Everyone told us the drive up would be the hard part. They were right about the altitude, wrong about the effort. Between the chai stops, army signs and prayer flags snapping in the wind, Ladakh makes you earn its beauty gently.
Pangong Lake changed colour four times in one afternoon, and we watched each one from the same stretch of shore. Our driver, Tashi, gave us his binoculars and pointed out a family of birds we never would have noticed.
We came for the passes and stayed for the moments in between—the monastery bells, the apricot bread, the laughter in broken Hindi. Ladakh doesn't shout. It waits for you to sit still.
