I recently had the chance to visit the culturally Tibetan Spiti valley and it honestly ended up being the highlight of my 12-day solo trip to India. The landscapes can only be described as otherworldly (cliché but okay), the people as some of the friendliest i’ve ever met and the culture as unspoilt and well-preserved as can be in our globalised and ever-connected world.
Because of a lack of reliable transportation to the smaller villages along the way (and the possibility to stop for pictures whenever and wherever i want) it seemed only sensible to rent a bike and tackle the precarious roads myself. Mind you: this was my first time in India as well as my first experience driving on the left (except for a couple of days in the hectic Rajasthani traffic) so it goes without saying that the learning curve was steep.
I started my drive at Shimla, the biggest “hill station”(towns/villages at higher altitude where the British used to spend the summer to escape the hot plains) and the old summer capital of British India. Situated at an elevation above 2200metres, it’s currently the capital and biggest city of the mountaineous Indian state of Himachal Pradesh. Himachal Pradesh may be one of the smaller Indian states but punches above its weight when it comes to cultural and geographic diversity: almost every valley has its own customs, vernacular architecture and traditional clothing. The terrain is equally varied: from temperate rainforests, (sub-)alpine terrain and high-altitude deserts, Himachal has it all. As a simple rule of thumb: the higher the altitude the more Tibetan the culture and the people, with an interesting “intermediate region” where Hindus and Tibetans co-exist peacefully.
DAY 1: Shimla-Kalpa. Me and my motorcycle departed Shimla early for the village of Kalpa, my first intermediate stop on my way to Spiti. The ever-climbing road made its way through verdant hills with the occasional snowy peak appearing at the horizon later during the day. Finally, the mighty Himala
I also made a quick stop at Chitkul, a small hamlet located in a side valley and the first settlement with both a Hindu and Tibetan Buddhist temple. It proved to be a remarkable stop because of its ordinary authenticity: animals roaming freely in the mud alleyways, women transporting firewood in baskets attached to their back, vernacular wooden architecture adorned with carvings, men replacing the hay roofs of their home, a religious procession,… The surrounding scenery only added to the “bucolic” feel: forested slopes gradually giving way to snowy peaks (already turning orange because of an early autumn), accompanied by a myriad of fastflowing streams. Later that evening i arrived in Kalpa, where i spent the night.
DAY 2: Kalpa-Tabo (Kalpa, Protected Area Permit and entrance into Spiti Valley). I spent the next morning walking around Kalpa, with the Kinner Kailash range serving as the backdrop. The contrast between the small hamlet, with its colourful wooden homes and fertile farmland, and the desolate Himalayas was especially stark. Half of the population of ethnic Kinnauri’s follows Hinduism, while the other half follows Tibetan Buddhism. When entering its magnificent Hindu temple in the Kath-Kuni style typical for this region i stumbled across something i’ve never seen before: woodcarvers carving intricate figures and motives into a newly constructed temple building. They happily showed me their technique and results: crocodiles, mountains, pigeons, a man with an oversized penis,… nothing these skilled craftmen couldn’t carve!
I still had some administration to take care of before continuing my journey: every foreign visitor to Spiti valley needs a so-called “Protected Area permit” ( or “PAP”). This permit regulates foreign tourism in highly militarized border zones, while also protecting the lifestyle and customs of the ethnic minorities from overtourism. The PAP for Spiti valley is an especially tricky one and can only be applied for in person at a limited number of locations, unlike the e-PAP’s available for other restricted regions (like Ladakh) and usually takes two days to process. After explaining my tight schedule to the official at Reckong Peo’s governance centre (and the payment of a small bribe) i received my permit and was ready to go.
As i continued towards Spiti valley the greenery made way for a more raw, dry and rocky landscape. The road, often no more than a dirt track at this point, clung precariously to the cliffside with the Spiti river flowing violently underneath. Numerous military checkpoints followed, as did the occasional road worker waving a green flag (serving as an indicator that the next road section was cleared from any landside debris).
After a couple of hours of “off-roading” i was finally greeted by the “Welcome to Spiti Valley” sign and the final checkpoint. Entering this remote and inaccessible Tibetan valley felt like stepping into a different world. Everything changed instantly: mud and white-clad stone structures (all decidedly Tibetan in style) replaced the wooden homes of earlier, the people Tibetan and the scenery even more raw and desolate. The afternoon light made everything, from the desert over the rocky mountainside to the yellow leaves, beam in a golden hue. I decided to call it a day at Tabo, a small village with an impressive monastery and some meditation caves up the mountainside.
DAY 3: Tabo-Kaza (Tabo gompa, Dhankar gompa). I figured a short morning hike towards the “meditation caves” would help my acclimatization process (since the altitude measured 3500metres already!). The caves themselves were nothing special so i went to the monastery instead. Tabo monastery, entirely constructed out of mud, is the oldest continuously operating Buddhist enclave in the greater Himalaya region (!!!). Founded in 996 by Rinchen Zangpo, it already functions as a living spiritual center for over a millenium. It’s the only place on earth where you can admire 10th-century clay statues and murals in their original environment. The golden stupa, a more recent addition, is impressive too.
