Today is 20th June, 2014; exactly a year ago, on 20th June, 2013; I reached Leh on my bike. As I'm writing this, I'm reminiscing about my ride and nostalgia has surrounding me with the memories of that 43 day journey - a journey of a lifetime, nonetheless. Here's how it happened.
They say, the biggest of ideas start with a thought, a side
note on a post-it, a scribbled comment on a tissue paper, a funny suggestion to
get around a serious problem or a curious intrusion. For me, it was neither of
it. For me, it started with a tweet. The thought that I would want to visit
Ladakhi wilderness, was planted with the below tweet in 2010 when I was
contemplating the meaning of life while sitting at my filthy desk in my ugly
office doing mundane work.
Initially it was just a tweet - a mindless jabber like all
my other tweets. But then I started googling more about this elusive place, I
started reading blogs, travelogues and "best season to go to Ladakh"
articles. I spent next few weeks cursing my work and reading more and more
about the Himalayan region. It was still 2010 and in few weeks, I had become a
pro at answering Leh-related-FAQs like "what to wear", "where to
stay", "what to see" and "how to go." And that too,
sitting at same filthy desk in same fugly office doing the same mundane work.
Soon, the dream became a desire which turned to passion and later an
obsession.
I spent the next three years, moving from once filthy desk
to another and from one ugly office to another, doing a different type of
mundane work; but the obsession stayed with me. Now it was a dormant volcano,
calm from outside but heating up inside, waiting to explode and consume me. In
the meantime, I saw the movie that defined me - 3 Idiots. The song "Behti
Hawa Sa Tha Woh" in the opening sequence and the visuals of Manali-Leh
highway aggravated it even further. In the summer of 2013, the volcano finally
erupted. I knew that I had to go to Leh. I mean it when I say that 'I actually
heard a calling from Ladakh. It was some place I knew I absolutely had to
visit.'
Finally, in the summer of 2013, I started preparing for it.
I started asking friends to accompany me - and when I say friends, I mean,
friends who're good riders, competent and people whom I can rely upon - this
criteria significant shrunk the number of people I could go and ask. Ladakh
commands an impression that everyone says "yes" initially; but later
on everyone started pulling out citing reasons ranging from "Won't get
leaves from office" to "A relative's ill, I need to be home" and
everything in between. Unfazed, I decided to go on my open. The biggest
obstacle in doing so wasn't going to be Himalayas, the biggest obstacle in
going to Ladakh solo were my parents. I knew that they'd never allow me to go
there alone; in fact, the very reason I wanted my friends to come is not
because I wanted to company, NO, it asked them so that my parents would feel
safe enough to permit me. But well, fate took its course and I had to convince
my parents to let me go on my maiden voyage to Ladakh. Can't explain in words
what it took for me to convince them but many days later, they finally agreed.
Thence started the process of prepping for the trip. The longest riding trip I
had done till that point was 1000 km. Mumbai - Ahmedabad - Mumbai; which pales
in comparison to what I was going to attempt. Everything from riding jacket to
toolset, from dual-weather tyres to altitude sickness tablets became a part of
my shopping list.
Day 1: Finally, on 9th June, I loaded my bike on the train
and left for Delhi. I knew that I won't be case of IF anything goes wrong,
it'll be more like, WHEN? And it didn't take too long for the anticipation to
come through. In fact, I faced issues (with administration) even before I rode
my first kilometer of the ride. The reason? Well, I had no bike to do that
first kilometer. My bike had reached early morning, while I reached in the afternoon
via another train to Delhi. I spent next two 2 hours, carrying more than 30 kilos of luggage, wearing
a double-layered riding jacket in searing Delhi heat and running back &
forth five times between the 16 (that's right - SIXTEEN) platforms of New
Delhi Station, searching for my bike.
Day 3: After spending two nights in Delhi, I set forth on my
trip in search of the elusive heaven they called Leh. First stop: Ambala.
