Pin Bhaba Pass Trek - Day 0: Shimla to Kafnu

I Continue From Here: Shimla | Himachal Pradesh

Day 0: Drive from Shimla (2,200 m / 7,200 ft) to Kafnu (2,450 m / 8,000 ft) – 200 km / 8 hours

3 July 2026

I woke up at 4:30 a.m. and got ready. Once I was done, I woke Neel and Prama. Divyesh had already decided to use the common restroom. At around 5:30 a.m., Harry called to say that they had hired a taxi and it was waiting downstairs. Divyesh and I joined them. The bus stand was only a kilometre away and we had originally planned to walk, but Harry was still unwell and could not manage the distance.

At the taxi stand, our Tempo Traveller was waiting. Divyesh and I loaded our bags and chose comfortable seats. Those who had rented trekking gear collected it from the company representative who was also present.

During the drive, I slowly got acquainted with my fellow trekkers.

The first was Akshay, from Kannur, Kerala. Like me, he had completed another Himalayan trek just a month earlier. On paternity leave, he was making the most of his free time by pursuing his passion for trekking. He spoke fondly of Mangalore's nightlife—a surprising opinion to me, though I realised I had not really lived there for over twenty-five years.

Then there was Ashwini. She had already become well known in our WhatsApp group over the previous two days for repeatedly complaining that Shimla was a boring place with little to do. During the drive, she came across as talkative and highly opinionated—traits that could easily put some people off. Yet, over the course of the trek, her generous side became evident. She never failed to share the delicious Gujarati snacks she carried with her.

I also met Abhi. I still remember the broad smile with which he introduced himself. Throughout most of the drive he remained quiet and observant. During our breakfast stop, I asked him why he had been so silent.

"I'm bored," he replied.

We burst into laughter. Barely an hour had passed since we had started the journey. Over the next few days, I got to know him much better, and I shall write more about our conversations later.

Another delightful addition to the group was a couple from Bangalore—Bhaskar and Sudha Rao. Hearing them converse in Tulu, I was eager to join in. Both trace their roots to Dakshina Kannada, although they have lived in Bangalore for many years.

Steven, from California, had been living in Delhi for the past year while his wife worked at the Lotus Temple. We spoke about my stay in Colorado Springs, and I expressed my admiration for a country that gave me one of the ideas I value most—individualism.

Ajith Mathew, originally from Idukki, Kerala, now lives in Delhi and has worked in the Forensic Department of the Delhi Police. His quiet nature, subtle humour and mannerisms reminded me so much of my dear friend Sebastian. I knew we would get along well.

Across the aisle sat Aishwarya from Goa, a spirited young woman whose personality was difficult to predict. At times she overflowed with enthusiasm; at others she retreated into her shell. Nevertheless, throughout the trek she mostly remained energetic, always wearing a cheerful smile.

And then there were the two youngest members of our group, Dev and Vivan—perhaps my favourites because they reminded me of my students. Both nineteen-year-old engineering students, they had met each other on an earlier trek. Dev had an outstanding music collection, which became the soundtrack of our drive. Before we parted at the end of the trek, he made sure to AirDrop it to me.

We stopped for breakfast at a beautiful spot overlooking rolling hills and apple orchards. The trees were covered with white protective nets to shield the fruit from hail and excessive moisture.

At the breakfast stop, I met some of the trekkers travelling in the other vehicle. Chandni teaches English and Theory of Knowledge (TOK) at an IB school in Mumbai. Throughout the trek, we had several fascinating conversations about teaching and education.

There was also a group of four men who mostly kept to themselves. It took me a while to realise they were part of our expedition. Dhaval, who runs a travel agency, and Ajith Patel, a barber, were accompanied by two friends who owned mango farms in Gujarat. Unfortunately, I barely interacted with the latter two, as they left after the first day, and I no longer remember their names.

The road followed the Satluj River all the way towards Kafnu, around 200 kilometres from Shimla. We stopped for lunch at a roadside dhaba, where I ordered kadi chawal—a meal I often choose in the Himalayas because it is gentle on my stomach.

The owner, a woman probably in her late thirties or early forties, welcomed us with an emotional speech about how grateful she was for our visit and how she prayed for our safe return from the mountains. She spoke at length about her kindness and concern for the world. The performance felt rather artificial, and when she charged ₹150 for a simple plate of kadi chawal, it became difficult not to question her sincerity.

