Leh: To Heaven through Hell - 5

The Manali-Leh road trip has lot of memories which will stay with me forever! The treacherous terrain, the breathtakingly beautiful La's, the majestic Himalayas, the adventurous journey which one should undertake at least once in a lifetime. Not to forget Border Road Organizations's interesting signboards - Don't be a gama in the land of Lama, The price of greatness is responsibility, et al. We, however, had a false start at Leh. Hotel Snow Lion that we had reservations at, turned out to be quite unprofessional. The surprising thing about the hotel was that there more ladies as attendants than men. We luckily met Mr Lonchay next morning and he offered us to stay at his Lonchay residency. He was quite co-operative and even arranged for a cab for local sight seeing with a very experienced Mr Khunshuk (no he was not related to Phunsuk Wangdu!). Khunshuk had lots of stories from how he served the Indian army during Kargil war (carrying shells on his back) to how the Chinese regularly invade his village and the neighboring ones to threaten them, besides many PJ's. An interesting character, friendly guide/friend and enthusiast in general, straight off a travel book! We had to drop our bullets at Leh market and Tashi was our contact person there - which so reminded me of the movie Kaminey. Tashi, though, didn't meet us in person (it actually felt like a scene from some gangster movie) and instead asked us to meet Tsetan - I guffawed when I first heard this name - isn't it Satan (the devil), with a twisted spelling! However I guess all our share of adventure had thankfully ended as soon as we had entered Leh and the entire episode of handing over the bulls and taking the refund went pretty smoothly. Tsetan was not Satan (quite unlike his name!), after all. We stayed in Leh for a few days and visited the usual Pangong Lake and other tourist stops (honestly my trip had ended as soon as the road trip ended) then took the Leh-Srinagar road to reach Kargil, our next stop. Kargil is a small district which recently has come to prominence because of the Kargil War memorial (which actually is in Drass). We had a reservation at a hotel which was a pretty new one but was quite primitive with respect to the facilities. After we were shown our rooms (decent but not worth the money we had paid), I tried to check for wi-fi speed. To my surprise the closest ping server it detected was in Islamabad, Pakistan.

Kashmir is in complete contrast with Ladakh. As Nehru had mentioned once, Ladakh is a barren land (which it actually is) but which I would describe as raw beauty. Its difficult terrain teaches you to respect nature and even though it is a cold desert the beauty of Ladakh can be best put as pristine or untouched. Kashmir on the other hand is green, white and brown (there were a spectrum of colors there which I was later informed but my color blindness saved me from the color riot) and with equal measure. The hills, ridges in Ladakh are mostly brown or grey while Kashmir valley is mostly green (with white added by the snow). In Kargil, as suggested we took a trip to the local villages and the army cantonment (the last one before the Pakistan border starts). On our way to the cantt, (the hotel had arranged for a Maruti Omni) I was surprised by an Ayatollah Khumeini poster near a village. The place seemed like stuck in a time warp. Khumeini in this age! And to add to that the "Pioneer" was playing a song which brought me another surge of nostalgia - "Zindagi ki dhoop ko saya kar gayi, aaj mere paas se wo guzar gayi...hawa hawa aye hawa!!". Villages of Kargil felt little different from other Indian villages which I have seen or may be it was just me. It was quite picturesque but cold (metaphorically speaking). Our hotel was on the banks of a river (later came to know it was Suru river) and there was even a hydro electric plant. The lasting image that I have of Kargil is that of the "Top Gun" logo on one of the slopes of the hills guarding the cantt and of course the Ayatollah Khumeini poster!

Leh: To Heaven through Hell - 4

Whistles were distracting...and with the sheep jumping right in front of us, it was becoming increasingly difficult. We were crossing a stream (almost 100 meters wide) that had found its way across the NH on our way to Baralacha La. With two trucks waiting on the other side of the stream and one right behind us coaxing us to hurry up and cross it, we were in a spot quite literally.

Shepherds, with their flock of sheep were adding to the drama, whistling to guide the sheep to the other side of the stream. I let SS cross first while I was deciding which side of the stream to take. As SS was crossing, he lost his balance and almost had another fall only to be saved by his own alertness. Those previous falls had taught him a thing or two about balance! 

