Joshimath  to Dronagiri Village via Ruing

The morning begins with a drive of nearly 45 km from Joshimath to Jumma, a small riverside hamlet perched on the rugged banks of the Dhauli Ganga. The journey itself is an initiation into remoteness the road winds past thick forests of pine and oak, occasional clearings where shepherd huts cling to slopes, and precipitous cliffs that remind you of the raw force with which the river has carved this valley.

At Jumma, the trek begins. A steep but short 3 km climb, usually taking 1–2 hours, lifts you from the riverside to the ancient village of Ruing, standing at 2,800 m. The trail feels like a quiet passage through thresholds: the lowland’s roar of the Dhauli Ganga gradually gives way to the hushed cadence of mountain breezes and the crunch of boots on stone. Entering Ruing is like walking into a living museum of Garhwali tradition. Houses here are built of stone and timber, their slanted roofs weighted with flat slate, standing as much against time as against snow. Terraced fields, golden in autumn or a patchwork of green in summer, step gently down toward the river.

From Ruing, the path continues upward for another 4–5 km, gradually ascending through dense oak and rhododendron forests. The trek requires 3–4 hours of steady walking, but the effort is rewarded at every turn. Small streams thread through the trail, their icy waters sparkling in the sunlight, while occasional clearings reveal distant snow-capped peaks that seem to float above the valley. The air grows thinner, carrying a hint of alpine freshness and the faint scent of wildflowers, signaling the approach of higher altitudes.

By late afternoon, Dronagiri Village emerges a quiet settlement perched at 3,500 m, where stone and timber houses cling to the slopes, and terraced fields descend toward hidden streams. The village is simpler, more isolated, yet no less enchanting than Ruing. Life here moves at an unhurried rhythm: villagers tend livestock, cultivate hardy crops, and maintain small shrines tucked among the homes, connecting daily life to both earth and myth.

Bagini base camp to jumma and back to Joshimath

The morning at Bagini Glacier Base Camp is crisp and tranquil, the surrounding peaks bathed in soft, early light. After a final breakfast amidst the high-altitude serenity, the trek begins downward toward Jumma, retracing approximately 9–10 km of winding paths through alpine meadows, rhododendron forests, and the rocky ridges first encountered on the ascent. The journey is a gentle but deliberate descent, usually taking 5–6 hours, offering time to reflect on the glaciers, peaks, and ridges that have defined the trek.

The trail gradually leaves the moraine-strewn glacier terrain behind, giving way to softer slopes and lush meadows. Streams, now calmer and sunlit, crisscross the path, their waters glinting like molten silver. Every step downward reveals the valleys in a new light: ridges and peaks once towering above now seem to embrace the path below, and the Dhauli Ganga murmurs faintly from afar, guiding the journey back toward civilization.

Upon reaching Jumma, the small riverside hamlet welcomes trekkers with the familiar charm of stone houses and terraced fields. The village, perched on the rugged banks of the Dhauli Ganga, feels like a bridge between the wilderness traversed and the world left behind. Here, the trek concludes, and vehicles are ready for the 45 km drive back to Joshimath.

The drive descends through winding mountain roads lined with pine and oak forests, punctuated by occasional shepherd huts clinging to slopes and sheer cliffs that frame the river far below. As the town of Joshimath comes into view, trekkers are treated to a final panorama of the valley they have traversed: peaks, glaciers, and ridges now distant, yet indelibly etched in memory. The journey ends not with the absence of mountains, but with a quiet recognition that they will linger in thought, shaping both the spirit and the stories carried home.