Skiing Adventures in Gulmarg: From Sliding on Baby Slopes to Tumbling Down the Majestic Mountain

Amidst the sea of snow, the mountains of Gulmarg in Kashmir stood like majestic giants, draped in white cloaks, accessorized with green pine trees full of snowflakes. And there I was, standing at the foothill of an intimidating slope, contemplating about one last run down after a day of exhausting endeavors on the kiddie hills. There was no way to back out, with my instructor channeling his inner drill sergeant, barking orders louder than a mountain echo.

So, like a reluctant soldier following orders, I found myself on the lift, weighed down by enough gears. As I ascended, my feet felt heavier than an elephant, and my heart sank faster than an out-of-air balloon. My coach effortlessly carved his way through the snow to the halfway mark, leaving behind a trail for me to follow. I attempted to mimic his moves, but my tired feet had other ideas, and before I knew it, I was rolling down the snowy slope, landing with my legs contorted in the weirdest way that no yoga move can replicate.  

The sound of a creak echoed, and at that moment, I was convinced I had just given a ‘break a leg’ performance. With a mixture of shrieks and determination, I mustered the courage to peel off my gears and stand upright, praying that my bones remained intact. Sure, my knee had enough pain to rival a Shakespearean tragedy, but did my coach care? Not in the slightest.

Guess I was to be blamed, having given an impression of some sort of fearless solo traveler embarking on a ski adventure. Damn, Crazy? Perhaps. But hey, who needs sanity when you’ve got to weave fun memories hurtling down snowy slopes? Welcome to the wacky world of my skiing adventures in Gulmarg!

Discovering Gulmarg: A Winter Wonderland Beckons

Ah, the tale of a middle-aged adventurer braving the snowy slopes of Gulmarg, much to the chagrin of her worried mom. When the COVID lockdowns weighed heavy on my free-spirited soul in 2021, the tantalizing opportunity to learn skiing in the distant mountains of Kashmir beckoned me like a siren song.

Enter First Fall Adventures, led by the young and adventurous pro-skier Harsh Shial and the troupe of expert ski instructors from Gulmarg Snowkings. With ski learning camps on offer, it was too tempting to resist, both for my pockets and adventurous spirit. Setting foot on the enchanting land of Gulmarg during its winter bloom was like stepping into a postcard from paradise. Snow blanketed the landscape as far as the eye could see, transforming everything into a winter wonderland straight out of a fairy tale.

But let’s not romanticize things too much. Amidst the beauty, there was chaos – particularly on the slopes. As a skiing novice at the ripe age of 40 and a little more (😉), I quickly realized that learning to ski wasn’t going to be a walk in the park or an easy 10k run in my case as a marathoner. 

Battling the Baby Slope: Trials and Triumphs

It was a surreal day, as I beheld my first heavy snowfall and the crisp mountain air. Surrounded by endless heaps of white powder, it felt mystical and enchanting, like stepping into a winter wonderland straight out of a fairy tale. However, the magic faded slightly as I donned the cumbersome ski boots and strapped on the skis, realizing the challenge ahead of learning to balance my body and glide forward.

Day one on the baby slope was a disaster of epic proportions. I cursed my midlife crisis-induced decision to embark on this snowy escapade while my instructor didn’t show any mercy. Putting my body weight forward, bending my knees in those heavy boots, and attempting to ski down gracefully felt about as natural as a deer trying to tap dance. And to add to trouble, no ski lifts for us novices – oh no, we had to earn every inch of slope, trudging uphill with skis on our shoulders like pack mules.

While my fellow younger participants seemed to take to skiing like ducks to water, I floundered like a fish out of water, finding solace only in the company of a fellow freezing comrade who preferred frostbite to ski slopes.

Determined not to be the laughingstock of the group, I endured three days of torture under the watchful eye of my instructor. Falls were my constant companions, turning the baby slope into a never ending ‘Jill comes tumbling down’ scene.  

But then, on the fourth day, I finally found my balance, executed the first plough down without so much as a wobble, and suddenly felt like the queen of the slopes, ready to take next day’s big 7.5 km ski run from Phase 1 to downhill. 

Gondola and Giggles: Uphill Adventures and Downhill Disasters

Ah, the epic journey of a skiing enthusiast in the snowy paradise of Gulmarg! It all begins at the base of Apharwat, where the mountain unveils its grandeur in two phases: Phase I and Phase II, accessible via gondolas that whisk you away to snowy wonderlands.

As a beginner, I was relegated to Phase I, where the real adventure began. The gondola ride itself was a breathtaking experience. While going up one can look down on the beautiful landscape beneath and watch the skiers gliding effortlessly through the snow slopes between the pines. The gondola ride invoked a mixture of fear and excitement in my heart.

Atop the mountain, was a bustling scene of tourists frolicking amidst the snow-capped peaks, with Bollywood tunes adding to the surreal atmosphere. But we had a mission – to conquer the slopes – and so we trudged onward, following our instructor like obedient ducklings.