The stream was shallow on the valley side of the road and I decided to take it. A slip or even a miscalculation would have thrown me a few thousand feet down the slope. Taking a deep breath I splashed into it and when I had reached almost the end of the stream, a shiver gripped me. It was both the fear of rolling down into the valley and the sudden rush of ice cold water that had seeped into my water proof shoes! The pillions had already crossed on to the other side and were cheering us. 

After we made it to the other side, we had to make another stop. It was a pretty narrow turn, hardly 10 ft wide but we had to stop to pull out our socks, which soaked in ice cold water had started hurting our toes. Just as we stopped a caravan of army trucks rushed passed us, bellowing on us all the dirt gathered from the slopes. While waiting and trying to dry ourselves we looked back at what we had achieved. A gush of ice cold water which had cut through the slopes down on the road which had been laid in the last summer and this was at a height of almost 10K ft - We deserved a gallantry award for that!

The enigma of a road trip - you think you have overcome the toughest stretch, while there is always something better (or worse - depending on your perspective) waiting round the corner!

But before that, the night that cost us our lives - well almost! After crossing multiple streams on our way to Baralacha La, each one colder and thankfully less troubling than the last one, we reached the breathtakingly beautiful Sarchu. Himalayan Odyssey Tents was located on one side of the huge valley almost the width of 10 football fields guarded on both sides by huge hill ranges. The road cut right through the valley (technically speaking it was a roof top valley - at around 15K feet) and presented the most beautiful sight that we had longed for during our entire ride. But the enigmatic beauty of Sarchu had beneath its shrouds a deceptive trick that we would have never guessed, till we experienced it. It was still quite sunny and we parked our bulls and walked around the place while taking turns to pose for the photographs. It all felt wonderful, the cold breeze from both the sides soon became chillier and gustier as the sun went behind the ridges. We decided to gulp down some Maggi and coffee before calling it a day. This was a makeshift arrangement and the kitchen tent was the largest one. We quickly finished our dinner and went back to the warmth of our tents. As the night fell, the temperature dipped further and we were all hit by AMS. I had to get up since D was the worst hit and was really cold. I ran to the other tent and was completely numb by the time I reached there. PP and SS joined us in our tent and all of us took the medicines which were supposed to be taken as a precaution for AMS. Within a few hours D's condition worsened and we had to ask for help. The Himalayan Odyssey attendants suggested the only cure for AMS is to ride down and move ASAP since it might worsen if we stayed there. The closest medical aid was an army hospital some 50 kms from that place but even they would suggest the same remedy, so said the experienced ones. We hadn't unpacked any of our stuff from the respective bulls and so we decided that as soon as the day breaks we move. What a night it was - of anticipation and of fear - what if we fail to make it!

We loaded our stuff and D half unconscious, driven only by her will power, hopped on. It was the most anxious ride of my life and we didn't make a stop till we reached Pang. We had crossed the easiest of La's on this stretch, Lachalang La and I don't have any memories of that La at all!

Pang is more famously known for the last petrol pump before Leh (which was another 250+ kms). By the time we reached Pang we were back in our senses and the fear of the unknown made us refill our bulls' tanks. We took a small break near the makeshift tents and filled ourselves with Maggi. The temperature had started to dip again and since it was the last day of our ride we decided to move. Though I would rate Baralacha La as the toughest pass that we crossed but the more dangerous one was Tanglang La. At 17,500 ft it was a few thousand feet higher than Baralacha La but we would have never guessed what was in store for us there. As we thumped through the windy slopes (am not talking about the roads or the absence of it anymore) and ice corridors (a common feature across all passes), we were greeted by brown sand at the top of the pass. We decided to take a photograph there as well and parked the bull and ran towards the milestone (take my advice, never do that at any of the passes). And this was another blunder! As we reached the milestone we were not only breathless (the total distance that we had run was a mere 10 ft!) but were also tizzy. After the customary poses and owing to the tight schedule we quickly decided to roll down towards Upshi, our next planned break. However, Tanglang La still had the last trick up its sleeve. The road (or whatever you call the brown stretch) was all covered with mud and slush, which was at least half a feet deep. As soon as we touched it we lost all control on our bikes. The bulls were skidding and almost floating on the slush. So much so that twice we had drifted to the valley end (of course with a near heart failure) of the road. I didn't dare to look back at SS and was trying all my skills to save the bull from falling. Whether you put your legs or try braking, nothing was working on that abominable 100m stretch and it was thanks only to our stars  that we were able to cross that sea of slush and survived to die another day!

