Re: Vesta tours and travels: Dreams of Leh

Experience Approved. And thumbs up for the "poem".

Cheers!
VJ

Re: Vesta tours and travels: Dreams of Leh

You sir are a super hero couple. A true inspiration. Reading your other tlogs and cant have enough of the amazing pictures and great write up...

Re: Vesta tours and travels: Dreams of Leh

Thanks B7ACKTHORN for approving the thread.

Thanks for the kind words, rusty_mechs.

In case if anyone is interested (and has spare time to read ), here are some of my past travel stories on xbhp:

Re: Vesta tours and travels: Dreams of Leh

I and my wife - Aniruddha and Nandinee - are avid motorcycle tourers. 'Vesta' is our motorcycle's name, the beloved Suzuki GS150R. We have toured quite extensively in west Maharashtra, especially Konkan and surrounding areas of Pune. We had our first taste of out of state long ride in Rajasthan. This was the first time that we crossed the state border for a motorcycle tour, and we were absolutely thrilled. The experience of riding in a different state is really something that words can’t express. You are in a new terrain with new people, and yet you feel connected to them, and the lands. Such motorcycle tour is not simply following the tourist trail, but rather connecting to lives of people you meet on road and at the hotels.

We had dreamed of going to Leh for a long time, but nature or work kept on coming in our plans. In 2010, we were all set for Leh ride, with the tickets ready and bookings done. But nature ended our plans abruptly when one night, an entire year's worth of rain fell down from the sky in 30 minutes, washing away Leh and surround areas in the horrendous cloud burst.

We continued to tour in the country over the next years, but the dream of riding to Leh never left us. So finally in August - September 2013, all the stars aligned and gave a green signal for our ride of a lifetime. Discouraging people were dime a dozen, ranging from couch tourists who have seen the entire world through TV, to actual retired army persons who were once posted in Ladakh. However, we went ahead with the plans, and had the time of our life for the next 3000 kilometers that marked the ride of Ladakh.

The Leh – Ladakh trip can be roughly split into 3 parts,

1. Reaching Leh
2. Exploring surrounding areas
3. Returning back from Leh

Each of these parts deserves a story of its own, and it would a great injustice if one crams it all into a small write-up. The Himalayas offer different insights from different approaches, and deserve not just a few lines, but huge books to describe partially what they convey.

In this blog, we would see the details of the second leg of our wandering, the exploring of surrounding areas of Leh.

After a wonderful ride through Patnitop, a shikara tour in Dal lake at Srinagar, a tasting of Kahwa – the Kashmiri tea – in the laps of mountains at Sonamarg, and a ride through the treacherous Zozi La that included a tumble on the rocky roads, we had reached Leh.

We had rested for a day for getting acclimatized for thin oxygen levels at such high regions, gotten our necessary permits from the DC office and were eager to start our journey towards exploring the surrounding areas of Leh.

Re: Vesta tours and travels: Dreams of Leh

To Nubra valleyTurtuk

Re: Vesta tours and travels: Dreams of Leh

Firstly, when I saw the name " Vesta tours and travels " I thought its will be a thread of a tour operator who will post photos to attract more customers but surprised with a fantastic tlog. Lovely Couple, nice photos & beautiful writeup. Keep riding || Keep Inspiring

Re: Vesta tours and travels: Dreams of Leh

As for us, now that the roads were good, it was a go. The road from South Pallu wind all the way down to flats towards Hunder. We halted at Khardung, the small village that gave its name to the legendary pass. A non – ceremonious lunch was in order, at a road side shack of a locallite. The food was nothing to write about, but the smiling service of the old lady made up for it. There are a number of hotels in Khardung village, and tourist vehicles were stopping there. However many vehicles chose to blaze past the village to make a run towards the destination. Or maybe they were heading to Turtuk and had a lot of ground to cover. As for us, we were very much within the safe time limit, and hence proceeded leisurely, taking in the mystical ride in sight.


The road ahead is sloped at times, but is never dangerous. At Khalsar, we came across a fork in the road, where the ghaat ended. One road was going to left towards the flat lands, and other was clinging to the mountain that we rode down from, and disappeared out of sight. We halted at the fork and started looking around for help or hints. There was none. I remembered that I have a map of that area in the tankbag. A quick glance revealed that we were to take the left road. Later we realized that had we taken the right road, we would end up taking the Wari La route to Pangong Tso – an extremely tough route that we had deliberately avoided!

The road went straight for extended patches from this point onwards, until a time when we were riding in dessert land! It was unbelievable to see so much sand here in the middle of Himalayas, and yet here it was, riding on the wind, covering up the road and coating everything in its golden haze. It covered the mountains on the left and the valley on the right. It was hard not to stop every now and then to wonder and admire the miracle.





The large mountains in distance reminded us we were riding in Himalayas, and yet the desert was making us believe this was Rajasthan! It was a surreal ride here onwards.

A short while afterwards, we came to a junction. Continuing ahead would take us to a bridge to Panamik, famed for its hot springs, and taking left from the junction would take us to our tonight’s destination. Panamik hot springs is an interesting phenomenon, where there are springs of hot water right in the middle of the cold river. However we have already seen a number of hot springs elsewhere, and had no time for Panamik.