Ambala was a total contrast to the Delhi. Instead of a hotel room, I stayed at
a family friend's place. I met them for the first time, yet I was welcomed with
opened arms and was treated like they've known me since childhood.
It was truly a #JodeyDilonKo Moment in Ambala. But the icing on the
cake was the night. I experienced something that I had never experienced before
or since visiting Ambala - their house was just a few kilometers from the
Ambala Cantonment and I was treated to the heavenly music of supersonic jets
late in the night.
As I rested my head on the pillow, I heard the sweet sound of the MIGs
and Sukhois taking off from the nearby Ambala Air Force Base, as if singing
sweet lullabies to me.
Day 4: Early morning showers meant that I could start my
ride only as early as 11 AM. Leaving the confines of a loved one's home - knowing
that from then on, every night will be in an unknown city, in an unknown hotel,
in an unknown bed - I set off towards Manali. Since I started my ride late,
could only manage to reach the town of Mandi. It seemed like all the bikers in
India had descended upon the small town. There was almost zero vacancy. I
must've asked every single hotel, guest house and lodge; looking for a room,
but no luck. My search finally ended when I was forced to stay in the last
vacant room in the town, which also happened to be costliest.
Day 5: Next morning, I was greeted by the Rain Gods. My
entire 160 km. ride between Mandi and Manali was marred by rain. Cold, drenched
and shivering; I finally reached the picturesque Manali. Learning from my past
experience, I got whichever room I could find - big mistake. Crappy food,
crappier service and rude owner meant that I had to relocate the very next day.
The next hotel - Himlayan Country House was a total contrast. Great room, helpful
owner and amazing location meant that I thoroughly enjoyed the next two
days. Incidentally, I was the only Indian in the entire hotel. Except me, rest of the hotel was booked by a French group, who, just like me, were riding to Leh.
Day 6: After sightseeing around Manali, I decided to have dinner at a nearby cafe. I was sitting at the bar, all alone, planning of the next day. I started chatting with a group on the next table and soon I learnt that they're also from Mumbai. I spent the rest of the evening with them on their table with great food and great conversations. Till then, I had only heard that people meet total strangers at pubs and become friends and have a great time, but for the first time, I experienced it first hand. My #JodeyDilonKo Moment in Manali.
Day 8: I started riding towards my destination on the
infamous Manali - Leh road. My first hurdle: the infamous Rohtang Pass. Soon
after starting the climb towards Rohtang, my bike - being a modest 150cc city
commuter - started misfiring. Halfway between Manali and top, I stopped at what
looked like a tiny settlement. I asked a soldier who was working on his army
SUV to help, he said, "Give me any car, I'll fix it in 15 minutes but I
know nothing about bikes. Either you go ride back 25 km. to Manali or go to
Leh, there's nothing in between." I switched to plan C - rely on my grit.
Offoaded the luggage, took out the spanners and the spare air filter and mended
the bike. For this hardwork, I was rewarded by mother nature in the form of
snow! That was the first time I had seen snow in my life. Cannot describe in
words how gorgeous was that sight - almost like a scene straight out of a
movie.
In this mayhem, I met this biking group from Mumbai whom I told my issue with the bike and since I wasn't sure if I've mended the bike properly or not, they asked me to ride with them so that if anything goes wrong they can help me out. We rode together till the next town. Enroute, all of us even stopped by at a check naka to have maggi and a hot cuppa. That was my #JodeyDilonKo Moment of Rohtang Pass.
Riding through the breathtaking walls of ice and pulling my
bike through ankle-deep mud, I finally ascended down and hit the valley. Soon I
reached the famous Tandi petrol pump, which is famous for this sign.
Armed with 11 litres of exrtra fuel and a fuel tank I
reached Keylong. As it was getting dark, I decided to stop for the night.