And that was the worst we had seen on our entire trip from Manali to Leh. As we came down Tanglang La the roads improved and we crossed many a beautiful stretch. There was even a table top road that was an out of the world experience. It was flanked by beautiful mountain ranges on both ends. While we were crossing it (that stretch was a straight as an arrow road - yes finally road, of around 20 kms) a heavy downpour wrapped us. The rain drops were so cold that I could feel my fingers going numb. In fact by the time we stopped (and SS had his last fall, at the end of the stretch) I could see my finger tips had turned blue. The last fall of SS was a bloody one, PP had a cut on her chin and blood was oozing out of it. We made a quick stop (had to as SS's bull was lying on the edge of the road) and dressed up PP's wound. Upshi was just a few kilometers from there and we made our final stop before Leh. Yet again we stuffed ourselves with Maggi and had a hearty laugh at all our minor accidents, of course praising each other's resurgence.

The road from Upshi to Leh seemed like it has been carved by a divine hand. There is a stream running parallel to the road and the narrow valley has huge mountains on both the sides. Each of the vertical slopes has natural figurines (some even look like human faces, laughing, shouting back at you). It was on this stretch that we were welcomed with "Juley" (Ladakhi magic word which we deciphered meant hello), by the kids on the road side. There were smaller villages on this stretch and it felt really heart warming to be riding back into civilization. We crossed a few Gompas (Stupas) and reached the Leh army cantonment and an entire army base with an air strip (one of the highest commercial air strips in the world). We had arrived at our destination - Leh!

Leh: To Heaven through Hell - 3

"You guys from Bangalore?", asked the guy from the biker group, who had just joined us in Khoksar. We replied in affirmative but the very next question was in Kannada and the response to that gave away our ethnicity, or domicile ;). It was pretty windy there and we decided to thump to our next destination before it would get any colder. As we rode down the arid route, the landscape changed color. From bright white on the Rohtang Pass to dusty green to brown on the slopes. And the road too from the bright bitumen color (blame my color blindness for not knowing the exact color) to grey.

We had made bookings at Jispa for our night stay and were pretty confident of making it without breaking a sweat. But it was near Tandi my bull had a sudden stop. Sonu Rajput had reminded us before we started from Manali that Keylong was our last hope of getting a bike mechanic; after which started the areas debarred of any civilization, except for the nomadic tents which are pegged only during the riding season.

A few quick kicks (personal feeling - I never trust the autostart and as the future route would prove I would use it only if it would be a matter of life or death) which literally took my breath away - the air was already thin - and the bull roared. We hopped on and raced towards Keylong going past the beautifully carved roads through the Keylong valley. Tandi, by the way, is also the last petrol pump (petrol bunk if you are a Bangalorean!) before Leh. The huge bluntly cut hills on both sides with dusty roads and a makeshift bridge connecting the two ends of the ridges was the most thrilling thing I had seen in my life. This looked straight out of a Quentin Tarantino movie set. Battling goose bumps, we crossed a narrow stream and it was then my bull hushed back to silence again. CDD, PP, SSS and I decided that we should not test our luck any more and should go back to the mechanic shop we had crossed a few kilometers back (cynically smiling as we did). A retrace would cost us some hours but it was better than getting stranded, ill-equipped, in a cold desert. Consensus was reached in a matter of seconds and after dropping the pillions at a small hotel, which served hot maggi and kachoris, we rushed to the mechanic shop.

"It is just because of the lack of oxygen here, could be because of the fuel tank lid. If it repeats just remove the lid and close it back...also don't use auto start unless it is a matter of life and death!" (my man ;)), thus spake the learned one, for whom a ride like the one we were undertaking, was a daily affair. It pulled our confidence a few notches up and we thumped back to our first maggi break. This was a rejuvenating break for us, not only for the sumptuous bhajji and chai that we had there but also for the amazing view from our dining area. It was halfway between the valley that we had to take and the snow capped mountains that we had left behind. We could afford to kill sometime as we were pretty close to Jispa.