The left road to Hunder is a straight-as-an-arrow road for quite a distance. The wind roaring in the helmet, the bike whirring along, and strutting at a good speed, it is a serene experience. The sun was playing peek-a-boo from the mountain as it went in and out of sight. The road isn’t as smooth as the baby’s bottom at Nimmu, but it has its own charm. At the end of this road, we climbed up a small ghaat, and a similar sight with a new twist was awaiting us. For all our rides, we were used to having a river flowing madly on one side and mountains clouding us on other. Here, there were mountains on one side alright, but on the right, there were only remains and small streams of a river. Was there really a river that had shrunk in summer? Or is it like this for all year? Judging by the dry sand all around, it seemed little far-fetched to imagine the small stream on our right to be a roaring full bed river at any time.









The village of Diskit was very near now. We passed a number of small villages and finally saw the Diskit village at right side of the road. The Tourist Reception Centre at the village is marked prominently, and we went there by habit. But it was closed. The guide book didn’t have much information about this village either. But as we were there at 4.30PM, we had the sunlight to our advantage, and decided to roam around to find a nice place for putting the anchor down.

We checked a multitude of hotels. A common point for all of them was, all had a small lawn full of blooming flowers in front. But the similarity ended there. A lot of them were closed because of the off-season. There were some which seemed open, but even after calling on top of my voice, I couldn’t wake up the attendants from their siesta. A few that were open, didn’t have TV. In the end, on a local’s suggestion, we came to hotel ‘Sand dunes’. This hotel was open and operating well. There was a newly constructed room that I really liked at the first visit. So bargained with him, hit a deal and checked in.

It was getting cold out, so the thermals were put to use. We were informed by the owner that the light comes only from 7 to 11 PM every day. Rest of the day there is no light. I realized why there were no TVs in most of the hotels!

Hunder region is famous mainly for its sand dunes, and many tourists prefer or are made to stay at Hunder. We did not fancy living next to sand dunes, so chose the Diskit village as our halt. After a hot coffee, we started off for the dunes, which were only 12 kms from Diskit. The road is a typical Ladakhi road, bit good, bit broken, surrounded by earthen houses separated by long distances, and hardly anyone crosses your vehicle from either side.



Now the sand in distance was no more a barren sight that we saw on the way to Diskit. There was sand, but there were many green patches growing in between. Even when the dunes area starts, there are small green patches that peek from here and there.



Nearing the sand dunes, the roads improved drastically. As it was about 6, the sun had still not gone home and the sand was lit up from his gaze. There were many puddles on route that reflected the sky shakily in their rippling reflection. Though I didn’t venture out to check the depth, to me they didn’t seem deep, going by the grass and the rocks pointing up from it.

Nearing Hunder, we could see a lot of vehicles gathered at a distance at our right hand. That was the entrance to the dunes, we deduced. The road has some small toll, a ride on pebbles, and voila, you are in the parking lot of the dunes! A small non confidence inspiring shaky wooden bridge takes you across the small stream to the dunes.

Now the question of many tourists on reaching any spot is,
‘What to do?’

Well, play with your kids, chat with your wife, sneak a peek at that cute girl, do your usual. But people want some activity at every place. So here the activity is riding camels! The camels are bit different from the usual kind. They are still as unhygienic as every other camel, but have two humps on their back. Also, they are the least camera shy animals I have seen. Heck in some of the pictures I saw people were taking of the camels, the camels seemed more at ease than the person posing in front of them!



‘Can you believe it Nandinee? Riding stinky camels on top of Himalayas! Let’s do it!’

‘Do it and I am hitching a ride back.’ Came a curt reply.

So the camel ride was out of the agenda, though I must admit the back breaking ride through the Khardung La matched the fun of the camel ride.

There is not much to do in the dunes really, except to roam around and take up the camel ride if that’s your thing. It does provide a nice change of scenery and one can spend a nice evening here, just sitting on the sand looking over the horizon. The camel-wallas too are not pushy sorts, so one no and they leave you in peace. The camels though turn their heads and follow you around by their wide tennis ball eyes and the gaze that says ‘I know your secrets!’

Even though there was nothing to do, it was one of the times where doing nothing felt better than anything else. It was a clear blue sky with a few cotton balls for clouds dispersed here and there. Laughing families and snorting camels filled up the ambience. We lost track of time chatting about Khardung La, its sneaky turns, the group of bikers, the soldiers and the biker with lost air screw. After a while, we noticed the sky started showing a grander and deeper colour of blue, and people started returning from the rides - the clock had ticked onwards. The stray dogs sniffing here and there started packing up too, and heading back to village. We took our cue, bid goodbye to this wonder of a dessert in the middle of snow, and headed back to our hotel.



Camels enjoying sunset



It was easy ride on familiar roads back to the hotel. At the junction of the village, I saw two foreign motorcyclists with puzzling look in their eyes. Sticking to the code of biking brothers, I approached them and asked whether they needed any help. It turned out that they were short on fuel. There was a petrol tank near the village, but it seemed so desolated that it was more apt to be rented out to horror movies than to be operated as petrol bunks. So I directed them to the village shops where they might find some petrol sold for premium, and returned to our hotel. The lights had come, and the life was seemingly the same as in the towns. But underneath this mask of normalcy, there was a strange reality, where you would find sand dunes in Himalayas, and camels, and electricity for 4 hours every day.

The dinner was in the hotel, as there is no other option available. We were only two guests that night, but the food was good and the service warm. Hunder was our first outing outside of Leh, and the sand that the wind carried in our hairs and clothes followed us till Leh.