Day 9: Next morning, I headed towards Sarchu. While leaving from Keylong, I met another group of bikers from Thane. All of them were elder to me and theirs was a very well-planned trip. They had a support truck with a mechanic. Since I was alone, they insisted that I ride with them and if I ever needed any help, they'll be there with me. #JodeyDilonKo Moment of Keylong. Enroute Sarchu, I
encountered the most beautiful mountain pass I've ever seen - Baralacha La
Pass. Over there, as far as my eye could traverse, all I could see was a white
blanket of snow. As the sun shines on the glistening white snow, the upper
layer melts just enough to give it a silky texture, conspiring to tempt you to
stay here forever. Despite the freezing conditions, I too wished to spend the
rest of my life in that beautiful wilderness. The cloudless sky was dominated
by the bright sun and exactly opposite to it was our very own moon. It seemed,
Mother Nature had gathered up an "all stars" event at Baralacha La
and I had the priviledge to witness of them - the Sun, the moon, the blue
skies, crystal clear lake and the snow-capped mountains - in all their
glory.
After being mesmerized by Baralacha La's beauty, I asceneded
to the valley and headed towards my destination for the day - Sarchu. Sarchu
doesn't have a single mortar and brick structure, just a bunch of camps where
travellers can sleep at night. There are mountains, open grasslands, a highway
cutting through these grasslands and these temporary/seasonal camps on the
grasslands. I took shelter in one of these for that night. Since it's in such a
remote location, mobiles don't work. Suprisingly, DTH reception is crystal
clear since that's satellite transmission and not cellular tower one. At this
point of time, I should remind you that last year, thousands lost their lives
in flash floods at Uttarakhand. I was travelling around the same time. At
Sarchu, they had one television (and DTH) in their main dinning tent. There I
saw the news of Uttarakhand disaster for the first time. Every night, I'd call
my parents upon reaching the next town but here, I couldn't. Obviously, they
started panicing.
I went to sleep hoping that I get mobile reception or I
could find STD somewhere along the way. Correction: I tried to sleep. I have
never experienced such cold atmosphere in my entire life; mind you, I'm someone
who'd never complain about air-condition being too cold. I love winter, and
yet, I barely slept a couple of hours that night, because it was that damn
cold. Besides the two thick blankets that I was provided, I was wearing two
thermal inners, a full sleeve tee and my double-layered biking jacket. Yet, the
chill was too much to sleep peacefully.
Day 10: In the morning, after my breakfast, I decided to
head towards Leh. But there was a problem: the bike won't start. The overnight
cold had frozen the engine. My bike doesn't have a kickstart. My only option:
Drag the bike, run with it, shift it in first gear and jump start. After 10
minutes, I finally managed to get it started. Off I went!
 |
| The hill where I had my worst fall of the ride. |
Reaching to the top of Pang was really mind numbing. Roads
seemed to take forever. I decided to take a short cut and go off-roading
UPHILL. Bad idea! 3/4th way up the hill, the bike gave up and couldn't go up
anymore. I applied brakes but since the surface was fine gravel, I started
sliding backwards, downhill. Fall was inevitable. I slid with the bike half way
down the hill. Thankfully, there was no injury except a bruised ego. I life the
bike which was perpendicular to the slope, hence, I couldn't get my left down
on the ground while my right feet was bent due to the degree to slope. I
somehow managed to get the bike down and decided to continue on the normal
(albeit, long and boring) road. But shockingly, I realized that the fall broke
rear brake's foot rest. I tried the old duct-tape method to fix it but it
didn't work. I tried my best to keep right foot in the air but obviously it
kept falling on the brake, wearing out the rear drum. As I reached Pang, I met that same Thane biker group whom I had earlier met in Keylong and Sarchu. They had a mechanic
with them who helped me fit the passengers footrest to the front. Had it not been for them, I might not have made it to Leh. It was the friendship that I developed with them the day before, that they helped me out.
