Thread Approved

You might want to split it up in paragraphs. Its not very easy to read this way.

Thanks for the prompt approval, antz. And yes, I will split it into paras pronto.

Thanks again and regards,

Maneesh

Back to Juleyland - Genesis And Info Gathering

Genesis of the idea. From May 2009 till May 2011, I had been reading for an MBA in Pune. The germ of an idea – to do a bike trip to Leh – started sending out roots at around this time. It blossomed into a plan when I was posted to an NCC battalion in Rajkot. I would have adequate time to plan, prepare and execute this trip during this posting.

Solo or group?I had been pondering over one important issue – whether to ride solo or in a group? If in a group, then whether to join any sundry group or gather together others of a similar inclination into a new group?

Both formats had their pros and cons.

Riding solo would give me complete freedom of action and maneuver over my itinerary. Accommodation would be in familiar Army Messes and Transit Camps en-route. As I was a serving officer, I would be able to visit every single place that I had been stationed in all those years ago.

On the other hand, a group would add support for the unforgiving terrain and weather. I would acquire new friends and develop an understanding of working in a non-military team – a novel experience for me. My experiential knowledge of those places would benefit others too. And riding in a team would simply be more fun. In the end, I decided to form a new team of pure civilians. The task would be challenging and I wanted an opportunity to work with non-service personnel.

Gathering Information In earlier times, getting information for such a project was at times a more arduous task than the journey itself but now, I had the utter luxury of Google. So, I started Googling for any information on bike trips to Leh and very soon indeed, struck a veritable cornucopia of information. Two sites in particular, namely, xbhp.com and bcmtouring.com gave me information overload! There were specific topics which I was interested in researching. These were mainly two in number, in order of priority:

Back To Juleyland - The Itinerary And Initial Plan

The ItineraryThe Initial Plan
09 Jun SaturdayPune to Jammu Tawi, boarding Jhelum Express at Pune
10 Jun Sunday11 Jun Monday Jammu: RV of members, intros, prep for the next day.
12 June Tuesday Jammu to Srinagar (290): Start from a place agreed to on 11th.
13 June Wednesday Srinagar to Kargil (280): Alternate Drass
14 Jun Thursday Kargil to Leh via Lamayuru (225): Early start as members might want time for photography.
15 Jun Friday Leh: 1st day of acclimatisation, sight-seeing, application for permits, bike and equipment check etc. Carb reset done here.
16 June Saturday Leh: 2nd day of acclimatisation and sight-seeing if required.
17 June Sunday Leh to Siachen (230): Onward journey.
18 Jun Monday Siachen to Leh (230): Return journey.
19 June Tuesday Leh to Pangong Tso {Spangmik (170)}: NH Spangmik
20 June Wednesday Spangmik to Nyoma via Chushul (150): Night halt Nyoma
21 June Thursday Nyoma to Karu/Leh (202): self explanatory.
22 June Friday Leh to Pang/Sarchu (175/249): self explanatory.
23 June Saturday Pang/Sarchu to Keylong (207/133): ditto
24 June Sunday Keylong to Manali/Kulu (114/156): depending upon what people prefer
25 June Sunday Manali/Kulu to New Delhi (541/500) OR Ambala (326/286): Ambala if people are tired, else Delhi
26 Jun Monday Reserve day OR Ambala to New Delhi (217):
27 Jun Tuesday - Reserve
Pune riders to book bikes on Pune trains, travel by Mumbai train.
Total days on the road: 14/15. Emergencies etc: 2/1 days .

Back To Juleyland - Gathering A Team

Gathering a Team It is a major challenge to form a team, for a project of this magnitude, from a pool of complete strangers. I had some ideas about the composition of the team. If I was able to form a team which suited my needs, I would ride with it as a member. If I did not get the requisite type of members, I would either go solo or ask to join a team which I liked.

I wanted men only for team members. Before women readers label me as a typically Indian male Chauvinist pig, I hasten to add that I have the greatest respect for women and am married for the past 18 years to the loveliest of them all – my beloved wife Gauri. Women are superior to men in a very large number of functions (thank God for that) but that also means that the two genders have completely different thinking processes. I wanted members of my own gender so that all of us would be on the same wavelength in most decisions. This way, the chances of conflicts would be lesser.

Also, women have their “days” at a particular time of the month. If a woman rider had hers during the ride and she was in pain, needed help and rest, she could disturb the whole team’s schedule. She would need a separate room with a bathroom unlike the men who could be less modest about their ways. This trip promised to be physically strenuous over 14 odd days and I really, really did not want a situation to arise wherein our respectively individual and instinctive concern for a woman rider in trouble would overcome our responsibilities to each other as a team. So, no single women.

A spousal team of husband - wife/ boyfriend – girlfriend would be welcome as long as there was another accompanying pair so that there would be mutual support between them. But getting two such pairs was a tall order and finally, I just dropped the whole thing.

My Second Parameter was that there were to be no Royal Enfields in the team. One of India’s favourite touring bikes for pillion teams, I personally distrust this bike’s reliability per se and had read of its propensity for trouble at the drop of a hat. In the high altitudes, rugged terrain and sparse service station availability so typical of the remote areas of Ladakh, this bike would be a maintenance nightmare. In the days on the road, as I witnessed serious reliability problems about a large number of REs, my skepticism of this bike’s dubious long-distance touring credentials grew stronger and was vindicated. To all RE owners who read these few lines, peace. To each his own. But, for me, no Royal Enfields. When RE owners did come into the team, I slotted them together as a pair along with non-RE owners for support.

