A Winter Symphony

The Khyber Himalayan Resort and spa, with reflections seen in the heated indoorpool in the spa complex

The Kashmir valley in India’s northernmost state of Jammu and Kashmir always seems a little out of reach; mysterious and secretive like a veiled woman who conceals her charms from a prying world. Indeed, Kashmir is the Helen of Troy of travel dest-inations, much loved and coveted because of her alluring good looks.

Kashmir has seen a tenuous peace in the last seven years, and is luring Indian travellers who grew up on a diet of Bollywood movies shot in its various romantic locales. One of the all-time favourites is Gulmarg, located on a high, forested plateau (8,825 ft) at the base of Mt Apharwat (13,799 ft), a one and a half hour drive from Srinagar airport.

We were in Gulmarg recently when the Pir Panjal range sported shawls of snow and the valley was in the ice-like grip of winter. The evergreen pines and sinewy deodar (cedar) trees rose strong like an army of sturdy warriors protecting the mountain slopes.

Winter landscape of Gulmarg

After checking into the 85-room Khyber Himalayan Resort and Spa where Kashmiri style and creativity have been woven into the DNA of the resort, we rushed outside to the gondola, the longest and highest ropeway in Asia, crammed with skiers in neon gear carrying skis and lumbering in their huge ski shoes. Indeed, Gulmarg is India’s ultimate ski resort where skiers from all over the world whoosh down the powder-soft slopes.

As we stood in the queue to buy tickets for the ride, we spoke to ski guide Imtiyaz Malik of Snow Gulmarg, who teaches as well as leads expert skiers who wish to do back country skiing (off-piste skiing as opposed to skiing on defined trails) in Gulmarg. To emphasise a point, he cupped his palm and blew on it. “The snow in Gulmarg is so soft and powder-like that overseas skiers love it,” he said. “You get the best snow in January and February. European ski resorts are very crowded but Gulmarg is not! Plus we locals grew up in the mountains and know them like the back of our hands. We are the best guides.”

Soon our gondola was swaying over dense green forests of pine, cloaked in deep white snow which took us up to Kongdoori mountain (the first stage at 10,050 ft) where we disembarked for a while. We sipped some coffee to warm us up at an open-air cafeteria that commanded stupendous views of tiny green-roofed cottages, in snowy clearings, wearing caps of snow with icicles hanging down like jagged swords.

Skiers whooshed above us in the higher reaches, resembling bright butterflies flitting on the slopes of virtually inaccessible mountains. They curved lazily, seeming to curl and uncurl their bodies and then flying as though they had sprouted wings on their feet. Cavorting in the snow, they resembled muscled gods on skis!

We then clambered onto the gondola once again which took us higher and higher and as the air became thinner, we gasped a little for breath. Once on top, it was the view that took our breath away — Gulmarg lay sprawled below like a wonderland buried in the ice ages and in the distance, rose the foreboding K2 mountain like a seismic knot, and the frozen Alpather Lake.

Around us, skiers schussed down powder-packed slopes like graceful ballerinas. Some told us that they were going to ski all the way down to Tangmarg, through pine forests, over snow drifts and on virgin slopes unmarked by trails, but along with a guide, naturally. “There are few prepared ski slopes in Gulmarg; most are untracked runs of deep, dry ‘curry’ powder-soft snow. This makes it very exciting,” said one skier. And in that hushed world, seeing their faces aglow with a sense of adventure and achievement, they seemed totally in command of a seemingly hostile environment where ski runs vary from 8,700 ft to 14,000 ft and are amongst the highest in the world. At that point, we too decided that we would like to try our hand at skiing... some day.

Tourists from Southeast Asia and India played it safe — fashioning balls of snow, creating snowmen and then posing for photographs with fingers framed in the V for victory sign. We drank in the astonishing vistas like thirsty wanderers in a parched desert — it was a panorama of light and shade where the mountains rose, harsh and rugged, isolated, frozen and seemingly locked in time.

As we floated down to Gulmarg, once again in the gondola, some skiers told us that they were going to heli ski the next day. In heli-skiing, choppers deposit skiers on virgin peaks and then the lithe ones glide down the snowfields, enjoying the feeling of the world rushing past them. The company, Kashmir Heliski, is owned by a local, Billa Bakshi, and he promises that with an area of 20,000 sq km of high rumpled ridges and shimmering mountains, skiers do not have to repeat a single run.

Yes, Gulmarg has a lot going for it and now even has après ski parties in the handful of resorts that cater to tourists. We headed for the Khyber Himalayan Resort and Spa, the only luxury hotel in Gulmarg, where, in its vast lobby studded with copper samovars, embroidered Kashmiri furnishings and carpets, we sipped kahwa (local tea delicately spiced with saffron and almond slivers) in the tea lounge. A stunning ring of sharp mountains seemed to embrace us and were close enough to touch.

Having thawed out, we headed for the hotel’s glass-enclosed, heated swimming pool which threw up reflections of snow-laden pine trees all around as we swam a few laps. On a whim, we headed for the aromatic L’Occitaine Spa, the French beauty and wellness brand that is located above the pool. We were welcomed with a ginger, lemon and mint herbal tea that was a prelude to our rubdown in the fragrant couples’ treatment room. A relaxing warm foot massage and a ‘Revitalising Aromachologie Massage’ that combined Swedish, Balinese and lomi lomi techniques with a blend of mint, pine and rosemary essential oils almost did us in.

Post the massage, we felt like we were floating. We sat out on the spacious veranda of our room, despite sub-zero temperatures, as a stainless steel moon shone down on Gulmarg, spraying the mountains with honey-gold light. Their shimmering immensity seemed to beckon and we could not resist their call. Next morning we were up there again, looking down on creation.

Text and Photographs: Gustasp and Jeroo Irani