To escape the monotonous routine of city life, I packed my rucksack one October afternoon and headed for the mountains to satisfy my wanderlust. This has become a routine over time; every year, I plan a trip to rediscover the Hunza Valley, particularly in the fall season.

Located in the shadows of the mighty Karakoram mountains, Hunza has in the last decade become the ‘new Murree’ of Pakistan, as hundreds of thousands of tourists, desperate for a break, flock to the valley to enjoy its melodious sceneries.

The thing about Hunza is that it has something to offer in all seasons. But autumn in the valley is a sight to behold. From October 15 to mid-November, it undergoes a breathtaking transformation, turning into a tapestry of vivid colours and serene landscapes.

The slow and beautiful change of green foliage to vibrant yellow, golden and red sit perfectly in contrast with the turquoise waters of the Hunza River. Seated on the riverbank at dawn, this captivating grandeur of nature not only nourishes the soul but also alleviates all worldly anxieties.

The chilly October wind causes a flurry in the falling leaves, making them glide in the air before gently landing on the ground. When crushed underfoot, these leaves bring about a giddy feeling and a delightful crisp.

It is true when they say nature holds the power to leave you speechless; I felt the same in Hunza. But poet Emily Bronte, a master of words, perfectly described the essence of autumn.

“Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me.
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.”

In a trance

But before revelling in the marvel of fall in Hunza, there’s a 14-hour drive to brave — after all, good things come to those who wait. My journey started from Islamabad after midnight and by the next morning, I had crossed the Babusar Pass, which stands at 13,691 feet — a route that offers a picturesque passage to Gilgit-Baltistan from April to October.

During winter, the pass is closed due to heavy snowfall, and travellers have to go the other way round through the Basham route.

By the time I arrived in Hunza, the sun had set leaving behind hues of orange and yellow, perfectly in symphony with the resplendent colours of the autumn bloom. But even before they could settle, my eyes first darted to the “mother of mists”, the Rakaposhi Peak. I was in a trance.

The mighty mountains that encircle Hunza offer a majestic display of power, soaring above 7,000 meters. They include the Rakaposhi, Ultar-1 and 2, Diran, Spantik, Hunza Peak, Lady Finger and Dastgil Sir.

A panoramic view of four of these peaks, all in one breathtaking tableau, can be seen from the Ganesh village, one of the Hunza’s oldest settlements located 90 kilometres from Gilgit. This is where I gaped at the first rays of the sun falling over Rakaposhi, before proceeding to Karimabad.

An unworldly town

Perched atop a hill overlooking the valley, Karimabad, the capital of Hunza district, boasts an unworldly view. Narrow lanes, adorned with bustling shops and hotels, warmly welcome tourists. And so do the people.

After roaming through these streets, like a puzzle guarded by towering mountains, I made my way towards the Altit and Baltit forts.

Baltit Fort, positioned at the town’s highest point, tells stories that date back centuries. The fortified mud structure, built in the 13th Century, is witness to countless political intrigues and wars, earning a place on the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation’s (Unesco) World Heritage tentative list.

At a distance of just 10 minutes is the Altit village, characterised by its labyrinthine alleyways and historic houses. The town’s architecture retains a unique ancient charm, with children playing in the winding alleys, elders gathering at street corners, and women going about their daily chores.

At the heart of the village stands the Altit Fort, almost twinning with the Baltit Fort except that the former has better stood the test of time, including earthquakes. It is this that makes the structure, standing over 1,000 feet above the Hunza River, one of the most astonishing architectural marvels of its era.

What really caught my eye (and heart) though, was the fort’s royal garden, its beauty enhanced by the fall season.

Entering a new realm

For an unobstructed view of the entire valley, Duikar, also known as Eagle’s Nest, is the ultimate vantage point. The Duikar village comprises only a few homes and hotels, but the real gem lies in the panoramic view it offers of Hunza and Nagar, framed by snowcapped mountains.

But more than anything, and this may be controversial, travelling through Hunza’s sweeping vistas is my favourite. The transition of sunrise and sunset along these routes transports travellers into a new realm.

As our journey continued towards the upper reaches of Hunza, we came across the mesmerising Attabad Lake. Formed after a landslide in 2010, the lake’s azure waters against the backdrop of barren mountains and colourful fall trees are dreamlike, far away from reality.

My next stop is the Passu village, home to trees in fiery hues of red, orange, and gold, along with rugged mountains. The tranquil waters of the Passu River meander through the valley, reflecting the changing colours of the season.

Passu village in autumn is a place where time seems to slow down, and nature’s beauty takes centre stage, offering a respite from the hustle and bustle of the world.

I have visited Hunza on multiple occasions, and each trip has unveiled unique scenery. Every visit has left me with a sense of incompleteness, as there is always more to discover within the valley’s vibrant colours and landscapes. If you seek the essence of autumn in Pakistan, look no further than the blue skies and golden cornfields of Gilgit-Baltistan.

Header image: Witnessing the dawn’s gentle embrace from the timeless Altit Village. — All photos by author