Chinmay travelled through Ladakh from Leh and the villages of the Indus Valley to Hemis National Park and the Nubra Valley, crossing Khardung La, one of the highest mountain passes in the world, along the way. His journey took in village life, wildlife, monasteries, local food and the people working to preserve Ladakh’s distinctive culture and traditions.
What follows is Chinmay’s account of the journey, and why Ladakh challenged his long-held understanding of India:
After decades of travelling across India, I thought I knew the country remarkably well.
Having grown up there and returned countless times over the years, I have always been fascinated by its extraordinary diversity. Every state has its own distinct language, cuisine, architecture and traditions, yet there is an unmistakable thread that binds the country together. It is difficult to define, but once you have travelled extensively through India, you begin to recognise it instinctively.
Ladakh challenged that perception from the moment I arrived.
Flying into Leh and acclimatising to the altitude
The flight into Leh is unlike anything else I have experienced. As the aircraft leaves the plains behind and crosses the Himalayas, the landscape becomes an endless sea of jagged peaks, glaciers and deep valleys. There are moments when it feels as though the aircraft is weaving its way through the mountains rather than flying above them. Looking out of the window, it is almost impossible to comprehend how people have lived in this remarkable landscape for centuries.
The first thing you notice after landing is the altitude. At more than 3,500 metres, there is little choice but to slow down. Your body dictates the pace and, however tempting it might be to rush out and start exploring, Ladakh encourages patience.
At first, that feels rather unfamiliar. We are all conditioned to make the most of every hour when we travel, particularly in a destination that has been on our wish list for years. Yet, within a day or two, you begin to realise that slowing down is not an inconvenience but part of the experience.
You stop checking the time, linger a little longer over conversations and walk at a gentler pace. Somehow, without realising it, Ladakh begins to change the rhythm of your own day.
Village life in Shey and Stakna
That philosophy of slowing down underpins much of what makes Ladakh so rewarding. While many visitors understandably focus on ticking off the region’s famous monasteries and mountain passes, I found just as much joy in the quieter moments between them.
For me, those moments began as soon as I got out of Leh into the peaceful countryside surrounding the villages of Shey and Stakna.
I stayed in a beautifully restored village house overlooking the Indus, ideally positioned for exploring monasteries such as Stakna, Shey, Thiksey and Matho. For me, it proved to be one of the most rewarding ways of experiencing the region – remarkably authentic and intimate on one hand and incredibly comfortable on the other, as you are looked after by a genuinely wonderful team whose warmth and hospitality immediately make you feel at ease.
There are lovely walks through the surrounding villages and fields, cycling routes that link neighbouring monasteries and opportunities for horseback riding across the valley. One evening, I climbed a nearby hill after dark for what I had been told would be a memorable stargazing experience. They were not exaggerating.
With virtually no light pollution, the sky came alive in extraordinary fashion, with the Milky Way stretching from one horizon to the other. Another beautiful moment here was when the team from the village house arranged a private sundowner on the banks of the Indus before dinner back at the house.
Exploring the villages, what struck me most was not what there was to see, but how little there was to interrupt everyday life. Children made their way home from school, locals stopped to exchange greetings and farmers continued tending their fields much as they have done for generations. Nothing felt staged or curated. It simply felt real.
Feeling inspired?
Dawn prayers at Thiksey Monastery
One of the mornings began well before sunrise with a visit to Thiksey Monastery to witness the daily prayer ceremony. As the first light appeared over the Indus Valley, the monastery slowly came to life. Monks gathered in the assembly hall, their deep, rhythmic chanting accompanied by the sound of long horns and drums, creating an atmosphere that was both deeply moving and remarkably peaceful. Sitting quietly at the back of the hall, I was struck by how unselfconscious the ceremony felt. This was not a performance for visitors, but a centuries-old ritual that continues to shape daily life in the monastery.
For me, these are often the moments that define a journey. Grand monuments and spectacular landscapes are, of course, memorable, but it is usually the quieter observations that stay with me long afterwards.
Where to eat in Leh: Namza Dining and Ladakhi cuisine
Leh itself has developed considerably over recent years, yet its old quarter still retains much of its traditional character. Amongst the cafés and shops that now cater to an increasing number of visitors are a handful of places doing an excellent job of celebrating Ladakh’s culinary heritage.
