It's a mistake to attempt to express and word something as inexpressible as this trip. Skimming through what I've written I realize I've failed miserably in trying to describe what I've experienced - words destroy silence and silence is indeed the truth. These will be my last words on Phase 2.
In the long, dry and cold deserts of Ladakh, women with wrinkled faces and heavy winter clothes carry huge loads of grass or wheat on their stooped backs. Sometimes their cataract-grey eyes meet yours and you notice they seem lost and distant. They walk for miles before they get to their destinations. They are born in the area, they grow, eat, live, marry, mate, procreate, fall sick and die there. The rest of us are not very different.
The loads on our backs however are that of our experiences. I got countless advice on countless things on what is right, what I must do and not do. Each one advising based on the burden of his or her own experience or sometimes the lack of it. I stopped counting the many detractors I encountered on this journey - I met most of them the first time. Disproving them was a kick and a high in itself. When I was coming down from Kashmir, I got a call from a friend - the crux of the discussion was about how I would commute in Mumbai - no Himalayas, no Kashmir - it was about whether I would travel by auto or taxi. When I hung up, I felt odd - it was a mild wakeup signal that I was getting back to some old reality - it was Ladakh no more. Another was only about the color of my face and how black it had become and how what creams I need to use to get back to normal. Another was about a species of deer found only in Kashmir. Another was about Islam in Kashmir. Another was about why it's important to help the army. Another was about how safe I was. Another was about why Mumbai guys are cool. Another was about the futility of familial existence. Another was about food I ate. Another about security. All are well-intentioned but each of us are burdened by our experiences and we carry our loads and everything we do or speak seems to reflect this burden. It will be nice to live fresh without this burden and allow each moment for itself.
*
After Ladakh, everything seems a little empty with its superficial layers and layers. Ladakh with its nothingness seems to have everything. When kids on the roads gave high-fives and smiled, it came from the inside. When someone expressed their distress with Ladakh - yahan pe kuch nahin hai, there's nothing here...we have to struggle for 8 months in the cold - there was truth in that distress. Down below Ladakh, there seems to be a lot outside - TV, phones, social jokes, the hellos, the funnies, saying the right things, what to eat, what to wear, which movie/ TV program to watch, news channels that talk about what Amitabh is doing, cell phone bill, electricity bill, salaries, incentives, PFs, getting to work, getting home, calling folks, writing blogs, uploading photos, repeating stories, repeating stories, repeating stories, politics in America, how to encourage our kids to be politically plugged in, how poverty is bad, how we must contribute more, how to plan your career growth, checking email, sending email, what to do in the weekend, planning flights, gifts to buy, are you smelling good, afternoon chai, work-life balance blah, blah - but it all feels a little empty in the inside. I don't know how to describe this. I've already sunk into my to-do lists. Ladakh was but a dream. The dream is over and the air smells different now.
Friday, September 14, 2007
SMSes I got through the journey
- Where are you? How was the day?
- Wow how come your ph is unreachable?
- F***! Lol
- Oh hell! Hw hs d ride bn dis far?
- God the beginning of the real adventure :) anyway have parathas in those 3 hrs
- Hilly babes are pavam
- Nicee
- Very good mr. Mechanic
- Why did you not tell me bhaskar was not coming?
- Wow
- Why is your ph unaccessible how come only sms works!
- How was the day today? How come no sms?
- Hi how are you and where are you?
- Too much
- Great have fun but keep me posted
- Hope all is good bull and you
- Awesome!!! Hope your return journey is as amazing...
- So dude wats up...Hws d bullet hw ws ur trip.
- How was the day today?
- Hi where are you? Nana just called i said you were on a 7day expedition around del without mentioning anything else.
- Cool, I just called ur office and norbert told me
- That's crazy! Congrats! I am sure nothing can truly explain how u feel.
- Sweet!!! Congratulations. I'm proud of you. Call ma. I think she's a little worried :-)
- Where are you? How are you?
- Cooooool
- Fabulous congrats really proud of you! Is it very cold?
- Wow! Awesome...
- Awesome man!!!
- Hehe. Wow. Thats grt. I hope u r clickg d snaps. Wish u safe journey. Enjoy 2 d fullest
- U da man
- Wow! It must hve been amazing..tc
- Where r u today Drive safely
- Wow. Take pictures of flower sellers on boats.
- Cool what a guy you are!
- Wow - enjoy. Any idea when wil u b in mumbai?
- hey that's cool..what are u upto. which city are u in now? good ur enjoting ur rides on a bullet. take lots of pics and show them to me later. when will u be back.
- Where are know?
- Good! Have you used lot of face creams?
- Chitra says get back to work
- :-) so you get here tomorrow?
- When are you back?
- Very good
- Yay! Hooray!
- Sahi hai very cool
- Fabulous. Great show blackie!
- F*** men lucky guy me jealous. Hey gud news me startd wrkng.
- Wow how come your ph is unreachable?
- F***! Lol
- Oh hell! Hw hs d ride bn dis far?
- God the beginning of the real adventure :) anyway have parathas in those 3 hrs
- Hilly babes are pavam
- Nicee
- Very good mr. Mechanic
- Why did you not tell me bhaskar was not coming?
- Wow
- Why is your ph unaccessible how come only sms works!
- How was the day today? How come no sms?
- Hi how are you and where are you?
- Too much
- Great have fun but keep me posted
- Hope all is good bull and you
- Awesome!!! Hope your return journey is as amazing...
- So dude wats up...Hws d bullet hw ws ur trip.
- How was the day today?
- Hi where are you? Nana just called i said you were on a 7day expedition around del without mentioning anything else.
- Cool, I just called ur office and norbert told me
- That's crazy! Congrats! I am sure nothing can truly explain how u feel.
- Sweet!!! Congratulations. I'm proud of you. Call ma. I think she's a little worried :-)
- Where are you? How are you?
- Cooooool
- Fabulous congrats really proud of you! Is it very cold?
- Wow! Awesome...
- Awesome man!!!
- Hehe. Wow. Thats grt. I hope u r clickg d snaps. Wish u safe journey. Enjoy 2 d fullest
- U da man
- Wow! It must hve been amazing..tc
- Where r u today Drive safely
- Wow. Take pictures of flower sellers on boats.
- Cool what a guy you are!
- Wow - enjoy. Any idea when wil u b in mumbai?
- hey that's cool..what are u upto. which city are u in now? good ur enjoting ur rides on a bullet. take lots of pics and show them to me later. when will u be back.
- Where are know?
- Good! Have you used lot of face creams?
- Chitra says get back to work
- :-) so you get here tomorrow?
- When are you back?
- Very good
- Yay! Hooray!
- Sahi hai very cool
- Fabulous. Great show blackie!
- F*** men lucky guy me jealous. Hey gud news me startd wrkng.
Manali-Leh: Should you do it alone?