Re: Vesta tours and travels: Dreams of Leh

^stnot

Re: Vesta tours and travels: Dreams of Leh


While getting ready for today’s ride, there was an unsaid tension in my mind. Crossing the mighty Chang La. Actually ‘changla’ means good in Marathi, and it was ironic that the pass holding this name was the most notorious one. Exactly how difficult was yet to be seen, but the moment was not too far away now.

I woke to an upset stomach, owing fully to the extremely horrible food at ‘Leh View Top’ restaurant last night. We wasted a few precious morning hours trying to find a chemist for the medicine. In the myriad of collection of medicines that we carried with us, we forgotten this particular medicines, and it was making us do ‘runs’ literally. It was a Sunday, and a lazy hill town such as Leh got even lazier on Sunday. Most tourist shops were open, but they informed that medical shops would be opened only after 11am! That was too late, and we were becoming worried by the moment, because we had to be at Pangong Tso at sundown. The ice on top of the hills starts melting due to the harsh afternoon heat, and the streams crossing the road get progressively wild as the day nears its end. Crossing the mad waters was not exactly something we were looking forwards too. Luckily, we found a hidden medical shop on first floor of a building in the bazaar, and blessing him and my stars, I took the medicines and moved on to our journey.

The exit route from Leh remains the same, through the big carved gate that welcomes you to Leh on your first visit. Today our road was going straight all the way to Karu, via a village named Thiksey. Just after Leh, we spotted a number of motorcycle mechanics on the left hand side of the road. As garages were something of a rarity, we made a mental note of their location.

The roads are exceptionally good, and one can do nice speeds on these roads. We passed through tourist spots such as Thiksey and Hemis, both famous for their gompas – Tibetan temples. At Karu, there is a fork in the road. Left takes you to the Chang La pass and ahead, whereas right fork takes you all the way to Manali. There is a petrol pump at Karu, and this is the last one that you will see for about 250 kms from here on! As our itinerary didn’t call for too long a riding for a tankful of petrol, we didn’t stop to fill up.

There is a checkpost at Karu, should you go to Chang La road. After this check post, the traffic waned down a lot, and many times ours was the only vehicle on road. The road started sloping upwards slowly, and held that incline for a long distance and a really long time that seemed eternity. It was no fun dragging Vesta on a mild incline for miles after miles, where there was hardly a straight road. After a while, we began wondering how much more we had to climb! The road showed no sign of sloping down or getting straight. We would look up the hill that we were climbing, sigh, and continue the slow journey upwards. Luckily the roads were good, but we could not yet appreciate it till we faced bad roads later. Many times, we would see the upwards road wind many turns, and disappear after a bend. Hopeful in our hearts, we would proceed to slowly reach to that bend, just to reveal many more kilometers of the same twisting upwards road till our eyes could see, and till that too would disappear behind another bend.

Even though the roads did not change in gradient, the atmosphere certainly did, and soon we were shivering slightly under the jackets. When I looked up to the hills in front, I could see a bit of snow shining on the top. So we took a break, and donned the thermal wears that we were carrying with us.



After a military post, we felt that the pass had started. The road went very rapidly from being acceptable to bad to unbelievably hard. Soon we were riding on steep inclines in extremely bad conditions scattered with rocks and pebbles and sands. Every now and then we would cross a stray stream trickling its way down. The chill factor increased a lot, and our speeds were reduced to a fraction of what we were doing before.

This was definitely more difficult than Zozi La or Khardung La, we both thought, and we had yet to cross the pass! This was only the initial climb. On one such tricky turn where I had to maneuver the motorcycle on an upwards turn full of pebbles while trying to cross a stream, it got too tough to ignore. Luckily a Scorpio was travelling behind us. We asked for lift for Nandinee till the top, and away she went in the car. After the fragile luggage was deposited safely towards the destination, I rode upwards tension free. After tackling turns after turns that seemed to be designed for testing rather than convenience, I finally reached the Chang La top.

Nandinee was already on the top, courtesy of the SUV. And so was yesterday's biker group. They were returning from Pangong Tso, and were ecstatic from the experience. Many happy faces from the group conveyed clearly that they had enjoyed their visit a lot. A few of the group advised me on the roads ahead, the hotels to stay, the rates to bargain and such. Additionally, I could see the weather becoming gloomy towards Pangong Tso direction, and they too confirmed that. Still, undaunted by the threatening weather, we decided to continue on our journey.

One of them gave very specific advices about a water crossing of about a 100 meters (!), and a broken road much ahead that needed a detour from the muds at the side of the roads. Both of the advices really saved our skins.

On the Chang La top, the army has a small store, where the visitors get a fee cup of hot tea, and some other paid items. After a visit to that store, we began scouting for a vehicle for getting a lift ahead till the road recovers. We found a Tavera that was carrying two girls from Thiland. I was amazed to see them travelling by themselves in such terrains! My pillion joined them for the journey ahead till the safe roads, and I rode ahead in order to find a good spot to pick her up.

