Summer on ski slopes

Even if one is not much of a snow and skiing enthusiast, Auli will still be an irresistible experience

Given that I don't particularly love the snow and I can't ski to save my life, I find myself irresistibly drawn to ski slopes - in the summer. To many, the idea of visiting ski slopes after the snows have melted might seem a bit mad, but consider this. The moisture from the melted snow gives rise to the greenest grasses, brightest wild flowers and the loveliest vistas imaginable. This is why to me, Auli, India's best winter sports destination, is ideal for a laidback summer vacation. This little ski resort, 40 kilometres from Badrinath, has grassy meadows full of wildflowers stretching far into the horizon, and glorious vistas of snow-clad peaks -Kedarnath and Nar-Narayan on one end, Nanda Devi and Trishul on the other.

The only problem with Auli in the summer is getting there, as it entails driving across 400-odd kilometres from Delhi on Uttarakhand's busy pilgrimage route, past busloads of pilgrims and pitstops choc-a-bloc with Hindu religious memorabilia shrink-wrapped in non-biodegradable plastic. We stop at a tea stall near Joshimath and a lady in red asks if like her, we too are on a pilgrimage. I say yes, much to my children's mystification. I explain that for me, any trip to the lofty heights of the Himalayas seems like a journey to a holy place. She moves away, not knowing what to say and I reclaim my position in the family as the slightly crazy mountain buff.

Finally, we're there. Ahead is a ski lift moving silently in an eternal loop as it ferries tourists up the slopes of Auli. Snow-capped peaks shine over lush meadows as we ascend, and a hush-balm to our overworked ears after the long drive, descends. Other than the towers housing the ski lift, Auli is simply a collection of a dozen odd low-roofed cottages and tents selling Maggi and tea. On one side, there a large water reservoir that freezes in winter into an ice skating rink. Above, all one can see are grassy meadows rising up to a tall, dense pine forest.

That afternoon, as we go for a leisurely amble around, the only sound we hear is the buzzing of a thousand bees and the very Alps-like tinkling of cow bells. Indeed, comparisons with the Alps are inevitable, but Auli has the added piquancy of having myth and legend embedded in every nook and cranny. Ahead of us, the tallest and brightest peak is Nanda Devi, the godly giver of bliss. Locals think of her as a capricious goddess whose icy breath brings snows to Auli. We sit in one of Auli's many "viewpoints" - gazebos probably designed by some long gone bureaucrat with a taste for whimsy, to watch Nanda Devi's seductive dance with the dipping sun. "Tea?" asks a boy from a tea stall nearby. We hold the warm mugs gratefully as dusk has brought down the temperatures drastically.

Over the next few days, we explore all the hiking trails above the chair lift. Our favourite is the three-kilometre walk to Gorson Top, where a series of impossibly green meadows, roll on and on till the snow line. Being at an altitude of over 10,000 feet has its own challenges, we discover as we traipse breathlessly uphill. Around us, the night's spell of rains has caused wild irises, daisies and saxifrage to burst into bloom. Lying amongst them replete after a picnic lunch, I espy a Monal in a clearing. It's a female, so much drabber as is the wont of the avian world, than its male partner.

Clearly, most paths in Auli going uphill eventually lead to Gorson Top. The next day we head back there, my hamstrings having given up protesting and settled into a sullen achy silence. Distant thunder augurs rain. We take shelter in a shepherd's tent, and over our picnic lunch of paranthas and the black tea he kindly brews for us, he talks about how every plant in these mountains has some value, and plays a part in the larger scheme of things. "Is it the same in Delhi?" he asks. "I've never been…."

The clouds pass, and we walk slowly up a steep incline, one of Auli's most challenging ski slopes. I close my eyes and for a brief moment I picture skiers careening madly downhill in wet snow, trusting their limbs and lives to some dodgy pieces of metal. Then I open my eyes and see the green grass and wildflowers and feel the cool breeze and warm sun upon my face. "Auli is definitely better in the summer, "I declare." Always in the summer..."