Still no STD booth in sight, I carried on. Up through the
mind-numbing Gata Loops, I reached Moorey Plains. This Virgin Land of Ladakh
was miles and miles of vast expanse. Just open field and mountains in the
distance and road in the middle of nowhere. For the first time in days, I was
able to open the throttle and fly. But my joy was shortlived. If first 30 km.
was heaven on tarmac, next 30 was road to hell. From three-digit speeds in
first section, I came down to 20 kmph and even then I had a difficult time
controlling the bike. I somehow managed the base of Taglang La Pass. But my
trauma was just getting started. Tanglang La was undoubtedly one of the worst -
if not the worst - passes during my entire trip. It was a hybrid of coal mine,
cement factory and hell. Many many hours later, I finally reached the top of
Taglang La and the following words welcomed me: "You're passing through
the second highest pass of the world. Unbelievable isn't it?" Those words
just made it all worthwhile.
I ascended Taglanga La and reached the quaint little village
called Rumtse. I stopped at the first STD booth that I could find and called up
my parents to let them know I was safe. They heard my voice after two days and
finally felt a sense of relief. Due to Uttarakhand floods, they had reached
panic level 100. They were on the verge of sending a search and rescure party
for me. Upon assuring my parents that I was totally safe and that I was
just 100 km. from Leh I marched on. Rumtse, Upshi, Gaya - one after the other,
I kept crossing these picturesque villages; riding next to rivers and passing
through the gorges, I was getting ever so closer to the land I had promised
myself of visiting. Soon, I came to a turn with a board that read, "First
view of the Ladakh Valley." I stopped there for few seconds and marched
on, ever so hungry and ever so eager to reach the elusive city. On day 10, at
6.30 PM arrived the moment I've been awaiting for so long.
I made it!
I reached the hallowed land !!
FINALLY, I GOT LEH'D!!!
I saw a number of bikers returning from Leh on that road;
everyone would show a "thumbs up" sign or just wave. It's a part of
"Unofficial Bikers Code." Leh is definitely the holy grail for all
the bikers. Everyone going to or returning from knows how treacherous the
journey is. The "thumbs up" is a gesture of respect and appreciation.
Also, anytime you see a biker standing at the side of the road, you stop by to
ask if he needs help. Because everyone knows that the nearest mechanic or
petrol pump could well possibly be a couple of hundred kilometers away, hence,
if a biking brother or sister breaks down, you always stop to help him/her.
That's called the brotherhood. And riding to Ladakh certainly made me a part of
it!
Day 11: On my first day in Leh, I decided to explore the
monastaries around this beautiful city. I visited the famed Thiksey Monastery
where I met one of the Lamas. He was a 26-year-old young boy - like any you'd
find in the city - curious about the world. I clicked his pictures and promised
to send it back to him. I even met one of the elderly Lamas who is the caretaker of the Protector Temple, which is considered to be a highly respected position at the monastery. While leaving, I met an Asian girl. After talking to her, I realized that she's not a tourist but a teacher at a school at the foothills of the monastery, and she's here from Singapore to teach the poor kids of the village. What a noble gesture! I congratulated her for what she's doing and asked her to keep up the good work. While leaving, I thought of grabbing a bowl of their local delicacy - Thukpa, at the monastery cafe. There, I was an older American lady interacting with the young 6-8 year old Lamas. After talking to her, I realized that she too is a teacher and she teaches English and Mathematics to the Lamas of the monastery. I truly felt humbled for what these people were doing for my countrymen. I took her card and promised to stay in touch with her. If this not a #JodeyDilonKo day in heaven, then I don't know what is?
Day 12: I started riding to one place that I wanted to see
the most - the world famous Pangong Lake. At the Karu filling station, I met
this couple from Delhi who looked confused. They had just landed to Leh and
hired a bike to Pangong thinking it'll be an easy ride. I told them that we can
ride together and helped them with gloves - an extra set of wollen gloves that
I had with me. They had their camp accomodation booked in advance while I
decided to spend the night at a homestay.
