The hills are full. Please turn back

It happens every year without fail. The moment the India Meteorological Department (IMD) announces a heatwave in North India, bags are packed. “It might snow in Manali” or “The heatwave is worsening” that’s all travellers need to hear. The rest, they assume, can be figured out on the highway. Since last week, social media has been flooded with the inevitable: bumper-to-bumper gridlock in Manali, Sikkim, Shimla, as thousands fled the scorching plains.

And this isn’t new anymore. We’ve repeatedly seen visuals of tourists stranded near the Atal Tunnel, cars clogging the narrow roads of Spiti Valley, and litter scattered across routes that once felt remote. The recent video from Sikkim’s Zero Point is just another addition to the regularly overcrowded spots. Easier road access, long weekends, and the urge to “explore someplace new” have turned pristine hill stations into overcrowded, chaotic extensions of city life.Additionally, everyone wants to take their own cars now, regardless of whether they understand the nuances of hill driving. They are driven by just one goal: Reach the mountains. The result? Endless honking, engines revving through valleys meant to be quiet, and tourists slipping on black ice because they underestimated the terrain. Incidents around Mashobra or the Manali-Leh highway are no longer anomalies; they have become the baseline.

Ironically, this is now the worst time to visit the hills if you’re actually seeking peace.
The mountains no longer feel slow. Cafes blast loud music. Popular spots resemble metropolitan marketplaces – just with better weather.

“Don’t show up with city speed and bulldoze through slow mountain magic. The hills don’t rush. Match the local tempo. Breathe slower, speak softer, and ditch the ‘I paid for this, so I own it’ energy,” Ankit, a cabin owner in Dehradun tells me.

But do we follow any of that? Nitya Budhraja, who has been in Sattal for three decades and runs a sustainable homestay and café there, observes, “Before the pandemic, living here meant embracing a conscious choice rooted in sustainability and symbiosis with nature. But after COVID, everything has changed. The tourists aren’t even looking for the hills. They’re looking for a city life in prettier packaging. Once, you wouldn’t hear a single horn all day. Now, the hills echo with the noise of mindless movements.”

And maybe that’s the real problem.
We escape to the mountains carrying the exact impatience, entitlement, and noise we’re trying to run away from. We want untouched beauty, but we refuse to slow down enough to experience it. Whenever I speak to locals about tourists tackling dangerous routes, their advice is simple and rarely followed: “Bring your own car if you want – but if you can’t drive in the hills, hire a local.”

Somewhere in the race to outsmart one another, travel has become less about experiencing a place and more about ticking it off a reel.

Yes, escape the monotony. Become a wanderer. But do it with some planning, some awareness, and some respect for the place you are entering. The hills can still offer calm, but only if you bring that energy with you.

And if all you want is loud music, reckless driving, and the same chaos you left behind, maybe just stay home and let the mountains breathe a little.
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