The most consistent, popular question I was asked on Indian roads was this: Average kya deti hai? (how much average/mileage does it give?). The second was variations of: why are you doing it alone? For future riders of Manali-Leh, I will try to attempt an answer to this loaded question. Should you do it alone?
Like for most important questions, the answer is yes and no and it depends. Let me first slice it in different ways.
The terrain. 70% of the road is excellent and far better than anything that you'll come across in India. The other 30% is what makes Manali-Leh a cut above any other motorcycle trek. Before Rohtang, there are areas where there's a slush of mud and with insufficient speed your motorcycle can roll back. I saw a sardar family get off the car because it didn't climb. It requires a reasonable amount of driving and balancing skill. There are really, really rocky areas. There are large water patches and you'll worry that it'll get into the motorcycle (stop for a bit before driving through if your motorcycle is exhausted). There could be snow (rare). You'll pass through desert land - Ladakh, a cold desert with low oxygen levels. You'll climb up, down all a lot.
The weather. It's pleasant mostly but it'll get bitter cold. If you don't have good gloves, you'll have to keep moving your fingers all the time so the blood doesn't freeze. Double or triple soxing is a good idea. When you crap outside in the wee hours of the morning with your butt exposed, it's the ultimate chill!
The body. Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) may or may not affect you depending on your constitution. You will not feel that thirsty but keep drinking water in a disciplined fashion at regular intervals. Carry cookies, crackers, chocolates, dry fruits - you'll feel like eating those and you should keep eating - sugar is good. Carry electrol (Glucon D) - the sugar will help. Diamox takes about 6 hours to kick-in so plan accordingly and take a Diamox and Dispirin (aspirin) together. I took it twice. The only spot where I faced any AMS was near Tandi gas station and almost nothing after that. Don't overeat. Under low oxygen, your body will perform differently - normal tasks such as tying your shoe lace will seem extremely complicated - just be aware of it. Doing regular exercise everyday (I chose AoL breathing excercises) is a good idea as it sets the rythm of your body.
The motorcycle. The behavior of the motorcycle will change just like that of your body's. For its basic function, the motorcycle will suck air, mix it with petrol, create a spark, burn the mixture and use the thermal energy to thrust itself forward. What happens is the air is rarefied and if the air filter is blocked (clean it), the carburretor will find it difficult to breath. One option when this happens is to remove the filter altogether. When tune the carb in such a way (turning anti-clockwise) as to open it, it'll suck in more air freely - imagine as having bigger nostrils and lungs. Your motorcycle's performance is bound to be suboptimal because you are tiring it continuously on a changing terrain. Your shock absorbers will get screwed. Jumping too much on rocks will also ruin your wheel and rim - watch out for this. I got mixed answers for what air pressure is optimal - one theory pro-higher tire pressure is the tire will bounce through rocks and pebbles (there are many, many) and will avoid a puncture, the other theory against-higher tire pressure is a tight tire will get heated faster so it will burn out quickly - both seem logical. Develop a sense of how the motorcycle is behaving by constantly being aware of it and observing it - its most important indicators are how it drives and how it sounds - surprisingly the latter tells you a lot. At one point, I'd tightened the brake so much that the chain and tire started heating up - though nothing happened, I intuitively felt something was wrong so I stopped. And I was right...when I looked for a bit I saw smoke coming out a heated chain - this was in Pahalgam, Kashmir and I took it to a local mechanic and let him meddle with the brake. Check your vehicle at the end of the day - check the tires for any pebbles etc., check the clutch and accelerator cables, check how your brakes function and brake lights, periodically check your spark plug, clean the air filter (take it to a tire pressure guy and he'll blow air into it) - it also helped that Ashok, the mechanic I found in Leh cleaned the tube leading from the air filter to the carb - that's where mine had a problem. If the vehicle's performance is suboptimal also consider cleaning the carburretor.
**
So finally, what am I saying? Should you do it alone or not? The terrain, weather, body, and motorcycle are such that if you have to be screwed, you'll be screwed regardless of whether you are alone or you are with 10 people. Each of these factors is a BIG unknown and you can only attempt to reduce your risk but never eliminate it. You cannot realistically carry all the spares that you might ever need. If an avalanche or dump of snow or rocks or a glacier melt comes from somewhere nothing you do for your vehicle matters. Riding in separate distances can also leave you alone at the time of need in spite of driving in a group. But in your mind you'll feel a lot more relaxed when you drive in a group because that false sense of assurance does help.
However, it's dramatically a different experience to do it alone. Though I feel bad for Bhaskar that he couldn't make it, I was happy that he didn't because it gave me an opportunity to have a fundamentally different experience. Like Samir said when you ride with someone regardless of who it is, you are diffusing some of your energy. It's true. When you are alone you are doing it across a different circle of experience. It stretches the boundaries of your mental energy to different zones. It stretches your risk propensity to different levels and that reflects in other spheres of your life. When you are driving with the wind in your face and look back to see no one behind for miles and miles together and look ahead to see no one ahead of you - no one to any side, the thrill is different. Moreover on a philosophical level, you are alone anyways - you come and go alone - so being in the company of someone only gives a false sense of security. It let's you push the responsibility away from you. When you are alone you take the responsibility - you become the source of strength - not only for yourself but to those you'll come across along the way and after.
Finally when you look at the people who work for the Border Roads Organization fighting their battle with Nature with kids in their arms and tar on their faces, when you see great works of art and religion - the Gompas lost somewhere high up in the mountains and think about the people who built them, when you meet armymen who fight and protect our borders at minus 60 degree cold weather with ineffective equipment, when you see Ladakhis walking miles and miles doing what they do - agriculture of wheat or a vegetable that struggles to grow in a cold desert, when you think of the earlier civilizations that established themselves there many, many centuries ago when a motor never even existed - it puts things into perspective. Riding alone can easily be the easiest thing.
Like for most important questions, the answer is yes and no and it depends. Let me first slice it in different ways.
The terrain. 70% of the road is excellent and far better than anything that you'll come across in India. The other 30% is what makes Manali-Leh a cut above any other motorcycle trek. Before Rohtang, there are areas where there's a slush of mud and with insufficient speed your motorcycle can roll back. I saw a sardar family get off the car because it didn't climb. It requires a reasonable amount of driving and balancing skill. There are really, really rocky areas. There are large water patches and you'll worry that it'll get into the motorcycle (stop for a bit before driving through if your motorcycle is exhausted). There could be snow (rare). You'll pass through desert land - Ladakh, a cold desert with low oxygen levels. You'll climb up, down all a lot.
The weather. It's pleasant mostly but it'll get bitter cold. If you don't have good gloves, you'll have to keep moving your fingers all the time so the blood doesn't freeze. Double or triple soxing is a good idea. When you crap outside in the wee hours of the morning with your butt exposed, it's the ultimate chill!
