Bali-Pass trek & Black Peak Mystery

Trail Profile

Where:

Starts from Sankri via Dehradun, Uttarakhand, India

Distance:

56 KM

Days on trail:

8 Days

Grade:

Ascent: Difficult & Descent: Moderate–Difficult

Optimal season:

May–June

No words seem grand enough to open a blog about my first thru-hike—and actually my first “blog” in a while. I was 22 when I did my first trek with strangers, and the way I saw the world changed irrevocably. Fast forward to 2025: I was on the other side of a full-time job, World War III, a world economy in shambles, and the India–Pakistan war.

Our trek actually got postponed amidst these war-like situations. We had planned to do it in the first week of May. The trek was starting from Dehradun, so we took a bus from Delhi to Dehradun—and WHAT A RIDE IT WAS. The bus music had no off switch once it started, and the lower berth got hit by a random vehicle early in the morning just before we were supposed to get off. Weird yet hilarious night. When we reached Dehradun, we loaded our stuff into a caravan to reach Sankri (via Manali), where our actual trek would start.

Then came our first day of walking—from Sankri to Taluka to Seema (12 km), most of which was by jeep. We stayed in a wooden house; it was the last time we’d sleep on something concrete. From my last trek, I knew my way around a sleeping bag, so I helped others too. The next day’s 8 km from Seema to Rainbasra was through rickety wooden bridges—very fun to cross. Shaking out my tent at sunset, I felt increasingly giddy. Finally, I was here!

We camped near a river and fell asleep listening to the water. A couple of hen-sized, incredibly cheeky birds (that might look very tasty after a week or two on trail) plucked around while I found some shade for lunch. How much hotter could it get? Not a cloud in the sky, and fine dust rose from my boots with every step—even with grass and bushes all around. The evening was warm, the sky dusted orange. One day down, four more to go.

Today’s stretch was almost waterless but a long 11 km, and I had to lug a heavy 45 L bag up the undulating trail. This put my pack weight out of my comfort zone, and I was melting under the dizzying sun. There’s a hole in the ozone layer—confirmed by my skin that day—which is why you’ll never see sunscreen less than SPF 30 for sale. In other words, not the place to experiment with how much you can tan on day two. We had lunch in the meadows, packed at the start of the day. We rested, hydrated, and then got to know we were still more than halfway from today’s campsite. Then came an unexpected forest descent—which none of us were ready for. The air was humid, and it felt like walking through a true rainforest. From afar, we could see our destination—so close yet so far. It was 5 PM when we first caught a glimpse of our tents at the campsite. We filled our bottles from a sweet water stream and changed clothes. Locals and sherpas told us there’s a lake a little above—said to be the highest at this altitude.

I met a very intriguing lady in her mid-30s to 40s who needed warm water. She was from a different camp nearby. Even more interesting than her request was her job: she worked at the National Film Archive of India, Pune. She mentioned that the recently re-released Guru Dutt film was acquired, preserved, and restored with her help—which fascinated me because I love movies, especially old ’90s ones. Maybe a blog on my movie choices soon?

As the altitude increased, the air got colder. The weather forecast for our summit day looked worse, so we decided to acclimatize here. Our next day was Odhari camp—the last one before base camp. The trail was fairly moderate, so we covered it before noon. On the way, we kept hearing about “Black Peak”—a 10–15 day expedition, one of the toughest in the region. Very few teams had completed it this year. When we reached Odhari, mist wrapped the peaks and visibility kept dropping. There was a moment when everyone left their tents and just stood there, mesmerized. The peak you see here is the highest—Swargarohini I (6,252 m). Mythologically known as the “Stairway to Heaven,” it’s believed to be the path taken by the Pandavas in the Mahabharata. The legend says Swargarohini was the only path from which a human (only Yudhishthira, the eldest and most righteous) could reach heaven in a mortal body. Many have spent dollars to achieve this summit and remained unsuccessful.

Met an incredible uncle (a local pahadi) during the trek. He’s around 70 now, yet his eyes still shine brighter than the peaks he’s climbed. He has summited Black Peak (Kalanag) not once, not twice, but 19 times (6,387 m)—a technical peak in the Garhwal Himalayas. But that’s not the only reason he deserves a salute. Back in 1962—long before Instagram reels or GPS trails—he attempted something no one has achieved: Swargarohini Peak (6,252 m), the mythical “Stairway to Heaven.” No professional certificates. No official training. Just raw experience.

Now came one last push—to base camp at about 14,800 ft. A very interesting trail with three ridges; as you keep climbing, you start feeling out of breath. Additionally, we were hauling our tents and gear, which didn’t help. The air thinned and the cold set in.

My roommate and I decided to do push-ups. With a 15 kg bag on my back. Because why not. After all this, my body decided to add its own plot twist: how about we vomit? I puked like crazy—there went all the water and electrolytes. And we had to wake up early for the summit the next morning; we were starting at 3–4 AM. The temperature at night dipped below 0°C. Thankfully, we had proper clothing. After some rest, I felt a bit better. We had an early dinner and tried to sleep. THE DAY arrives. We geared up at 3 AM. Other teams had already started. It was all snow. We started slow and found our pace. A 60-year-old retired Army officer and his wife were climbing the summit like it was a casual morning walk in the park (power couple energy).

The first sunray hit the snow and suddenly everything was white—as far as the eye could see. And we were at the summit. Reaching the top of the pass, high on adrenaline, surpassed every award I’ve ever earned. Climbing had taken about an hour, but somehow also years since I first learned about Bali Pass. The journey spanned a whole universe of existence. We whooped with joy, hugged, and celebrated with chocolate and selfies. For a moment, we were the coolest people in the world.

While everyone was recording and cheering, I was at the summit vomiting again. My stomach wasn’t thrilled. I still managed to sneak into the team summit photo, though. Then came our fate: we assumed the descent would be easy. It wasn’t. WE WERE AT THE TOP OF A MOUNTAIN, AND THE ONLY WAY DOWN WAS OVER SLIPPERY ROCK. There was basically no trail. We were holding on for dear life—one misstep and it could’ve gone very wrong. (Quite exciting, though. xD) I still felt nauseous, so I chugged some ORS and told the sherpa I’d go as far as I could. I ran downhill and was alone for 10 minutes—I’d lost the line the sherpa showed me.

Fortunately, I saw some chocolate wrappers near a rock—other trekkers must’ve rested there—and soon after, I spotted that 60-year-old Army officer. Relief. The rush I felt during that solo sprint was…a lot. Then I saw a few other groups resting, exchanged water bottles, and followed the route again. I reached a bit early—around 1 PM. En route, there was a slight network signal, so I sat quietly for 30 minutes, danced a little, and thought, “This is where life is,” before heading to the forest campsite we could see afar—Lower Damini. Remember that bad weather? The rest of my team got stuck in the rain; it took them 2–3 hours longer to cover the same stretch. They were drenched when they got back. The following day, we met our caravan driver and headed back to Dehradun. And just like that, it ended: a thrilling adventure where each of us learned something about ourselves—and about the people walking beside us.

Special Mentions

Divyansh Patel—for completing a first trek with zero prior experience.
Adit Sir—for planning the whole itinerary.
Ujjwal Sir—for the poker cards and chips. Without them, survival was questionable.
Mehul Sir and friends—for keeping us entertained.

This was truly the wild I had dreamt of and missed....

Cheers, Sayonara..