Enroute, we passed by World's Thrid Motorable Highest Pass -
Chang La. There we met the world's cutest+friendliest dog - Shintu! He's army
pet over there. He would play with all the tourists and eat whatever they'd
feed him. When he's hungry, he'd come to you with the most adorable puppy face
you can imagine; so much so that, you'd give him whatever food you have even if
you were starving of hunger. #JodeyDilonKo moment with the cutest puppy ever!
Pangong is truly on the most magical places you'll ever see
in your life. The innumerable shades of gorgeous blue and torquoise that the
Pangong waters exemplifies is simply breathtaking. Luckily, the evening that I
reached there, it was just one day before the Full Moon Day, hence, the moon
was nearly complete. The moon's reflection on the crystal blue waters of the
lake was truly a sight to behold.
After being lovestruck by the beauty of this astounding
place, I finally decided to retire to my room post dinner. The homestay over
there means four walls, a bed and a candle light. Since Pangong is in such a
remote location, there are no petrol pumps and hence, one needs to carry their
own fuel. For this same reason, petrol is the costliest thing in that
wilderness. I had kept my petrol cans in my room. As I lie in that tiny room, I
just realized one thing: a tiny room + 10 litres of fuel + petrol vapours
everywhere + candle light = sure disaster. I got out of the cozy blanket and
took the cans out of the room and put them in the corridor. I'd any day prefer
being stranded without petrol and buying them at black market rates than being
burned alive. Thankfully, nothing happened.
Day 13: Pangong's sunrise is one of the must-see things to
do when in Ladakh. Despite a tiring ride the day before, I woke up at 4.50 AM
(sun rises really early in Northern India), to catch this beautiful spectacle.
As the sun peaked from behind the mountains and as the first rays hit the
calm waters announcing its arrival, I stood theere in awe of the brilliance of
the conductor who has choreographed this moment in time.
After breakfast, I bid my final goodbye to this place which
had been the main protagonist of my day dreams for years. My new friends
invited me for dinner at their hotel after we returned to Leh from Pangong. Next day was their first anniversary; for that, I took printout of their photos that I had clicked the day before while doing to Pangong, and gifted them. I talk to them often and whenever they visit Mumbai, they visit me. That day was a #JodeyDilonKo moment in Pangong. Post dinner, when I returned to my hotel, I realized there was no electricity.
I walked out to ask the caretaker for a candle, just then, I met an Isreali.
Upon realizing that I was all alone he said in a heavy Isreali accent, "What
are you doing alone? Come, join us in our room, we're having party."
Apparently, I was the only Indian in that eight-room guest house. Rest of them
were Isrealis. So there I was, in Leh, partying with eight Isrealis in the
middle of the night. That day, the phrase that my friends often use, "You
can't understand me or what? Am I talking in Hebrew?" actually came true.
Most of the times they'd talk in Hebrew and then suddenly they'd realize I'm
them so they'd get back to their broken English. But even then, it was a
memorable night. #JodeyDilonKo moment with Isreali friends.
Day 14: I was supposed to ride to Nubra Valley but I decided
to rest for one more day and check out the surrounding places. Again, I bumped
in to one of the Isreali couples with whom I was partying the night before. We
had breakfast together and I headed on to visit Shey Palace and the Druk Lotus
School - famous for being "Racho's School" in the movie 3 Idiots.
Day 15: I started for Nubra Valley. To reach that, I'll have
to eclipse my biggest hurdle yet - Khardung La Pass. At 18380 feet, Khardung La
is World's Highest Motorable Road. It also happens to house the World's Highest
Cafetaria. Surprisingly, there's a mobile tower at the top hence, you get
mobile network. I called my parents and proudly said, "Guess where I am? I'm
at 18,380 feet!!!" It's an altitude where aircrafts fly with pressurized
cabin. I was there, braving the weather with just my bike, riding jacket and
helmet. Earlier I was sceptical if I'd be able to handle the altitude but
gladly, except for a mild headache for 10 minutes during the climb, I didn't
feel anything. I descended Khardung La and reached the tiny village of Diskit
where I spent the night.