The Third Restriction I laid on myself was that team members were to be single-seated i.e. no pillion riders. If such a pair wished to join my team, it should have to get another similar pair along for mutual support. These two pairs would be self-supporting in all their operations. Even with just one rider and his luggage onboard, a normal 150cc bike would be strained at the 10,000 feet plus altitudes with only a small reserve of power available for the extra steep climbs.

With a rider, pillion and luggage, there would be no reserve at all and the probability for all-round trouble increased manifold; a pillion with his extra luggage would put much greater stress on the engine, clutch, suspension, fuel efficiency et al thereby increasing the chances for problems in these areas. The implications of such trouble for the team had the potential to cause the trip to be terminated prematurely, at the worst possible time and place. For the overall welfare of the team, I was not going to invite such a condition if I could help it. So, no pillion riders.

Broadcasting the Intent It was all very well for me to plan on my own but my intent had to reach similarly minded people out in the wide world. To achieve this end, I signed up with xbhp.com and bcmtouring.com and opened a thread in both forums each titled “The Leh 2012 Planner” to enable others in the black space beyond to gather under one banner.

Member Data Also, a Google Doc spread sheet was put up so that these aspirants could share information among themselves. (I have placed all links at the end of the travelogue for ease of compilation and viewer access. However, I have not posted a link to the spread sheet containing aspirant data out of respect for individual privacy.)

Well, pretty soon, I started getting replies. Those on xbhp were correctly aimed at a motorcycle trip while on bcmt, a number of people wanted to go on four wheelers. I replied to the queries in the best way I could. The Google Doc spreadsheet started getting populated with names and email addresses of aspiring riders. I wrote an email to each and every one of the addresses there. Some replied, most did not. I knew that only those who were serious to go in Jun 2012 would respond and do so in a way which merited establishment and maintenance of contact with them. And so it turned out to be.

Gathering of The Flock. Sometime in February, a group started forming. It consisted of 14 members including me. They were, in no particular order, myself, Neville Shroff, Fakhruddin Dahodwala, Shubham Jain, Vaibhav Modak, Samir + Surbhi Vora, Henry D’Silva, Prashant Upadrasta, Kathik Hebbar + Gloria Davis, Kaushik Jayaram + Atasi Giri and Siva Chaitanya. These people came from Mumbai, Pune, Hyderabad, Bangalore and in the case of Henry, from Abu Dhabi.

I met Kaushik and Atasi in Pune and found that their team members including Siva Chaitanya were seasoned bikers.

Back To Juleyland - The Bikes, Teams And A Precursor Ride

The Bikes
All this while, I have been talking about the members and so it is now time to write a bit about the steeds which would take us into the wilderness.

Bajaj Pulsars (Qty 04) Kaushik Jayaram, Samir Vora, Siva Chaitanya and I Pulsed with energy! Mine was the original model circa 2002 while Kaushik’s and Samir’s were later models. Siva Chaitanya had a 220 FI model.

Bajaj Discover (Qty 01) Shubham was a Discover(er). Neville had most generously offered Shubham his older CBZ for the trip but Shubham preferred his Discover.

Royal Enfield (all models)(Qty 02) Prashant and Karthik were the thumpers.

Honda Dazzler(Qty 02) Neville and Fakhruddin Dazzled.

Hero Honda Karizma (carburetted version)(Qty 01) Vaibhav had Karizma in other ways too!

Yamaha R15 Henry was on this bike which belonged to his son!

One Large Group or Separate Smaller Teams? This was an issue that consumed the better part of a month in analysis and many emails were exchanged in support of and in opposition to both formats. I was an ardent advocate of the multiple team system. There were many reasons for my promotion of this format.

For one, getting 14 complete strangers together for such a venture to agree to even speak on a similar frequency for a common course of thought and action would be well nigh impossible. Then, it would be very difficult for such a large formation of bikes to stay intact and in contact on the road. Hotel accommodation for the entire group, all along the way, may not be possible under one roof. Such a large group would be just too unwieldy for its own good.

Conversely, splitting the group into three smaller teams would make it much more amenable to better management of riders, road manners, hotel stays and most importantly, the attitudes of the team members. Each team would be free to make changes in the schedule for itself within the overall schedule of the group. Therefore, I proposed a three team setup in this way:
A Precursor Ride in the Spring Feedback from members of the Pune G2G suggested that a small ride prior to the main one would give a fair idea to each member about the riding styles of one another. So, I scheduled a ride on 29 April. It was in the general area of the Tamhini and Varandha Ghat; the Pune and Mumbai riders were to rendezvous at Hotel Gauri, Mangaon, the team would ride through the Varandha Ghat and exit onto the Pune – Bangalore highway.

The Mumbai riders would then peel off short of Pune for Mumbai while the Pune riders would ride on to Pune. Kaushik Jayaram and his team could not attend owing to leave issues. Vaibhav Modak from Team Two attended and Team One was at full strength.

The ride went off very well indeed. We surprised ourselves by riding in a very mature and dignified way (even the relative youngsters, Fakhru and Shubham did so!) More than that, we gelled instantly and found an excellent team spirit among each member of the team. The riding styles were different but not so divergent as to put question marks on any particular member’s place in the team. After the ride, I put up a small ride report and analysis and send it to all members as an aide-memoir.

