Step into a soulful travel experience across Himachal’s lesser-known gems — Tirthan Valley, Jibhi, Shoja, and Chitkul. A soulful Himachal journey through hidden places, homestays, frozen lakes, and moments that stay with you forever.
Why we skipped the usual and went offbeat?
We didn’t want the Manali crowds or the Shimla chaos this time. We craved silence. Space. Something different. That’s how we ended up planning a week-long journey through Himachal Pradesh’s underrated gems — Tirthan Valley, Jibhi, Shoja, and finally, Chitkul.
What followed was a trip full of wooden cabins, starry skies, sleepy rivers, and a kind of peace you can’t quite describe — but I’ll try.
Tirthan Valley – Where the nature talks
Our offbeat Himachal journey truly began in Tirthan Valley — untouched, peaceful, and raw. We arrived in Tirthan just before sunset. The drive from Aut had been green and winding, with pine trees leaning in like they were trying to hear our conversations. The moment we stepped out of the car in Gushaini, the sound of the Tirthan River became our soundtrack — soft, constant, and strangely reassuring. We stayed in a riverside homestay with old wooden balconies and blooming marigolds. No TV, no distractions. Just warm hospitality and the smell of firewood in the evening air.
We stayed at a riverside homestay where the host, an old Himachali uncle, lit a bonfire for us. As we sat under a canopy of stars, sipping homemade apple wine, a stranger from the next cottage started playing the guitar. By the second song, we were all singing — badly but freely.
The next morning, we trekked to Chhoie Waterfall, passing tiny hamlets, stone pathways, and curious sheep. The waterfall wasn’t massive — but that’s the thing about places like Tirthan. It’s never about grandeur. It’s about feeling grounded. In the afternoon, we visited the Great Himalayan National Park. A UNESCO site, yes — but also a quiet paradise for nature lovers. No crowds, no vendors — just forest trails and Himalayan silence. We ended the day eating trout by the fire and counting stars we didn’t know we could see with the naked eye anymore.
Learn more about Great Himalayan National Park — a UNESCO site full of Himalayan biodiversity.
Jibhi – Like a painting that moves
Jibhi is where our offbeat Himachal journey unfolded like a poem written in pine needles. The drive to Jibhi was short, but stunning. Forests turned deeper, clouds hung lower, and the air got even cooler. We reached our A-frame cabin tucked into a slope, with a stream gurgling right next to it. Waking up to that sound? Unreal.
We had planned to visit the Jibhi Waterfall in the morning, but somehow took a wrong trail. Instead of panicking, we kept walking — and stumbled upon a hidden glade surrounded by pine trees and absolute silence. There was even a makeshift swing hanging from one of the branches.
We took turns swinging like kids, lay down on the grass, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just this clearing, the sky, and us. Best mistake we made on the trip.
We spent the morning at Jibhi Waterfall, hidden deep within pine trees. The path was muddy, we slipped once or twice, but when the waterfall appeared — white, clean, cold — we just stood there in silence. It felt earned.
Later, we hiked to Chehni Kothi, a tall, centuries-old temple made without cement — only stone and wood. We sat on the grass there for hours, talking to no one, just watching clouds change shapes.
The cafés in Jibhi were charming — wooden interiors, handwritten menus, dogs lazing around, and that signature “Himalayan pace” where no one’s in a rush.
Shoja & Jalori – The road less taken
We almost skipped Shoja, and I’m so glad we didn’t. Shoja wasn’t in our original itinerary. We added it on a whim because someone at the homestay in Jibhi said, “Just go there. Don’t ask why.”
Turns out, they were right. Shoja isn’t about sights — it’s about stillness. Our Himachal journey took a tranquil turn as we reached Shoja and Jalori Pass. We stayed at a cottage with no Wi-Fi, woke up to fog rolling through the trees, and spent the whole afternoon just watching clouds move.
No trek, no agenda. Just ginger chai, conversations, and the art of doing absolutely nothing — and feeling absolutely full.
A short uphill drive from Jibhi brought us to this peaceful village with wide views of the valley below. It felt like time stood still here.
The big adventure of the day was the drive to Jalori Pass. The road was narrow, steep, and thrilling. But once we got there — oh, the views. 10,000 feet up, surrounded by snow-laced peaks. We trekked to Serolsar Lake — a forest trail that tested our stamina but rewarded us tenfold. The lake was frozen at the edges, silent and sacred.
In the evening, while walking down a trail wrapped in pine trees and fog, we spotted a narrow stream trickling down the hillside. Our guide, a cheerful local named Ramesh, stopped beside it, cupped his hands, and took a sip like it was the most normal thing in the world.
We hesitated.
He laughed and said, “Yeh Himalaya ka paani hai. Zindagi deta hai.” (“This is Himalayan water. It gives life.”)
