And Above the Clouds One Finds Peace: Rajeshwar’s Solo Sar Pass Trek Review
Sometimes, all you need is a mountain to remind you of your own strength.
My solo journey to the Sar Pass Trek with Thrillophilia was more than just an adventure; it was a leap into a world of surprises, bonding, and self-discovery.
Setting off as a lone traveller, stepping into the wilderness without a purpose, only a desire for something different. A journey to the Himalayas seemed like the perfect escape—and an opportunity to disconnect, reflect, and breathe.
The Magic of the Mountains
When I first reached Kasol, I was cautious. Here I was, on a solo trek, surrounded by strangers. But as we gathered, each carrying our unique reasons for being there, something remarkable happened.
We were different people, from different walks of life, but with every step, the mountain blurred those differences, and we became a tribe.
As we walked to Grahan village on the first day, casual chats turned into real conversations. “What brought you here?” became a common refrain, and everyone had a story. One of my new friends, a guy from Mumbai, jokingly said, “Well, I’m here to escape my boss. The mountains are less intimidating.”
We laughed, the kind that comes easily when there’s no pretending, and for the first time, I realized I wasn’t really alone. Strangers turned into friends, each footstep pulling us closer to an unspoken bond.
Between Heights and Heartbeats
By the time we reached Mung Thach, I was no longer just trekking—I was confronting fears I didn’t even know I had. The climb was intense, and the air felt thinner with every step. Doubts crept in.
Why did I think I could do this alone?
Was it too late to turn back?
In one particularly gruelling moment, I caught myself gripping a rock tightly, staring at the steep drop below, heart racing. Just then, our guide, a seasoned trekker with a calm, reassuring voice, looked back at me.
“The mountain tests everyone,” he said, “but it only defeats those who let fear win.”
Somehow, his words lit a fire inside me. Instead of backing down, I found myself pushing harder. The climb was tough, but conquering it felt like a conversation with my own strength—a reminder that sometimes the only way forward is through fear.
The Peak of Realization
The fourth day was the crescendo, the grand moment—Sar Pass. Reaching the top was a reward beyond words, a feeling that can only be understood by those who have stood there. The view stretched endlessly, the Himalayas stretching into the horizon like a guardian of ancient stories.
The wind was fierce, sharp, and cold, but there was something warm about the unity we felt, standing at that height together.
It was like nature had stripped away all pretence, and there we were, humbled by its grandeur.
One of my friends looked over the edge and shouted, “This view is my therapy!” I joined him, yelling into the endless expanse, letting go of the worries I’d brought with me. I could feel the weight of daily life falling away.
We were a bunch of strangers, laughing in the wind, exhilarated by the freedom of just being there. For me who’d lived in the city’s hustle and bustle, this moment was a revelation. Nature doesn’t care about your profession or your status; it demands respect, humility, and presence.
Taking a Piece of the Mountain Home
As we began our descent from Biskeri Thach to Barshaini, I felt a bittersweet mix of pride and hesitation. Each step down was a step closer to reality, but something inside me had shifted. I had come to the Sar Pass seeking something intangible, and I left with a profound sense of connection—both to the people I’d met and to myself.
Standing atop the world with strangers who became friends, facing my fears, and embracing the silence of the mountains—all of it left me with a new understanding: life, like a mountain, is best experienced with courage, laughter, and a sense of wonder.
I now carry a part of those mountains with me, and whenever life feels overwhelming, I find myself recalling that feeling atop the Sar Pass, breathing in the endless sky. It’s a reminder that no matter the height if you keep climbing, the view is worth it.
One of the guys asked, “So, would you do it again, solo?” I grinned, thinking of the strength I’d found on those steep cliffs, the friendships that had blossomed in freezing winds, and the laughs we’d shared under starlit skies.
“Absolutely,” I replied. This journey had become more than just a trek; it was a chapter in my life that changed me.
Read more: Thrillophilia Himachal Trek Reviews