Back To Juleyland - Differences & Discord And The Final Teams

Differences And Discord. It is Utopian to expect a complete agreement of opinions when 14 persons of vastly varying backgrounds, experiences and philosophies are clubbed into one entity. And it would be equally Utopian to expect a resolution of differences which satisfies all concerned. For the benefit of readers of a similar inclination (the Leh trip), I shall list some examples. Rest assured that all through the planning, preparation and conduct of this venture, all issues were addressed with a gentlemanly demeanour. The language was courteous, the tone was respectful and the conclusions were pragmatic. Where needed, we agreed to disagree.
Kaushik and Team Drop Out As mentioned earlier, I had had met Kaushik and Atasi some time in April and was relying on them to be good supports for the ride. Out of the blue, Kaushik and his entire team dropped out - they were with Tata Motors and had not been able to wangle the required quantum of leave, it being their very first year of service. This was a major blow to me; I had found Kaushik Jayaram to be a most level-headed youngster with great potential and I had been relying on him to be a trusted lieutenant.

The Final Teams Finally, the teams had formed up thus:

Team One comprised Neville, Fakhruddin, Shubham, Vaibhav

Team Two comprised Prashant, Samir – Surbhi, Henry and Karthik + Gloria. A last minute addition to Team Two was Ankit Tiwari.

Very frankly, I did not find that Siddharth would gell with either of the teams and had to ask him to join some other group.

Back To Juleyland - Schedule Change No1 and Bike Despatch

Schedule Change No 1 I had been monitoring the weather in the general area of Ladakh through a variety of sources – friends, weather websites, experiential feedback on Net fora etc. And I came to one critical conclusion – if, due to any issues with man, bike and/or the weather, we were delayed in our progress by two days, we would not be able to make it to Delhi in time to board the Mumbai – bound train on 28 June.
In my experience of that area, passes can close for days altogether due to snowfall. A slightly heavy landslide imposes similar delays. So, a delay of two days was not at all uncommon. We would have to examine three options for changing the present itinerary, namely:

(a) Delete some destination from the schedule e.g. not visit Pangong Tso. This option was not okayed by the team as a whole; going there and not seeing Pangong Tso seemed like heresy for us.

(b) Get extra days of leave sanctioned prior to the trip which would be availed in case of emergencies. This was possible but it left the train date dilemma unsolved.

(c) Cancel the return journey ticket and ride down all the way to Mumbai and Pune. This plan seemed workable and in the light of the biking mood that had seized all members by then, all members were enthusiastic in agreeing to this change.

So, sometime in May, I canceled the return journey rail tickets from Delhi to Mumbai and the plan was finalized with the following amendments:

09 June till 23 June – Same as aforesaid
24 June Sun: Manali/Kulu to Ambala (326/286)
25 June Mon: Ambala to New Delhi (217)
26 Jun Tue: New Delhi to Gwalior (382)
27 Jun Wed: Gwalior to Mhow (531)
28 Jun Thu: Mhow to Nashik (390)
29 June Fri: Nashik to Mumbai/Pune (165/211)
Total days on the road: 18. Emergencies etc: On the fly.
After this change, we were quite relaxed that there would be no pressure to reach Delhi by 28^th June and that we could ride at our will.

Little did we know that this change too would be superseded by another one at the very end of the ride.

The Attitude Of The Two Teams I will be remiss if I do not comment on the attitudes of the two teams as this feedback will be of some use for any readers who wish to tread on this path in the future. I shall try to be as neutral as possible in my judgment but if some bias shows through, it is only on account of lack of information about Team Two’s workings.

Team One From the very start, Team One was on the same wavelength for any and every decision. There used to be a minimum of two or three emails exchanged almost daily and each of us knew exactly about the level of prep of one another. If one member found merit in getting rubber gloves, he discussed it with the other four. I had made a group with the email addresses of the other four and each email of mine used to go to all of them. The reverse was also true. As a result of this, we were up-to-date about every aspect of the ride on a daily basis.

Team Two I do not know if this level of integration was achieved in Team Two.

Despatch of bikes This was a daunting task. Team One had five bikes and Team Two had four. All had to reach Jammu Tawi railway station by 11 Jun at the latest if the plan was to be followed.

During my short spans of leave in Jan and April, Neville, Shubham and I had interacted with officials of the parcel department at Pune railway station. Mr Agarwal at the main office advised me to start dispatch from 3rd June while Mr Deshpande at the railway station assured me of sending 2 bikes from 7th June. We did not want to face the unspeakable horror of a rider reaching on 11 Jun and staring into space, waiting for his bike!

Accordingly, a dispatch schedule was devised. There were many changes that occurred through the days and weeks which are too tedious to mention here. This was the final dispatch schedule:

Neville and Fakhruddin - 03 June
Maneesh and Vaibhav – 06 Jun
Shubham – to send his bike from Bhopal to Jammu Tawi directly.
Henry and Samir – 08 Jun
Prashant – 09 Jun Ankit – I do not remember the date now.

The Never-Ending Wait 09 Jun seemed not to arrive at all as we prepared and waited and waited and prepared. But there was some excitement before that.

03 Jun 2012 Neville and Fakhru's travails Neville and Fakhru reached Pune on 03 Jun to dispatch their bikes by that evening’s Jhelum express. The major issue they faced was about disposal of the petrol drained from their bikes’ tanks prior to the packing. Nobody seemed to want to accept a gift of one of India’s most precious commodities and ultimately, they were able to give it away for free! Both seemed exhausted by the day’s proceedings by the time they returned to Mumbai and in hindsight, it was wrong on our part, as a team, to schedule the dispatch of their bikes from Pune instead of from Mumbai. Their experience was a fitting introduction to the rest of the members of the times that lay ahead.

