Editor's Letter: Snow Destinations of India (Issue 81)

Dear reader,

Happy new year, and welcome to Issue 81.

Every January, our inbox fills with the same question in a hundred different forms. Where can we see snow? Is Manali better than Gulmarg? Is Auli worth the drive? Will there be snow in the first week of the month, or should we wait? Can we take our parents? Our toddler? Our dog?

This issue is our long answer to all of those questions. But before you turn to the practical pages, I want to tell you why we chose to make it the way we did.

The snow is not the destination

There is a particular kind of snow trip that has become very common in India. It goes something like this. A long drive up from the plains, often overnight. A morning at a “snow point” with hired boots and a rented jacket. A sledge ride, a photograph, a plate of Maggi. A long drive back. Perhaps a traffic jam that lasts longer than the time spent in the snow.

I understand the appeal. Snow is magical, especially the first time. And for many families, time and money are limited, and a quick trip is the only trip possible.

But I also think it misses something. The snow is not really the destination. It is the condition that transforms a place. A meadow becomes a white bowl of silence. A forest becomes a cathedral. A village becomes a cluster of chimneys and footprints. To see those transformations, you need time. You need to be there in the early morning, before the crowds. You need to walk a little, sit a little, sleep a night or two.

That is why so many of the pieces in this issue are about slowing down. Gulmarg when you are not chasing a photo. Auli for people who do not ski all day. A meadow you walk to. A night in an old wooden house. A rest day as part of the trip, not a break from it.

Three places, three winters

We chose Gulmarg, Auli and Manali because they are the places you ask us about most. They are also very different.

Gulmarg is a high meadow in Kashmir, its gondola rising towards ridges that draw serious skiers from around the world. Auli is a ski slope in Garhwal looking straight at Nanda Devi, a view that I think justifies the long road by itself. Manali is a busy valley town, and the old village above it, with its kath-kuni houses and deodar forests, is one of the most beautiful places in Himachal on a snowy morning.

Each place has its own pleasures and its own pressures. All three can be overwhelmed by visitors in peak weeks. All three depend on tourism, and all three are home to people for whom winter is not a holiday but a season of hard work.

Safety is not a footnote

I want to say something plainly. The Himalayan winter can be dangerous.

Avalanches happen. Roads close without much warning. Traffic jams in sub-zero temperatures turn into emergencies. Altitude affects some people badly. Every year, there are tragedies that might have been avoided with better information or simpler decisions.

That is why we have given safety its own pages in this issue, with notes on avalanche warnings, road advisories, permits and the high passes, and a piece on when to skip a destination altogether if the roads are shut. Please read them before you travel, and please check the latest official information, because conditions change daily and no magazine can keep up with them.

We have also tried to be honest about what we do not know. Where facts are uncertain or change from season to season, we have said so. We have not quoted prices, which vary widely and change often.

An old draft, finished

One piece in this issue began years ago: our guide to skiing in Auli, written for a winter that now feels long past. Rather than rewrite it, we have kept the original and added an update for this season, covering changes in snow, access and the situation in Joshimath, now officially Jyotirmath. I like that it carries both voices: the enthusiasm of the original and the caution of the present.

Small things that matter

If I could ask one thing of every reader who travels to the snow this winter, it would be this: leave each place a little better than you found it. Carry your rubbish down the mountain, because many hill towns struggle to manage the waste that visitors leave behind. Refill a bottle instead of buying plastic. Pay fairly for the sledge, the pony ride or the guide, and treat the people who provide them with courtesy. Ask before photographing anyone. Drive patiently, or better still, hire a local driver who knows the roads.

Be patient too with the people who keep the roads open, clear the snow from hotel paths and cook hot food in kitchens without reliable power. Winter work in the mountains is hard. These are small things. Multiplied by the many thousands of people who travel to the mountains each January, they decide whether these places can stay beautiful for the people who live there, and for the travellers who come after us.

Thank you

To everyone in the mountains who answered our questions, corrected our assumptions and shared their winters with us, thank you. To our guest writer, who traded a hotel heater for a family’s wood stove and wrote so warmly about it, thank you.

And to you, our readers, thank you for another year of travelling with us. Whether you go to the snow this month or simply read about it from a warm room in the plains, I hope these pages give you a little of the stillness that a snowy morning in the mountains can bring.

Travel slowly. Travel safely. Come back with stories, not just photographs.

With warm wishes for 2026,

Khushi Anand, Editor