Leh chal… Breathtaking Ladakh

Summer 2022. A dozen cycling medics. Our dreams stronger than our doubts. Together, we take on cycling some of the world’s highest motorable land amidst the formidable Himalayan ranges of Khardungla and Tanglang La. Well, literally took our breath away! But filled our souls with achievement!!

Julley! From top of the world

Ladakh (Land of High Passes)

An extraordinary territory. To me, this is how Mars would look. As we pedalled across the land, it felt like one continent had slipped under another mass of land in a tectonic dance. Mystical; actually spiritual. The combination of the cycle wheels and prayer wheels in this spectacular nomadic land woke my dormant “chakras”.

This epic journey, was a time for several firsts in my life. My first long ride on home soil. My first experience with an off road bike. My first ride on thin air, literally, as we cycled above 15000ft most of the times. My first ride where the support vehicle has oxygen and dexamethasone. No garmin needed. My first trip with a heady combination of photgraphy and cycling! And now, my first blog combining photo holiday and cycling.

Our softly powerful trip leader was Madhu (what a befitting name). Although every cyclist and photographer in the group was a born leader, when Madhu smiled and spoke, we meekly obeyed!! Madhu knew the land, sensed its moods, and kept us safely going onwards and UPWARDS!

The calling… the cycling

Even as I completed Lejog a couple years ago, in my cycling life, I had an urge to fill the gap of cycling in India within my own life cycle. At just under 19000 feet, it was THE next height to scale. When Ram mentioned winter photography in Ladakh, it clicked into a photo/cycling journey. And Madhu masterminded the two into an epic blend of seamless journey.

Our traditional coconut breaking before our cycling flag off was in Manali, but our trip began before that when we all met up in Delhi. In Manali, like kids wearing school uniform for the first time, we tested our hire bikes and said hello to Akash (our bike support who also held a certificate in level 2 mountaineering). We had 5 support cars which followed us as we set out of Manali. We took on the ascent to the Atal tunnel very early on. We were introduced to Maggie and chai in pit stops and never looked back to protein bars. We cycled to Keylong and reached Jispa via Sissu to our first night in the tents. I learnt there was no bar in Zing Zing bar and no whisky in Whisky Nalah (the bridge was certainly tipsy). A short ascent from Pang takes us to the extensive More Plains flatlands. A dream flat ride at 4800 ft. The only sign of life in this martian landscapes was the occasional nomadic Changpas tending to their herds of Yaks

Norbu, our driver from Tsokar, told us all about the Tsokar festival and his school life there; but said he wouldn’t bother going to his family home when we were in Tsokar, as he would spend all of winter there anyway. We camped in Tsokar on a freezing night and slept under a stunning milky way that Ram captured. That morning, Ram was up early and so was I. As he clicked in the distance, I got ready for Tanglang La at over 17000ft. My heart thumped, my lungs were as full (like the sev packet in high altitude). The road folded into long switch backs and cut right through the steepest maze of peaks. Arasu, Sajith and I paused, huddled and spoke some gibberish periodically and pressed the MTB pedals to the summit of Tanglang La. Madhu zig zagged on his motorbike through the barren, rich, iron mountains encouraging us with his smile. I took the final push and inhaled a piece of India and cycled the summit.

A day later, dare I say, the next peak of Khardungla at nearly 18000ft felt a tad easier. Arid rugged landscapes with some peculiar barren rock formations, loose gravel, pot holes and the never relenting steep gradients formed our landscape. I muttered my newly learnt Buddhist prayer line (Om mani padme hum), reflected on life and pedalled on, glimpsing Maninder’s flouroscent jacket a few hairpins above. I watched the Bihari workers chipping into the harsh rocks and their little kids watched us back curiously. As Maninder taught us through his daily diary- “Shramena sarvam sadhyam” (everything is achievable though hard work). PS- This is a Border Road Organisation motto- not Guru Maninder’s words. We finally did it! We had a sugary customary chai in the peak and headed to the tangle of prayer flags on top of Khardungla for iPhone pics. Hari and I created our own stone pile and left a legacy.

We were shooed out of lingering in the peaks to prevent mountain sickness, and took a glorious down hill from Khardungla. I was tipsy with an adrenaline overdrive. We paused. I craned my neck high to gaze back at the massive peak. Magnificent, rich burnt orange. Like an artist had used a large brush to take one enormous stroke. The art displayed hid a treacherous down hill. The memory remains etched in my mind!

As we cycled onwards into Nubra, the reels of prayer flags fluttered feverishly in the wild wind and seem to disperse holy mantras in the air, time and again – I loved seeing them. In fact, since my return to Birmingham, every time I see a traffic signal, my vision of the flags jump out in my mind and smile fondly. As we gained altitude, our attitude turned more positive. We headed to Turtuk. As we stood on the edge of the Indo Pak LOC, we listened to a narration from a tall Pathan villager about the 1971 Indo Pak war. Ram sipped his chai in the last Indian tea shop and Nisha dressed like a local. The terrain cycled was again spectacular.

Madhu had set expectations about Pangong high. Norbu pointed out to a ochre coloured range of mountains around a bend and showed us our first glimpse of this heaven on earth. Time for pictures.

