Named after John Bicknell Auden, a British geologist with the Geological Survey of India who first spotted the pass in 1935 and eventually crossed it in 1939, it is the lowest crossing point connecting the Rudugaira valley above Gangotri to the Bhilangana river basin, lying on a saddle where ridges descending from Gangotri III and Jogin I peaks converge.<\/p>\n
The two-week journey traverses birch and rhododendron forests, lush meadows, sweeping moraines, and endless glaciers beneath some of Garhwal\u2019s highest peaks. Attempted by a small number of organised groups and commercial expeditions each year, it remains a serious undertaking even today, demanding endurance, patience, and a willingness to adapt to the fickle moods of the mountains.<\/p>\n
Gangotri town, where the trek begins.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
Our journey began at Gangotri, following the Rudugaira valley upstream along the Rudra Ganga river through forests and meadows before the landscape gradually surrendered to rock and ice. Beyond vegetation, the mountains asserted their true scale. Camp after camp brought us deeper into a world of shattered boulders, glacial torrents and vast amphitheatres of snow and ice, dominated by the imposing silhouettes of Jogin, Gangotri and other fabled peaks of the Greater Himalayan range.<\/p>\n
Summit day began long before dawn. Nervous headlamps flickered across the glacier as we moved slowly, roped together, looking out for crevasses while inching up steep slopes. At over 5,000 metres, every step demanded effort. Reaching the Col brought a sense of triumph, yet it was only fleeting, as on the other side lay the (in)famous Khatling glacier, a huge expanse of snow and ice whose crossing forms the crux of the trek.<\/p>\n
True to its reputation, the descent exemplified the mountain adage that reaching the top is only half the journey. Crossing the 10-km-long glacier took us two full days. What appeared from a distance to be a straightforward trail frequently dissolved into a maze of meltwater streams, unstable moraines and towering icefalls, forcing repeated detours.<\/p>\n
Despite having crossed the route many times before, our experienced guides were frequently flummoxed, repeatedly reassessing the terrain. Sections they had walked across just a year ago had either disappeared, become impassable, or been transformed by rockfall and shifting ice. It was a lesson that these seemingly immutable landscapes are, in reality, in a constant state of flux \u2014 either through the gradual forces of time or the rapidly unfolding impacts of climate change.<\/p>\n
Rare was the day when we escaped without rain, sleet or fresh snowfall. Mornings often dawned under clear skies, only for clouds to gather by midday, swallowing the surrounding peaks and reducing visibility to a few metres.<\/p>\n
Unlike Auden, whose journey concluded after he descended into Gangi village from Khatling, our traverse continued. After leaving the glacier, we climbed once again, this time towards Mayali Pass at approximately 5,000 metres above sea level. This variation to the route was opened by Indian explorers in the 1980s.<\/p>\n
The approach to the pass took us to the frozen Masar Tal, from where we trudged up over the Dudhganga glacier. Here, we found a newly formed lake left behind by a retreating tongue of ice, forcing us to negotiate a narrow and increasingly precarious trail skirting its edge, where one slip would mean a definite fall into ice-cold water. In the high mountains, these are the clearest signs of the Anthropocene \u2014 the imprint of human impacts on fragile natural landscapes.<\/p>\n
Bharal, the Himalayan Blue Sheep.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
Crossing Mayali Pass, we reached Vasuki Tal, marking our transition into the upper Kedarnath valley. From there, it was a relatively short climb before the final descent towards Kedarnath. After days spent in near-complete wilderness, the sudden appearance of the temple town \u2014 now expanded into a bustling settlement with hotels, shops and extensive construction work \u2014 came as something of a jolt. The contrast between the stark solitude of the high mountains and the frenetic pace of development below was difficult to ignore.<\/p>\n
For Auden and his contemporaries, uncertainty stemmed largely from the absence of information, which made route-finding an expedition in itself. Today, we carry GPS devices and detailed route descriptions. The blank spaces on maps may have disappeared, but the uncertainty remains, these days arising from the vicissitudes of global warming and erratic weather patterns.<\/p>\n
Yet amid all these changes, one constant has endured across more than a century of Himalayan travel: the mountain people themselves. Auden relied heavily on local men during his travels, praising their skill, endurance and balance on difficult ice. Modern expeditions are no different. Long before dawn, our guides, porters and cooks were already awake \u2014 preparing meals, breaking and setting up camps, and ferrying heavy loads across hazardous terrain.<\/p>\n
Their quiet professionalism, intimate knowledge of the mountains, and indefatigable spirit remain the backbone of any exploration.<\/p>\n
To traverse Auden\u2019s Col today is to be humbled by the sheer scale of nature and sobered by its transient reality, a chance to step into a landscape that feels both eternal and urgently fragile.<\/p>\n
Trip Essentials<\/h2>\n
Route: Begins at Gangotri town, ascends the Kedar Ganga River valley, crosses Auden\u2019s Col (5,500 metres) into Khatling Glacier, then climbs to Mayali Pass (5,000 metres) to descend into Kedarnath.<\/p>\n
Duration: Approximately 11-14 days.<\/p>\n
Season: May-June (pre-monsoon) and September-October (post-monsoon).<\/p>\n
Support: Guides and porters are mandatory.<\/p>\n
Permits: Mandatory. Can be applied online.<\/p>\n
\u2014 The writer is an outdoor enthusiast<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n