After crossing the Tarantinoian landscape once again, we reached Jispa where our accommodation was in the tents pegged on the banks of Bhaga river. This being the first day of our ride and owing to the thinning of air while we were gaining altitude, was quite tiring. We posed for photos near our tents and walked around to let the feeling sink in. Ah! The dream ride and we had undertaken it finally.

As the sun started going down the huge mountain behind our tents we calmed our nerves and thought of taking a quick nap in our tents. It was pretty windy and we could feel the gust on the side walls of the huge tent. As soon as we crashed on our bed, fatigue got the better of us and we were almost snoring in a deep slumber.

What woke us up with a start was the loud music and people shouting and dancing! It is only in India where you find people, who move with not only their entire paraphernalia but also carry their huge music systems to dance and make merry at 10,000 ft altitude!! The loud music knocked off the sleep out of our eyes and we were left with no other option but to be spectators to a wild family dance. It could have gone well into the night but thanks to the tent management guys, who after several failed attempts at stopping this brouhaha, threatened to close down the kitchen. So we had a relatively peaceful dinner which was not short of its share of dramatics - with one member of the dancing family joining us for dinner in vest and shorts, while another loud one entertaining the dinner party with his loud talk and a fake accent.

Phew! What a night! The next day started with its share of concerns - we had to cross Baralacha La to reach vomit Hilton, Sarchu. Why vomit Hilton - 'cos according to SS this was the place where all riders are hit by AMS and vomit at least once! As if the Baralcaha La videos (never watch the youtube videos if you are planning a ride) were not scary enough, this unknown devil was hovering on us as we set out for one of the most treacherous of the La's, we were going to conquer.

As we neared Baralacha La we could sense a dip in temperature and to add to that the roads gradually became more like loose gravels placed just to keep them falling off the slopes.

Leh: To Heaven through Hell - 2

Tourist Hotel (Rooms with Independent Balcony), Manali
Time: 7 am, 28th June

"I think if we tie this around the bag, it would save us from rain", D spoke while handing me the plastic cover we had bought at Manali's Mall Road, last evening.

"Yes thanks", I responded.

It was already 7 o'clock and I was little anxious about our late start for the Manali-Leh road trip. From the locals we had heard that the road is generally always jammed because of the narrow road leading to Rohtang Pass. I was putting in all my might, hurriedly trying to tie our back-packs into the luggage carrier stand attached to the Royal Enfield that we had hired. SS and PP were busy tying their stuff on the other bull. Though we had started this process, as early as 6 am in the morning, it was already an hour and we were still struggling with it. Blame it on the extra clothes that I had packed in my back-pack because of which it was little out of shape and refusing to get into the luggage carrier. After quite a few rounds of heave-ho's we felt satisfied with our effort and decided to start on the exciting journey to Ladakh - this was a ride spread over three days, with stops at Jispa and Sarchu.

The bulls boomed through the picturesque Manali road towards Rohtang Pass. The sky was bluish, the greenery around was superlative with morning dew shining like beautifully cut diamonds off the blades of grass and leaves of the tall trees. Add the thump to the in-sync heart beat and what you have is every rider's dream. As we climbed up the twirling roads towards the pass, we could see the long queue of four-wheelers waiting to get on the other side. Thanks to our lean and mean ride, we overtook this queue of vehicles (this queue was at least 10-15 kms long) and stopped at a check-post to pay decongestion fees (what an irony this was!). We had to wait for another hour at a treacherous and narrow road through the valley to get on the top of Rohtang Pass. Thick snow slopes and lanes through snow walls there, made us feel like we were riding on clouds. However a quick look on the terrible road brought us back to terra firma.  The snow was whiter than any white I had seen in my life!

As we were thumping down the pass, SS had his first fall. With the steep valley on the left and whiter-than-white snow walls on the other side, a truck driver (true to his nature), took an aggressive swipe near us and SS lost his balance. The road was slippery owing to the melting snow and it was tough to control the bull downhill. SS and PP had minor injuries (or at least that is what they conveyed to anxious D's queries) but the way they had taken the fall was pretty encouraging. Within minutes of this unscheduled break we were on our way towards the real test of our riding skills. Downhill the road was non-existent, only pebbles and gravels lining and sloping hairpin bends.

