Madhankumar's Journey Across Hampta Pass
For Madhankumar Palanikumar, the Hampta Pass trek felt less like a journey measured in days and more like a slow unfolding of nature’s secrets, each layer revealed only when he had earned it with his steps. At 28, he set out alone for Manali, carrying with him a mix of anticipation, nervous excitement, and the quiet hope that the mountains would have something to teach him.
On the first morning, as the group left Manali for Jobra, the air already carried a cool crispness. The trail began gently, winding through meadows where cows grazed and wooden bridges stretched across lively streams. The ease of the path felt deceptive, as if the mountains were testing their attention. By the time they reached Chika, Madhankumar felt wrapped in calm, the wide valley and rushing rivers washing away the noise of everyday life. That night, under the stars with the river nearby, he fell asleep more peacefully than he had in a long time.
The second day brought greater demands. The climb to Balu Ka Ghera was steadier, with the Rani Nallah flowing beside them. Slippery stones and water crossings tested balance, while bursts of wildflowers brought small joys. Soon, the greenery gave way to harsher rock, a sterner side of the mountain. As the sun dipped behind Hanuman Tibba, the sky became a painting of gold and crimson. Sitting outside their tents, sharing food and laughter, strangers began to feel like companions.
Crossing Hampta Pass on the third day became the defining moment of the trek. They began early, breaths clouding in the icy air, each step heavier with altitude. The wind was sharp and unrelenting. At times, Madhankumar’s body felt worn out, but standing at the top changed everything. Around him stretched snowfields, dipping valleys, and glowing peaks. The immensity of it brought tears to his eyes, a mix of awe and exhaustion, making him feel small yet more alive than ever.
The descent reminded him of the mountain’s authority. A slip on loose gravel jolted him; thankfully, he wasn’t hurt. In that moment, he realised the importance of the trek leaders. Calm and steady, they guided the group with patience and care. Thrillophilia had not only arranged the logistics but also ensured safety and support, something Madhankumar deeply appreciated. By the time they reached Shea Goru, surrounded by stark snowfields, the stumble was forgotten, replaced by the stillness of that valley.
The fourth day brought them to Chhatru, where the rugged, barren landscape of Lahaul was a startling contrast to the meadows they had left behind. An excursion to Chandratal Lake followed, and though Madhankumar had seen photographs, nothing prepared him for its beauty. The turquoise waters shimmered in the thin air, reflecting the mountains and sky, leaving him with a quiet sense of wonder.
The final morning was bittersweet. As the group made their way back to Manali, the Atal Tunnel brought them abruptly back to civilisation. Yet Madhankumar carried within him the silence of starry nights and the rhythm of the mountains.
What struck him most about Hampta Pass was the constant change. Every few hours the scenery shifted so dramatically it felt like five treks woven into one. Forests gave way to meadows, which gave way to snow and then to desert cliffs. It was a reminder of life’s impermanence and the resilience it demands.
There were challenges, doubts, and fatigue, but also the joy of summits, the warmth of meals shared at camp, and the quiet bond of fellow trekkers under the Milky Way. For Madhankumar, the trek was not simply about reaching from one point to another. It was about listening to the silence of the mountains, finding strength in their lessons, and leaving a piece of himself among their trails. Thrillophilia had made the journey possible, but it was the mountains that gave it meaning.
Hampta Pass was not just a trek he completed. It became a part of him, a memory carved into his being, one that will never leave those high passes behind.
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