The road leading down the pass was another marvel, topping the difficulty level of climbing up. Many times I thought that I was lucky this was a downward slope, and wondered what would be the case tomorrow when I would travel upwards. Soon I reached that water crossing that I was warned by the fellow biker. I stopped my bike just before it, and looked ahead in wonder. Here it was, a patch of roads about 100 meters ahead, that was simply covered by flowing water. This was not just a normal stream crossing, or even a crossing where the water is only a few inches high. It looked at least 6 to 8 inch deep, full of pebbles as big as my palm. I was sure the water too was not exactly heated up so as to make the travelers comfortable. I looked around in despair, to find whether there was some other bypass for this waterway, but there wasn’t any. So this is it, I thought, and plunged Vesta into the water. I held on to the throttle, as I did not want to be in an unfortunate situation where Vesta would stall and I would have to put my feet down in the stream in order to balance ourselves. I kept on bouncing around, with every pebble in the way threatening to slip the bike. With a little bit of skill and a truck load of luck, I managed to cross the patch without stalling, but not without getting wet. Vesta bounced so much in that already flowing water, some water was sprinkled on even the top of my helmet! But better to get sprinkled than getting full on wet, I thought, and moved ahead thanking my stars.

After a while, I came across a military establishment. This seemed like a trend here, that before and after a hilly pass there would be some military establishment, and there would be totally banged up roads in between these two posts. However the road ahead was looking much better, so I halted to pick up Nandinee, who was behind in that tourist vehicle.

Soon we were united, and after thanking the two girls and wishing them luck ahead, she joined me wondering how the hell I managed to not fall. Guess the fall of Zozi La was still fresh on her mind! At the military check post some distance ahead, where I submitted the permits, I asked around for any hotels for lunch. There was a village just after that post that had some hotels, and afterwards it would be directly at the lake. As it was already lunch time, we took that detour, and got in a hotel to grab a quick lunch. Another solo biker was having his lunch there. I could see from his Bullet number plate that he was from Mumbai, but decided not to disturb him in his solitary meal. As he too was heading the same way us, we could catch up later.

At these hotels, there were mainly rice dishes on the menu. We noticed that many such small hotels made mainly rice dishes, and hardly any roti or paratha dishes were seen on the menu. After the lunch, we joined the main road again towards Pangong Tso. The road ahead was pretty straight, and good most of the times. But whenever we would get comfortable at the speed, suddenly the road would disappear, to reveal a big ditch in the road. This might be formed because of the melted ice at the left side crossing the road to meet the river at right. Such ditches appeared from time to time, and kept us on our toes wondering how far the next one might be. Every now and then, we would cross a small stream crossing such ditch, and I was reminded of the advice by Capt Nandu’s nefew, ‘Post noon, the ice starts melting on top of the hills and the streams increase in speed as well as size. So reach as soon as possible’. The number of water crossings was quite high, but none of them was dangerous, at least none yet – barring the first 100 m one.

At the end of the road with ditches, we came across a huge patch of broken road. This was the point warned to us by the group of bikers. So we looked around and found a muddy track going in the sands at our left. We proceed cautiously. In distance, we could see a father-son pair on a bullet. They signaled us the path hidden in the mud. Nandinee got down on foot, and walked ahead, guiding me the safe path to cross the broken road. Very slowly, I took Vesta on the slippery path, and managed to cross that broken road without slipping anywhere. We thanked the motorcycling father-son duo, and moved on.

After a while, we could see sand around us, similar to Hunder road. While we were talking amongst us that how this looked similar to the Hunder path, suddenly the road disappeared completely, and we could see only sand in front of us. Stretching our sights ahead, we could see black tar road ahead. It seemed that for this particular patch, sand has overtaken on the road, and we would have to travel through sand. This was a very scary option for me, as riding in sand is perhaps the toughest task. You have hardly any control of the bike’s steering, every undulation in the sand decides which way the handle will turn, and you only have choice to wring the accelerator and hang tight praying dear lord.

A local jeep was approaching from rear. They stopped near us, and the driver offered to give lift to Nandinee for that sandy patch. An elderly lady was already seating in the passenger seat. This was a better alternative to ridding two up in unknown sands, so Nandinee got in the jeep and moved on, while I started gathering courage. The sand was looking about a foot high, and the condition of the road beneath it unknown. To my surprise, a very battered looking Maruti 800 full with 5 passangers overtook me and entered the sand patch at speed. Looking at it, I too feigned courage, and gunned Vesta.

The moment my front wheel touched the sand, I could feel the control taken away from me. Bike was riding as if a drunken man going post to post, looking for lying down. In sand, I couldn’t even put my feet down in fear that it would get stuck and would drag me behind. Puffing up a big cloud of sand behind me, I managed to pass that patch in perhaps the most unceremonious way.

Breathing deep, trying to compose myself, I took a turn hoping to catch the jeep, just too see even bigger sandy patch in front of me. It was around 200 meters long. I could see the Mumbai biker riding in that patch on his bullet, and the way he was dancing around, my heartbeats increased their tempo to another level. Heck, let’s do it one more time, I thought, and rode ahead. Same drama of riding on direction less motorcycle, and just when I was at the end of my wits, the patch ended, and I prayed a lot that let this be the last one. Riding in water was better than this, because at least I could put my feet down and see the bottom. God seemed to have his ear open this time, because this wish was granted immediately.

When I flagged down the jeep, he informed me that there were 2 water crossings ahead, and it would be better if we would continue the present arrangement. Tensed, I moved ahead to cross two large water crossings one after another. In one of those crossings, there was simply no road. There was a tar road just before and after the crossing, but during the crossing, there was only rocks and pebbles with ankle to knee high water. I wondered how the Maruti 800 would have crossed this patch, but we couldn’t catch them, so evidently they crossed all those hurdles safely.

This particular patch of sands and water crossings was hardly a kilometer long, but it was surely the toughest one so far. I picked up Nandinee from the jeep and inquired whether there were more of such patches ahead. Luckily this was the last one, and the road ahead was clear.

