weather, pretty views, and endless photographs. But after travelling through Ladakh, Kashmir, Manali, Keylong, Bir, Uttarakhand-Haridwar, Rishikesh and Brahmatal, I realized the Himalayas have multiple personalities, and honestly, some of them are slightly unhinged.

Leh, Ladakh: Trans-Himalayas — where the mountains turn wild, barren, and beautifully unforgiving.

Ladakh was my introduction to the wild side of the Himalayas. The moment we entered that region, the mountains stopped looking green and welcoming. Everything suddenly became barren, dramatic, dusty, gigantic, and slightly intimidating. The Trans-Himalayan landscapes around Leh, Nubra Valley, and Pangong looked like another planet altogether. Cold deserts, rocky mountains, freezing winds, dangerous roads, stream crossings, altitude headaches, bike falls, and constant survival mode — Ladakh truly makes you earn its beauty. But somehow, that harshness is exactly what makes it unforgettable.

Then came Kashmir, where the Himalayas suddenly decided to become soft and photogenic again. After Ladakh’s rugged brown mountains, Kashmir almost felt unreal with its green valleys, rivers, pine trees, snow-covered peaks, and peaceful landscapes. The Pir Panjal ranges surrounding Kashmir looked like nature was trying very hard to heal everyone emotionally. Every turn looked like a wallpaper, and for a while, we forgot the mountains had been personally attacking us in Ladakh just a few days earlier.

Kashmir: Pir Panjal Range — the classic Himalayan postcard of valleys, forests, and snow peaks.

April 2024:

Manali felt like the perfect middle ground between adventure and comfort. Surrounded by the Pir Panjal ranges, it had dramatic mountain views, cozy cafés, busy streets, tourists wearing oversized winter clothes for aesthetic purposes, and weather that seemed to change its mood every few minutes.

But it was especially around Keylong where the Himalayas truly felt magical. Nestled between the Pir Panjal and the Greater Himalayan ranges, Keylong seemed to bring together the best of both worlds. The snowy mountains there honestly looked like something straight out of a dreamland — massive white peaks standing silently around tiny roads and villages, making everything feel unreal.

It was one of those rare places where photographs simply couldn't do justice to what the eyes were seeing. The mountains felt majestic and alive — not as harsh and intimidating as Ladakh's rugged landscapes, yet powerful enough to leave us speechless. If Ladakh commanded respect, Keylong inspired pure wonder.

Keylong: Between the Pir Panjal and Greater Himalayas, where every peak looks like a dream.

Bir introduced me to yet another version of the mountains — playful, adventurous, and strangely peaceful at the same time. Nestled in the Dhauladhar range, Bir felt lighter and more vibrant. Watching paragliders floating against the mountains while cafés played soft music in the background honestly made life feel suspiciously cinematic. Compared to Ladakh’s “survive first” energy, Bir felt like the Himalayas were finally letting us relax a little.

Bir Billing: Dhauladhar Range — adventure with a view

January 2026:

And then, my Uttarakhand journeys showed me two very different sides of the Garhwal Himalayas. Rishikesh and Haridwar introduced me to the gentle Shivalik foothills, where the mountains rise gradually from the plains and the Ganga flows through landscapes filled with spirituality and calm. Watching the evening aarti, walking along the riverbanks, and simply slowing down felt like the Himalayas' quiet introduction.

Brahmatal, on the other hand, took me deeper into the higher Garhwal Himalayas, where rugged trails, vast mountain views, remote villages, and unforgettable sunrises revealed a completely different personality of the same region. Yet despite their differences, both experiences shared the same sense of peace. Unlike the dramatic landscapes of Ladakh or Kashmir, Uttarakhand felt grounding in a way that is hard to explain — the kind of place where the mountains don't need to show off to impress you.

That said, Brahmatal wasn't exactly what I had expected. Thanks to Instagram, I had imagined a dreamy snow-covered winter trek. Instead, the Himalayas gave me dust, dry trails, and rugged landscapes. Honestly, Brahmatal felt like the mountains saying, “Manage with what's available.”

But the trek had a surprise waiting for us at Tilandi Top, one of our halts along the way. While the trails may not have matched the snowy pictures I had seen online, the sunrises and sunsets from Tilandi Top were beyond words. As the evening sun cast its rays on the distant Himalayan peaks, the mountains slowly turned shades of gold. For a few magical moments, the entire range seemed to glow, creating a sight far more memorable than the snow-filled images I had imagined before the trek. Photographs captured the view, but they could never capture the feeling of standing there and watching the transformation happen in real time. It was truly a one-of-a-kind experience and one of the most unforgettable Himalayan moments I've had.

Tilandi Top, Brahmatal: Garhwal Himalayas — where sunset turns the mountains to gold

Somewhere between those dusty trails and those golden mountains, I realized something important — the Himalayas are never fixed. Some days they wear snow, some days greenery, some days cold desert colours, and some days just silence and dust. And every now and then, they remind you that beauty doesn't always arrive in the form you expected.

That’s probably what fascinates me most about the Himalayas. Over the years, I unknowingly travelled through all four of their distinct faces. From the gentle Shivalik foothills of Rishikesh and Haridwar, to the forested Lesser Himalayas of Bir and Manali, the rugged high mountains of Brahmatal, and finally the stark Trans-Himalayan landscapes of Ladakh, each region looked, felt, and behaved differently.

Ladakh tested us. Kashmir amazed us. Manali and Keylong felt like a dream. Bir helped us slow down. Uttarakhand grounded us. And Brahmatal humbled our expectations.

Every range felt like an entirely different world, yet somehow they all belonged to the same mountain system. The Himalayas aren't just a chain of mountains; they're a collection of personalities, moods, landscapes, and experiences.

At this point, I genuinely believe the Himalayas wake up every morning and decide who they want to be for the day.

And maybe that's exactly why we keep going back.