The body. Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) may or may not affect you depending on your constitution. You will not feel that thirsty but keep drinking water in a disciplined fashion at regular intervals. Carry cookies, crackers, chocolates, dry fruits - you'll feel like eating those and you should keep eating - sugar is good. Carry electrol (Glucon D) - the sugar will help. Diamox takes about 6 hours to kick-in so plan accordingly and take a Diamox and Dispirin (aspirin) together. I took it twice. The only spot where I faced any AMS was near Tandi gas station and almost nothing after that. Don't overeat. Under low oxygen, your body will perform differently - normal tasks such as tying your shoe lace will seem extremely complicated - just be aware of it. Doing regular exercise everyday (I chose AoL breathing excercises) is a good idea as it sets the rythm of your body.
The motorcycle. The behavior of the motorcycle will change just like that of your body's. For its basic function, the motorcycle will suck air, mix it with petrol, create a spark, burn the mixture and use the thermal energy to thrust itself forward. What happens is the air is rarefied and if the air filter is blocked (clean it), the carburretor will find it difficult to breath. One option when this happens is to remove the filter altogether. When tune the carb in such a way (turning anti-clockwise) as to open it, it'll suck in more air freely - imagine as having bigger nostrils and lungs. Your motorcycle's performance is bound to be suboptimal because you are tiring it continuously on a changing terrain. Your shock absorbers will get screwed. Jumping too much on rocks will also ruin your wheel and rim - watch out for this. I got mixed answers for what air pressure is optimal - one theory pro-higher tire pressure is the tire will bounce through rocks and pebbles (there are many, many) and will avoid a puncture, the other theory against-higher tire pressure is a tight tire will get heated faster so it will burn out quickly - both seem logical. Develop a sense of how the motorcycle is behaving by constantly being aware of it and observing it - its most important indicators are how it drives and how it sounds - surprisingly the latter tells you a lot. At one point, I'd tightened the brake so much that the chain and tire started heating up - though nothing happened, I intuitively felt something was wrong so I stopped. And I was right...when I looked for a bit I saw smoke coming out a heated chain - this was in Pahalgam, Kashmir and I took it to a local mechanic and let him meddle with the brake. Check your vehicle at the end of the day - check the tires for any pebbles etc., check the clutch and accelerator cables, check how your brakes function and brake lights, periodically check your spark plug, clean the air filter (take it to a tire pressure guy and he'll blow air into it) - it also helped that Ashok, the mechanic I found in Leh cleaned the tube leading from the air filter to the carb - that's where mine had a problem. If the vehicle's performance is suboptimal also consider cleaning the carburretor.
**
So finally, what am I saying? Should you do it alone or not? The terrain, weather, body, and motorcycle are such that if you have to be screwed, you'll be screwed regardless of whether you are alone or you are with 10 people. Each of these factors is a BIG unknown and you can only attempt to reduce your risk but never eliminate it. You cannot realistically carry all the spares that you might ever need. If an avalanche or dump of snow or rocks or a glacier melt comes from somewhere nothing you do for your vehicle matters. Riding in separate distances can also leave you alone at the time of need in spite of driving in a group. But in your mind you'll feel a lot more relaxed when you drive in a group because that false sense of assurance does help.
However, it's dramatically a different experience to do it alone. Though I feel bad for Bhaskar that he couldn't make it, I was happy that he didn't because it gave me an opportunity to have a fundamentally different experience. Like Samir said when you ride with someone regardless of who it is, you are diffusing some of your energy. It's true. When you are alone you are doing it across a different circle of experience. It stretches the boundaries of your mental energy to different zones. It stretches your risk propensity to different levels and that reflects in other spheres of your life. When you are driving with the wind in your face and look back to see no one behind for miles and miles together and look ahead to see no one ahead of you - no one to any side, the thrill is different. Moreover on a philosophical level, you are alone anyways - you come and go alone - so being in the company of someone only gives a false sense of security. It let's you push the responsibility away from you. When you are alone you take the responsibility - you become the source of strength - not only for yourself but to those you'll come across along the way and after.
Finally when you look at the people who work for the Border Roads Organization fighting their battle with Nature with kids in their arms and tar on their faces, when you see great works of art and religion - the Gompas lost somewhere high up in the mountains and think about the people who built them, when you meet armymen who fight and protect our borders at minus 60 degree cold weather with ineffective equipment, when you see Ladakhis walking miles and miles doing what they do - agriculture of wheat or a vegetable that struggles to grow in a cold desert, when you think of the earlier civilizations that established themselves there many, many centuries ago when a motor never even existed - it puts things into perspective. Riding alone can easily be the easiest thing.
Day 11-12: Getting back to Delhi
It was little absurd driving back to Delhi. It was back to the regular highways, back to seeing dead, crushed dogs on roads, back to overturned trucks, back to cars cutting lanes, back to people and their funny ways. I stayed on a highway hotel in Haryana and wasted Rs.800/night (highest I ever paid on the trip) and reached Delhi the next morning and drove straight to the service workshop in Yusuf Sarai. The mechanics (particularly Dharmendar who worked on my Bull) were thrilled to see me back in one piece. My Bull got its 3rd service and I finally ate a late lunch with Brijesh - it was nice. Soon, I observed my thoughts slowly getting diluted hour by hour by hour and settling into what we call reality and making the previous 10 days seem surreal and something out of a dream.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Day 10: Drass - Srinagar - Jammu
The previous evening I spent time with Mohd. Sulaiman, a constantly smoking 20 year old who managed Hotel Basara where I stayed. Every shop I looked at in Drass screamed odd spellings. The funniest was a barber shop - it said, "LEDIS AND JENTS -- HIARE SALLOON". My own hotel announced sanitized rooms - whatever they were. Drass, a set of villages with 5000 people occupies its spot in the world as the 2nd coldest inhabited place - it hit a rock bottom temperature of -60 degrees centigrade in 1995. It's also the place where a good part of the Kargil war (the army would correct me as 'operation' not war) was also fought there. Sulaiman told me that the locals ran away from there during the war because the army would drag them into service - like cooking or carrying stuff for the army.
I lost Prashant Yadav's sleeping bag in somewhere in Zoji La - I was too busy climbing the pass and didn't notice until I got into Kashmir. And when I noticed it, I lost balance and fell - dropping the motorcycle on the right side. Hell, I thought. I took a break, ate some crackers staring at the spectacular Kashmir valley with its Ashoka-like trees. Just 20km away, the earth was dry and devoid of any vegetation and look at here! Nature plays amusing games. Sona Marg, a town before Srinagar is just too beautiful - it's indeed heaven on earth. I saw countless sheep basking in the sun and lazily eating up the green, the whole valley was lush green brightened by rain and sun, in the distance were long trees - straight and tall - all this with a background of Himalayan glaciers with its whiteness reflecting the sun.
