Driving the Kalka Curves Where the Mountains Finally Opened Up

The traffic in Kalka was slow, mainly due to toll stops and roadworks, but honestly, it was worth the wait. As we started climbing the hill roads, mountain peaks began to appear in the distance, one after another. Every now and then I’d let out a quiet “wow”… which slowly turned into louder ones, because it just kept getting better. The place was beautiful, calm, peaceful, and somehow made me forget I was even in India. It felt exactly how I had imagined it would. Part of that was probably because I’d seen glimpses of places like this in 3 Idiots. And in that moment, I knew I was going to enjoy this part of the trip.

The road from Kalka to Shimla is something else entirely. It winds its way up the mountains in long, steady curves, with sharp turns that keep you alert and views that make you forget you’re even in a car. On one side, you’ve got the hillside rising up; on the other, the drop—layered with trees, rooftops, and distant hills fading into the background. It’s the kind of road where you don’t mind traffic, because every pause just gives you more time to take it all in. At one point, stuck in slow-moving traffic, I told my dad I was going to step out quickly to get a few videos. To my left were the first proper hillside homes we’d seen—built right into the slope, as if they’d grown out of the mountain itself. One in particular stood out: a small house painted in red and sky blue stripes, sitting on a muddy patch with a dry tree just in front of it. What really caught my attention, though, were the two women sitting right at the edge of the house. And I mean right at the edge. One small shuffle backwards and they’d have fallen. To us, it felt risky. To them, it looked like… just another afternoon, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. As we carried on, slowly winding through the roads, my dad kept reminding my wife to take her travel sickness tablets—just in case. The turns weren’t exactly gentle, and the last thing anyone wanted was a mid-mountain situation. Naturally, after all that caution, the two of them decided to do the one thing she probably shouldn’t do - eat. We’d passed a few roadside stalls selling chickpeas cooked with spices, onions, and chillies, all stuffed into a soft bun—basically a desi-style pav. They’d been eyeing them up for a while, so we pulled over and they went for it. I refused. No way was I risking a stomach bug in Shimla. Not when I had mountain views like this to enjoy. So I stepped out of the car, and took it all in.

As we climbed higher and finally entered Shimla, the views somehow became even better. The mountains felt closer, the air lighter, and everything just looked… cleaner. We started passing through more residential areas; small shops, homes, the odd mechanic—and, surprisingly, quite a few fast food places dotted along the way. For somewhere that feels so remote and peaceful, it was unexpected to see a burger or pizza sign pop up every few kilometres. The last hour of the journey was pretty much all uphill. We were properly climbing now, following what’s commonly known as the Kalka–Shimla Road—a road that seems to just keep going up and up without ever getting tired. Every now and then, we’d pass roadside stalls selling giant teddy bears. And not just sitting neatly on display, these poor things were hung up on hooks from their necks dangling dramatically like they were being punished for something. It was equal parts funny and slightly concerning.

The final stretch was getting to what we thought was the centre of Shimla—Mall Road. That was the destination we’d been using all along, but as it turned out, our hotel was still another 45 minutes further up into the mountains. By this point, my wife had given up and fallen asleep on my lap, hoping to avoid feeling any worse as we carried on climbing. The roads became much tighter, the turns sharper, and driving started to feel like a proper task. My dad had to keep stopping and restarting the car to manage the steep inclines, carefully working his way around each bend. Meanwhile, my mum kept repeating, “Where have we come?”, a fair question, to be honest.
But I was loving it.
What really stood out were the houses. In Shimla, they don’t just sit on the mountains. They cling to them. Perched on steep slopes, stacked at angles that don’t quite make sense, they look like they’re hanging on by pure faith. Painted in bright colours: reds, blues, greens—they stand out beautifully against the hills. From a distance, it all looks charming and almost unreal. Up close, though, you can’t help but think… living there must take a bit of courage.

We were about ten minutes away from Mall Road when we hit one final stretch—a steep incline that somehow felt worse than everything before it. It took real effort to get the car up, and by this point, other drivers could clearly tell we weren’t locals. The looks we got weren’t exactly encouraging. Finally, we made it to the top… only to be told by a road officer that we couldn’t go any further by car. While Mall Road itself stretches out quite far, the main bazaar area is strictly pedestrian. To get there, we would’ve had to drive back down, loop around to a car park, and then take a lift up. After everything my dad had just done to get us up that hill, that was… not ideal. So, naturally, we made the only sensible decision, we gave up on Mall Road for the moment and headed straight to the hotel instead. Five minutes into that drive, we were stuck in traffic again. At that point, we all looked at each other and silently agreed that it might be time to rethink the plan. Instead of pushing on, we decided to search for hotels nearby. That, however, wasn’t as easy as it sounds. It was hard to tell what was actually trustworthy. Our Delhi number plate made it obvious we weren’t locals, and within minutes, we had men tapping on our windows, offering “very good hotels, best price, no problem”. After a bit of back and forth and what can only be described as a bold decision we took a chance on one of them. Bold, as in… we let him get into the car and told him to take us to a hotel of his choice.

We ended up at Baljees Regency, and honestly, it turned out to be a great choice. After everything it took to get there, we finally had a moment to stop and take it all in. From the room, the view didn’t even feel real at first. You look out and the land just drops away into layers of mountains, each one fading softer into the distance. There’s this light haze that sits over everything, making the hills look almost painted rather than real. Closer down, you can see tall pine trees scattered along the slopes, with houses tucked between them like they’ve been carefully placed wherever space allowed. The roads curve tightly around the hillside, weaving in and out in a way that makes you wonder how cars even manage it. What I liked most was how calm it all felt. No noise, no rush, just stillness. Even the town below looked peaceful, like it was moving at half speed compared to everything we’d left behind (because it was since going fast would mean you and the edge of a cliff meet), and seeing mountains like that, properly stretched out into the distance, was something else. It’s one thing seeing pictures of Shimla—but standing there, looking out from your own room, it really hits you. At that point, I knew, we’d made the right decision coming here.

We decided not to rest. Instead, we got changed, freshened up, and headed straight out towards Mall Road Bazaar. Now, getting there from our hotel was an experience in itself. From the reception was aside door we took up a very dodgy path and met over 140 steps to the top. Not normal steps either, these were slightly slanted, just enough to make you question your balance and hold onto the railing a bit tighter than usual. By the halfway point, my mum, dad, and wife were all gasping for air, while I was somehow enjoying it. We finally made it to the top, followed by a short uphill walk. Then it all opened up. Mall Road Bazaar.
Straight, wide, and full of life.
As we walked along, monkeys casually climbed down lampposts, ran across railings, and disappeared into trees like it was all completely normal. At one point, I genuinely saw one sitting there eating ice cream. The area felt organised too - there were army officers around, keeping things in check, which added a sense of order to the place. Mall Road itself was exactly what you’d want from a hill station town centre. On one side, you had restaurants, cafés, and food stalls, all glowing warmly as the evening set in. On the other, a raised walkway with railings, overlooking the hills, where monkeys continued their acrobatics. What stood out most was the mix of everything. You’d see modern brands like Puma and Adidas, then right next to them, small local shops selling souvenirs, clothes, and snacks. It was that blend of familiar and local that made it feel unique. The whole place had a calm energy. People strolling, families chatting, couples walking slowly, all with that cool mountain breeze in the air and every now and then, you’d catch a view through the buildings or over the edge, reminding you exactly where you were. Mall Road was beautiful. Properly beautiful. Standing there, after everything it took to get there, , it was the perfect end to our second day of driving, and a lovely start to our time in Shimla.