The jeep moved ahead of us, and we started making way on the uphill climb. It was already past 3.30PM, and we had yet to cross pagal nallah.

Pagal Nallah is a wild stream of water enroute to Pangong tso. It was a very famous and feared point, where water would flow wildly post noon. Hence it had the name Pagal nallah – Mad stream. However there is a new bridge built over the nalla that has tamed the path. Yet, how tamed a wild animal could be? We were heading towards it to experience it in person.

After the upclimb ended, we could see a lake in the distance. Hopefully it was the lake that we were heading to, the Pangong Tso. The roads are pretty definitive, and there is hardly any chance to take any wrong road unless you were actually planning to.

I came across a bridge joining two hills, with a stream speedily flowing underneath. I realized this was the Pagal nallah. The new bridge is built up on a height, but the nalla underneath still makes its presence felt. It was hard to imagine how the ride would have been if this bridge was not built. Crossing that wild stream was a scary thought, and the fact that people have crossed it on all types of vehicles at all times of the day seemed really unbelievable.

We were not totally kept away from the adventure of the past, it seemed. Just ahead of the bridge, there came a small water crossing. Small by the standards of past 100s of meters of water crossing, this was about 4-5 meters long. It was flowing on a concrete bridge, and I was supposed to ride over it. Even though the water was hardly 3-4 inches high, it was flowing pretty fast and the road underneath had a nasty slope towards the flow, so as to wash away anything that came in the path into the valley the stream was flowing into.



For safety, Nandinee got down and I crossed the stream slowly. Crossing the stream, I parked Vesta and waited for her to cross the stream from a safe point and come over. But this was taking too much time, so I got down to investigate more. There was no place that she could safely cross the water without getting wet or risking herself being washed away! I walked to the start of the stream, but it seemed to descend from top of a hill, and had no safe crossing point. The only crossable depth seemed on the road that was sloping dangerously towards the valley. Also, perhaps our eyes were playing trick, but it appeared that the intensity and quantity of water being flown was increasing as the time went by, and the flow was looking dangerous to cross. There was no railing on that road, so should someone fall in that stream, there was nothing to break his journey of being washing away into the valley except perhaps his luck.

As time began to roll by, we started getting tensed. I remembered Bollywood movies where Hero would walk across hazards and rescue the heroin stuck in calamity. Here my own wife was stuck across the stream, what could be the better opportunity to prove my heroism? I am not usually this dumb, but perhaps the cold weather had shrunk my brain to the size of a peanut, and I decided to play superman.

Even though Nandinee was shouting from across not to cross the stream, I put one feet into the stream slowly, hoping that the waterproof shoes prove their worth. Taking a few brave steps ahead, the water suddenly felt too strong to stand in. The icy cold stream found its way inside my shoes, and chilled me to the bones. The cold shock was nothing like I had ever felt, and I instantly felt so weak and so out of control of my own body. It seemed perhaps only the stream could control my fall. Staggering and trying to gain control, I fumbled my way back to Vesta, without feeling anything from the legs except extreme numbness. Nandinee was standing with worried eyes and hand on her mouth, and I hurriedly removed the shoes and wet socks to get fid of the the icy water in them.


I guess Almighty took a mercy on my condition, because at that time, a jeep appeared from my side, going towards Leh. I hailed him and requested him to bring back Nandinee from across the stream. What seemed like an unsolvable problem for past half hour was solved in 2 minutes. The gentleman crossed the stream in his jeep, picked up Nandinee, and reversed back to bring her to my side. I thanked him profusely, and started rubbing my feet and toes to make them feel warm. We saw another bullet following our path, and it seemed a couple was riding it. I hailed him to stop across, and informed him about the strong current of the stream. He too took the same decision, and crossed the stream alone. I offered to stay till we get some ride for his wife to cross the stream, but he asked us not to worry and to move on. So we wished him luck and continued our journey.


We were already very tired due to all the adventures of the day, and were looking forward for reaching our destination for tonight. This particular water crossing was right at the top of the hill, so we had mostly downward sloping roads of good condition here on. There was a small patch of hotels on our right, and we might have halted here in normal journeys, but today we had no energy or mood to break the already broken journey even more, and hence moved on to our destination ‘Spangmik’.

Spangmik is a village in close vicinity to Pangong Tso. While it seems romantic to stay near the lake, we were actually hoping to put some distance between us and the lake due to the falling temperatures. We had already heard frozen stiff stories from past travelers, and didn’t want to freeze our buns off to the Himalayan weather, which was threateningly showing sign to turn for the worse now.

The Pangong Tso is a huge lake. It is 135 kms long and 5 kms wide. Currently only twenty percent of this great lake lies in India and remaining is captured by China in 1961 war. I met a number of military persons who were quite bitter about the loss of control over Pangong tso in the war. As per them, there was hardly any military presence here till 1961, and it was an easy conquer for China. Spangmik is pretty much the last village from India side where we could find accommodation.



When we reached Spangmik, we could see many sites with tents sprung across. There were very few concrete houses, most of the tent hotels are of cloth only, which were fluttering wildly on the winds. We searched a few hotels, when I met the Mumbai Biker. He was riding alone from Mumbai, and had grand plans of adventures ahead. Wishing him luck, we continued our hunt for our abode at night. After checking a few tent sites, and skipping a few that required climb up or down through extremely tattered roads, we saw a nice site with tents located on top of a small hill. It was ‘Camps of Ladakh’ site, where Shahrukh Khan had stayed during the shooting of Jab tak hain Jaan. I remember this, because I was repeatedly informed of this very proudly by every person of the hotel.

