Insecurity – Part 2: The Insecurity I Buried in the Snow

The Insecurity I Buried in the Snow

They say real growth begins when you willingly walk toward what scares you the most. In the last blog, I shared how my biggest fear was depending on others—professionally, emotionally, or physically. This story is where I took a major step to face that fear… and I buried it deep in the snow of Solang Valley.

The Zipline That Pushed Me (Literally)

Before we even reached Solang Valley, there was a stop at what locals called the biggest zipline in Manali. Most people from our group passed on it since we’d already done one back in Shimla. But I was determined. Not just for the thrill—but for something more.

As I got geared up, the wind was insane. The guide explained how the strong gusts were pushing back from Solang Valley, causing some people to get stuck mid-air. I saw it happen.

When my turn came, the instructor looked at me and said,
“Looking at you, maybe the wind won’t stop you.”
We both laughed, and off I went, screaming:
“YAHOO! Chahe koi mujhe jungli kahe…”

It was fun—until it wasn’t.

I got stuck mid-air, swaying, suspended over the valley. Minutes passed. Then someone from the other side came out on a rescue pulley, reached me, and shouted,
“Grab onto my gear!”

And I did.

It might sound minor, but it was the first moment on this trip where I had no choice but to trust someone else with my life.
That moment stayed with me.

Off the Trail, Into the Snow

After the zipline, we skipped the crowded touristy routes and followed our guide’s offbeat advice:
“If you just want snow, go up that way. You’ll find untouched magic.”

So four of us set off—me, the solo traveler who had quickly become a close buddy, and the newly married couple.

What followed was a 45-minute hike through forest paths, rocks, and uneven slopes. Then we saw it—a pristine valley covered in white, untouched by tourists, unreachable for most.

But to get there, we had to descend a treacherous slope, edge across the side of a mountain held together only by steel wires, and trust every footstep we made.

The solo traveler and the husband from the couple checked the path, came back, and guided us forward.

Trusting Each Step

We made it. The snow was perfect. We played. Threw snowballs. Laughed like children. The couple made a snowman. We clicked a ton of pictures. For that hour, time stood still.

Then it was time to go back.

The route we had taken to enter wasn’t safe anymore. So we started climbing a steep incline, a different way up the valley. The snow was fresh and untouched, meaning every step was unpredictable.

I felt breathless. Oxygen was thinning. My legs started tiring. I couldn’t see a way out.

But my friend was ahead, climbing confidently.

So I made a choice:
I followed her exact footprints.
Each step she took, I took. I stopped trying to do it all myself. I let someone guide me.

I even ate some of the snow to hydrate and recover energy (pro tip: works great at altitude 😂).

And then—we made it to the top.

I stood there, smiling wider than I had in a long time. That moment of trust, of shared effort, felt like something new had awakened in me.

A River, a Realization

We slid back down the trail, met up with the others, and reached a riverbank.

That’s when I wrote the blog A Reminder Carved in Stone. The thoughts from this journey had already started to crystallize in my mind.

That day, something shifted.
I buried the insecurity that I had to do it all myself.
I took the help I needed.
I trusted others to be there.
And they were.

Up next: Kullu.
A story where I willingly did something that felt reckless—just to conquer this fear completely.
The day I put my life on the line.