Tempted by his certainty and the pristine setting, we followed his lead. The water was ice-cold, crisp, and oddly sweet, as if the mountain had brewed its own version of therapy. We didn’t drink much — just enough for the memory. But that sip somehow stayed with us longer than our café cappuccinos ever could.
It wasn’t just water. It was the Himalayas, flowing through our fingers.
Shoja was where we finally let go of phone signals and deadlines.That night, we wrapped ourselves in thick blankets, sipping rhododendron tea under a sky powdered with stars. We played cards with fellow travelers who started the evening as strangers and ended it as friends. The Wi-Fi was weak, but the connections were real.Shoja taught us something we didn’t know we needed to learn:
That sometimes, doing nothing is the most beautiful part of travel.
If offbeat Himachal journey had a heart, it would beat softly in Shoja’s silence and Jalori’s skies
Chitkul – The end of the road
Our final destination was Chitkul, and the road getting there from Shoja was long, winding, and absolutely breathtaking. We reached just before dusk. The village is tagged as the “Last Inhabited Village Near the Indo-Tibetan Border”, and it truly feels like the edge of the world. Here, we stayed in a wooden house facing the Baspa River. Snow surrounded us. The silence? Almost holy.
In the morning, we walked to the “Hindustan ka Aakhri Dhaba”, had parathas with butter and chai, and watched the sunlight crawl slowly down the peaks. Chitkul doesn’t ask for your attention — it receives it quietly. Every corner, every wooden window frame, every child playing with snow — all of it felt like a dream we didn’t want to wake up from. We spent our last evening watching the sunset paint the sky in oranges and purples, the cold biting our noses, and yet, none of us wanted to go inside.
Chitkul, the last village on the Indo-Tibetan border, was the coldest and highest point on our trip — both literally and emotionally.
On our planned final day, we met a local kid selling hand-drawn postcards for ₹10 while we wished to spend the final moments at the mountains exploring the beauty instead of justAnd then came our last day.
We were packing reluctantly, the weight of goodbye creeping in. So before we left, we decided to step out one last time — not to take pictures, but to just live the moment. That’s when we met a local boy selling hand-drawn postcards for ₹10. When we asked him where he learned to draw, he simply pointed at the mountains and said, “From here.”
Moved, we bought a few, and with numb fingers and warm hearts, we sat by the Baspa River and wrote messages to our future selves — promises to return, to slow down, to live more in the moment.
Chitkul marked the soulful end of our Himachal journey — cold, quiet, unforgettable. It felt like the kind of place where those promises could actually be kept.
This wasn’t a trip. It was a retreat, a revelation, and a return to what really matters. So if you’re tired of crowded check-ins, Instagram queues, and “done-to-death” destinations — pack your bag, and let Himachal’s quieter side whisper you home.
The Mountains gave us more than just memories:
As we rolled down the winding roads back to the city, the playlists grew quieter and the conversations slower — but inside, something had shifted.
Himachal didn’t just give us scenic landscapes and perfect photo spots. It gave us moments of stillness, unfiltered joy, and a reminder of how beautiful simplicity can be. From rivers that murmured stories to wooden cafés that served warmth in a cup, every day felt like a quiet celebration of life — the kind we often miss in our daily rush.
We came looking for a break.
We left with a sense of belonging.
So if you’re reading this and wondering if it’s worth it — the long drives, the cold nights, the unplanned detours — trust me: it is. Because sometimes, all you need is a small village in the Himalayas to remind you of how big the world — and your heart — can really be.
The practical stuff:
How to reach:
- Nearest airport: Bhuntar (for Tirthan), or Shimla (for Chitkul)
- Start from Delhi/Chandigarh and hire a cab or self-drive
- Best months: March to June or September to November
What to pack:
- Warm layers (yes, even in summer!)
- Trekking shoes
- Power bank and offline maps
- A book you’ve been meaning to read
- Snacks — cafes are few and far between on certain days
Travel Support — When you want the mountains, not the mess:
If this sounds like your kind of escape — slow mornings, starry skies, soulful cafés — but the thought of bookings, itineraries, and unpredictable mountain roads makes you hesitate, let me tell you what worked for us.
We trusted Banjara and Gypsy Travels, and it was one of the best decisions of our trip.
From picking cozy riverside stays in Tirthan to arranging reliable drivers who knew the curves of Himachal like the back of their hand, they took care of everything — local treks, hidden cafés, sunset spots, and even those offbeat detours that never show up on travel websites.
What we loved most? It never felt like a tour. It felt like the mountains were being introduced to us by a friend who truly knew and respected them.
So, if you’re dreaming of the mountains but want someone else to handle the details —
Reach out to Banjara and Gypsy Travels at +91 96329 40054
Or find them on Instagram — they share some stunning travel inspiration too!
Website: https://www.banjaragypsy.com/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/banjara_gypsy?igsh=MTJ5cnYzNmxrMDZ4aA==
Let the hills welcome you. All you have to do is say yes.