The smart thing to do before embarking on a skiing jaunt to Auli is to check if there is enough snow. Considering that it is January and Auli is 10,000ft high smack in the folds of the Garhwal Himalaya, I am already fantasising about carving some elegant turns down some of the best pistes in India. I haven’t skied in years, but I have cunningly downloaded a few YouTube instructional videos to refresh my rusty technique and I am reasonably confident of schussing down the slopes without embarrassing myself.

It’s a long haul to Auli from Mumbai, and my journey involves a two-hour flight to Delhi, six-hour train ride to Hardwar and a 300-kilometre drive along the banks of the Ganga splitting right at Devprayag to follow an aquamarine Alaknanda all the way to Joshimath before a final short climb to Auli. I stop over for the night at the superbly located riverside Himalayan Eco Lodge at Jayalgarh, a four-hour drive from Haridwar. GIO Adventures, which runs several such lodges, has seen fit to provide me with a guide, Bachan Rana, a tall outdoorsy looking chap who has some great stories about trekking and other adventures in Garhwal.

The drive from Joshimath to Auli. (Photograph by Harsh Man Rai)

Jayalgarh to Auli is frankly quite a tedious drive. It’s the main route of the yatris on the char dham itinerary and there seems to be a concrete hotel and human habitation around almost every corner. In this treeless mountain landscape, the Alaknanda provides some visual relief and Bachan points out landmark rapids  and the various prayags where smaller rivers meet to swell the Alaknanda. At Srinagar, a hydel project is birthing with its usual detritus of mud, dust and broken roads. It’s a relief then to leave the road at Joshimath for the final haul to Auli and lunch.

The Himalayan Eco Lodge is located in a crook, just off the road, at Jhangria Bend, seven kilometres short of Auli. The location is spectacular with the property facing a row of bare jagged peaks arranged like a dentist’s nightmare; in the background the peaks of Kamet, Hathi and Ghori Parbat, Dunagiri, Mana and Nanda Devi rise like the snowy folds of an elegant pocket square. The lodge abuts the house of well-known journalist Harish Chandola, a striking structure made in the local style with carved wood balconies looking out to marvellous 180° vistas. There is no snow here, but the staff reassures me that there’s enough on the slopes of Auli further up.

The Himalayan Eco Lodge at Auli (Photograph by Harsh Man Rai)

I point my skis downhill and set off...bend, lean, edge, turn, rise...bend, lean, edge, turn, rise...it’s an exhilarating cadence once you get it right

After lunch we head out for the slopes and my altimeter steadily ticks off to 9,500ft by the time we reach the ski lifts. There’s still no sign of snow… There’s only a chair lift operational and the 800m ride over barren slopes doesn’t look promising. I can spot artificial snow-making guns flanking the ski run but I’m told these never work and spew only water and not fluffy clouds of powdery snow that they are meant to. Getting off the lift, I finally spot a few people on a snow-covered slope almost a kilometre away past the empty reservoir that is supposed to hold the water for the snow-making machines. Stopping at a rental shop, we pick up our skis, boots and poles and, dodging puddles, trudge painfully upwards. I’m breathing heavily by the time we reach the edge of the slope. In the late afternoon there’s only a handful of tourists whooping it up in the snow, and a few pose for photographs in their vests Rohtang-style. It’s a rather dismal sight and even the weather is closing in with sporadic small flurries of snow dusting my clothes like talc. Strapping on my skis, I prudently do baby little snow runs from the middle of the slope, knees and thighs protesting against demands made on them. The sequence goes like this: walk halfway up the slope with skis on shoulder; strap skis on; ski down the slope; take skis off; and walk up the slope again… five minutes to walk up and ten seconds to come down. I watch in envy as a bunch of local kids comes showboating down the slope, carving expert little turns at high speed, skid-stopping in a spray of snow just before the snow gives way to grass and mud. They’ve hiked it all the way till the distant treeline for one last run before packing up.

Back at the lodge there’s enough daylight left to explore a bit and as I walk around I come across kids playing cricket—every time the ball gets whacked into the next field, the batsmen convene at a small bonfire to warm their hands before taking guard again. Further down the road, a brace of wild fowl scampers into the undergrowth. It’s been a mixed bag of a day, but the skiing has been enormous fun even in the short dribbly runs that I’ve done and it feels good to get my legs back and my lungs used to the altitude. Just the views around Auli of the Himalaya are worth the journey. After dinner, just as I am getting ready for bed, the lights go out. Stepping out into the dark of the night I am transfixed by a magical glittering canopy of stars clustered more thickly than Swarovski crystals on a fashion designer’s muse.

Local kids on the slopes (Photograph by Harsh Man Rai)

The next morning is clear and bright, the sun rising over Nanda Devi’s distinctive shoulders to dissipate yesterday’s promise of snowfall. An early start is called for and we are at the slopes once again by 9am. This time we drive past the chairlift on a road that resembles a motocross track. Skis in hand, we are determined to get in a few runs before the tourists arrive. This time around I venture higher to start my runs and after a while I’m staring down from the top at a slope that looks alarmingly steep. I’m at the very top of the ski lift and I can see why, in ideal conditions, Auli would be a skier’s Mecca with a composite run of almost three kilometres on groomed slopes. Hike up to Gorson Bugyal near the treeline and you can combine this run with an off-piste course on deep powder. I point my skis downhill and set off…bend, lean, edge, turn, rise…bend, lean, edge, turn, rise… It’s an exhilarating cadence once you get it right. I’m hooked now, clambering up the mountain again and again to find that perfect little moment where my brain goes completely empty, and my body happily reacts to the obstacles set in front of me and I’m living completely in the present. There is this total silence, except for the inexplicable noise of the snow. I’ll be back in Auli sometime soon, but this time I’ll make sure there’s enough snow.