I Went to Spiti Valley Alone — Here's What No One Tells You

I almost didn't go. I'd been staring at the booking page for three weeks, cursor hovering over 'Confirm', convincing myself I needed a travel buddy first. Then I remembered I'd been waiting for a travel buddy for four years.

The bus from Shimla to Kaza takes 12 hours. I spent the first two in polite silence with the person next to me — a software engineer from Pune named Raj who was also on the trip. By hour four we had eaten each other's snacks, exchanged playlists, and established an unspoken agreement that we'd look out for each other. That's Spiti.

Nobody tells you that altitude sickness hits differently when you're laughing. We were at 13,500 feet trying to hike to a fossil site when three of us simultaneously decided our legs had stopped working. We sat on a rock, gasping and crying laughing, for forty minutes. The guide was very patient.

The stars at Chandratal Lake — I don't have words. I had seen pictures. I thought I understood. I did not understand. Our group of fourteen lay on sleeping bags at 14,100 feet and nobody spoke for maybe twenty minutes. That kind of silence doesn't happen in cities.

What nobody tells you about group travel with strangers: the vulnerability is fast. You're tired, you're altitude-sick, you're sharing dorms, you're asking strangers to photograph you in unflattering situations. Within 48 hours, pretence becomes exhausting. You just become yourself. It's terrifying and it's the most freeing thing I've experienced.

I came back with fourteen friends, a borderline unhealthy attachment to Maggi, and a folder of 1,847 photos (I counted). I also came back knowing I will never again wait for someone to travel with me. The someone is already there — you just have to show up.