Start your Ladakh trip with Leh’s first acclimatisation-forward resort

In Ladakh, it’s impossible to take a bad photograph. Every vlog and reel will show you the same jaw-dropping views, dialled up to max brightness. But Ladakh doesn’t need the filters. Snow-capped Himalayas, winding roads leading to the sapphire-like Pangong Lake, and the colourful monasteries make it that dream destination everyone has on their bucket list.

Ladakh may look like heaven on Earth, but remember: heaven’s way up there. At 11,000 to 17,000 feet above sea level, it’s quite the leap from our comfy 30-feet-down-south life. We don’t always plan for altitude, but in Ladakh, it’s what separates bliss from burnout. The air is thinner, your body is confused, and the only cure is the dreaded ‘A’ word: acclimatisation.

Of course, no one really posts about lying in bed for 48 hours, because that’s exactly what you need to do once you get there: rest, hydrate, repeat. It feels odd to travel this far just to nap, but skip it and Ladakh will teach you a lesson faster than you can say “Maggi with a view”.

Luckily, even this part of the journey is worth documenting now, thanks to Ladakhi entrepreneur Rigzin Wangmo Lachic, who has turned these mandatory do-nothing days into a slow-living treat. With Dolkhar Ladakh, a seven-key luxury boutique stay in Leh, just 10 minutes from the airport, Lachic has created the perfect base to breathe, reset, and soak in the calm.

Dolkhar is practically a love letter to the sun. Real sunflowers—tall, golden, and happy to greet you—line the slate pathways, frame the stone facades, and trail you all the way to your villa. It’s impossible not to pause, breathe, and take a photo (or 50) in this yellow sea of joy.

Past the calm, sunlit reception area are the villas where floor-to-ceiling windows with temperature-controlled glass let the sun spill across the floors, the sofa, and you: proof that nature still beats smart tech. Each villa has its own sunny perch, whether it is a patio outside your door or a petite balcony by your bed. Scattered across the property are little suntraps—the kind your grandmother’s house might have had—perfect for doing nothing but soaking up warmth and life.

Wood and stone shape Dolkhar: local, familiar, and perfectly in tune with Ladakh’s wild weather. “Our wood is native. It knows how to survive here. The sun takes care of the rest,” says a staffer when I ask her about termites and decay. Such easy confidence runs through the architecture too. “The front building—where the reception, restaurant, bar, and spa sit—is a modern echo of our ancestral home,” shares Lachic. “We had to take the old house down, but we reused everything we could: the wood, the mud bricks, even the stone.”

The result is a warm, pink-brown facade, its maroon tint coming from red clay plaster mixed with earth from Basgo. Small, deep-set windows sit beneath oversized wooden lintels, cleverly making them look larger than they are. The masonry rests on stone bases from Chilling to hold in warmth, while the upper walls, built from gyapak (compressed earth bricks), rise with a gentle incline that makes the structure feel rooted in the land itself. Hand-carved wooden balconies, or rabsal, jut out gracefully, adding that unmistakable Ladakhi charm.

Inside, the world slows down. The traditional talu idungma ceiling, crafted by local artisan Angchuk Le, weaves together poplar beams (mardung and dungma) and willow sticks (talu). Odd numbers of beams, considered auspicious, are used in every room, a nod to the belief that happiness favours the odd. The reception smells faintly of earth and apricots, design magazines rest on the tables, and the staff greets you with a chilled apricot drink—a sweet intersection of spatial study, health, and tradition.

The villas, just beyond, continue this dialogue in much browner shade, sitting gracefully on a gentle incline as cosy duplexes designed for effortless flow and quiet comfort. There is a traditional Tibetan lock and key fitted on the door, hand-forged using an old lever technique that’ll probably have you fumbling a bit before you get the hang of it. Inside is an airy lounge, a tidy work nook to one side, and a dog-legged wooden staircase (the landing helps to pause for a breather) that leads up to a serene bedroom and bath: your personal mountain retreat. It feels like living inside an earthy colour palette: warm, rustic, and grounding.

