Lost on the Kheerganga trek in Himachal, India, I found my way not through maps—but by listening to dogs, instinct, and the mountain itself. A story of survival, stillness, and rediscovering your inner compass amidst black ice and silence.
Introduction – When the Trail Disappears, What Guides You?
When you set out on a trek, you expect things like sore legs, beautiful views, and maybe a few challenges along the way. What I didn’t expect was to lose the trail entirely—and to find myself sliding down a slope of black ice in just a pair of slippers.
It was during a spontaneous winter hike in the Himachal region of India, aiming to reach the natural hot springs of Kheerganga. I thought I was signing up for a scenic walk. Instead, I got a crash course in survival, instinct, and what it truly means to listen to your inner compass.
In a world full of distraction, this unexpected journey stripped away the noise and reminded me: the most important direction is often felt, not seen. Here’s how that one trek changed the way I see life, fear, gratitude—and even dogs.
Off the Map and Into Myself
The journey started with beauty. Mist curling through ancient trees, moss-covered roots guiding my steps, silence so full it made my own breath feel loud. I remember thinking—this is it. This is why I travel.
But the deeper I walked, the stranger it got. No footprints. No other trekkers. Just jungle, black ice, and roots like traps. My feet slipped with nearly every step. I wasn’t dressed for this—I had no proper gear, no map, and worst of all… slippers. The kind you wear to run errands, not to scale a Himalayan path.
My mind raced faster than my feet. I started hearing that inner voice—you know the one. “You’re lost.” “You’re going to get hurt.” “You should’ve turned back.” Fear blurred the path. But I kept walking, not out of confidence, but because stopping felt worse. I was completely off-trail… and completely on my own.
Then it happened.
I slipped on black ice and slid down a hill—completely out of control. Snow rushed past me, my heart thudded like a drum, and I felt something I hadn’t felt in years: pure survival panic. My hands flailed, feet scrambled, until—somehow—I caught a branch. Dangling, half-buried in snow. Everything went silent.
And then… came the dogs.
The Dogs Who Showed Me the Way
I was still shaking when I saw them: three dogs. No collars. Just watching. Quiet. Alert. Present.
Their eyes met mine, and something in me clicked. No barking. No fuss. They simply turned and walked. Paused. Looked back. Waited. Walked again. And somehow, I understood—I was supposed to follow.
What followed wasn’t a trek. It was a test. The path they led me on wasn’t even a path. Rocks. Ice. Slopes that dropped into nowhere. And yet, they stayed with me. If I stumbled, they’d stop. If I hesitated, they’d come back. It felt like a pact.
In that silence, something unexpected happened—my inner chatter stopped. The mountain, the cold, the fear—it all blurred into something simpler: Just keep going.
These dogs didn’t just guide my feet. They silenced my fear.
And without saying a word, they helped me find something I had lost: trust. Not in them. In myself.
A Hot Spring, A Lesson, A Life Reset
Eventually, I reached a small lodge. Locals stared at me—wet, trembling, in slippers. They told me the path I’d taken wasn’t for trekkers. It wasn’t even passable in winter. They gave me warm tea and, miraculously, better shoes. I didn’t ask. They just gave.
I could’ve stopped there. But something inside said, “You’re not done.”
Two more hours. That’s what it took. But finally—finally—I saw steam rising from the peak. The hot springs of Kheerganga. After everything, slipping into that warm water… it wasn’t just relief. It was rebirth.
The mountain didn’t just give me a story. It gave me a mirror. I saw how often I let fear take the lead. How easily I silence myself to fit in. How rarely I thank my body for carrying me through chaos.
That day, I made a choice: No more distraction. No more self-doubt. No more ignoring what my gut already knows.
Reflection – Follow What You Feel, Not Just What You See
That trek didn’t teach me anything new.
It reminded me of what I already knew.
That being true to yourself is the real path. That instinct matters. That gratitude isn’t just for moments of success—it’s for the moments you survive. That sometimes, the guides we need don’t speak our language—they just show up.
I’ve learned to live by three things since that day:
- Never let anyone or anything pull you away from what truly matters — keep your eyes on the prize.
- Life expands when you keep throwing yourself into new environments, trusting that growth begins where comfort ends.
- That’s how I want to live — pushing my limits, embracing uncertainty, and learning from every experience. In doing so, I keep evolving, staying true to myself, and meeting each moment fully. That’s who I am, and that’s the life I want to live.
Sometimes, in the middle of a black ice jungle, dogs appear. And sometimes, the mountain isn’t trying to test you.
It’s trying to give you back to yourself.