Afterwards i went to Dhankar. This even smaller village with monastery is famous for its dramatic location, its whitewashed buildings precariously situated on a craggy cliff. It’s also a stop on the “Spiti circuit”, a route along Spiti valley’s most “instagrammable” sights and extremely popular among domestic Indian tour groups. It’s easy enough to avoid them, just go to the higher stretches of the monastery and you’ll have the place to yourself. The roof of the highest-situated building, not visible from the bottom of the monastery since it’s hidden behind a couple of other cliffs and monastic buildings (which often get mistaken as “the highest point”) offers the best views. Accessing the roof is no easy feat: a 20-minute climb through the steep and often slippery alleyways in-between the buildings, after which you climb a couple of primitive ladders in a badly-lit indoor space. The vertigo-inducing views are totally worth it though!
After Dhankar i finally made it to Kaza, the biggest town and de-facto capital of Spiti. The town, with its 2000 inhabitants considered a true metropolis, boasts a small but cozy bazaar and the only fuel station and hospital in the whole of Spiti. I made it my base for the next two days, during which i planned to explore the valley more in-depth.
DAY 4: Ki gompa, impressive landscapes and remote villages. The next morning i departed early to Ki Gompa/Key monastery, Spiti’s biggest monastery. With its whitewashed monastic buildings covering a conical hillock it’s a sight to behold, especially when admiring it from a distance. I hiked up the loose scree covering the hillside behind the monastery, which felt rather tricky, and watched the sun rise. Afterwards i went to the monastery, where novice monks were busy eating their breakfast. A couple of older monks noticed my presence and gave me a tour of the monastery in excellent english, opening up parts of the monastery that are usually off-limits. They even showed me the room were the Dalai Lama stayed in during his escape from Tibet, only a couple of kilometres away.
After my visit to the monastery i crossed the Spiti river to the seldom-visited flatter west side of the valley, offering splendid views over its more mountaineous and sightseeing-heavy east side. The plan was as follows: follow the river to the north up until the end of the valley, where i would cross the river once again and drive back to Kaza following the east side. Most visitors to Spiti limit themselves to the attractions of the east side of the valley, missing the whole western side and everything past Chicham bridge. The west side of the valley felt less remote (probably because of its relatively accessible flat terrain) but also more peaceful because of a lack of commercialization (no homestays, no tourist-oriented murals on the buildings etc). As i continued riding north the landscape became more dramatic: deeper gorges, with strange-shaped pinnacles adorning the river bed. I’ve never seen such strange formations in my life (see picture 3) and the way they contrasted with the surrounding mountain landscape felt magical and almost alien-like.
I reached Spiti’s northern border after an hour or so of driving, from where i would return to Kaza following the east side of the valley. My first stop was Chicham village, potentially the village with the most authentic way of life in all of Spiti. Next i went to Chicham bridge, at an altitude of 4150m Asia’s highest-situated bridge. This record-breaking title (the first of many that afternoon, continue reading to find out ;) attracts a certain kind of instagram-savvy tourist, of which there was no shortage close to the bridge.
Afterwards i rode towards the small villages of Hikkim and Komic, both famous and iconic for different reasons. The drive along a sandy track proved to be more challenging than anticipated, with multiple hairpin turns and a hundreds-of-meters-deep drop next to me. My route led me to Hikkim, home to the highest post office in the world, first. It was a rather busy affair around the post office, with hordes of tourists trying to send a letter to their loved ones from this record-breaking location. The next village, Komic, claims to be the worlds’ highest settlement accessible by road (while in fact it “only” is the highest Asian settlement accessible by road with some Bolivian village taking the throne). Komic seemed way more iddylic and “down-to-earth” compared to Hikkim, with sheeps and donkeys roaming freely. With the sunset nearing i decided to call it a day and made my way back to my guesthouse in Kaza.
DAY 5: Demul. Since i already covered the majority of villages and sights of Spiti valley the day before, it only made sense to take it easy. The owner of the guesthouse i stayed in recommended the village of Demul to me, “but only if you’re in for a real adventure”. And oh was he right. First i had to drive all the way back to Komic (highest settlement in the world, remember?). From there i had to follow an even worse track consisting of some sort of black sand to its final point; the lonely and extremely isolated village of Demul. In total it took me almost four hours to arrive but boy was it worth it! Almost immediately after arriving a group of curious children approached me, inviting me into their homes and offering me a window into the Spitian way of life. One of their moms prepared butter toast with tea for me in her humble kitchen. In exchange i assisted her husband, who was busy covering their roof with some kind of dried grass. I spent the rest of the afternoon playing with the village children, taking in the absolutely breathtaking views and eventually made it back to Kaza.
DAY 6: Chandrataal lake. The final stop of my roadtrip through Himachal Pradesh was Chandratal lake, a high-altitude lake at an elevation of 4300+m. The lake itself was nothing too special but the views over the surrounding mountains and glaciers was definitely worth it. One notable thing about Chandratal is that it’s situated in a so-called “Dead Network Zone”: a zone lacking any kind of mobile connection, which made navigation challenging. I spent a night at one of the tent camps near the lake, which evoked the feeling of staying in Everest basecamp or another of these extreme mountaineering locations. The lack of comfort and connection, sub-zero temperatures, already high elevation and sense of isolation definitely contributed to this feeling.
I already posted (part of) this text as part of another post dedicated to my 12-day first time trip to India but felt i didn’t do my visit to the epic Spiti Valley and surrounding Kinnaur justice picture-wise, hence this post:)