I've never seen more army vehicles, men and guns in a square kilometer in my life - every 100 mts in Kashmir, you'll see an armyman with a sophisticated gun - every 100mts, literally. The city of Srinagar looks very much like the old parts of Hyderabad - busy, bustling and full of life. I ate in Mughal Darbar - ate Kashmiri pulao - of course and packed sweet Kulchas for iNexters at work. In spite of its apparent normalcy, you can tell that something's not alright - army convoys occupy traffic spots just like rickshaws or cars. The local population seems to have accepted it. The situation in a lot of ways is tense. Only when I left Srinagar I found out that a CRPF vehicle was blasted in the city a few hours ago. Dal Lake seemed quite ordinary - very touristy with the house boats and hawkers. I circled near it and head towards Jammu.
I didn't realize that most of Jammu is hilly and mountainous - it stretches every kilometer and makes it longer. Once the day approached night, I saw close to 10,000 mountain goats, sheep, cows, horses being shepherded home on the highways. It held up all traffic. A little later it started raining and the sky turned pretty dark. I called it a day in a village called Batotla in Jammu - I couldn't understand the surprised expression I saw on the faces of the hotel staff until I was shocked myself when I looked at a mirror. My face with black with soot and sun-tan. With my whiskers and straight hair, I closely resembled Rajnikanth (apologies to his fans).
I lost Prashant Yadav's sleeping bag in somewhere in Zoji La - I was too busy climbing the pass and didn't notice until I got into Kashmir. And when I noticed it, I lost balance and fell - dropping the motorcycle on the right side. Hell, I thought. I took a break, ate some crackers staring at the spectacular Kashmir valley with its Ashoka-like trees. Just 20km away, the earth was dry and devoid of any vegetation and look at here! Nature plays amusing games. Sona Marg, a town before Srinagar is just too beautiful - it's indeed heaven on earth. I saw countless sheep basking in the sun and lazily eating up the green, the whole valley was lush green brightened by rain and sun, in the distance were long trees - straight and tall - all this with a background of Himalayan glaciers with its whiteness reflecting the sun.
I've never seen more army vehicles, men and guns in a square kilometer in my life - every 100 mts in Kashmir, you'll see an armyman with a sophisticated gun - every 100mts, literally. The city of Srinagar looks very much like the old parts of Hyderabad - busy, bustling and full of life. I ate in Mughal Darbar - ate Kashmiri pulao - of course and packed sweet Kulchas for iNexters at work. In spite of its apparent normalcy, you can tell that something's not alright - army convoys occupy traffic spots just like rickshaws or cars. The local population seems to have accepted it. The situation in a lot of ways is tense. Only when I left Srinagar I found out that a CRPF vehicle was blasted in the city a few hours ago. Dal Lake seemed quite ordinary - very touristy with the house boats and hawkers. I circled near it and head towards Jammu.
I didn't realize that most of Jammu is hilly and mountainous - it stretches every kilometer and makes it longer. Once the day approached night, I saw close to 10,000 mountain goats, sheep, cows, horses being shepherded home on the highways. It held up all traffic. A little later it started raining and the sky turned pretty dark. I called it a day in a village called Batotla in Jammu - I couldn't understand the surprised expression I saw on the faces of the hotel staff until I was shocked myself when I looked at a mirror. My face with black with soot and sun-tan. With my whiskers and straight hair, I closely resembled Rajnikanth (apologies to his fans).
Day 9: Lamayuru - Kargil - Drass
Each day's experiences shift you to different levels. I left Lamayuru thinking about the Buddhist monks and kids who struggled with their math and headed to Kargil. Kargil's main area - the main Market seems like a busy street out of Mumbai. I circled around to find a place to eat and finally settled in on Pasha restaurant - with oily vegetable curry, it was not such a good choice. Inside the restaurant, a father and son came and sat on my table. The father's eyes were the dull-grey with cataract. His wrinkled and tired face wore an expression that was an odd mixture of disappointment and passive anger. His young 8 year old son - dirty, bright eyed ate the meat Thukpa with the eagerness of any boy. The father watched his son eat and when he couldn't eat no more, he finished up the meal. He saw me dab sunscreen on my nose (my this time my nose changed its colors and shone like the sun!). We kept looking at each others' eyes but never exchanged a word - I couldn't think of anything appropriate.
I stepped out and stretched myself - I had enough time. I couldn't get beyond Drass that day because it was sunday and Zoji La - the pass that takes you officially out of Ladakh and into Kashmir would be closed. A Sardarji walked up to me and started a conversation. It's the usual - where are you coming from? Mumbai? wah! Where are you going? Why are you doing this? What's the 'average' (meaning mileage) of the motorcycle? (average kya deti hai - most popular question across India). He told me that he's been in Kargil for 50 years and before that his father and before that his grandfather. They were from Punjab and had established a business in the Kargil area. He explained to me about the war and how the market where we were standing was just empty when Pakistan shelled it from 200km away using Bofors guns.
A little further in the market, I met Mohd. Ali, an ex-policeman. He was posted in the market area during the war and he showed me from across where we sat - look at the shutters of that shop..can you see the shutters shelled? Yes, I said - yes, I could see it. An ugly bright green shutter nakedly exposed its insides through the gun-shot holes. How did they shoot here? I asked. Bofors, he responded. Lot of people have left Kargil since - the 22 days of war had bruised their lives forever. They can't not tell the story or forget it - it's etched in the memories of their lives forever.
As I head to the highway, I saw a wall that blocks the highway and it was there that are soldiers bled to death while fighting the enemy on the otherside. The Line of Control is 10km from Kargil and you'll see a sign on the road that oddly says, "Caution - the enemy can watch you!" I was like, what the hell?! Who is watching, from where? I stopped the motorcycle and took in the experience. It was a different, odd kind of thrill. And to think that the local population and army lives it everyday completely humbled me.
I was even more embarassed at my own contribution and civilian assumptions and contribution to India in general at the Drass war memorial. An army officer, K.P. Singh from Allahabad walked me through the memorial ("Jab, aaplog aate hain dekhne keliye tho hamara chaati upar ho jathi hai"). I saw the Taloling mountain where the war had started - Pakistani insurgents (their govt. denies that it was their army while India insists it was) creeped down the mountain and wanted to bomb the highway that I'd just got off from. The plan was to capture Ladakh itself. Being on lower ground, India was terribly disadvantaged but our armymen climbed up, fought and recaptured territory, lost lives and won the war in 22 days. I didn't really know how to respond or react when he said - quite matter of factly - don't worry, go home, we are guarding the country for you.