But with or without this legacy, the tents were likeable, and the manager offered us a nice deal. This was the first time that we were staying in a tent. Usually we assume that a tent is the lowest possible accommodation short of sleeping under the sky, but here the definition was different. These tents were quite luxurious, with sit out areas, double beds and attached toilets and bathrooms. They were supposedly weather proof too, and bolted down securely.

We took the luggage in our tent, and dressed up to explore the surrounding area as we had daylight. When we came out of the tent, we saw our neighbours were senior citizens and struck a conversation out of interest. It turned out that both our neighbours were highly accomplished businessmen from Mumbai. It was nice to see that Leh trip was being done by people in all the age groups, and not just limited to hot blooded youths. They were equally perplexed by the fact that we – a couple - were travelling on a motorcycle.



We came down the hill for taking a stroll, but soon the winds increased a lot, so we dropped the idea of walking around, and headed back in the tent. There is no TV or any other entertainment that could pass time. But when you have got the huge lake sprawled in front of you, with a chatty partner on the next chair and a hot cup of coffee, no such outside equipment was needed to pass the time either.



The service at the hotel deserves a mention too. They provided hot water and tea whenever we demanded. The room was sufficiently equipped with warm blankets, and more blankets could be made available on request. Having such facility and service available this far from major towns was a wonderful experience.

The dinner time was 8.00pm, but it was preponed to 7.30. The food was great, and it tasted even better on the backdrop of such an adventurous day. We were informed that the time out for lights was at 10.00pm. I could not see any electrical poles coming to this place, so it was clear that all the electricity at the hotel was from a generator, which would be shut off at 10. We returned to our tent shivering heavily, and snuck under the thick layers of blankets. At that time, I remembered that the sky at Pangong tso is famous for its views. Since we were far away from a full moon, there was a good chance of watching the star lit sky.

I came out of the tent, shielded my eyes from the surrounding light from the site, and gasped. Millions of stars and planets were winking above me. Watching a moon less night sky from a non-polluted space is always a breath taking experience, even to a non-astrological person like me. But at places like Pangong tso located on 14000 feet above sea level, it is an even better experience as the air is thinner. Coupled with the chilling wind, looking at the million candles lit up above, and wondering whether there would be similar someone on one of these planets looking up towards me, was a heavenly experience.

I couldn’t let Nandinee miss this plethora of wonder, so I dragged her out with the blankets draped around her to come outside the tent. She came out very grumpily, but was similarly mesmerized by the heavenly beauty above us.

The waves of water shimmered in a distance, very slightly visible. Here we were, shivering under an open sky, gazing upwards in wonder, with the great lake witnessing two crazy bikers living their dream.

We returned to tent, and tried to find sleep among the cold atmosphere and in heavy winds that threatened to uproot the tents if they could. The blowing winds fluttered the windows and sit-outs of the tents. In the utter darkness that encompassed us, with no man made light available to illuminate it, we lied on bed, hearing each other trying to breathe. There is lesser oxygen in the air here than we city folks are accustomed to. I drifted away to sleep sometime near midnight, and dreamt of bumpy roads and windy weather.

Re: Vesta tours and travels: Dreams of Leh


Next morning, we woke up to find ourselves surrounded by Santa Clauses! It seemed that it had snowed last night on the high passes, and all the surrounding mountains were sporting snow caps on their heads. It was a cute sight, but at the same time it was worrying that we were going to cross those snowy passes today.






We met our neighbours at the breakfast. It seemed that they too were kept awake by the blowing wind at night, and were worried how we would travel back in such weather. One of them even wondered what would happen if the tent would fly off because of the wind! I certainly didn’t have such worries accompanying me through the night, but it was heartening to see the care from strangers about our safe travel. They offered to carry our luggage in their Innova till Leh, and we happily accepted their offer. With our luggage gone ahead, the motorcycle would be more manageable and us more flexible in event of a fall. After breakfast, we put our luggage in their vehicle, and moved ahead towards the lake.






The road towards the lake is a steep road that goes on in a straight acute angle from the main road towards the lake, filled with rocks of various size. It was pretty bad in condition, and I would suspect that tourist buses coming down from this road would have a number of grumbled tourists hanging on to dear lives, but it was easy compared to the horrors of Chang La. I passed a number of wet spots that went across the road. These would be the water crossings which flowed after the noon when ice would melt on mountains, but since this was morning, all they had to show were wet spots of sand which posed no problem at all.



The lake is a majestic sight to behold. Irrespective of the hardships you have felt to reach it, once you reach it and stand beside the vast waters that have made their home at such heights, you feel humble. The water was stirring contently, reaching towards mountains at the other end, and out of sight towards the right. The story of occupation of this lake is a sad one, as heard from a Jawan himself. Till 1960s, there was an unwritten code of trust between India and China, and there were hardly any Indian soldiers posted on this side of India, and the vast lake was ours entirely. When China encroached in 1965, resulting in the first battle of a young India, giving it scars to last for life; it was an easy walk in the park for them to occupy these lands. This long lake of 135 kms, once all ours, is now a partially China occupied territory, with only around 50 kms in our side. However small be the lake that belongs to us, it has not lost its grandiose. It sits serenely stirring, and one wonders how many secrets it has known in its long history.



