Let me be honest with you — I’m not some mountain expert or one of those folks who’s always out trekking every other weekend. I have a pretty normal life. Most of the days I cling to a screen, normally stuck in 9 -to -6, getting difficult to step out, let me breathe in fresh air alone. So when I heard about the Kedarkantha trek, I didn't jump with enthusiasm at all. But one winter, on a bit of a random urge — and because someone told me it wasn’t too tough — I just signed up. No big plan, no fancy reason. I just needed a break. Something different. Something real.
I had no idea how much this simple snow trek would impact me.
Sankri – Where It All Begins
The trip starts in a tiny village called Sankri. It’s the kind of place where people still sit outside in the sun with chai, and everyone smiles at you — not to sell you anything, just because that’s how they are.
I got there after a long, bumpy drive from Dehradun. No matter how much travel you’ve done, those last few hours on mountain roads humble you. But when you reach, and you see the tall trees, and that slow-moving life, you feel something loosen inside.
We spent that night in wooden homestays. The food was simple — roti, sabzi, rice — but tasted like something my grandmother would’ve made. Warm. Honest.
The Trek Begins – Sankri to Juda Ka Talab
The next morning, we started walking. No dramatic music or gear checks, just layered up and followed the guide through the forest. That first day was all pine trees and patches of snow here and there. We stopped often — not because it was hard, but because we kept looking around and thinking, “Is this real?”
After a few hours, we reached Juda Ka Talab — a frozen lake surrounded by forest. There was snow on the ground, smoke from the kitchen tent, and a silence that felt sacred.
That night, we sat by a fire and just talked. Not about work, not about city life — just stories. One guy shared how he came here after a breakup. Another said it was on his bucket list. For me, it was just about remembering what it feels like to be alive.
Base Camp and the Build-Up
The next day, we headed towards base camp. The snow was thicker now. Every tree branch was dusted in white, and the ground crunched with every step.
As we kept climbing, the mountains started showing ourselves properly. Big, bold, inaccessible. I remember to stop at one point, look around, and laugh out loud - not because anything was fun, but because it felt unreal.
In the base camp, we were already above 11,000 feet. The wind was thin, but peace was thick. We had barely a network, and somehow, no one cared.
The Big Morning – Kedarkantha Summit
This is the part you don’t forget.
We woke up at 3 in the morning. It was freezing, pitch dark, and so quiet you could hear every little sound — even just unzipping the tent felt loud. We threw on our layers, clicked on our headlamps, and started walking.
The snow had frozen overnight, so it crunched under every step. The ridge was steep, and honestly, it was hard work. Breathing wasn’t easy, legs were burning. But we kept going. Maybe because we didn’t want to be the one to stop. Or maybe just because the mountain was there and we’d come too far to turn around.
As we got higher, the sky slowly started to change — first a deep blue, then orange crept in, then pink. And just as we hit the summit, the sun came up behind the peaks. Couldn’t have timed it better. We just stood there, not saying much. I didn't need to.
I won’t try to describe it, because I don’t think words do it justice. All I’ll say is — everyone went quiet. No one shouted. No one celebrated. We just stood there, faces towards the sun, hearts beating fast, eyes wide.
That was the top. Kedarkantha, 12,500 feet. We made it.
Coming Down – A Bittersweet Return
The way down was easy on the legs but heavier on the heart. The excitement had passed. The summit was behind us. We were walking back toward the world we came from.
We camped again, shared leftover snacks, swapped photos. People who barely knew each other four days ago now felt like old friends.
By the time we reached Sankri again, the snow was melting under our boots, and the mood was quiet. No one wanted to leave. But we had to.
Why Kedarkantha Trek Stays With You
I’ve done a few short treks after that, but nothing has felt like this one. Not because it’s the most challenging — it’s not. And not because it’s remote — it’s actually quite accessible. It’s because the Kedarkantha trek gives you enough time and space to slow down, to reconnect.
You go from thick forests to open meadows to frozen lakes to a snowy summit — all in four or five days. It’s almost like the mountain is showing you everything it’s got, and saying, “Take what you need.”
Some people come for the snow. Some come for the adventure. But most of us leave with something we didn’t even know we were looking for.
A Few Things I Learned (The Hard Way)
You don’t need the best gear – Just good shoes and enough warm clothes. That’s it.
The mountain doesn’t care – About your job title, your city life, or your Instagram following. And that’s the best part.
Drink more water – Seriously. I learned this after a headache on day two.
Walk at your own pace – Don’t race. You’re not here to prove anything.
Be present – Put your phone away. The signal is bad anyway.
Should You Do It?
If you’ve been thinking about getting away, clearing your head, or doing something that just feels real — go for it. You don’t have to be super fit. You don’t need a big group. You don’t even need a reason.
Just go.
Kedarkantha isn’t just some winter trek you tick off a list. It’s one of those rare times where you actually slow down — breathe deeper, sleep better, and feel like you're part of something real. Out there, nature’s in charge, and that somehow makes everything simpler.
That’s it — my experience. Not trying to sell you anything, not reading off some guidebook. Just what it felt like, and why I wouldn’t think twice about doing it again.
If you’ve got questions, happy to share more. And if you were waiting for a sign to just go — consider this it.
Go walk in the snow. Find your summit.