Day 16: After visiting the 16th century Diskit Monastery,
106 feet tall Maitreya Buddha Statue, the museum next to it and the bedroom
where His Holiness Dalai Lama sleeps when he visits Diskit; I went to Hunder
which is famous for housing a desert at over 10,000 above the sea level and
being home to the exotic double-humped camel. I became friends with a Delhi
group and spent night with them at a camp site. A German girl was also travelling with them, I exchanged email ids with all of them and decided to stay in touch after the trip too. #JodeyDilonKo moment in the desert of Hunder.
Day 17: I went 77 km. further to Hunder and went to Turtuk.
This picturesque village is unique in itself. It was a part of Pakistan till
1971 and after the '72 war, India took over. While going to Turtuk, I was
riding next to the Indus river. I stopped by at a bridge and took out my camera
to click pictures. 100 meteres away, I saw an army jawan waving at me and
asking me not to click. Being an obedient citizen, I kept the camera inside and
started riding towards him half expecting to be yelled at. But instead, he
addressed me as "Sir" and told me that, that bridge if very important
from strategic point of view. It's one of the only links between the northern
border in Turtuk and the military base in Leh. It's an enemy target and hence,
for security reasons, it's not allowed to click. He even invited me inside his
cabin for some snacks and tea. I politely decided, in the mean time, another
soldier brought out a tray with a clean glass filled with Tropicana/Real orange
juice. He said, "Sir, yahan pe pahadon mein aur toh zyada kuch nahi hai
hamare pass. Garam pakode toh nahi milenge, lekin biscuits hai, aapko chahiye
kya? " (Translation: Sir, in this wilderness, we don't have much. We don't
have hot pakodas but f you want, we have some biscuits too. Would you like
some?) Then he added, "Aur koi hamare layak seva ho toh bataiye?" (Do
let us know, if we can serve you in any other way) I was floored at the respect
with which they treated me. I told him, "You're already serving the
country in the highest possible manner, that is, by putting your lives on the
line and protecting us. I can't possibly ask for anything more from
you."
Dumbstruck by this experience, I moved on and reached
Turtuk. I went 10 km. even further, as far as I can possibly go. They stopped
me at a particular army checkpost. They told me that that was the furtherst I
could go and civilians weren't allowed to go past that point. I didn't protest.
But I started asking the army guy about the life over there and the border. He
told me about how difficult it is to climb to certain check posts and other
things which I can't share on a public forum like this one. He specifically
said, "I shouldn't have told you some of these things but since you're a
serious traveller and you've come from so far (Mumbai), and because I can't let
you go any further, I thought of giving you some dough and tell you about
interesting things to make you trip worthwhile in whatever little way I
can." #JodeyDilonKo moment at the border.
While returning back, I stopped at the same checkpost where
they had earlier offered juice to me. I stopped and without looking, I told the
army guy, "I'm back!" Uh-oh! That was someone else. It wasn't the
same guy. Their duty had changed. Apparently, this guy was even more talkative
and friendlier than the pervious one. He too told me about his escapades of
living on the border and certain incidents with shelling and gunfiring across
the border on Diwali nights to disrupt the celebrations and bunch of other
things. It almost seemed like a ritual at this check post, that they'd offer
juice to the passerby. This guy again offered me juice from tetrapack. I told
him that I already had juice few hours back, to which, like a brother he said,
"But you rode all the way to Turtuk and came back. You must be tired. You
still have many more miles to go before you reach Diskit. This juice will give
you some energy."
He asked me if I could recharge their mobile phone since I
was going to the village - Diskit. I agreed. He was giving me money, I told
him, "No sir, you treat me with so much of respect, I can't take money
from you. Also, you're serving our nation by putting your life on the line,
you're staying up so that we can sleep; there's no way I can take money from
you. Our politicians eat away crores of our tax payers' money, as opposed to
you guys - who're the real heroes of the country, don't get any credit. For
once, I'm getting a chance to do something in a very small way. Let me. Just give
me your number and tell me for how much amount you want me to recharge, I'll
get it done." He gave up the argument and shared his number with
me. #JodeyDilonKo moment at an Army check post.
