LOW SEASON HIGHS, IN MANALI - Published The Statesman

Travellers in India move in herds, according to the season. In winter, the southern coastline and Goa’s intoxicating party scene beckons; come summer, the hill stations of Himachal Pradesh and Raj-style Darjeeling are the snow-capped gems in the subcontinental crown. This winter, however, I decided to brave the role of the black sheep and head to Manali in late November, well into its low season.

6,400 feet above sea level and cradled by the Himalayan foothills, Manali is celebrated as Himachal’s adventure sports capital (and – more reservedly - for its bountiful supply of charas, or local-grown hash). Come November, however, Manali’s population drops as fast as its average temperature, leaving the hill station’s action-packed programme sadly depleted. While sports like rock climbing and rafting are still available in the low season, the prospect of hanging by my numb pinky from a cliff face or plunging into a glacial river set my teeth on edge. To be honest, I’m not much of a thrill seeker and was glad of the excuse. Peaceful hikes and breath-taking scenery are more my style. I wasn’t to be disappointed.

Arriving on a private deluxe (but still bone-shaking) night bus from Chandigarh, the 5˚C dawn air proved a more powerful pick-me-up than the espresso waiting for me at my hotel. Manali Heights, a self-described ‘fairytale luxury hotel’ perched above Old Manali and framed against towering pine forests, proved an ideal refuge from the rigours of the landscape. This ‘fairytale’, however, was a little on the chilly side. I hadn’t bargained for the fact that most hotels in Manali, even upmarket resorts, have a policy of switching on their central heating only when their occupancy hits around sixty per cent. I’d learned my first ‘low season’ lesson. You can pay to be pampered in Manali, but you still need to pack long underwear.

The best way to get the blood pumping is, of course, to explore. Central Manali, Old Manali and Vashisht – a village around three kilometres north of Manali – are all tourist hotspots in their own right. Old Manali and Vashisht have been hippy-magnets ever since the hill station was first discovered as a global destination back in the sixties. While I had a great time cruising the mellow cafes and hobnobbing with blissed-out old-timers, here’s a whispered warning: don’t take your gran. Central Manali, on the other hand, is larger, more modern and definitely more appropriate for families and comfort-seekers. That being said, it is beginning to suffer from over-development, with concrete eyesores now marring the mountain views.

The Lonely Planet and various tourist websites had ‘informed’ me that Old Manali and Vashisht were closed from October to May. While I should be lambasting the so-called traveller’s bible for this piece of pessimistic hyperbole, in fact I’m immensely grateful. While the hordes of skiers and stoners were warned off the trip, I enjoyed my very own tranquil hill station where the locals were more likely to chat about the chance of snowfall than to holler at me from their crowded shop doorways.

This said, given that more than half of the Manali hospitality sector had followed the tourist herd down to the warmer climes of Goa, the semi-deserted feel of the villages could be a tad depressing. In high season, Old Manali boasts neck-to-neck restaurants cooking up everything from fajitas to homemade tagliatelli and I spent a good few hours salivating over the signs of these boarded up joints. However, once I’d pulled my eyes away I found a fair few multicuisine restuarants still open, as well as numerous dhabas (there’s nothing like a bowl of steaming thukpa after a mountain hike). In fact, the lack of choice was a mixed blessing as the more popular restaurants, hotels and hostels tend to open over all year round, leaving me with what I like best: a short list of quality options.

Hard-core trekkers would no doubt turn their nose up at Manali’s winter season. Firstly, the Rohtang and Kunzum passes are almost always snow-bound by November, so the popular multi-day treks to Lahaul and Spiti are a no-go. Casual walkers like me, however, could spend weeks mapping the labyrinth of paths up into the dizzying foothills, ducking into the many temples and gompas along the way. While I hired a guide to drive me up to the shifting snowline, the more adventurous can rent bikes or cars and make their own way up to such soul-stirring views as afforded by Rohtang Pass or Ladakhi Peak.

Animals move in herds for protection and you could say the same about travellers. Straying off the path, I had to face the bitter cold and forage around for tasty, quality cuisine. My reward was a hill station unsullied by harried hoteliers or the stench of chain-smoked spliffs – an invitation to set my own pace and revel in the landscape as it revealed itself to me alone. Manali in the low season is high on my list of recommendations. Just don’t all come at once. Only black sheep allowed.