The lake is famous in photographers for its ever changing colours. Since it is so high in the mountains, the sky colours are already enhanced, and the lake reflecting the dark blue sky uplifts the scene to another level. But unfortunately, the sky was turning gray, and the colours of the lake were scattered here and there, whenever there would be any opening for the sun to peek in. That didn’t stop us photographing and even in such unfavorable conditions, we managed to get good photographs. Wondering how it would be to come here in a day of clear blue skies, I turned my motorcycle towards the road, Nandinee snapping away to glory.



Similar to the path that headed us down to the lake, the path up to the main road was equally sloped. In fact I managed to get stuck at a particularly sharp angle, where the motorcycle was not making enough torque to push me forwards. After some fancy trickery with the clutch and some luck, I managed to climb up to the main road. Breathing a sigh of relief for making that climb, we bid adieu to Spangmik and gunned the motorcycle towards Leh.



The Santaclauses around us - the snow-capped mountains - were slowly chilling the atmosphere. Vesta was making good pace, and I tried not to think too much about the conditions at Chang La that awaited me a few kilometers ahead. We were returning from the same road as yesterday, so we knew what to expect from next obstacle. When we came at the spot of sands and the water crossing, we spotted a scorpio with a group, which happily gave life to Nandinee while I prayed and managed to cross the patch without falling.



As we were approaching Chang la, and making the turns upwards towards it, I could see a little white snow sprinkled here and there. The atmosphere got chilly very fast, and soon we were struggling to climb upwards. The speed was slow, and the bumpy roads with rocks and potholes placed at the most strategic location didn’t help towards the speed either. Luckily the luggage was travelling safe in Innova, and I had less weight on the bike to manage. When I was around the spot where I had picked up Nandinee yesterday, I saw an Innova coming from behind. I hailed it to stop, and went to ask for lift, but I saw that it was already quite full, with an Indian family and a foreigner family. I was in two minds, whether to ask for lift or not. At one hand, there was safety of my pillion, and on other hand, courtesy towards others. However they had seen us from a distance for quite some time, and they readily offered to give lift to Nandinee. I would have declined in other conditions, however in this weather and in such low tourist season when vehicles were few and far in between, I had no choice but to agree.

The Innova went ahead, and I mounted Vesta, muttering to her, ‘Well, it’s you and me alone, dear. Take me home safe.’

The Innova disappeared soon out of sight, and I was making pace alone, tackling turns after turns, telling my back to ignore the last bump, and to brace for next one. The weather was cold, and the wind chill factor was freezing me to the bones. The snow was soon all encompassing; it was hard to believe that I was actually riding in snow! I was prepared for heat, for rains, for cold winds, but not for snow. All my layers of clothing felt as if made by paper, and the wind was polishing my body as if a stone artist would polish a stone.

I started noticing peculiar things about myself. Whenever I would approach any hard turn, my breath would get hot. Instantly it would fog up the visor of the helmet, making it impossible to look ahead. On hard turns, I had no choice but to slow down and lift up the visor, welcoming the sharp cold winds to work on my face with their claws. It was a game of cat and mouse, and the rocky terrain and the weather were teamed up against me. After a number of such tiring turns where my face would turn stone cold due to hitting cold wind, on a straight patch, I felt as if my body is slowly shutting down. I was still controlling my arms and legs, twisting accelerator and changing gears, but they felt so cold as if they belonged to someone else. There was no stopping for this chill, which was slowly encompassing me. Inch by inch, I could feel the cold spreading away in my body, from my fingers through the perforated leather gloves, to my arms, to my shoulders, to my chest. I was riding ahead, feeling the cold spreading in my body, wondering whether to make a stop. But there was no one behind, and there was no one in front. A woefully unprepared stupid biker was making his way on the mighty Chang La, with no backup.

There I met myself. When I felt the chill deep inside my body, spread everywhere but a little part near my heart. As if something inside was still glowing bright, making light and spreading warmth. Even in that condition of shivering hands and utterly slow upclimb, I was surprised to come across this little bit of fire. I could feel as if I am all freezed up except for this little part that refused to give in, and fighting against the insurmountable calamity. It was a striking moment, the moment I realized that there exists something inside a man, that refuses to surrender.

I slowly felt the warmth of that little place spreading back up in my body. I could see increasing amount of snow, and yet couldn’t feel it. My fingers were still burning up, my lips were still being cut from the extremely chilly winds, but I was no longer bothered by them. The cold and the snow and the winds were part of me now, not against me. With renewed vigor, I pushed ahead towards the final upturns of Chang La.

Even though it was the same road as yesterday, a night of snowing had increased the difficulty levels a few notches high. The road which was already difficult due to upclimb and rocks was now helped further with slush and snow. Vesta’s speed was very low, and I knew that waiting on top of the pass, Nandinee would be having her heart in her mouth till she sees me at least in distance. But the pass is such that you can hardly see the next road save for a few hundred meters, and I had to rush ahead to reach on top as soon as possible.

I approached the water crossing of 100 meters. It was risky yesterday, and today I expected to be even more so, with the melting snow and the cold helping to chill the water nicely. Braving the temperatures and bracing myself, I entered Vesta into the path and we dipped ourselves in the knee-high water. The water was fresh from freezer, which entered my shoes in an instant and made sure my toes were icy cold. But that was the least of my worries.