As opposed to popular perception that riding in J&K is
dangerous and bikers are harrased at every check point, this was completely
opposite. Apparently, when they see people from other states, they're
especially helpful towards them. Looking at my biking attire, my MH series bike
and the way I spoke (like a person who's from the big city of Mumbai), they come
to know that you're a harmless tourist and you're there because you love India
and love travelling in India. Also, I noticed that when I told people that I'm
from Mumbai, they (especially army and police) would treated me with a lot more
respect; may be because, they realized that someone who travels from Mumbai all
the way to the northern-most border, has to be a serious enthusiast; and
looking at my protective gear also, they know that I respect traffic rules and
hence, I'm not someone who'll create trouble.
I rode back to Diskit, thinking how lucky I have been to
have had these humbling experiences. I truly felt that my purpose of BOMBAY TO
LEH trip was met. These truly were "money-can't-buy-you experiences."
You may pay lakhs and vacation in French Riveria in five-star luxury, but
still, you'll never get to experience what I did. Simply because, I gave up my
comfort zone, took my bike and went out to explore the world - not knowing what
will follow.
While all these thoughts were brewing in my head - in the
Nubra Valley where you could see miles and miles of open surrounding in front
of you - I could see a brown wall coming towards me from a distance. If you've
seen the movie "The Mummy," you'd be familiar with the way the
sandstorm scene. That exactly how it looked like. It indeed was a sandstorm and
I was going towards it head-on. With each passing moment, we were ever so
closer and 10 minutes later, I braced myself for impact. I felt a wall of sand
pushing me backwards. Visibility dropped to less 30 feet. I was riding in 4th
gear, yet, my bike could only manage 50 kmph. Thankfully I was wearing riding
jacket and gloves; hence, it didn't hurt me. Had it not been for the gloves,
I'm sure, my knuckles would've been bruised by the sand particles. Half and
hour later, the storm passed.
YES, I WEATHERED THE STORM! LITERALLY!!
Day 18: I stayed in Diskit for one more day and revisited
the gorgoues Diskit Monastery.
Day 19: I rode back to Leh via Khardung La.
Day 20: Stok Palace is at a distance of about 10-12 km. from
Leh. It's the current residence of the royalty of Ladakh. A part of it is
converted in to museum. I was having snacks in the cafeteria of the museum
after my tour. The cafeteria manager told me if I've ever tried Chung. I had no
clue what that way. He told me that it's the homemade beer that the locals make
it during festivals and wedding. Unlike Feni (desi alcohol of Goa), Chung is
not sold openly in wineshops. I went in the village looking for it. I stopped
by at a general store and ask the lady if she could tell me where I can get
Chung. She took me to a house next door. At first, the owner, but then, I put
my neck in the big wooden door and requested. They let me in and I started
chatting with them. The shopkeeper left and I was there in my biking attire,
standing in their porch. Theirs was a typical village house, where the goats
and cows. Later, the head of the house - grandmother realized that I'm not a
trouble-maker and instructed her daughter-in-law to get some Chung for me. She
got a bucket which was filled with beer and poured it in a mug! At that time,
all I could think of were the travel writers like Ian Brown and Anthony
Bourdain, who'd walk in to a far flung village and eat with the villagers. #JodeyDilonKo moment in Stok.
Next morning I bid adieu to Ladakh and started my ride back,
which took another 23 days to return.
Day 21: I started my ride towards Kargil. I stopped at the petrol pump before leaving the city of Leh where I bumped into a couple of guys whom I had met at Khardungla Pass. There, when they had looked at my "MH" number plate, they were surprised and started asking me about my ride. Upon realizing that I'm doing this solo, they were mighty impressed. When they saw me at the petrol pump, they started chatting up about where I'm going; fortunately, they were also going to Kargil and they already had accommodation. They insisted that we go together and they even offered me to stay in the tent with them.