I stepped out and stretched myself - I had enough time. I couldn't get beyond Drass that day because it was sunday and Zoji La - the pass that takes you officially out of Ladakh and into Kashmir would be closed. A Sardarji walked up to me and started a conversation. It's the usual - where are you coming from? Mumbai? wah! Where are you going? Why are you doing this? What's the 'average' (meaning mileage) of the motorcycle? (average kya deti hai - most popular question across India). He told me that he's been in Kargil for 50 years and before that his father and before that his grandfather. They were from Punjab and had established a business in the Kargil area. He explained to me about the war and how the market where we were standing was just empty when Pakistan shelled it from 200km away using Bofors guns.
A little further in the market, I met Mohd. Ali, an ex-policeman. He was posted in the market area during the war and he showed me from across where we sat - look at the shutters of that shop..can you see the shutters shelled? Yes, I said - yes, I could see it. An ugly bright green shutter nakedly exposed its insides through the gun-shot holes. How did they shoot here? I asked. Bofors, he responded. Lot of people have left Kargil since - the 22 days of war had bruised their lives forever. They can't not tell the story or forget it - it's etched in the memories of their lives forever.
As I head to the highway, I saw a wall that blocks the highway and it was there that are soldiers bled to death while fighting the enemy on the otherside. The Line of Control is 10km from Kargil and you'll see a sign on the road that oddly says, "Caution - the enemy can watch you!" I was like, what the hell?! Who is watching, from where? I stopped the motorcycle and took in the experience. It was a different, odd kind of thrill. And to think that the local population and army lives it everyday completely humbled me.
I was even more embarassed at my own contribution and civilian assumptions and contribution to India in general at the Drass war memorial. An army officer, K.P. Singh from Allahabad walked me through the memorial ("Jab, aaplog aate hain dekhne keliye tho hamara chaati upar ho jathi hai"). I saw the Taloling mountain where the war had started - Pakistani insurgents (their govt. denies that it was their army while India insists it was) creeped down the mountain and wanted to bomb the highway that I'd just got off from. The plan was to capture Ladakh itself. Being on lower ground, India was terribly disadvantaged but our armymen climbed up, fought and recaptured territory, lost lives and won the war in 22 days. I didn't really know how to respond or react when he said - quite matter of factly - don't worry, go home, we are guarding the country for you.
Day 8: Leh - Lamayuru
Sometimes decision-making is so difficult. The night before I'd spent 1.5 hrs on my email and there were so many pending things to do. As I shopped around in the Tibetan market for Suz, a hand tapped my shoulder - it was Abhi with Joe again. They had decided not to go to Pongsong Tso (a dramatic lake that runs mostly into China) and they decided to head back to Delhi that day via the Leh-Manali route. It was very tempting to just go with them. The previous day I'd almost forgotten what it was to ride alone - it's funny, you ride with such ease when you ride with others because you always tend to feel, hey someone's around. It was also fun to be around them. More than anything I had a strong urge to just get back to work - I was missing my work terribly and just wanted to be back in my work environment and get back to my activities - after all I'd already met my goal of Khardung La. They told me, you decide and let us know - we'll be around here Fort road for another 40 min.
Hmm...running through these thoughts I wandered around a t-shirt shop and then a German bakery (there are many in Leh). I got myself a chocolate croissant, sat on the streets and ate and wondered what to do. Then I asked myself a single question - which is the more difficult option? The answer was easy - it was Kargil-Srinagar-Delhi because it presented the unknowns again. I finished up my croissant, started the Bull, went to the gas station and headed in the direction of Kargil without thinking twice.
Just outside Leh, I met a BRO worker Mr. Rao from Kerala - who asked me what "the average" of the Bullet was - around 30 I said and he asked me, "Tell me, is there any profit with that?" It irritated me but I smiled and responded, "It's all loss - everything is a loss." He walked away.
That evening I reached the Lamayuru monastery and this was yet another place that touched me deeply and the images keep coming back. I stayed in a guesthouse called Thangolim or something like that right on the highway - pretty pricey for the location. Renzig who ran the guesthouse stayed with his wife and kid. He seemed to have two other children who were away. He used to work in a government office but later started the guesthouse - that night they made an awesome tasting Thukpa - tasted more like vegetable stew with flat noodles - they seemed pretty well-off and satisfied to me. Anyways, I trekked up to the 10th century monastery - the gompa is the oldest known gompa in Ladakh. I'd learnt that the prayer happened around 5PM and I wanted to definitely make it to the top by then. But when I reached the gompa I saw 10 year old monks playing on a make-shift slide and see-sawing on a wooden pole. One of the kids was lighting lamps while listening to what seemed local-pop music on his radio. They opened the inside of the monastery for me. One 14 year-old who seemed to know the ways of the world better - dominated on the other younger monks and instructed me to stand here, stand there and he'd take my pics - I obeyed - amused. Inside Ladakh's oldest monastery I saw religious scriptures and leaf pamphlets lying around. I touched them and couldn't believe I was holding in my hand something that was easily a thousand years old and I was holding it so easily. It was odd.
I trekked back to the guest house and along the way I met three kids (one of them was called Something Namgyal). They couldn't speak Hindi but we tried to chat. They explained to me that they studied in the local government school - some 10 kids went to the school (could be wrong info). Two of the kids studied in 6th grade and they struggled to name the subjects - Social Studies, Maths, Science, Buddhi, Ladakhi, Urdu, English...so we played a game in maths and science - of 7x table, 5x table and where the earth was, where the moon was and so on. The kids were very sharp - you could tell but what they knew for a 6th grader was dramatically poor. I kept thinking - what choice do they have? Their lives are spent in trekking up to the monastery, fetching water, working with their families, helping with agriculture, going to school when time allows, playing and bathing whenever possible. Somewhere at the back of our minds we keep thinking that if we work hard, study hard, we'll make it, we'll be successful and we'll have the 'good' life. But is this true? So much of those children's lives are dependent completely on where they were born and that's it.
During dinner I met a friendly French couple and a reticent Belgian couple that trekked all the way from Leh. I saw the Belgians the next day again Kargil asking for directions - their faces red with the Ladakhi sun.
Hmm...running through these thoughts I wandered around a t-shirt shop and then a German bakery (there are many in Leh). I got myself a chocolate croissant, sat on the streets and ate and wondered what to do. Then I asked myself a single question - which is the more difficult option? The answer was easy - it was Kargil-Srinagar-Delhi because it presented the unknowns again. I finished up my croissant, started the Bull, went to the gas station and headed in the direction of Kargil without thinking twice.
Just outside Leh, I met a BRO worker Mr. Rao from Kerala - who asked me what "the average" of the Bullet was - around 30 I said and he asked me, "Tell me, is there any profit with that?" It irritated me but I smiled and responded, "It's all loss - everything is a loss." He walked away.
