What happens when a village changes countries overnight? During the Indo-Pakistan War of 1971, Turtuk in the Shyok Valley, was captured by the Indian Army. Literally overnight, this remote hamlet tucked between the Karakoram mountains went from being part of Pakistan to becoming a part of India. Today, its unique heritage and stunning beauty make it one of the country’s most fascinating destinations.
The drive from the Nubra Valley to Turtuk was unlike any other road trip I’d ever taken. As our car followed the winding road, the landscape shifted from stark mountains to a lush green valley with tall poplar trees, with the serene Shyok River gurgling all along. It was a slow, deliberate passage, with every turn revealing a landscape that felt untouched by time. And then, the phone signal vanished, severing my last link to the modern world. Finally, as I entered Turtuk, the first signs of life appeared in the form of blooming buckwheat fields and apricot orchards. Here, nestled between the vast Himalayan and Karakoram mountains, was my home for the trip: Virsa Baltistan, a boutique property built with local stone and timber that made it blend with the Karakoram mountains it was perched under.
A Taste of Balti
After a full day’s drive, I was ravenous, picturing a piping hot bowl of thukpa and warm momos the delicious staples I had come to associate Ladakh with. But Balti food with its no-frills philosophy, was a delicious surprise. “We serve the food we grew up eating. These are our grandmother’s recipes, the flavours of our winters, the things we harvested by hand,” explains Rashidullah Khan, a Turtuk native and founder of Virsa.
The ba-leh a stew of potatoes, peas and hand-rolled barley noodles was comforting while the buckwheat pancakes topped with a walnut and onion
chutney delicious. There’s also praku a pasta cooked in a creamy walnut sauce and kisir-na-grangthur a dish of buckwheat pancakes with a herbed yogurt dip (similar to a raita). Sun dried apricots slow simmered in Himalayan basil made for the perfect finale. Balti cuisine shaped by the cold, high-altitude landscape of Turtuk relies mainly on grains like buckwheat, barley, fresh produce and fruits. There is a notable absence of commercial spices but the brilliance of foraged herbs like wild basil, tsamik, dragonhead and mountain garlic shines through.
Sights, Sounds and Stories
Turtuk isn’t a place for hurried checklist; but a slow surrender to its steep,
labyrinthine alleys. My meandering led me to the Balti Heritage House a meticulously renovated 15th century home in the upper hamlet of Farol. The traditional tools, textiles and manuscripts on display tell the story of the community. Just a stone’s throw away is a natural freezer – a chamber carved into glacial rock that has been used for generations to keep perishables cold year-round.
Breaking bread with the Yabgo dynasty, a family that once ruled Baltistan, was an unforgettable part of the trip. Our meal was laced with stories narrated by King Yabgo Mohammad Khan Kacho himself. The palace is a remarkable structure, featuring intricately carved wooden columns, ancient swords and headgear worn by kings and queens.
But nothing was more impactful than peering through a pair of binoculars at the Thang View Point, where I truly understood the meaning of a border. The winding Shyok River carves a natural divide in the distance, and from this spot, I could see the flags and bunkers of the Indian Army, as well as the villages and posts on the other side of the Line of Control in Pakistan. It’s more than just a scenic view; it’s a powerful reminder of the region’s complex past and the resilience of the communities that live on both sides.
Why go to Turtuk
Turtuk opened to tourists only in 2010 and still remains a quiet and largely
unexplored gem. The remoteness is the primary reason; reaching it requires a full day’s drive from Leh. This physical isolation naturally filters out casual travellers who prefer the more touristy tracks.
You won’t find large hotels or souvenir shops here, but a handful of guesthouses and homestays. The deliberately minimal infrastructure means it caters to a niche traveller – one who seeks genuine cultural immersion and peace over convenience. As a result, Turtuk has largely avoided the commercialisation seen in other parts of Ladakh, preserving its unique Balti culture, pristine landscapes, and tranquil atmosphere, making it a true off-the-beaten-path destination even today.
