I spent three weeks studying in India during my junior year of undergrad. I signed up for the trip because my favorite professor was leading it, and I had already taken two of his Indian history classes. I was fascinated by this incredibly complex country—its diverse religions, languages, food, and history—and the chance to spend three weeks studying it with boots on the ground was a dream come true.
The first part of the trip was a bit rough. They say India is the last real culture shock, and I was definitely feeling it. We spent the first week and a half in major cities like Agra, Jaipur, and Delhi. We saw the Taj Mahal, the Palace of the Winds, the Water Palace, and Fort Agra. We even spent an afternoon riding camels into the Thar Desert before sleeping in A-frame tents under the stars. It was crowded and loud and dusty—a complete sensory overload. By the time we were ready to head into the Himalayas, I was more than ready for a slower-paced adventure.
We started the second leg of the journey in Haridwar, an ancient temple city along the Ganges River. Haridwar is one of the holiest pilgrimage sites in India, known as the "Gateway to the Gods." There are no cars, no alcohol, and no haggling in the markets. It’s a place to fix your karma and slow down. Needless to say, the vibe was already 100 times better than the whirlwind of the cities.
After two peaceful days in Haridwar, we crossed a walking bridge, hopped into cars, and made our way up into the mountains toward Mussoorie. The road to Mussoorie is long, winding, and notorious for making travelers carsick, so our professor arranged a stop about halfway in a small ski town called Dhanolti.
Since it was early January, we were well into the off-season and had the place to ourselves. Our guide, Ranjeet, arranged a private party at the hotel where the whiskey and Kingfisher beer were flowing. I’ve never been much of a drinker, and a few friends and I were content to hang out sober and enjoy the vibes. While we were chatting with our driver, he told us about a Hindu temple just two miles up the mountain and promised to take us on a sunrise hike if we were up for it. Spoiler: we were.
In the pre-dawn hours, I think our driver may have regretted his offer just a little. Sunrise hikes require pre-sunrise wake-ups, and he hadn’t skipped out on the drinks like we had. Still, he powered through like a champ, and I was grateful for his follow-through. Four of us braved the early wake-up with him, turning this little adventure into a core memory shared with found friends.
We started with a short car ride to the trailhead, where we began our hike. The first section was mostly stairs, followed by switchbacks that wound their way up the mountain. Over the two-mile trail, we gained about 1,000 feet of elevation, eventually reaching Surkanda Devi Temple at 9,041 feet. We arrived way too early—sunrise was still 30–45 minutes away—and it was freezing.
Our arrival (and our driver) woke one of the temple priests, who graciously invited us inside to warm up and rest. We napped until he woke us with steaming cups of masala chai just as the first light hit the mountains. Writing this now, I can still feel how unreal that moment was—one of those spontaneous decisions that leads to you drinking tea while watching the sunrise in the Himalayas. I still can’t believe it happened.
The view of the Himalayas was absolutely breathtaking. Rolling hills stretched into the distance, dwarfed by the snow-capped ridges of the Everest range far beyond. While we couldn’t see Mount Everest itself, just knowing it was part of the landscape left me in awe. I’ve never been one to fangirl over celebrities, but certain places will have me swooning like it’s Beatlemania. Surkanda Devi Temple became one of those places.
One of the gods we learned about during the trip was Hanuman—a half-man, half-monkey figure who carries a hammer and symbolizes bravery and service. There’s even a cartoon about him that we got a little obsessed with. I loved it so much that I bought a Hanuman hammer necklace, which I still have tucked away in a memory box.
When the sun rose, we saw a statue of Hanuman... covered in actual monkeys. It was this surreal moment where mythology and reality collided. The priests soon shooed them away to clear the temple, but the magic of that experience stuck with me. My only regret is not snagging a picture before the monkeys were gone, but the image is sketched in my memory forever.
We spent about an hour taking photos, watching the sunrise, and soaking up the peaceful morning before heading back down. The blue light of the sunrise reminded me so much of the countless sunrises I had grown up with in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Despite being thousands of miles away, I still felt at home.
By the time we returned to the hotel, the rest of our group was just starting to wake up. We had breakfast and then continued the drive to Mussoorie, where we stayed above the clouds and caught a double sunset. But that’s a story for another day.
