Beyond the High Passes: Vikramraj K’s Ladakh Trip with Thrillophilia

Thrillophilia Verified Booking
PNR: BKD8C7K5CC4
Rating: ★★★★
Traveller: Vikramraj K, Shree Haryini Bs, Taarush K
Trip Duration: 8 Days | 7 Nights
Date of Travel: 01 Apr 2026 - 08 Apr 2026
Package Booked: Leh Ladakh Expedition

Endless mountains, dangerous roads, and life-changing silence, this is what Vikramraj K had heard about Ladakh before leaving for the trip with his wife, Shree Haryini, and their five-year-old son, Taarush.

Honestly, they were more worried about simpler things. Whether the drives would become too exhausting. Whether their son would adjust to the cold. Whether eight days on the road would eventually start feeling like too much.

They booked one of Thrillophilia’s Ladakh tour packages mainly because they did not want to spend weeks figuring out permits, routes, stays, and transfers themselves. With a child travelling along, that kind of planning becomes more exhausting than exciting.

Leh eased them into the trip slowly. Maybe too slowly at first.

The first evening was mostly spent sitting around the market area, half-tired from the flight and half-confused about whether they should explore or just sleep. Taarush wanted noodles from a tiny café because he saw another kid eating them. The soup arrived boiling, and eventually that became everyone’s dinner plan too because the weather had already turned cold by then.

Leh felt quieter than they expected. Even the traffic sounded different somehow.

Somewhere Between Leh and Kargil, the Trip Started Feeling Real

The drive to Kargil did not feel like a transfer day. It felt like the actual beginning of the holiday.

At one point, the roads looked dry and dusty. Half an hour later, there were patches of snow on distant mountains again. Vikramraj kept rolling the window down despite the cold because the air smelled strangely clean, almost sharp.

Lamayuru Monastery looked like it had grown out of the mountains themselves. Nobody spoke much there. They just walked around slowly while Taarush chased a stray dog near the parking area until Shree Haryini pulled him back before he tripped on the uneven stones.

The funny thing is, the family barely argued during the long drives. Usually, road trips bring out at least one fight over snacks, playlists, or somebody getting irritated. Here, everyone just kept staring outside most of the time.

Their driver, Mr. Tani, deserves credit for that, too.

He was not the overly talkative guide type. In fact, there were long stretches where he said absolutely nothing. Then, suddenly, he would point toward a mountain and casually mention how the road gets blocked there during heavy snowfall or where army camps begin. Small things. Useful things.

Once, he stopped near a roadside tea stall that did not even look operational from the outside. The tea came in steel cups, overly sweet, with way too much ginger. Vikramraj still talks about it.

By the time they reached Kargil, everybody looked tired in that dusty, mountain-road kind of way. Nobody even bothered unpacking properly that night.

Nubra Valley Felt Strange at First

Crossing Khardung La was exciting, obviously. Snow piled up along parts of the road, prayer flags moved violently in the wind, and people immediately started taking photographs the moment the car stopped.

But Nubra Valley itself surprised them more.

Nobody expects dunes after spending hours looking at snow-covered mountains. That confused Taarush completely.

Diskit Monastery overlooked the valley quietly, almost too quietly. There were moments during the trip when the silence actually felt loud. This was one of them.

Later, near Hunder, they watched the double-humped camels moving around lazily while tourists tried convincing uninterested children to pose for pictures. One camel sneezed directly near Vikramraj while he was trying to take a photo. That picture stayed blurry.

The campsite near the Shyok River ended up becoming everyone’s favourite stay, though nobody expected it beforehand. The electricity kept fluctuating for a while. Somebody at another camp nearby was playing old Bollywood songs softly. The cold became unbearable after dinner, yet nobody really wanted to go inside the tents either.

Those evenings do something weird to time in Ladakh. Everything slows down without warning.

The next day, they visited Turtuk Village. And suddenly the landscape changed again. Green patches. Apricot trees. Tiny streams running beside pathways. An old man sitting outside a wooden house was peeling something that looked like peas but probably was not.

Turtuk did not feel touristy in the usual sense. People still stared a little when large groups walked past.

Pangong Was Quieter Than Expected

The road to Pangong felt endless. Beautiful, yes. But endless.

There were stretches where the family barely spoke for forty minutes straight. Everybody looked tired by then, especially Taarush, who had fallen asleep leaning awkwardly against a backpack.

Then Pangong appeared almost suddenly.

The first thing Vikramraj noticed was not the colour of the lake. It was the silence around it. Even people speaking nearby somehow sounded quieter there.

The water kept changing shades depending on the light. Dark blue one moment, lighter near the edges the next. Nobody in the family took too many photographs after a point. They just sat outside the camp, wrapped in jackets, drinking tea that turned cold ridiculously fast.

Later that night, the sky looked overcrowded with stars.

On the drive back to Leh through Chang La Pass, the trip had already started feeling over. That strange last-day feeling had kicked in. Nobody said it directly, but it was there.

Looking back now, Vikramraj mostly remembers the smaller things. Taarush is sleeping during drives. Mr. Tani quietly waits whenever they take longer at stops. Cold hands after evening walks. Ginger tea somewhere near Kargil.

Ladakh stayed with them for those reasons more than anything else.