06 Jun 2012 Maneesh and Vaibhav send their bikes In sharp contrast to what Neville and Fakhru had experienced, Vaibhav and I had no problems at all. We had left just enough petrol in the tank to make the journey to the railway station. Yet, Vaibhav’s bike seemed to have some hidden capacity and it yielded an extra almost two liters of fuel. We carried the drain-off home for consumption by our respective cars. Mr Samir, an agent, helped us at the railway station with the packing and documentation and it went off very smoothly indeed.

Back To Juleyland - Hotel Accommodation and The Pertinence Of This Log

Hotel Accommodation A major issue again but relying on feedback from the Web, it did not seem a problematic one; there seemed to be adequate accommodation available along the route without the need for advance bookings. To be on the safer side, I asked one of my Army colleagues in Nagrota to help us out. He was able to arrange overnight stays for five persons at Nagrota, Srinagar and Kargil which was much more than we had hoped for. For Leh and beyond, we would stay as and where rooms were available. Yet, I spoke twice to Mr Tsewang Dorjey, the owner of Shanti Guest House in Leh about rooms and this was to prove decisive as will be seen later. My initiative to look for rooms for my team only was later to prove to be a bit of a sore point between Samir and me as he felt that I should have informed Team Two about my actions and I was at pains to explain that the confirmation of such accommodation was received at virtually the last minute. This and a few other such minor issues caused the two teams to gradually go their separate ways and form independent entities.

Pertinence Of This Travelogue Till today, I have not received any feedback about the experiences of Team Two from any of its members. Naturally, they may have written separate logs either individually or as a team of which I am not aware. Therefore, this travelogue will be for the team comprising Maneesh Joshi, Neville Shroff, Fakhruddin Dahodwala, Shubham Jain and Vaibhav Modak only.

Back To Juleyland - The D Day Arrives, In The Train & Team Treasurer

09 June Sat: The D Day Arrives!A Bomb Scare!
The RAC Drama
10 June Sun: On The Train

Appointment of Team Treasurer/Banker Whilst we had been preparing for the ride, we had debated the concept of a Team Treasurer/Banker. Each member would contribute a certain amount to the team kitty and the banker would be responsible for settlement of all bills for meals, snacks, refreshments etc except those for refueling the bikes. The unanimous choice was Fakhruddin. He was managing a business and would be good with accounts. In the train, I reimbursed everybody with the proceeds of the return ticket cancellation. Then, each of us put in Rs 2000/- for the team kitty and we unanimously appointed Fakhru as the Banker with a toast of water and chips!

It is a mark of his own competence as also the trust reposed in him by all of us that there was not one single occasion, not one, where any of us had even the slightest twinge of misgivings about the whole issue.

As the days went by, it did not matter that Shubham was a vegetarian and yet was sharing the bill for the chicken or that Vaibhav and I had alcoholic drinks yet the bill was shared by all or that Neville always had two ice creams yet we all paid our share. If one starts bickering about such small issues on a grand trip like this, there are bound to be problems. A few hundred rupees here and there is too paltry a sum to destroy budding friendships and an emerging team spirit.

Back To Juleyland - Day One 11 Jun Mon: Jammu & Nagrota

Day One - 11 Jun Mon: Jammu and then Nagrota

Back To Juleyland Day Two 12 Jun Tue: Nagrota To Srinagar

Day Two - 12 Jun Tue: Nagrota To SrinagarThe Jawahar Tunnel.Titanic PointQazigundHarassment By Hotel AgentsSrinagar and The Badami Bagh FiascoAisey hota haiHotel VikramA Delicious Kashmiri DinnerRogan Josh (lamb cooked in red sauce), Yakhni (lamb cooked in curd based sauce) and Goshtaba

Back To Juleyland Day Three 13 Jun Wed: Srinagar To Kargil

Day Three 13 Jun Wed: Srinagar To Kargil 12 Jun dawned bright and sunny but a bit humid, with a tinge of haze. It had already become much cooler than Jammu had been and much more pleasant weather for riding bikes. The day promised to be exciting with a fulfilling ride. We loaded up and moved out, the CISF sentry giving us a sad farewell – must be thinking about his home in Madurai.

We followed the road (the Boulevard Road) that winds its way all along the Eastern bank of the Dal Lake which at this time was sleeping, a light mist covering its surface. I looked about for Rajesh Khanna and Sharmila Tagore and others similar pairs, jumping around among the trees but found only early morning joggers and walkers going about their constitutional on the promenade around the lake. It was a tranquil and memorable scene, much at odds with the history and present of Kashmir.

Soon, the lakefront ended and we were riding thru the suburb of Habak and Khaja Bagh, looking for a place where to have breakfast. Somewhere short of Ganderbal, we stopped for a break and a meal. Parathas, puris, chholey and tea – typical North Indian breakfast.

Local Louts An unsavoury incident at the breakfast dhaba highlighted the vast chasm that separates the people of Kashmir from those in Jammu and the rest of the country in the realm of national awareness. Some local lout came up and tried to engage me in conversation about our number plates – mine was an RJ number while the others had MH registered bikes. I forget the exact contents of the conversation but it contained references to various major cities in India which this goon did not know about while I knew not only all of them but many names in Kashmir too. This irritated the chap and he started becoming a little aggressive so I had to ask him to take a deep breath. It was good that we had finished our meal and were packing up to move else we would have had to endure more of this nonsense.

