Chandrakhani Pass Trek

This crossing of the Chandrakhani ridge begins in Naggar, where the group pauses briefly beneath the wooden and stone walls of the old Kullu capital's castle before heading out along a quiet lane toward Rumsu village. Rumsu's slate roofs and small shrine to Jamlu Devta mark the last proper settlement before the trail turns uphill in earnest, climbing through a deodar and horse-chestnut forest whose needle-strewn floor softens every footstep. The gradient builds steadily rather than sharply, and the group gains height through a series of long forest switchbacks, pausing at intervals to look back over the widening patchwork of Kullu's orchards and terraced barley fields far below. As the trees begin to thin, the trail crosses onto an open grazing shoulder used by shepherd families through the summer, and the views here expand considerably, taking in the snow-flecked line of the Pir Panjal to the north. Balu ka Bagh, the day's camp, occupies a broad grassy bench just below the treeline, chosen deliberately as a base for tomorrow's push over Chandrakhani rather than the lower forest camps used on some alternative routes into this region. From here, the pass itself is visible as a modest saddle on the ridge above, and guides use the clear afternoon light to point out the exact line the trail will follow. The evening turns cold quickly once the sun dips behind the ridge, and dinner is taken around a fire with detailed talk of the following day's crossing and Malana's famously self-governing culture on the far side. Unlike routes that exit the ridge toward Jari, this itinerary is built specifically as a there-and-back loop returning to Naggar, and the guide outlines that structure clearly this first evening.

Today's climb leaves the last trees behind within the first half hour, the trail rising along a bare, wind-exposed ridge scattered with low juniper and cushions of alpine flowers that cling stubbornly to the rocky ground. As height builds, the panorama becomes genuinely vast, taking in the Deo Tibba and Indrasan massif to the northeast and the deep trench of the Parvati valley opening away to the south, a view that rewards every laboured step of the final approach. Chandrakhani Pass itself is marked by a weathered cairn strung with faded prayer flags, and on a clear morning the 360-degree outlook ranks among the finest short pass crossings in the Kullu region, taking in ridgelines folding away toward Manikaran and the more distant Pin Parvati range. The descent that follows demands real concentration, dropping through loose scree and narrow shepherd tracks into a steadily narrowing gorge where vegetation slowly returns, first as scrub, then birch, and finally the terraced fields that announce Malana below. The village appears abruptly, its timber-and-slate houses stacked steeply above the rushing Malana nala, and visitors are reminded firmly of local custom on arrival, avoiding contact with temple walls, shrines, or village structures out of respect for Malana's fiercely guarded self-governance under its own council, the Kanashi. A guesthouse room is arranged for the night, and the evening settles into quiet observation of a community that has, through geography and choice, remained distinct from the wider Kullu valley for generations, its own dialect and customs intact despite the modern hydel project humming in the background. Conversation over dinner naturally turns to what tomorrow's rest day in the village might reveal about this famously private, self-contained settlement.