I hadn’t planned to fall in love with Lidderwat—it just sort of happened.

It started in Aru, a sleepy little village near Pahalgam, where pine trees lean in like they’re sharing secrets. I packed a light bag, laced up my boots, and followed the trail with no expectations—just a quiet excitement and the sound of the Lidder River keeping me company.

The path to Lidderwat winds gently through forests that smell of pine and damp earth. Every so often, the trees open up to wide green meadows where shepherds wave as you pass, and wildflowers nod in the breeze. It doesn’t feel like a trek; it feels like a long, peaceful exhale.

When I finally reached Lidderwat, the valley just opened up—lush, silent, and seemingly untouched. A few Gujjar huts sat in the distance, smoke rising in lazy spirals. I pitched my tent by the river, and as night fell, the stars spilled across the sky like they were poured out just for me.

There was no WiFi, no noise, no rush. Just the mountains, the river, and the stillness I’d been unknowingly craving.

Lidderwat isn’t just a place—it’s a feeling. And it stays with you long after you leave.