That evening I reached the Lamayuru monastery and this was yet another place that touched me deeply and the images keep coming back. I stayed in a guesthouse called Thangolim or something like that right on the highway - pretty pricey for the location. Renzig who ran the guesthouse stayed with his wife and kid. He seemed to have two other children who were away. He used to work in a government office but later started the guesthouse - that night they made an awesome tasting Thukpa - tasted more like vegetable stew with flat noodles - they seemed pretty well-off and satisfied to me. Anyways, I trekked up to the 10th century monastery - the gompa is the oldest known gompa in Ladakh. I'd learnt that the prayer happened around 5PM and I wanted to definitely make it to the top by then. But when I reached the gompa I saw 10 year old monks playing on a make-shift slide and see-sawing on a wooden pole. One of the kids was lighting lamps while listening to what seemed local-pop music on his radio. They opened the inside of the monastery for me. One 14 year-old who seemed to know the ways of the world better - dominated on the other younger monks and instructed me to stand here, stand there and he'd take my pics - I obeyed - amused. Inside Ladakh's oldest monastery I saw religious scriptures and leaf pamphlets lying around. I touched them and couldn't believe I was holding in my hand something that was easily a thousand years old and I was holding it so easily. It was odd.
I trekked back to the guest house and along the way I met three kids (one of them was called Something Namgyal). They couldn't speak Hindi but we tried to chat. They explained to me that they studied in the local government school - some 10 kids went to the school (could be wrong info). Two of the kids studied in 6th grade and they struggled to name the subjects - Social Studies, Maths, Science, Buddhi, Ladakhi, Urdu, English...so we played a game in maths and science - of 7x table, 5x table and where the earth was, where the moon was and so on. The kids were very sharp - you could tell but what they knew for a 6th grader was dramatically poor. I kept thinking - what choice do they have? Their lives are spent in trekking up to the monastery, fetching water, working with their families, helping with agriculture, going to school when time allows, playing and bathing whenever possible. Somewhere at the back of our minds we keep thinking that if we work hard, study hard, we'll make it, we'll be successful and we'll have the 'good' life. But is this true? So much of those children's lives are dependent completely on where they were born and that's it.
During dinner I met a friendly French couple and a reticent Belgian couple that trekked all the way from Leh. I saw the Belgians the next day again Kargil asking for directions - their faces red with the Ladakhi sun.
Day 7: Diskit - Khardung La - Leh
Diskit - the only town with a gas station in the Nubra valley - is beautiful in its own way. As you enter the town, the highway stretches to a super straight path leading up to a mountain. In the distance is are snow-capped Himalayas. On either side of the highway is wet sand that stretches onto miles and miles. As you climb up the last 20 or so km to reach Diskit, you'll see what I suspect is the Shyok river basin. The geography is dramatically different than anything I've seen before.
Once I reached Diskit along with Ed - we waited for Abhi and Joe to join. Alan and Joan, the couple from Newzealand had already made it. I spent that evening mostly with them and listening to the many stories of Alan, a bearded 62 year old gentleman who's traveled to over 40 countries. Ed, a 45 year old man now lived in Bangkok and talked about his Thai girl friend and asked me how he might marry a Bollywood actress in Mumbai. It amused him endlessly that I had a hand sanitizer from CVS - I let him assume that CVS ships it to India and little did I tell him that I actually picked it up at some CVS store in New Jersey. We stayed at the Karakoram guest house - the owner, Skarma and his wife and children looked after us. His wife always had an aloof look. She made the best tasting rotis ever.
The next day, Alan and Joan went to Hunder to see the sand dunes and camels. Ed followed. Abhi, Joe and I started late because it started raining. In the seperation and confusion, we never found Alan and Joan and after a mini-search expedition headed back to Khardung La. With the rain, the temperature kept dipping and we wondered how cold it might be on K-Top.
The drive back was relatively less-difficult because I expected the problems with the terrain - the rocks, stones, rivers, potholes etc. My second time on K-Top, I realized that my cell phone worked and SMSed friends and family. I met a soldier on top who got me tea from the army post (I'm supposed to send him his pic but seemed to have lost the book where I wrote the address - tsk, tsk). This time I hung around k-top for longer - took some more pics, removed my jacket etc. and jumped around in the bitter cold right after the snaps. There was no Maggi noodles, there weren't even that many people. I met some of the Bulleteers I met in Darcha camp. I met a couple of guys from Bangalore whom I'd met while they were fixing a puncture on the way to Leh. It was nice and then I headed back.
We reached Leh and had a very satisfying late lunch (it was 5.30PM) at Lamayuru Restaurant - I ate my dinner there 2 nights before and had met a guy from Spain spending 5 months in India and a girl from Holland with a mole near her lip who decided at random to come to Leh (her first time). Finished lunch with Abhi, Joe - Ed joined later and we realized that Alan and Joan had not made it back yet. It struck horror - particularly for Abhi - I think he'd assumed responsibility for them - I learnt that they all stayed in the same guest house. Did they fall off? Did their Bullet have problems? Finally, late that night I ran into Abhi, Joe and the others again and Alan showed up - completely distraught. The chain-link lock broke right on top of Khardung La and they struggled to get it alright. Finally, a taxi driver suggested that they better get off the mountain and save their lives - the Bullet can always be collected later and that's what they did.
Earlier that night I took a quick swing to check the Ladakh festival - saw a song-dance demo of a Ladakhi marriage from one of the royal villages. The long, heavy dress made everybody look shorter than normal. The sound seemed very Tibetan from my unaccustomed ears. The dance steps are rythmic but seemed very elaborately simple. My mind kept drifting to my imminent journey to Kargil and I wanted to get some sleep.
Once I reached Diskit along with Ed - we waited for Abhi and Joe to join. Alan and Joan, the couple from Newzealand had already made it. I spent that evening mostly with them and listening to the many stories of Alan, a bearded 62 year old gentleman who's traveled to over 40 countries. Ed, a 45 year old man now lived in Bangkok and talked about his Thai girl friend and asked me how he might marry a Bollywood actress in Mumbai. It amused him endlessly that I had a hand sanitizer from CVS - I let him assume that CVS ships it to India and little did I tell him that I actually picked it up at some CVS store in New Jersey. We stayed at the Karakoram guest house - the owner, Skarma and his wife and children looked after us. His wife always had an aloof look. She made the best tasting rotis ever.
The next day, Alan and Joan went to Hunder to see the sand dunes and camels. Ed followed. Abhi, Joe and I started late because it started raining. In the seperation and confusion, we never found Alan and Joan and after a mini-search expedition headed back to Khardung La. With the rain, the temperature kept dipping and we wondered how cold it might be on K-Top.
The drive back was relatively less-difficult because I expected the problems with the terrain - the rocks, stones, rivers, potholes etc. My second time on K-Top, I realized that my cell phone worked and SMSed friends and family. I met a soldier on top who got me tea from the army post (I'm supposed to send him his pic but seemed to have lost the book where I wrote the address - tsk, tsk). This time I hung around k-top for longer - took some more pics, removed my jacket etc. and jumped around in the bitter cold right after the snaps. There was no Maggi noodles, there weren't even that many people. I met some of the Bulleteers I met in Darcha camp. I met a couple of guys from Bangalore whom I'd met while they were fixing a puncture on the way to Leh. It was nice and then I headed back.