The contrast between the attitude of the Kashmiris and the Ladakhis would be thrown into sharp relief after we entered Ladakh the next day and this impression would continue till the time we were in Ladakh. Jammu, Kashmir and Ladakh have nothing in common and would be infinitely better off as separate states. I recommend a bike trip thru these lands for the disbelievers.

Sonamarg Soon after Ganderbal, the plains ended and the hills started. With the start of the hills came the first light drizzle. When we had started off from Srinagar, the others guys had donned the rain suit lowers and now, they donned the uppers too. I parked by the road side and struggled to get the gum boots off, the rain suit on, over the riding jacket and the jeans. Here, my perspicacity paid off; the over size rain suit fitted just right over the jacket.

The winding and at times unmade road led thru the famed Sonamarg valley. All our bikes, except that of Vaibhav, started feeling the altitude here; Sonamarg is closer to 9000 ft in altitude. The power was tapering off and the bike seemed reluctant to move ahead.

We stopped for tea in the middle of the valley. It is easy to imagine why this place is so famous. Pine-covered hills on both sides with a gushing snow-fed river in the middle made for a classic Alpine scene. The air was superbly bracing. I missed my wife very much here.

In winters, it would be fully covered with snow and a haven for skiing. It was indeed a lovely place. This was the location for innumerable Hindi movies of the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s before the trouble in the valley shifted the romantic scenes to Himachal Pradesh. A small part of Kashmir and by extension, India, died then.

We saw a chap on a Bullet come down, stop and get on his fone. While chatting with him esp. about the condition of Zoji La (which he said was terrible), it came to light that his buddy had faced severe problems with his bike – the engine, ignition, fuel system, even chassis – and so had been delayed in crossing Zoji La. After about 20 odd minutes, this friend came down with a pillion too.

I asked him if he had a screwdriver set read at hand so that we could adjust the mixture control of our bikes and he readily took one out of his bags. I adjusted my bike and Shubham’s bike while the others did theirs. Our thanks were profusely genuine.

We bid them Godspeed and rode on, past the headquarters of the High Altitude Mountain Warfare School under whose able guidance, I had trained for the Siachen tenure. These are among the best Alpine troops anywhere in the world, even rivaling the Alpine Korps of the Wehrmacht in WWII.

Zoji La The Sonamarg valley leads to Zoji La. The road starts climbing almost immediately on entering the valley. About 10 odd kms short of the pass, the scenery changes abruptly - from fir meadows a la Kashmir Ki Kali to naked black soil almost akin to moraine. There was a minor drizzle as we were climbing up but nothing to break our progress. Soon, the snow line started, the air became colder and colder as Zoji La came closer.

Landslide Delay Contrary to what the thumper had told us, the approach to Zoji La was not a nightmare. Yes, it was bad going but nowhere near terrible.

A few hundred meters short of the pass, there was a fair collection of vehicles parked by the road indicating a stoppage. I inquired from the ever-present Army soldiers and was told that there had been a minor land slide and that the pass was being cleared. So, we took a break – water, leak, fotos, videos, the standard stuff.

The delay was just for about 30 minutes or so – really non-existent compared to what it could have been and what the pass is notorious for and soon the bikes were waved thru to the other side. We stopped just for a couple of minutes to take a few fotos and pushed on. The road was quite bad now but again, at no place did any of us feel any sense of unease about crossing any part of the puddles or slush.

By about 2 PM, we were at Matayen and it was time for a lunch halt. The rain had followed us from Sonamarg and it started raining in right earnest by the time we were in about 2 or 3 kms short of Matayen town. There was a small shack where we stopped for tea.

Towards the east, the clouds were low in the valley and I knew that it would be snowing in the higher reaches of the hills. It was advisable to wait out the worst part of the rain in the shelter of the shack.

We ordered tea and then the ubiquitous Maggi noodles for all five of us. The proprietor had a kerosene stove going full blast and the inner part of the shack was nicely warm. He was so hospitable – got in a couple of benches for us to sit on, even gave us the small tea stove to warm ourselves. A bunch of local kids, bright – eyed, shyly peeping from under their firans gathered around, as kids all over the world will, in their innocent curiosity about newcomers in their small town. We took a few fotos with them and gave the shack owner some money to give them a lollipop each.

“I am Stupid” At Matayen If in such places, one sees poor, hard-working and sincere people like this shack owner struggle to earn a livelihood for only 5 odd months, getting supplies from hundreds of kilometers away so that they can put bread into the stomachs of their loved ones, one witnesses well-off tourists show their true colours, their so-to-say “asli aukaat” too. One SUV pulled up next to the shack and an expensively clothed, made up, perfumed and booted female alighted. She tiptoed to the shack and asked “Chai hai?”. Owner: Hai, madam. Female: “KITNE KI HAI”. I was left with a speechless sense of rage – how can one ask such a man, in a place like this, for the price of a cup of tea? Could she not understand where she was? Tch, tch. And then, the rest of the party came out for their tea. I was about to say something but the futility of blowing sunshine up the arses of morons struck me and I went off to pack my stuff.

Needless, to say, the Maggi was delicious – hot and soupy and filling. So was the tea and the cream biscuits. We left a handsome tip for the owner, in ways making up for the insensitivity of our fellow tourists. The rain had reduced to a mild drizzle and ended altogether as we rode on.