One such place is Namza Dining. The restaurant focuses almost entirely on organic, locally sourced ingredients and traditional Ladakhi recipes, many of which have been adapted with a contemporary touch without losing their authenticity. It was one of the best meals I enjoyed during the journey and offered a fascinating introduction to the region’s cuisine. Rather than trying to imitate food from elsewhere, Namza celebrates the ingredients and flavours that have sustained communities here for centuries. For anyone spending time in Leh, it is a restaurant I would return to without hesitation.
Meeting Noor Jehan and the weavers reviving Ladakhi pashmina
One of the most memorable people I met during my time in Leh was Noor Jehan of Shesrig Ladakh. An art conservator by profession, Noor has dedicated much of her career to preserving Ladakh’s extraordinary Buddhist heritage. During my visit to her studio, she explained the painstaking process of conserving centuries-old wall paintings and manuscripts, work that requires not only remarkable technical skill but immense patience and respect for the original artists. Every intervention is carefully considered. The objective is never to make a painting look new, but to ensure it survives for future generations while remaining completely faithful to its original character.
It was only later that I discovered that Noor also captains India’s national women’s ice hockey team, which was one of those wonderfully unexpected discoveries that somehow seemed to capture the spirit of Ladakh.
That same balance between preserving tradition while creating opportunities for the future was evident once again during my visit to Lena, a local social enterprise based in Leh and Thiksey.
Founded with the aim of reviving authentic Ladakhi pashmina, Lena now works with thirty-four women weavers across Thiksey and Nubra, producing beautifully handwoven shawls using traditional techniques and natural dyes. I visited their workshop in Thiksey for a fascinating insight into the weaving and dyeing process and was deeply impressed by both the craftsmanship and the vision behind the project. Alongside partnerships with companies in the United States, Lena is now exploring microfinance initiatives to support more women weavers while helping re-establish Ladakh as the true home of pashmina.
Like Noor’s work, it demonstrated that preserving heritage is not simply about protecting the past. It is equally about creating meaningful livelihoods for future generations.
Alchi and the orchard villages
Travelling west along the Indus, the landscape gradually softens. Villages become greener, fields more fertile and orchards begin to appear in abundance. Alchi and nearby Nurla are among Ladakh’s most attractive summer destinations, known for their apricot, apple and walnut orchards that transform the valley between late spring and early autumn. During April and May, the apricot blossom attracts visitors from across the region, while later in the season the fruit is harvested and laid out to dry on rooftops and in courtyards.
It is a beautiful part of Ladakh and one that lends itself particularly well to slow exploration. Numerous walking trails connect nearby villages, ranging from gentle strolls to more demanding hikes, while Lamayuru, with its remarkable monastery and surreal Moonland landscape, lies only about an hour away by road.
Regarded as one of the finest examples of Buddhist art anywhere in the Himalaya, Alchi Monastery took on an entirely different significance after my conversation with Noor. Rather than simply admiring the remarkable murals, many almost a thousand years old, I found myself looking much more closely at the extraordinary work involved in preserving them. Understanding the care, patience and expertise required to conserve these fragile masterpieces gave me an entirely new appreciation for what makes Alchi so special.
Snow leopard country: wildlife and homestays in Hemis National Park
After a few days of cultural explorations, I travelled to Rumbak, tucked away within the Hemis National Park. This region has become synonymous with snow leopards, attracting wildlife enthusiasts from around the world during the winter months. Yet even outside the snow leopard season, it is an extraordinary place to spend time.
The mountains here appear almost devoid of life until you begin looking more carefully. Blue sheep pick their way across impossibly steep cliffs, marmots whistle from their burrows, Himalayan griffons circle overhead and, if you’re fortunate, you may encounter Himalayan wolves, foxes, ibex or even the elusive Eurasian lynx. Of course, it is the snow leopard that captures the imagination and rightly so. Hemis National Park is considered one of the finest places in the world to see this magnificent cat, but spending time here made me realise that the landscape itself is just as compelling as the wildlife that inhabits it.
Rumbak Lodge makes a wonderful base from which to explore the valley and, during winter, join snow leopard tracking expeditions with some of the region’s most experienced naturalists.
One morning, I walked from Rumbak Lodge to the village, a gentle 30 to 45-minute hike through pea, wheat and barley fields before following a glacial stream into the heart of the valley. It is a beautiful walk, made even more special by the knowledge that these mountains form one of the finest snow leopard habitats anywhere in the world.