On the other side of Rohtang Pass was Khoksar, a dry arid landscape which looked more like a desert but for the temperature.  We took a much needed break and filled ourselves with Maggi first and Rajma-Roti later. You should keep yourself stuffed at these altitudes as you tend to loose appetite and become vulnerable to AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness).

Leh: To Heaven through Hell - 1

As I gazed down the Himalayas aboard 6E448, I could sense a proud gush of air through my lungs. Having conquered, on wheels, the passes and slopes, which were now offering such a majestic sight from top, it was but natural! Isn't destination the sole reason for a journey? 

And does it make any sense to undertake an arduous and strenuous journey when destination is equally beautiful. 484 kms on a two wheeler with a pillion - sounds so sadistic, especially when the pillion is one's wife! There are other ways to get a sore ass, body ache and coat of dirt and dust (and to get that sadistic pleasure by troubling your wife :P) How beautiful can be a stretch of 30-40 kms, with the same view of mountains (some snow capped ones adding to your misery) staring back at you for multiple such stretches. It is like watching a bio-scope and becomes so monotonous at times. With wavy roads (if you can call the assorted gravels and boulders laid randomly on mountain edges, to plot your fall, that!) giving you the bumpiest rides and adding to your already nauseated brain. And it is like icing on the cake when the hotels and tents you stay have some horrendously selfish guests who play loud music and dance, not giving a damn about how tired you are after your ride across mountains and valleys. 

These would be exact words of a cynic who gives two hoots to your mantra of life - Riding is meditation, it is the only time when you are one with the road you are riding on. To those cynics and the sour grapes cases and also to the "someday" people, just pack your bags, shut your trap and get on the road. With 500cc engine and at least 42Nm torque between your legs, the dirt and wind across your face and the mountain ranges with absolutely stunning visuals, you get what a yogi yearns for - Nirvana.

"The plan" was initiated by D and we had all agreed, that if it is Leh, it has to be a bull ride. Thanks to SS, who had done quite a research on the topic and modes of commute, we got enough information to materialize "the at least once in a lifetime ride". After my two previous failed attempts, I was little cynical myself whether I will ever be able to ride to Ladakh. But it was the super joshiley group of D, PP and SS who rubbed off their enthusiasm on me. With fancy names - Agents CDD, PP, SSS and BK,  "the plan" started taking form and shape in March with a mail chain which had all information about itinerary, ticket booking, hotels/tents and also return via Srinagar!! I was always fascinated by Kashmir. When I was in college, someone had mentioned that the highest motor-able road in the world is in India. My nerdinesshad made me read about that then and that is how my craving for a ride on the Manali-Leh stretch started. Riding, like whiskey, is an acquired taste and as Mr Khosla (from the movie Khosla ka Ghosla) had said - "In cheezon ka maza dheere dheere lena chahiye, wo kahte hain na jee hold your drink". To relish this taste and to live our dream, we started from Bangalore on 26th June. After reaching Manali the following morning (that bus ride was one vomit-inducing one), we checked in at Tourist Hotel (Rooms with independent Balcony!). I was really eager to have a look at our ride and after breakfast, SS and I started for "Hardev Motors" - these were the guys who had agreed to rent their bulls to us for the treacherous terrain of Manali-Leh highway, at a price of course. We met the owner, Sonu Rajput (which I was least interested in) and enquired about the bulls (about which I was super charged).  We had to wait for sometime there as the bulls had gone for a wash. After finishing the paper work (paying the pending amount, handing over our original IDs and collecting the bullet's papers), I was pretty restless and gulped down the coffee, offered to us by the very helpful owner, to curb my eagerness. It was during the discussion about the road condition that I heard the thump and rushed out to see what can be called pristine beauty - It was the new classic 500, with customized fuel tank (22 lts capacity, as Sonu Rajput confirmed), customized carburetor and smaller exhaust. We took it for a spin on the steep street near the shop and the bull topped its looks with superlative performance. The mechanic there offered us some tips about riding on the hilly terrain and handed over the tool box (myriad spares - tubes, spark plug, headlight bulb, even a pump). We stuffed it in the luggage carrier that was affixed to the rear and set off for our hotel, feeling like proud owners of the chrome and gray bull (at least for a week).