She also mentioned ongoing road construction ahead and informed us that the authorities had published fixed timings for road closures. None of us paid much attention to the warning. We should have.

Soon afterwards, we found ourselves stranded for nearly two hours while the road was cleared.

I did not mind the delay. I was in no hurry to reach Kafnu, and the unexpected stop gave me the perfect opportunity to get to know everyone better. Our group ranged in age from nineteen to sixty-six, and we were about to spend the next eight days together. Building a rapport early would make the journey far more enjoyable.

I spoke with Bhaskar sir and Sudha ma'am about their professional lives and their decision to leave the corporate world. It was a pleasant surprise to meet fellow Mangaloreans on a Himalayan trek—a first for all of us. Puneeth and I passed the time exchanging silly jokes while we waited for the road to reopen.

The drive from Shimla to Kafnu eventually took around eleven hours. We reached the village a little after 5 p.m. Although exhausted, I was excited to begin the trek.

The first thing that struck me was that nobody was there to receive us. Usually, the trek leaders greet the group as soon as they arrive. After looking around for a while, we finally spotted Pankaj, our trek leader, who assigned us our rooms and asked everyone to gather in the dining hall for the briefing.

The rooms were basic but adequate for a night's stay. After settling in, Divyesh and I attended the briefing.

Our blood pressure was checked, and mine turned out to be unusually high. Pankaj said he would check it again the following morning. Puneeth and Harry also recorded elevated readings.

My first impression of Pankaj was not particularly favourable. He objected to Vivan wearing a sleeveless shirt and insisted that he put on a jacket or cover himself. It felt less like a safety concern and more like a display of personal prejudice. 

During the briefing, he spent a long time listing everything we should not do on a trek. His mistake was treating everyone alike, regardless of age, trekking experience or familiarity with the mountains. We were addressed as though we were a group of irresponsible schoolchildren. Looking back, I am surprised that nobody challenged his tone. Perhaps that silence itself reflected the group's maturity.

He repeatedly suggested that Indians generally lacked respect for nature and were incapable of adapting to difficult mountain conditions. Such comments did not particularly bother me, as most trek leaders try to establish discipline from the outset. What did stand out, however, was the patronising manner in which he spoke and the air of superiority he projected. One incident especially stayed with me.

While discussing insurance, he explained that participants would have to bear the expenses of any evacuation or emergency assistance. Sudha ma'am politely asked, "Wouldn't the insurance cover those charges?"

It was a perfectly reasonable question.

Instead of answering directly, Pankaj replied, "What is the use of insurance if you're no longer alive?"

The remark visibly shocked many of us. In that moment, he came across as someone who was neither approachable nor particularly empathetic.

After a lengthy briefing that repeated the same points several times, we were finally allowed to have dinner. The meal was excellent—rice, dal, kofta curry, egg curry, rotis and gajar ka halwa.

That evening I also met Usha, who had been our trek lead during the Sandakphu trek. She is not only an exceptional trek leader but also a remarkably talented artist with a background in theatre, films and music. Having seen her posts from Kafnu, I had messaged her a few days earlier. She told me that she would have been leading our batch had her trekking shoes not been delayed. What a pity.

After dinner, Bhaskar sir, Sudha ma'am and I walked towards the dam. Along the way, I unexpectedly met Amit, my trek leader from the Gulabi Kantha trek earlier that year. In the fading light, I failed to recognise him, but he recognised me immediately. We spent a long time talking about our previous treks and the Pin Bhaba Pass.

Had I not been using the voucher from my cancelled trek with Trek the Himalayas, I would almost certainly have chosen Himalayan Hikers for this expedition. Their service has consistently been better than that of any other organiser I have travelled with. They include transport from towns like Shimla and also manage participants' extra luggage, delivering it to the final campsite free of charge.

I was slightly concerned about my high blood pressure. I looked up ways to bring it down and concluded that a good night's sleep would be the best remedy. Yet I never truly felt anxious. For some reason, I was quietly confident that I would complete the trek.

I slept reasonably well. Every time I woke during the night, the constant roar of the Bhaba River flowing beside the lodge made me wonder whether it had started raining again.

To Be Continued...