Although the elusive cats remain hidden during the summer months, I was fortunate enough to spot a herd of blue sheep high on the mountainside, a reminder of the rich wildlife that thrives here.
On reaching the village, I wandered through its narrow lanes, watched barley being roasted and ground into flour, and spent time chatting with local residents before continuing to a viewpoint overlooking the valley. The scenery was magnificent, but what stayed with me most was the warmth of the welcome. Returning to the village, I was invited into the home of the village head, where his wife had prepared a wonderfully generous lunch of freshly cooked vegetables, steamed momos and traditional butter tea. It was a simple meal, shared around the family table, and one of the most authentic and memorable experiences of my time in Ladakh.
Another interesting aspect of this village is that it is home to one of India’s most successful examples of community-led tourism. Most families now operate homestays, offering visitors a wonderfully authentic insight into everyday life while ensuring that tourism benefits the entire community. Revenue generated through the programme is shared equally amongst the village and any surplus is reinvested into local projects. It is a remarkably thoughtful model that not only creates sustainable livelihoods but also encourages local communities to protect the wildlife that has become such an important part of their future.
Crossing Khardung La into Nubra Valley
From Rumbak, my journey continued north into Nubra Valley.
The drive itself is spectacular, following one of the world’s most iconic mountain roads as it climbs over Khardung La, the world’s second-highest motorable pass, but it is only once you descend into the valley that its true character begins to reveal itself. Wide riverbeds stretch across the valley floor; villages appear as unexpected pockets of green and monasteries cling to seemingly impossible mountainsides. Although Nubra has become increasingly popular in recent years, it still feels noticeably quieter than many other parts of Ladakh, particularly once you leave the main road behind.
Some of my favourite experiences of the entire journey were found here.
Remote Ensa monastery was one of the most profound places I visited.
Diskit Monastery is popular with visitors, with its position overlooking the valley.
Early one morning, I made my way to Ensa Monastery, a wonderfully remote monastery perched above the Siachen River. Reaching it involves a short but occasionally steep climb from the road, but the effort is more than worthwhile. We were the only visitors that morning, sharing the monastery with a single monk from Diskit who now cares for the site. The silence, the setting and the sense of complete isolation made it one of the most memorable and profound places I visited in Ladakh.
For those seeking a deeper understanding of Buddhism, it is possible to arrange private meditation sessions here, followed by conversations with the resident monk and a gourmet picnic overlooking the valley. It was one of those experiences that stayed with me long after I had left Ladakh.
Later that morning we walked to Yarab Tso, a small sacred lake hidden above the valley. Recent flooding had washed away sections of the original trail, meaning a longer approach across the riverbed followed by a moderate hike to reach the lake. It was well worth the effort.
The lake itself is beautifully peaceful, tucked away amongst the mountains with little evidence that anyone else had been there that day. Sitting quietly beside the water, it was difficult to imagine a more tranquil setting.
Lunch that afternoon was equally memorable, albeit for entirely different reasons. A prominent local family had welcomed us to their farmhouse, where almost everything we ate had been grown on the surrounding land. Fresh vegetables, homemade breads, apricot jam, sea buckthorn juice and even apricot cider were produced on the farm itself. It was a wonderfully wholesome meal and a reminder that some of the finest dining experiences have very little to do with elaborate cooking and everything to do with exceptional ingredients, generous hospitality and a genuine sense of place.
Diskit Monastery understandably attracts most visitors, and its position overlooking the valley is spectacular. Yet, as elsewhere in Ladakh, I found myself equally drawn to the smaller monasteries that receive far fewer visitors. There is something wonderfully unassuming about them. Prayer flags flutter gently in the breeze, monks quietly go about their day and visitors are welcomed with graceful nonchalance that encourages them simply to slow down and absorb the peaceful surroundings.
Why Ladakh stays with you
Looking back at my journey now, it isn’t a particular monastery or mountain pass that comes to mind first. Instead, I think of the brilliant sky full of stars, sharing butter tea around a family table, a moment of quietude in a remote monastery or listening to Noor explain the patience required to preserve a thousand-year-old mural. I left Ladakh with a far greater appreciation for the people whose lives, traditions and quiet dedication give those majestic landscapes their meaning.
If you’d like to discuss your own exploration of Ladakh, feel free to get in touch with me.