And along the Pangong Tso, we rode and headed to the Indo China zone to complete at Merak. Even a humble cyclist like me felt invincible!

The Land. The People

The land was a veritable kaleidoscope. From the juicy apple heavy trees of Manali, to the formidable slopes of the craggy Himalayan mountains, to the army base territory of Siachen, to the lush green of Nubra oasis, to fine white sand stretches leading onto Tso Pangong to the fifty shades of Leh itself, every bend was a picture worth framing! (Just stole Madhu’s classsic line). There was a fragile beauty to old town Leh centre which housed the Tibetian refugee markets against the mighty Stok Khangri.

When we were at Leh, we witnessed the Leh ultra marathon and cheered the runners who ran the path we had cycled covering the Khardugla. As I turn the kaleidoscope in my eye – I see a range of pashminas (lots of Pashminas came from the town of Upshi), flashes of monks in maroon and colourful monasteries on steep hills. For example, the Jhampa Buddha statue in Diskit monastery loomed and looked down on the whole of India. Ultimately, the locals simply mingled with nature. They were kind and hospitable as if to soften the harsh and austere mountians. They were Indians; but they were actually Ladakhis.

Norbu is the 20 yr old driver of car no.3! He intrigued me. A scruffy, innocent face that hid a cheekiness. Scatter brained but switched on to keep a watchful eye on the terrain. He smiles sheepishly but dares his 4 wheels through a cascading waterfall. Arasu poked friendly fun and he responded with a fake girl friend picture. He was sport enough to be our local model for our idiocy with a sari photoshoot in Tso Pangong shores… famous for the 3 idiots movie! He was comfortable in a Ladakhi coat and a hoodie and sports shoes.

Norbu dropped out of school before he even started, stayed a nomad near Tsokar for 6 months in winter when he was not driving post season. It did not bother him when skipped fresh clothes and he loved his game of cards and a chang (local barley beer) with Dorge. He was a typical Ladhaki personified.

Dorge told me polyandry was common. A woman often married two brothers. Both weddings were graced by Lamas and the bride work a colourful headgear in turquoise- ‘a Perak’ which dangled shy of her waist. He aslo told me that wood was scarce and so they had an earth funeral and a sky burial where bones were smashed and flesh fed to vultures.

Talking of funerals, we briefly surfaced to Wifi availability to hear that the monarch Queen back in UK had passed away.

The toxic love for plastic by tourists (approximately 300 tourist cars a day add to the 50000 plastic bottles) is a very real problem, in a pristine remote region. Sadly, we were guilty of contributing to this! Responsible eco travel needs re inforcing in myself and this is a resolve. The BR road project hop to use this waste in road laying and one day in future make Leh carbon neutral.

Back in Leh, we has a cultural show organised by Madhu by the Ladhakis which gave us a further glimpse of the people and what each region offered and we joined in the Jabro dance Brummie style!!

Finally, the food

In this far flung corner of India, long caught between powerful neighbours, the culinary impact of this combination is Indo Pak/Indo Tibetian local food was evident. We opened our gastronomic account in the famous roadside Amrik Sukhdev Dhaba as we left Delhi where we had “happy one more bday Maninder”. Ram walked out with arm fulls of tongue tingling pickle dubbas and set the pace for our culinary journey.

Tibetian Thukpas made in umami base (often nettles) with lots of veg/meat and noodles certainly grew on us. I can still remember the one in Lato- after a downhill from Tangla La. I learnt khambir was the local sourdough baked in an open fire. In the farm to table homestay of Gyapthago heritage home, we had a live demo of making the salt tea. My notion of beloved Indian chai took a U turn as I took a sip of the salty brew with milk, Himalayan salt and yak butter! More like Yuk butter!!

Momos on the other hand were addictive. The fried ones – even better! Chutagi was like pasta daal dhokli and tsampa, yak cheese, chang (the local beer) were mostly home produced. We had an eclectic farm to table meal in a Baltistan area with walnut sauce and yogurt, fresh apricot juice and buck wheat pancakes and even a sizzler!

Even in the monasteries, parle biscuits, Maggie packets and coke cans were left as prayer offerings. A young monk gazed on and off at the food as he chanted from his scroll and I thought, spirituality runs parallel with food!! Unsurprisingly, almost everyone survived a day of a stomach bug but that did not stop us from having pooris for breakfast, parantas anytime, salt lassi or our joy rising every time we saw Rash walk out with loads of snacks from the tiny corner shops!!!

This remote stunning moonland of Ladakh faces ballooning tourism. And I am grateful that I was one of those. The 2 weeks of spanning this splendour in two wheels witnessing the surreal terrain, falling utterly in love with the white chortens (stupas) and the thanes (prayer wheels) has woken a passion to go back to the Himalayas again… and again. Everything is created twice they say; once in the mind and then in reality. The call of the Himalayas however is resounding!! The Tibetan traditions are endangered (like Cuba pre and post Starbucks invasion). I hope I have inspired you to add Leh to your travel list and visit before the magic is reduced by commercialism. As Ibn Battuta says- “Travelling- it leaves you speechelss and then turns you into a story teller”.

Leh Chal.. Ladakh is breathtaking indeed!!