The beginning was tough, with my ploughing technique resembling more of a confused duck waddle than graceful skiing. But as I gained balance and confidence, I briefly tasted the sweet allure of being a pro-skier, until a sharp turn sent me tumbling down, gazing at the heavens from the snow-covered ground. Lying on the snow-covered surface on my back, gazing up at the azure sky framed by the branches of green pines adorned with a fresh layer of snow, felt like a glimpse of heaven. It was a moment of serenity and beauty that enveloped me completely, tempting me to linger in that tranquil embrace and resist the urge to rise.

A shout from my instructor snapped me back to reality, and I picked myself up, muscles aching and determination renewed, as we slowly graced downhill to a successful first round finish. But the thrill wasn’t over yet. Back on the gondolas, we embarked on two more downhill runs, perfecting the ploughing technique and even breaking a ski in the process – talk about dedication! 

Going downhill seemed like a breeze, but the toll it took on my muscles was no laughing matter. Hot saltwater baths became my best friend, soothing the aches and pains of a day on the slopes.

While my co-skiers bid adieu after five days of ski training, I stayed behind for two more days, determined to master the art of parallel runs. I didn’t quite achieve any significant skill improvement, except earning the right to take up the lift instead of walking up with skis on shoulder like a mule! But I knew that I was hooked on to the ski resort and the powdered slopes. 

Falling with Flair: Challenges, Falls, and Lessons Learned

In 2022 winters, I approached skiing with renewed vigour and confidence, feeling more adept than a novice skier. I nearly mastered the parallel ski drills on the gentle slopes and navigated the lift with the ease of a seasoned pro. As I gracefully mastered the art of balancing on two sticks, I felt triumphant and proud, smirking a little over the newcomers succumbing to more dramatic falls. Little did I know, the majestic mountains were ready to serve me a slice of humble pie, sprinkled with a dash of chaos and a pinch of pain.

It was the fourth day of my training, I was just to finish the last ski down run from a slightly harder slope. While the view was breathtaking, I felt fatigued, having done multiple rounds of skiing through the day. I wanted to quit the last round, but then who can say no to the adventure and so overlooked my own body’s limitations. 

And then the inevitable happened – a thunderous crash, I found myself fallen down kissing the snow lying in the most contorted manner. My pride took a tumble bigger than the mountains themselves and my dreams of effortless skiing adventures, shattered.

My knee cracked, but my instructor’s cracked his whip louder, to make me get back on my feet. I trudged my way back to the hotel in pain like a wounded warrior, walking almost two kms in those heavy ski boots. Thank God for my ski carrier guy, who helped me carry my ski and backpack.

In the hotel, when I removed my boots and checked the painful right knee, it was looking like a huge football. A quick video call was made to the Orthopaedic friend, who felt it was a ligament tear and that I should just observe the RICE – Rest, Ice, Compression & Elevate method and take pain killers.

Though my mind wanted to divert from all the pain, the body was refusing and I spent the dreary night in fear of having some major injury. Grateful for the hotel staff for being kind for ensuring I had warm food and water and a comfortable warm room.

Finding Strength in Stride: Running Knees and Kashmiri Kindness

The following day, I hailed a cab to Srinagar and checked into a hospital, where an X-ray unveiled the extent of my injury: a stretched ligament. It meant bidding farewell to strenuous sports for a while and focusing on the arduous path of recovery – physiotherapy and rest lay ahead. The realization sank in that this fall would disrupt many of my adventure plans for the next 2-3 months, casting a shadow over my spirits.

But amidst the pain, a ray of hope emerged – a testament to my passion for another demanding pursuit: running. The Orthopaedic surgeon, who tended to me at the Srinagar hospice, marveled at my marathon-trained quads. He noted that the strength of my quadriceps had shielded my knees from more serious injury. Who would’ve thought that my love for running would become my saving grace, sparing me from the agony of surgery? True to the doctor’s orders, I didn’t cease running – albeit with a mandated three-week hiatus, gradually easing back into the rhythm in my trusty running shoes!

While the mountains humbled me with a spectacular fall and subsequent injury, they imparted a vital lesson for a joyous, fulfilling life: falls are inevitable, but with a resilient body and mind, the sting is softened. 

Furthermore, the warmth and kindness of the Kashmiri people shone brightly amidst the chaos of my ski accident. I’m profoundly grateful for the unwavering support of those around me – from my encouraging ski instructor and attentive ski carrier to the compassionate hotel staff, the caring medical professionals, the friendly taxi drivers, and my dear friend Naseer Dar at the Brown Palace hotel in Srinagar. Their kindness, displayed when a solo adventurer was in distress, touched my heart deeply. A heartfelt shoutout to all my Kashmiri friends for exemplifying the true essence of hospitality.

So here I am, folks, a ski bunny turned ski casualty, learning that the mountains always have the last laugh. And though my skiing dreams may be temporarily on hold, the allure of Gulmarg’s snow-covered slopes continues to beckon, a reminder that the thrill of adventure is worth every fall and bruise. The mountains stand as majestic sentinels, teaching us humility and reverence as we navigate their slopes.