Beyond Roads & Roofs of the World: Tushar and Srishti’s Spiti Trip with Thrillophilia
While many trips begin with planning, ours began with a cup of coffee.
Srishti and I, old college friends turned impromptu travel buddies, were flipping through pictures from our last Himachal trek when we paused at one snowy photo and remained silent for a long moment.
Then she looked up and asked, “Spiti?”
I smiled. “Half-circuit?”
She raised her coffee and clinked it with mine. “Absolutely.”
And just like that, we booked our Spiti Half-Circuit Tour with Thrillophilia, which turned out to be one of the best decisions of our lives. We didn’t know it then, but we were signing up for more than a trip-it was like stepping into memories we’d carry forever.
Stepping into Manali’s Calm After Delhi’s Chaos
We left Delhi behind on an overnight bus, hoping for rest but getting more of an adrenaline build-up. When the morning light revealed Manali’s green hills, there was a magical feeling in the crisp air and the distant hum of mountain life.
That day, we began to explore Manali starting at the Hadimba Temple, a beautiful wooden structure surrounded by giant deodars. Its calmness was almost cinematic. From there, we visited the famous Tibetan Monastery, spun a few prayer wheels, and stood in silence watching monks paint intricate murals.
Later, in Van Vihar National Park, Srishti and I tried paddle-boating and failed miserably—but laughed like we were 19 again. We ended the day at a cozy café strung with fairy lights in the heart of Old Manali. There was live music, wood-fired pizza, and that rare feeling of knowing you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.
On the Edge of Adventure: Manali to Kaza via Kunzum La
The next morning, we began the unforgettable journey to the heart of Spiti, Kaza! As we crossed the iconic Atal Tunnel, the green hills disappeared and gave way to sharp turns, barren cliffs, and dusty riverbeds. Every bend brought a new kind of beauty—wild, raw, untamed. Next, we made a stop at Kunzum La, one of the highest motorable passes in the world. We stepped out and stood quietly in front of a tiny temple surrounded by fluttering prayer flags. The wind was fierce, the cold stung my cheeks, but I felt alive in that frigid moment, By the time we reached Kaza, the landscape had changed entirely. It looked like we’d landed on the moon with stunning landscapes and amazing views.
The Soul of Spiti: Monasteries, Villages & a Fossil in My Palm
The next day took us into the heart of Spiti. Our first stop was the legendary Key Monastery, a whitewashed wonder standing like a guardian above the valley over 1000 years and perched at 4166 m. We climbed to the rooftop, drank butter tea with monks, and watched the clouds drift below us. From there, we visited Langza. I stood beneath the giant Buddha statue overlooking miles of untouched wilderness, and in a moment I’ll never forget, I found a spiral fossil embedded in a rock. I just stared at it, thinking—this was once underwater, as Spiti had once been a seabed. Then, at Hikkim, we wrote postcards at the world’s highest post office. I addressed one to myself with a silly note—“You came. You saw. You slowed down.”
Cliffside Prayers and Silence in Pin Valley
We reached Dhankar Monastery, perched dramatically on a cliffside, just before noon. The walls were faded with age. Inside, the silence wasn’t empty—it had depth, like the walls themselves were remembering. We also visited the beautiful Pin Valley, offering stunning views of the surroundings.
Reflections at Chandratal & a Starry Goodbye at Sissu
Leaving Kaza felt like leaving behind a part of me. But I’d been waiting for Chandratal Lake—the “Moon Lake”. The road was tricky—gravel, narrow, unpredictable. But when we reached the lake, my breath caught. The water was still, the sky impossibly blue, and the snow-capped peaks reflected so clearly it felt like we were standing inside a painting. We didn’t talk. We didn’t even take photos for a while. We just sat. Watched. Absorbed.
By nightfall, we reached Sissu, a quiet village that welcomed us with wind whispers and starlight.
Back to the Beginning, Changed Forever
The final day felt like the mountain’s way of saying, “Come again, but slower next time.”
We stopped for chai at a roadside stall with other travelers. Everyone had a tale—river crossings, tyre punctures, snowfalls, and love stories born over bonfires.
As our bus rolled back toward Delhi, I leaned against the window, watching the valleys shrink into the distance. And then I turned to Srishti.
“Will we come again?”
She smiled. “Next time, full circuit.”
What I Took Home
Spiti wasn’t just a travel destination. It was a feeling, a rhythm. It was about wind in my hair, fossils in my palm, prayer flags snapping in the cold air, and the quiet moments between conversations.
Thrillophilia didn’t just give us a route; they gave us a rhythm to follow—well-planned stays, experienced guides, and enough space to truly feel the place.
Back home, as we sorted photos and postcards, Srishti said something that stuck with me.
“We didn’t just visit Spiti... we lived it.”
And I couldn’t agree more.
Read More:
Thrillophilia Spiti Reviews