Drass Drass has special memories for me. In 1997, I had been in Mashkow Valley which ends at Drass. There were some terrific experiences of that time still playing in my mind – the long walk up to the deployment area, the time spent with the hardy men, the mini-cloudburst scattering my mule convoy on the way down etc - as I approached the town. There were lots of changes in the setup of the Army camp there. It had grown immensely in size since the Kargil war. During those days, there was just a smattering of huts but now, there was a full-fledged township there. Yet, I was able to recognize the place from where I had started the long walk up to Mashkow.

Thasgam went by, we did not stop there but carried on to Kargil. It was getting late.

There was an interesting incident then. A bus had developed a fault and halted on the road. Another bus had pulled up right next to it and the driver and cleaner, helped by the passengers, were transferring luggage from one rooftop to the other. From the expert dexterity of the crew, it was obvious that such cases were not uncommon here!

Op Vijay Memorial Sometime in the spring of 1997, I was stationed somewhere in the area of Kargil for about a month or so. Now, as I approached the Op Vijay Memorial, the memories of that time returned and took me back to Channi Gund, back to my men, back to the BSF company and the company of 10 GARHWAL RIFLES who had been our neighbour. It took me back to that doughty Subedar Gaje Singh, Charlie Company, 22 RAJPUT. A man almost twice my age with more than twice my physical fitness, who beat me in the climb to the top of the ridge where we were to be deployed.

The story of the Kargil conflict has been covered well enough for me to gloss over it completely. There was a battalion of the SIKH Regiment stationed in the area in the present day and one NCO gave us a brief account of the incident.

He indicated the important landmarks, which at that time used to be on the lips of almost the whole country – Tololing, Tiger Hill et al. I had been in Siachen and knew what it meant to be up there on the peaks. My friends were hushed in their conversation with each other. I could see them trying to fathom the difficulties that one could face there and how the men must have fought there. There was little I could tell them without breaching the Official Secrets Act (of which I am a signatory) and so, I pretty much left it to the NCO to satisfy their questions.

We went into the museum and looked at the maps. I don’t know how much my friends understood about the operation as a whole but I knew that it was one of the most difficult ones conducted by an Army and Air Force, anywhere in the world. The remnants of enemy ordnance by way of twisted pieces of mortar tails, shell fragments and odd detritus generated lots of curiosity and much click-click of cameras.

There were other visitors too and in typical Indian fashion, despite the attendant NCO entreating them not to do so, they removed their footwear before entering the museum, thus conferring on it the status of a temple. It is at such times that I marvel at this crazy mixture of cultures that makes us Indians. We think nothing of being inhuman to our fellow beings yet can bestow such honour on the dead. I saw some moist eyes too, especially among the ladies who must have been extrapolating their husbands/sons/sons – in – law in the names of the fallen and in the photos of the braves that lined the walls. I saw one middle-aged lady being comforted by her husband; perhaps the gravitas of the place overwhelmed her or maybe, she must have lost someone close to her in that mad conflict. I did not want to say anything to her for fear of becoming more emotional than I already was.

All war memorials, more so war graves, the world over witnesses such heart-rending scenes. Parents, in-laws, wives, husbands, children, friends – all come to reminisce about the times they spent in the company of the dear departed.
Some weep quietly, some cannot control their tears and go away to a secluded corner to seek communion with the departed soul, others appear to be overcome by shock while still some others shake their heads at the immense waste of it all - the flower of a country’s youth cut down by the circumstance of playing the Great Game.

I paid my private homage to my fallen colleagues in my own way – by resolving yet again to stand true to their faith in me, to lead from the front as I always have done, to prefer to lose MY life than let THEM lose their honour. Life is nothing, Honour is EVERYTHING.

We had a terrific cup of coffee, the first real Nescafe we had had since starting the trip and so refreshed, forged on ahead.

Kargil We reached Kargil at twilight. My friend had arranged our stay and it took some time for me to find the place where we were to put up for the night. We parked our bikes in one line in front of the small guest rooms, unloaded the luggage and adjusted ourselves in the two-room set.

That night, dinner was Chinese cuisine was from the Officers Mess. But we had yet to refuel the bikes. The fuel station was across the bridge and a good 3 kms away. We reckoned that we would find the pump open for business as the time was about 8 PM. So, off we went and thankfully, the pump was indeed open and surprisingly, a bit busy too.

In the rooms, water for our baths was being heated by way of an immersion rod in the bathroom so while someone was bathing, the others were eating their dinner while I was having a drink of good Army rum. Tomorrow would be our destination – Leh – and we were eagerly looking forward to that place.

After dinner, I went outside for a quiet smoke. The river was a muted roar, the traffic had fallen silent, the stars were out and there was a slight breeze, cool and comforting. I prayed for favourable weather on the morrow and retired for the night.

Back To Juleyland Day Four 14 Jun Thu: Kargil To Leh

Day Four 14 Jun Thu: Kargil To Leh The morning was brisk and so were we. Packing up and moving off was quick. I rode ahead to get a bottle of gear oil for the bike chains but the pump was closed at the early hour of 8 AM.

The road was pretty good and it is from here that we encountered the typical phenomenon of high altitude – in the sunshine, we felt warm, even hot while in the shade, it was cool, even cold. This played merry hell with our gear. In the shade, the warm gloves were comfy but our in the sun, they made the hands sweat. The same issue went for the rest of the clothing.

Mulbekh Breakfast break was at Mulbekh in a very well-appointed dhaba of sorts. Parathas, omelets and tea. Right above the dhaba, there was a small monastery, perched on the top of the hill. There was a quaint post office too but when we reached there it was closed. By the time we finished our meal and packed up to leave, it had opened but alas! It was only a transit store for passing mail. My hopes of sending an old fashioned telegram to my folks at home were dashed.