We reached Leh and had a very satisfying late lunch (it was 5.30PM) at Lamayuru Restaurant - I ate my dinner there 2 nights before and had met a guy from Spain spending 5 months in India and a girl from Holland with a mole near her lip who decided at random to come to Leh (her first time). Finished lunch with Abhi, Joe - Ed joined later and we realized that Alan and Joan had not made it back yet. It struck horror - particularly for Abhi - I think he'd assumed responsibility for them - I learnt that they all stayed in the same guest house. Did they fall off? Did their Bullet have problems? Finally, late that night I ran into Abhi, Joe and the others again and Alan showed up - completely distraught. The chain-link lock broke right on top of Khardung La and they struggled to get it alright. Finally, a taxi driver suggested that they better get off the mountain and save their lives - the Bullet can always be collected later and that's what they did.
Earlier that night I took a quick swing to check the Ladakh festival - saw a song-dance demo of a Ladakhi marriage from one of the royal villages. The long, heavy dress made everybody look shorter than normal. The sound seemed very Tibetan from my unaccustomed ears. The dance steps are rythmic but seemed very elaborately simple. My mind kept drifting to my imminent journey to Kargil and I wanted to get some sleep.
Day 6: Leh-Khardung La - Panamik - Hargam - Diskit
The next morning, the Bull refused to start. Here I am in Mahey guesthouse - staring at the Himalayas in front of me, with sunflowers, tomatoes, egg plant and other stuff growing in the garden - Renzig and others from the guest house (really, really nice people) tried to help me but the Bull won't start. Hey, it's Khardung La that I have to climb - if it refuses in Leh at some 10k feet, what am I to do at 18k feet?! And someone looked out from one of the windows in the guesthouse and shouted, "We have a mechanic with us - do you want us to send him?" "You have a mechanic? Of course!" And Ashok - the mechanic turned up - I had ignored using him the day before because I didn't trust he had better skills than Juma (whom I went to and who didn't fix my problem). Veeru, a guy from Bangalore was riding with 7-8 other people (all from Bangalore) - they hired Ashok from Manali for Rs.500/ day so they don't have trouble along the way and can have a hassle-free ride. Ashok took about 5 minutes to fix the problem - he opened the tube leading from the filter into the carburretor and cleaned out the dust and kachra in it. Vroom - it roared and he tuned the engine and it did what it did back on earth - consistent thud, thud, thud without the need to rev it. Oh my God - I was so relieved. He refused money and I insisted and gave him some. I was on my way to Khardung La - but wait, I had to take extra fuel because I was planning to go to Nubra valley (beyond the pass) - why? because the travel agent who got my permit decided to get me a permit (you get one from the Municipal commission etc.) up to Nubra.
While filling fuel I noticed two other Bulleteers - one in a red jacket, the other in yellow - I nodded a knowing nod at the red one. Little I did I know then that I'd meet them on K-top and spend the next two days with them.
90% of the ride to Khardung La is comfortable, easy etc. - roads are nice, curvy, smooth - with BRO funnies and reminders along the way - you'll also see a lot of vehicles going up and down. However, you can't say the same about the last 10km. You just can't. I got stuck in between 10 army convoys in those last 10km and neither could speed and move to higher gear - nor stay at constant speed. As the road got from bad to worse, there were times I could sense that the Bull might just stop and if I stopped, I'd be screwed - really, badly screwed and there's all possibility that the motorcycle would roll backwards. The whole terrain becomes rocky with streams and sometimes snow. It's so cold that your fingers and toes are near-ready to fall off. You can't breath much either. Being behind a puffing army convoy didn't help much either. And you can't even overtake because your motorcycle doesn't have sufficient pull and momentum to quickly overtake in the little room there is. The engine - just like the human body - finds it hard to breath, mix air and petrol and burn to complete its exothermic reactions that give it the thrust to go forward. There were times when I had use my legs to push the motorcycle forward - your mind can't think anything else because you are much too busy and much too alert driving the motorcycle. And finally you reach the top. The high that it gives you - the kick is to die for. Khardung La - also called the Gate of India by armymen is a small area - that says 18,380 feet and highest motorable pass - everywhere. It has a Buddhist temple and a Hindu temple, an army post, a restaurant that serves tea and Maggi noodles and even a souvenir shop that sold yellow-colored t-shirts. I met Abhishek from Delhi (red jacket) and Joshua from Nagaland (yellow jacket) on top and we decided to connect later down the Nubra valley. I took the pics I wanted to take and started down. The next 5-10km wasn't very easy either. It was very, very cold with snow and wind blowing in your face. The terrain is as bad as the one leading up to the top. You are constantly trying to balance the motorcycle and avoid bumping too much into the rocks. You'll also hear your motorcycle's shock absorbers making their metallic sounds. And you'll constantly stare at the magnificent valley that falls deep below a few feet away from you. That is Khardung La - the world's highest motorable pass.
Down Nubra valley - near the village of Khardung, I met a group of 8 from Israel who were out of fuel. I helped them out - gave them a litre - I learnt the next day that the army also gave them a litre and they finally climbed out of Khardung La, back to Leh. All you get is Maggi noodles everywhere and it's never tasted better! Along the way, Ed an American driving Hero Honda and Alan and Joan, a senior couple from Newzealand also driving a Bull joined us. I realized later that they were driving with Abhi and Joe from Leh.
Panamik and Hargam had a profound impact on me. I can't exactly say why. There were small instances. I stopped along the way to ask directions. A little boy with toothpaste covering edges of his mouth and who understood little Hindi, forcefully pointed the backward direction when I said, "Panamik." Go back, go back he seemed to say. When I wanted to take a pic of him and his sis, he stood in stiff attention. I broke into a laughter seeing him. His mother kept calling him back - inside the house - perhaps saying, don't talk to strangers - especially those on motorcycles. We continued on to reach Hargam - an army guard stopped us there and asked, "Where are you going?" Sasoma - we tried to say - he interrupted, "Not allowed." He agreed for us to stop at Hargam restaurant and eat our Maggi noodles. I saw one girl here and her facial features resembled Bollywood actress Kareena Kapoor's so much. Her hands and neck were big - much like a man's. She wore white sneakers and kept blowing bubbles out of chewing gum. I spoke to a man there who supplied stuff to the army - he told me that the Siachen border was about 20-25km from there - on the left was Pakistan and on the right was China. We were so close to the Line-of-control - oh, boy. We drove to the last and northern most possible place in India - it had an odd-calming effect.
While filling fuel I noticed two other Bulleteers - one in a red jacket, the other in yellow - I nodded a knowing nod at the red one. Little I did I know then that I'd meet them on K-top and spend the next two days with them.
