Between Dust Storms and Hot Springs: A Day Across Nubra Valley

Some journeys stay with you because of the places you saw, and then some journeys stay with you because of the people you shared them with. My trip across Nubra Valley was somehow both at once.

At exactly 0630 hours, Chinab, Diana, and I left from the quiet village of Turtuk, still rubbing sleep from our eyes but buzzing with excitement for the long day ahead. The valley was waking up slowly, wrapped in soft morning light, and the cold mountain air carried that strange kind of silence that only exists in Ladakh. The kind that makes you feel small in the best possible way.

I must have tested the patience of our taxi driver from the very beginning because I made him stop at almost every viewpoint we passed. Every turn seemed unreal. Snow-dusted mountains towered over us like ancient guardians, rivers shimmered below like silver ribbons, and the roads cut dramatically through landscapes that looked almost untouched by time. I simply couldn’t let the journey rush past me. Some places deserve to be felt slowly.

Somewhere along the route, we stopped at a crumbling little structure perched beside the road for Maggi and chai. It looked like it had survived decades of windstorms and winters, but the warmth was immediate and comforting. There is something deeply satisfying about eating steaming Maggi in the mountains while holding a hot cup of chai between freezing hands.

We laughed, took pictures, stretched our legs, and then continued onward toward Hunder.

Hunder felt like stepping into another world entirely. Dunes in the middle of a cold desert, framed by jagged mountains, seemed impossible and yet completely real. It is there that we rode the famous Bactrian camels — the double-humped camels that have become synonymous with Nubra Valley. These remarkable animals are not just tourist attractions; they have historically been used for transport across the harsh terrain, and even the Indian Army uses them in this cold desert region because of their resilience and adaptability.

Climbing onto the camel was awkward, hilarious, and mildly terrifying all at once. But once the camel stood up and began moving across the dunes, the fear melted into exhilaration. The rhythm of the camel’s gait, the endless stretch of sand, and the icy winds whipping across the valley created an experience unlike anything I had ever known. For a few moments, it felt like we had travelled centuries back in time, becoming tiny figures crossing an ancient trade route.

From Hunder, we continued onward toward Panamik, home to the famous hot springs situated at an altitude of nearly 10,400 feet. By then, exhaustion had started creeping into our bodies, and the thought of soaking in naturally heated mineral water sounded almost heavenly.

The sulphur-rich hot springs of Panamik are known for their therapeutic properties, and after stepping into the water, I completely understood why. Since none of us had carried a change of clothes, we decided to rent the indoor bathtubs instead. What followed was perhaps one of the most relaxing experiences of my life. Outside, the mountain air remained sharp and cold, but inside, we sat submerged in steaming mineral-rich water, letting weeks of stress dissolve into silence.

It felt restorative in every possible way — physically, mentally, emotionally.

Eventually, hunger drove us back into the world. The women running the centre prepared food for us, warm and simple and perfect after the bath. There is something about mountain hospitality that never feels performative. It is quiet, genuine, and deeply comforting.

Refuelled and far too relaxed to move quickly, we made our way toward Sumur to visit the famous Yarab Tso — the “hidden lake” known for its crystal-clear water and serene surroundings. Reaching the lake requires a roughly thirty-minute uphill hike from the base, winding through rocky terrain and prayer stones, surviving the wind.

Unfortunately, I was still recovering from a bout of viral illness, and my body reminded me of that fact very quickly. About halfway through the trek, I realised I simply couldn’t make it all the way to the lake. Every step became heavier, my breathing more difficult, and reluctantly, I decided to turn back while Chinab and Diana continued onward.

Even though I didn’t reach Yarab Tso myself, the photographs they brought back looked almost otherworldly. The lake appeared untouched, hidden like a secret tucked away between mountains, reflecting the sky so clearly that it barely seemed real.

But the mountain had one final challenge waiting for me. As I began making my way back down toward the base alone, a sudden dust storm swept through the valley. Within minutes, visibility dropped dramatically. Dust swirled violently through the air, stinging my eyes and making it nearly impossible to see the trail ahead. For a moment, the landscape disappeared entirely into shades of brown and grey, and I genuinely had no idea how I was going to make it back to the car.

The wind howled through the valley with startling force, and each step became slow and uncertain. Somehow, half-blinded and thoroughly humbled by nature, I eventually found my way back.

After regrouping, we headed toward Diskit to visit the magnificent Maitreya Buddha Statue standing before the historic Diskit Monastery. Towering at 106 feet, the golden statue overlooks the Shyok River and the valley below. Built in 2006 and consecrated in 2010 by the Dalai Lama himself, the statue represents the Future Buddha — Maitreya — believed to offer blessings, protection, and peace to the region.

As the evening settled in, clouds rolled dramatically across the sky while the sun dipped behind the mountains. We stood there quietly watching the sunset paint the valley in gold, orange, and soft pink hues. After an entire day of movement and adventure, the stillness of that moment felt sacred.

Eventually, we began the long drive back toward Turtuk, stopping at Partapur for food and yet another cup of absolutely incredible chai. By then, fatigue had settled deep into our bones, but so had happiness.

At 2100 hours, we finally reached Turtuk again.

We were exhausted, exhilarated, relaxed, sleepy, and emotionally full all at once. After saying our goodnights, we slowly made our respective treks back to our homes under the cold mountain sky.

It was one of those rare days that feels impossibly long while you are living it, yet somehow far too short once it is over. A day stitched together with mountains, dust storms, laughter, hot springs, sunsets, camel rides, chai stops, and friendship.

And perhaps that is what I will remember most.

Not just Nubra Valley itself, but experiencing it with Chinab and Diana beside me. Turtuk simply does not feel the same without them.