Each villa is fitted with dramatic thatch lampshades that dangle playfully from the ceiling, while twig sconces scatter soft light across the mud walls. Mud vases from Likir’s only two potters sit quietly around the rooms, filled with dry grass from the property that makes for the perfect decoration. On the desk, a carved wooden lamp base holds an exposed filament bulb, complete with a vintage push-knob switch that clicks with a strangely satisfying nostalgia. Evidently, wood is the real hero here, showing up in the most delightful ways: old tree stumps are turned into side tables, a flattened plank is used as a headboard, and even the joinery is a design statement, flaunting exposed bow-tie joints.

Noticeable to the keen are the handmade dzems—wooden barrels crafted by artisans from Turtuk—repurposed as wastebins. The walls, plastered with markalak (a local blend of fuller’s earth and thatch from Spituk), regulate temperature naturally, and wherever the mix isn’t used, the bare surfaces hold their own, rustic and raw. Each villa also has a discreetly placed oxygen concentrator nodding towards high-altitude comfort. On the floor are locally woven rugs from Changthang, handspun from sheep and yak wool using age-old, electricity-free tools. The cushions and throws come from Superb Ladakh, a local weaving unit keeping traditional craft alive, and even the pillows get a local twist, filled with buckwheat, believed to ease aches and sleeplessness.

Bathrooms have the same thoughtful design: pebbles in the shower are sourced from the banks of the Indus, toiletries are locally made, and the switch plates are wooden to keep the design language coherent. Here, the sink is a single block of black stone, hand-carved and hollowed out by Ladakh’s only stone artisan, Ajang Phunstok Le from Tsogtsi. Across the property, over 40 Ladakhi craftspeople have lent their hands to Dolkhar’s interiors, infusing each corner with motifs, textures, and materials that belong entirely to this land.

And while there’s plenty of beauty to soak, you can also plan a mini adventure inside the hotel during this down time. There’s a shop featuring Dolkhar’s little showcase of Ladakhi craft: handwoven pieces from Jigmat Couture and charming souvenirs from Saldon. Readers will find it hard to not skim through Stawa, a local English-language magazine kept on the centre table.

Since the idea is to do nothing, you can spend a day (or two as recommended) trying their lineup of herbal teas, tasting the soups and savouries from Dolkhar’s in-house restaurant, Tsas, a hyper-local, avant-garde vegetarian restaurant nestled among apple and apricot trees. Here, you’ll find hand-rolled local pastas, pizzas topped with Zanskar yak cheese, and soup-based favourites like thukpa and ramen. Wrap up the day with Tsas’s seven-course meal, where every ingredient is handpicked each morning by the chef and transformed into something quietly extraordinary. And like everything else at Dolkhar, you’ll notice the cutlery too is handcrafted by the metal artisans from Ladakh.

Afternoons will pass well at the spa that offers Tibetan medicinal therapies using indigenous herbs, and a sauna arranged in a contrastingly heated room. For the curious and the active, there’s more: heritage walks, traditional Ladakhi music and dance performances, monastery visits with Ladakh Arts and Media Organisation (LAMO), and Thangka painting sessions, stargazing or even an open-air meal by the Indus.

The terrace bar is where all the guests convene at night; alcohol isn’t ideal during acclimatisation, but their mocktails hold their own, especially when paired with roasted barley bar snacks. Try the non-alcoholic version of Memories of Turtuk, Frozen Kangri, and Ladakhi Martini, all made with ingredients sourced from the region.

Design and food may be a bonus, but an acclimatisation resort must be equipped to handle emergencies. And Dolkhar’s got you covered. The property has an in-house oxygen supply, a doctor on call, and concentrators on standby for anyone needing a little extra help adjusting. In the rare case of serious altitude sickness, the team ensures an immediate transfer to the nearest hospital. 

Two days would seem short if you live it all here, and are taken good care of. After all, the only thing meant to leave you breathless here is the view.

Dolkhar Ladakh reservations can be made here.