The climb to Namika La was relatively gradual yet, my bike was complaining. I would have to get her checked out by the mechanic in Leh.

A Surreal Scenario In many places, the metalled road vanished and in its place was bare soil with a layer of small stones. I was grinding and sliding in 2nd and 3rd gear, avoiding the worst potholes, skirting small rocks and puddles along one such stretch when the lip of the metalled road came up. I climbed onto the lip and just sat there on the bike, blinking like an idiot at the sight in front of me – an absolutely fantastic tarmac surface, smooth as a baby’s butt, wider than its mother’s umm, similar part and curving away around the next turn. For a microsecond, I thought that I was hallucinating at high altitude so I instinctively pinched myself and was rewarded by a familiar sensation. So it meant that I was awake and the road was for real.

I gunned the bike and she responded with gusto and we were suddenly at 70 kph, zipping along, taking the curves at “oh shit” speeds and my mind in hyperdrive “ keep the line, watch the apex, feel the rear, don’t over-correct, don’t lose it, slide your butt in, get it out and in and out and knees out and in…” Within just 10 minutes or so, I had covered a distance which had taken the better part of an hour earlier. At the end of the stretch, the inevitable dirt road started off and I remember thinking “char din ki chandani, phir andheri raat” to myself.

There were about three such sublime spans of road which rivaled the best European highways and I had a complete blast on all three. The bike responded like she too was enjoying the fling with the road, an all too brief affair but an affair to remember. At the end of the last stretch, I stopped and waited for Vaibhav to pull up close and when he did so, he just shook his head to indicate “ WTF, friggin’ unbelievable” or similar sentiments. If the entire Srinagar to Leh stretch is made like these brief patches are, I daresay that it will take just 24 hours for a fast bike and competent rider to get from end to end, the surface was that good.

Namika La came and went and so did Khangral, Budhkharbu and Heniskot. My bike was now showing her age (and my weight too!) properly and I was at the tail end of the team as the others, with newer bikes, powered ahead.

“I Am Stupid II” At Fotu La We halted at Fotu La for a BB (= butt break) when some females in a Tavera came up and started cavorting around in their noisy, giggly manner. We paid scant attention to them but then one of them came up to Vaibhav’s bike, picked up the helmet, gave a cutesy smile to nobody in particular, wore it on her numb skull, struck a heroic pose and asked her friend to take some snaps!!! No asking for permission, nothing. I was thinking “hello, excuse me, WTF do you think you are doing, sista” and so on. Now, all our bikes were parked on their side stands and if, in their carelessly buoyant holiday mood, these ultra stupido girls had caused the bike to drop and the fallen bike had developed a fault, we would have been in deep trouble. I reprimanded the offending woman in a respectful but curt manner and she was surprised to know that she had done something wrong LOL. Fakhru heard me ticking the girls off and remarked that this was typical behaviour for Indian tourists and that they always behaved like this. I think this is why the world over, people view Indian tourists with scorn and revulsion aka “We want your money but we don’t want you”.

Lamayuru came and went but I did not see the board for the statue of the Buddha, must have been looking elsewhere. Nurla too went by.

A few kms short of Saspol, we were flagged down to stop; a landslide’s debris was being cleared by a ‘dozer. This spot was on a turn to the right and in keeping with their image as the rudest, stupidest tourists in the world, some of our countrymen had ridden their bikes right up till the dozer itself. I asked one of them to move back a bit so as to give some room to the dozer driver and got a surly frown in return. I was hoping like mad that the dozer track would chew up this moron’s bike but the driver was too canny for that – he gave one heave to his control, the dozer slewed sideways and my “friend” was frantically moving his bike aside. The driver and I exchanged knowing grins (he had seen me advise the bozo biker) and he finished the job.

He had barely reversed out of the cleared gap that Messrs Bozo Biker and pals rushed thru the gap. I just could not understand as to what the hurry was all about. Why the bloody hell are bikers, of all people, in such a hurry. But then, I realized that these clowns were locals. Ok, granted.

Vaibhav and I moved ahead of the others, as usual. An Army convoy of 70 trucks was parked by the wayside in groups of twos and threes, waiting for the traffic to clear. It is here that I appreciated the road sense of hill folk. None of them was trying to overtake one another, none of them had his vehicle’s nose blocking the road for oncoming traffic. This is because they know that even if one person does something foolish, the whole road will be blocked for hours. And yes, people from the plains and those too in private cars were the culprits, not local taxis.

The road was excellent and after some fast riding, we reached Saspol town. The others caught up and we had a quick tea break.

Magnetic Hill Madness Soon, we had reached the famous Magnetic Hill. There was a small crowd there, checking out the magnetic properties of their bikes. Across the valley, there was a small track leading up one of the spurs of the ridgeline. I understood that it was made by bikers riding up the spur to test if the hill could “pull” their bikes up. One bonehead Bulleteer just had to try it. Whether he was trying to impress the woman chatting with him or was eager for his insurance nominee to get rich, I don’t know. Anyways, he zoomed off and up the slope. When he started climbing up, I watched him from my binos. The bike was skidding, sliding, weaving, heaving, bucking, in short doing everything that a horse does in a rodeo. Our man was gamely hanging on. He still had some good sense left because he did not try to ride up any further and returned to the road and his buddies.