Enroute Kargil, we visited Alchi and Lamayuru Monastries. At dusk, we finally reached Kargil. Evening was spent sharing stories and chatting up with my new friends till late in the night.
Day 26: After visiting Jammu and Srinagar, I headed towards Himachal Pradesh. One of the most incredible people-related experiences I had was in McLeod Gunj. The quaint little hill station situated 10 km. from Dharmshala is a hit with the foreigners. I've always preferred staying with non-Indians just to know about their culture and traditions. The guest house where I was staying, there, besides me, there was just 1 other India. In rest of the room, there was only foreigners. It was one of those cozy guest houses run by a family. And the best part was that all the guests would keep their room open and would always greet you with smile when you walked by. On the very first day, I became friends with more than half a dozen of them and for my entire duration of the stay - 4 days, we would have dinner, go on hikes, party, listen to music and just chill in eachother's rooms. Over the period of time, I became friends with more and more foreigners from different countries.
There's a cafe in McLeod Ganj known as Munchies. Every night, some Spanish musicians would jam their and rest of the crowd would just listen. The centre of the cafe has on-the-floor seating where about 30 people would fit in. On one evening, I calculated the number of nationalities over there, and I could count atleast 10 confirmed nationalities (because I knew those 10 people belonging to different countries); this included Indian, Russian, Spanish, Guatemalan, American, Romanian, Iraqi, Israeli, German and French. Out of those 30 odd people having a gala time at the cafe, I was the only Indian. That evening was truly a #JodeinDilonKo type of moment. And the best part is that I'm still in touch with many of them via email and social media.
At the end of my BOMBAY TO LEH bike trip, I ticked off the
following off my bucket list:
Go to Ladakh.
Go to Ladakh on bike.
Ride from Delhi to Mumbai / Mumbai to Delhi.
Ride the bike in mist.
Ride the bike in snowfall.
Ride the bike in sandstorm.
Ride the bike uphill while it's off, powered only by the
Magnetic Hill.
Watch Sunrise at Pangong Lake.
Conquer world's 3 highest passes - Khardung La, Taglang La
& Chang La.
Become friends with strangers.
Go on a vacation without knowing when I'll return.
Meet travelers from different countries and know their
story.
Chat with an Indian soldier at a remote army post in the
mountains and know his story.
Click an unknown kid on the streets.
Chat with a Buddhist monk, know his story, take his address
and send him back his printed photos.
Knock on an unknown door in a village and ask them if you
can have their homegrown beer.
Stay on a houseboat.
Stay in a palace hotel.
Travel to the "middle of nowhere" and hear the
sound of silence.
Yes, it's true that I went to Ladakh alone but I came back with dozens of new friends and innumerable #JodeyDilonKo experiences. Meeting a family friend for the first time and feeling totally at home, experiencing great hospitality courtesy of army jawans stationed in the middle of nowhere, riding with biking groups in Himalayas who're from Mumbai, sharing tents with then-totally-stranger-now-friends from Delhi, riding to Pangong lake with a newly-married couple and gifting them photos on their first anniversary, meeting Shintu - the super cute dog, clicking a toddler in the middle of the street and noting down the address from the family and sending them photos, knocking on a villagers' door and drinking their homegrown beer with their family, partying in dark room with 8 Israelis in event of power cut and learning a new cards game, being friends with more than a dozen foreigners at McLeodGanj, having Indian food with couple of foreigners and explaining them the concept of finger bowl, having lunch with an Israel and an Iraqi and discussing Middle East in a peaceful manner, discussing bikes and cars with the owner of heritage hotel who happens to be a prince of a Rajasthani town and seeing his car and bike collection; all of these and many more were #JodeyDilonKo experiences that I will never ever forget!
To enjoy more of these #JodeyDilonKo experiences, do watch zindagitv.in.