90% of the ride to Khardung La is comfortable, easy etc. - roads are nice, curvy, smooth - with BRO funnies and reminders along the way - you'll also see a lot of vehicles going up and down. However, you can't say the same about the last 10km. You just can't. I got stuck in between 10 army convoys in those last 10km and neither could speed and move to higher gear - nor stay at constant speed. As the road got from bad to worse, there were times I could sense that the Bull might just stop and if I stopped, I'd be screwed - really, badly screwed and there's all possibility that the motorcycle would roll backwards. The whole terrain becomes rocky with streams and sometimes snow. It's so cold that your fingers and toes are near-ready to fall off. You can't breath much either. Being behind a puffing army convoy didn't help much either. And you can't even overtake because your motorcycle doesn't have sufficient pull and momentum to quickly overtake in the little room there is. The engine - just like the human body - finds it hard to breath, mix air and petrol and burn to complete its exothermic reactions that give it the thrust to go forward. There were times when I had use my legs to push the motorcycle forward - your mind can't think anything else because you are much too busy and much too alert driving the motorcycle. And finally you reach the top. The high that it gives you - the kick is to die for. Khardung La - also called the Gate of India by armymen is a small area - that says 18,380 feet and highest motorable pass - everywhere. It has a Buddhist temple and a Hindu temple, an army post, a restaurant that serves tea and Maggi noodles and even a souvenir shop that sold yellow-colored t-shirts. I met Abhishek from Delhi (red jacket) and Joshua from Nagaland (yellow jacket) on top and we decided to connect later down the Nubra valley. I took the pics I wanted to take and started down. The next 5-10km wasn't very easy either. It was very, very cold with snow and wind blowing in your face. The terrain is as bad as the one leading up to the top. You are constantly trying to balance the motorcycle and avoid bumping too much into the rocks. You'll also hear your motorcycle's shock absorbers making their metallic sounds. And you'll constantly stare at the magnificent valley that falls deep below a few feet away from you. That is Khardung La - the world's highest motorable pass.
Down Nubra valley - near the village of Khardung, I met a group of 8 from Israel who were out of fuel. I helped them out - gave them a litre - I learnt the next day that the army also gave them a litre and they finally climbed out of Khardung La, back to Leh. All you get is Maggi noodles everywhere and it's never tasted better! Along the way, Ed an American driving Hero Honda and Alan and Joan, a senior couple from Newzealand also driving a Bull joined us. I realized later that they were driving with Abhi and Joe from Leh.
Panamik and Hargam had a profound impact on me. I can't exactly say why. There were small instances. I stopped along the way to ask directions. A little boy with toothpaste covering edges of his mouth and who understood little Hindi, forcefully pointed the backward direction when I said, "Panamik." Go back, go back he seemed to say. When I wanted to take a pic of him and his sis, he stood in stiff attention. I broke into a laughter seeing him. His mother kept calling him back - inside the house - perhaps saying, don't talk to strangers - especially those on motorcycles. We continued on to reach Hargam - an army guard stopped us there and asked, "Where are you going?" Sasoma - we tried to say - he interrupted, "Not allowed." He agreed for us to stop at Hargam restaurant and eat our Maggi noodles. I saw one girl here and her facial features resembled Bollywood actress Kareena Kapoor's so much. Her hands and neck were big - much like a man's. She wore white sneakers and kept blowing bubbles out of chewing gum. I spoke to a man there who supplied stuff to the army - he told me that the Siachen border was about 20-25km from there - on the left was Pakistan and on the right was China. We were so close to the Line-of-control - oh, boy. We drove to the last and northern most possible place in India - it had an odd-calming effect.
Day 5: Rumste - Leh
The next morning, the Bullet refused to start. I spent about 30 min trying various tricks with no avail. The locals helped me - particularly one boy who even helped me tie my shoe lace (as I couldn't park the Bull without the stand). Finally, Artur got up and suggested I run the Bull down the slope and I did and it puttered to a start - but the sound wasn't normal - I rode it around for awhile and finally zoomed past Rumste - I didn't have time to say bye to the locals and still feel bad. With adrenaline pumping, I was eager to reach Leh - I mean, come-on I'd seen enough on this ride from Manali, I want to get to Leh now.
Throughout my ride, some phrases stuck - my mind would drift and all kinds of thoughts keep plaguing it - what if I have another puncture, what if the chain breaks, what if...and I'd say, "focus, focus, focus" bringing it back to the road. After a point, I'd gotten used to these drifts and decided to just go with the flow - whatever, I'll "figure it out."
The best and worst part is over after Rumste - the ride into Leh is spectacular and beautiful - the highway is superb and nice and you begin to see people all along the way. Seeing army around also offers a different kind of assurance. I reached Leh early in the day and really, really enjoyed the breakfast - bread and omlette in Mona Lisa restaurant. I felt so good, so good - I did it - one of the toughest roads ever - Manali-Leh and I did it. I SMSed folks. One of the people in the restaurant started a conversation, "aapko tho yahan satisfaction nahin milegi - aapko tho Khardung La jana hai" - yes, of course - Khardung La was tomorrow. I spent the rest of the day taking the Bull to a mechanic called Juma - he worked on it for a few hours - cleaned the carburretor, changed the engine oil, fixed the foot rest and the stand etc. but the Bull still didn't sound alright. I insisted that it's pick-up seemed bad and something seemed wrong with the tuning, he insisted that it was because of the height and where we were (Leh). Hmm...I slept a little uneasily - I don't think I slept very well that night - I was too excited about Khardung La the next morning.
Throughout my ride, some phrases stuck - my mind would drift and all kinds of thoughts keep plaguing it - what if I have another puncture, what if the chain breaks, what if...and I'd say, "focus, focus, focus" bringing it back to the road. After a point, I'd gotten used to these drifts and decided to just go with the flow - whatever, I'll "figure it out."
The best and worst part is over after Rumste - the ride into Leh is spectacular and beautiful - the highway is superb and nice and you begin to see people all along the way. Seeing army around also offers a different kind of assurance. I reached Leh early in the day and really, really enjoyed the breakfast - bread and omlette in Mona Lisa restaurant. I felt so good, so good - I did it - one of the toughest roads ever - Manali-Leh and I did it. I SMSed folks. One of the people in the restaurant started a conversation, "aapko tho yahan satisfaction nahin milegi - aapko tho Khardung La jana hai" - yes, of course - Khardung La was tomorrow. I spent the rest of the day taking the Bull to a mechanic called Juma - he worked on it for a few hours - cleaned the carburretor, changed the engine oil, fixed the foot rest and the stand etc. but the Bull still didn't sound alright. I insisted that it's pick-up seemed bad and something seemed wrong with the tuning, he insisted that it was because of the height and where we were (Leh). Hmm...I slept a little uneasily - I don't think I slept very well that night - I was too excited about Khardung La the next morning.
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