Neville Ka Engineering Bheja From my brief but insightful association with Neville, I know that he has an incisive and investigative intellect. Here, he set out to debunk the magnetic property of the place with a simple test. He poured some water on the strip which says “Park Your Vehicles Here”. Sure enough, the water started moving towards the Kargil side indicating that there was a slope towards that side and that the magnet stuff was nothing but an optical illusion, brought about by the lay of the land.

Be that as it may, but one thing was for sure. My bike was struggling like never before. It seemed that it had suddenly become much, much heavier than what it had been earlier. And I can say with utmost conviction that, this was the only place on the entire route where she was having great trouble in moving even in 1st.

The Valley Opens Up Around Nimu, the valley opened up into that wide, expansive vista for which Ladakh is so famous. One could see for miles ahead, the surface was excellent and all of us took that customary shot with the Sun behind us and the shadow of the bike in the frame. The wind picked up too and it felt like one is riding down a huge, long tunnel without a roof.

The road to Leh town leads along the airport. Earlier, one could see the civil terminal and the Air Force hangers from the road itself. But now, an almost 10 feet wall with an outer layer of barbed wire had come up, denying the superb view of the other side of the river.

I rode along slowly, the bike not really wanting to move and made my way to Shanti Guest House on Changspa Road.

On reaching there, I learned that Neville and Vaibhav had reached before me and had met the owner’s wife, Mrs Dolkar Dorjey and later the owner, Mr Tsewang Dorjey. Now, I had spoken to Mr Dorjey twice earlier, once in April and the second time in May but had missed out on confirming our accommodation. Yet, he remembered our conversation and Mrs Dolkar gave Neville and Vaibhav a room for us on the top floor. It was very considerate of the couple to oblige us this way; we were in no mood to traipse all over Leh to look for rooms that evening.

Shanti Guest House Shanti is a very comfy guest house. It has four levels with rooms on the sides and the central space serving as an open atrium from the ground floor to the large skylight on the ceiling. A significant amount of money has obviously gone into building it; there are large quantities of wood everywhere. The stairs, banisters, balustrades, window sills, door frames are all in wood. The bathroom furnishings are good quality stuff and maintained well too.

There is round the clock cold water but warm water is provided by solar heating so it is available only when it is sunny and that too in the afternoons.

On the ground floor, there is a small living room of sorts with newspapers and magazines for guests. The dining room has cozy low level seating on diwans with bolsters and tapestry. An eye-catching collection of traditional Ladakhi utensils and crockery, in spic and span condition adorns the cupboards lining the walls of the dining room. On the other side is the kitchen; I was allowed to make my coffee in it at any time I wanted. In fact, the first time, I had a terrific gossip session with Mr Tsewang’s mother so had felt right at home here.

We unloaded the baggage and lugged it to the top floor. Vaibhav was quite winded by the climb up the stairs and flopped on the bed with his tongue hanging out! All of us settled down. As usual, Neville and I shared a bed while Fakhru, Shubham and Vaibhav shared the other.

Our room had two double beds, one bath cum toilet and wonderful French windows covering almost half of the wall space. It was bright, airy and cheerful and with a good view of town to boot.

After some time and on our requests (as there were only four blankets in the room for two double beds), we got a sleeping bag and a foam mattress. I elected to use the sleeping bag as I was used to it and so opened the outer cover and lo and behold! It was identical to the one I had used during the Siachen tenure. The brand was Richener, one of the foremost makers of Arctic clothing in the world. It bore the tell-tale black triangular stamp of the Army Ordnance Corps as being certified for condemnation and deposition to the salvage section. It must have somehow found its way to the open market, I mused. I was nostalgic and told my friends about the freezing nights that this bag had made so comfortable for me, up there at 20,000 feet.

We went into Changspa for dinner that night as it was too late to book meals from the guest house. I forget the restaurant but do remember that the service was very slow. The meal was wholesome, though, and for the tired quintet that we were, it was very tasty with a twist – it was a fully veg establishment so the carnivores (Neville, Fakhru, Vaibhav and self) had to eat grass along with Shubham. Our post-prandial plans for ice cream were aborted as no shops selling the stuff were open at that hour of 10 PM. Vaibhav had a splitting headache so he opted out and went back to Shanti. The rest of us made do with a chocolate bar each (Neville had two, I think, confirming my impression that he had a huge sweet tooth!)

After dinner, I went out onto the terrace for a small smoke. It is strange; I gave up smoking in 2003 after my daughter was born and yet can have a couple of cigarettes every once in a very long while and yet not get hooked again. In the rarefied air of Ladakh, I found a catalyst for the slow metabolism, both of the body and mind, I supposed.

There was a light breeze blowing across the valley, fluttering the prayer flags strung across the terrace wall. Lights twinkled across the town, blurring the boundary between Earth and Sky. A vehicle would go by and in the mere flap of an eardrum, its clamour would be swallowed up into nothingness by the immense space around. And the silence of the mountains would descend again, limitless in depth, ear-shattering in volume. A strange paradox struck me here – why do we whisper when there is such immense space around us and yet shout in the confines of a closed room…

I was in Leh, the capital of Ladakh. A land of the most fantastic kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that I have the privilege of witnessing. Azure skies calling out to the Antoine de Saint-s, peaks with their typically cynical icy stare calling to the Hillarys and Tenzings to conquer them, sands for the Lawrences of Arabia to sweat out on and meandering among this smorgasbord of tectonics, the Jhelum River, paradise and perdition for rafters. And all through, the width of the valley, as wide and generous as the Almighty’s heart.