Kuari Pass Trek: My First Snowfall Experience

When I first decided to attempt the Kuari Pass trek, my checklist was short and simple. I wanted three things: big Himalayan views, a trail that wasn’t overly extreme, and if I was truly lucky, a chance to see snowfall.

I had never experienced snowfall in my life. Growing up in the plains, winter meant chilly mornings, fog, and sweaters, but never snow. I had only seen it in movies, travel magazines, and through pictures proudly shown by friends returning from their winter holidays. Deep down, I had always wished for that magical moment when snowflakes would drift down from the sky and land on me. So, when I packed my rucksack with layers of sweaters, a down jacket, woolen socks my mother insisted on, and sturdy trekking shoes, I whispered a small wish to the mountains: Please, let me see snow.

Choosing the Right Trek

I signed up for the trek with Himalayan Dream Treks (HDT), a company I had heard glowing reviews about. Their pre-trek guidance covered everything from packing lists to acclimatization tips, and their reputation for safety reassured me that I was in good hands. For a first Himalayan trekker like me, that mattered a lot. Looking back, I can confidently say I’d recommend them to anyone planning Kuari Pass.

Hiking is not just about walking on a trail. It is a test of stamina, preparation, and sometimes patience. A hike can mean many things around the world. In some places, it is simply a long walk in a park. In others, it is an adventure across mountains and forests. The Kuari Pass trek falls in the latter category. It is not just walking, it is trekking. Multi-day, high-altitude, camping under the stars kind of trekking. And I was ready for it.

The Road to Joshimath

The journey to the base village itself felt like an adventure. We drove for hours along the Alaknanda River, with winding roads that snaked through valleys, suspension bridges that swayed gently, and chai stops that made me realize how much better tea tastes in the mountains. By the time we reached Joshimath, the cold had already set in, and my heart skipped a beat. Maybe, just maybe, my wish for snow might come true.

Into the Forests

The first day of the trek introduced us to the charm of the Himalayas in early winter. The trail wound through thick oak and rhododendron forests. Sometimes it climbed gently, sometimes more steeply, but always surrounded by life. The air smelled of pine needles, damp earth, and occasionally woodsmoke from distant villages.

The sounds of our boots crunching on the trail, the laughter of my group, and the occasional chirp of birds created a rhythm I quickly grew fond of. We camped that night in a meadow ringed by tall ridges, the kind of place that makes you feel both tiny and infinite at the same time. Every evening, I found myself tilting my head up to the sky, hoping to see the first signs of snowfall. But the stars twinkled instead, as if teasing me.

The Sky Changes at Khullara

It was on the third day, when we reached Khullara campsite, that the magic began. The weather shifted noticeably. Clouds gathered, the sun disappeared, and an unusual stillness spread across camp. Our guide smiled knowingly and said, “Shayad aaj aapko snowfall dekhne ko mile.” (Maybe today you’ll see snowfall.)

The child inside me stirred with excitement. Could this really be the day?

By late afternoon, the first flakes appeared, tiny, shy, and weightless. One landed on my glove. Another on my cheek. I froze, staring in disbelief as they melted instantly. This was it. My first snowfall.

The World Turns White

Within an hour, those tentative flakes became a steady flurry. The meadow slowly transformed, trading its earthy browns and greens for a shimmering white. Our tents gathered a frosting of snow, and the trail we had walked earlier was already disappearing beneath a soft layer.

I laughed aloud, stretching out my arms, tilting my head back, letting snowflakes land on my face. Around me, others were just as enchanted, some snapping photos, some throwing playful snowballs, and a few sitting quietly, as if afraid to disturb the sacred silence.

That evening, we huddled inside the dining tent with steaming bowls of soup, while the snow continued to fall outside. Our guide warned us that the next day’s climb might be tougher on a snow-covered trail, but none of us cared. For now, we were caught in the magic of the moment.

The Challenge of Snow

The next morning, the landscape had transformed completely. What was once a rocky, earthy trail was now a gleaming white path. Walking on fresh snow turned out to be harder than I imagined. Our boots sank in with each step, slips were frequent, and progress was slow. But every challenge was softened by the breathtaking beauty around us.

The forests wore a new coat of snow. Branches sagged under its weight. The silence was so deep that even our footsteps felt like an intrusion. Only the occasional gust of wind reminded us that we weren’t alone.

At higher altitudes, the climb demanded more stamina. Trekking poles became our best friends, helping us stay balanced. We had been briefed about hiking hazards such as frostbite, hypothermia, and altitude sickness, but our guides kept us steady, reminding us to hydrate, move carefully, and rest when needed.

The Reward at Kuari Pass

Finally, after hours of effort, we reached Kuari Pass. And what a view it was. Peaks like Nanda Devi, Hathi Ghoda, and Kamet stood proudly before us, their snowy summits glowing under the winter sun.

My legs ached, my gloves were damp, and my face was red from the cold wind. But my heart felt fuller than it ever had. To stand there, after walking through fresh snow, and witness some of the greatest mountains of India, that was the real reward.

What the Snow Taught Me

That first snowfall at Khullara changed something in me. Snow wasn’t just frozen water falling from the sky. It was quiet joy. It was wonder. It was a gift that slowed the world down and made everything feel pure again.

I realized that hiking, at its core, is about moments like these. It is not just about reaching the pass or ticking off a bucket list. It is about the surprises along the way, the taste of hot chai at a roadside stall, the laughter of strangers who become friends, the silence of a snow-covered forest, and the joy of seeing your childhood wish come true.

Now, whenever someone asks me about my favorite part of the trek, I don’t just talk about the mountain views or the challenge of the climb. I tell them about that evening at Khullara, when the sky opened up and the mountains gifted me my very first snowfall.

A Final Reflection

Hiking, whether on a village trail or in the high Himalayas, is one of the simplest and most rewarding adventures a person can have. It connects you to nature, tests your endurance, and teaches you humility. But for me, Kuari Pass was more than a trek. It was a journey into myself, and into a memory I’ll treasure forever.

Because sometimes, when you least expect it, the mountains listen to your silent wishes and answer with snow.