One splash of the cold water and Vesta’s engine simply died. I put both my feet down in the icy cold waters, balancing myself on the motorcycle with shut off engine, overwhelmed by the turn of events. How the hell am I going to push this 150kg beast out of the icy cold water, which spread at least 90 meters ahead of me?! I looked back and ahead in blind hope to see someone, though I could not imagine anyone in their right mind would get down in the cold water helping me push the bike. But there was no soul to be seen.

I thumbed the starter of the bike, it whirred to glory, but Vesta refused to start. And I understood that after being splashed by such cold water, the engine would not start so easily. Muttering encouraging words under my breath, partly for Vesta and partly for me, I started kicking the motorcycle, if not to start the motorcycle, then to at least to move my foot and to keep it out of water. In a few kicks, Vesta roared and I heaved a sigh. No longer caring of getting wet, all I focused on was to move ahead slowly as to not tumble in the water, and not to splash the water too much to kill the engine. When I almost reached to the end, with only a 10s of meters to go, an expected ditch hidden in the water crossing dipped the front end of Vesta dangerously in, killing its engine again. But this time I was ready. Again a few kicks and good throttle, Vesta gilded across and we were out of the water, on the snowy lands.

I parked her on the side, and hurriedly removed my shoes and socks. This was the second time in 2 days that I had to repeat this maneuver. Remove the shoes dripping with cold water hurriedly with your cold shivering hands, pry away the wet socks chilling your feet and toes, and dance around to provide some heat in the frozen veins of the leg. While performing this routine, I saw a tourist vehicle coming from behind. I hailed it down, and asked them to deliver a message to a lady-biker who would be on either at the end or at the top of the pass donning full motorcycles gear and keeping a weather eye on road, that her companion would arrive soon, and he was safe. Looking bewildered, the tourists nodded and moved ahead.

There were only a few steep upclimbs remaining now, and each of them tested my patience and skill. At one particularly nasty turn with sharp angle – both upwards and sidewards - I saw at the speedometer of Vesta, and saw 6kmph! I was moving at the speed of an average human, who walks 1 kilometer in 10 minutes. The only difference is, a few notches reduction in this speed would mean the bike would stall and having no stable ground to keep my feet on, I would invariably fall and be dragged below due to the steep slope.

Sinking my teeth in the already battered cold-swollen lips, I braced myself, fought turns against turns, and finally could see the top of the pass, and my pillion standing on side, looking extremely tensed and yet very relieved.



I greeted her, parked Vesta safe on the top, and sat down on my knees. I could hear rattling from the motorcycle’s underbody after the water crossing, but I had no inclination to stop on the way up where there was no help available, and gathering momentum would be very difficult. Now that I was safe on the Chang La top, I had to see whether it was any serious issue. Luckily it was just a loose chain cover that was banging around due to some missed screws, which I was sure were resting in the cold water in the water crossing below. Usually I would remove the cover to save it from falling off, but we were yet to cross the half Chang La pass ahead, and I didn’t want to drench the chain in the slush, so kept it hanging by a thread, as it was.



We headed to the military canteen and grabbed a cup of hot tea, which felt extremely soothing - even to hold the hot cup in hands. We chatted and updated each other on the events on the journey. Nandinee was astonished to hear that I was almost stranded in the middle of the cold water. I was amused to hear that she left the vehicle and waited in the cold winds, praying and preparing to come down if I was not there in next 15 minutes.



We came out of the canteen, and started looking around for some vehicle that would give lift to Nandinee till the end of the pass, which was about 13-15 kilometers from here. We saw a bullet coming from Pangong Tso side. It was the same couple that we helped yesterday, and met a few times today as well. The pillion lady on the bike joined Nandinee and both got lift in a vehicle, and the man approached me towards the canteen.




When people face the same calamities, they tend to stick together, and so we introduced ourselves to each other. It turned out that the biker as Army man Varun, who was touring with his wife. I joined him for a quick snack, and learned that he was posted in Srinagar, and had come to Leh in hopes of catching the festival. The decision of Jammu Government to push the festival ahead had affected yet another tourist.

We moved on to the bouncy ride below. The snow, it seemed, was limited to mostly the other part of the pass. We could still feel the cold, but the snow density around us was remarkably less. While getting down, we passed a few lady bikers who were moving towards Pangong Tso. A few pillions were walking, as perhaps the rider had felt the turns to be too steep to tackle two up. I doubted whether they knew what awaited them a few kilometers ahead. However I didn’t want to discourage them, so I waved and signed thumbs up towards them. This seemed the universal code in Leh. I have ridden quite a lot, but only in the Himalayas I have seen bikers actually waving and giving thumbs up and generally caring towards other bikers. I think common sufferers make good friends!

Soon the pass ended and good roads started. I was wondering where would our respective wives be, and passed a military post on our right. I heard a sharp whistle from behind, and looked in the rear view mirror to see the pillions waving frantically towards us. We took a U turn and joined them, dodging generally uncomfortable questions like ‘Didn’t you see us?! Didn’t you hear us?’

I didn’t know the position of my new friend, but looking at the soldiers at the post saluting him, I sensed that he would be at some good position in the army. He was very friendly, however, and so was his wife. After a round of introductions we chatted while sipping hot tea. We had plans of visiting other interesting places while coming back to Leh, and the couple decided to join us for the same. It would be a new experience for me, to ride with someone new to me, but we welcomed it nonetheless, and enjoyed the day thoroughly.

Yesterday we had rushed forward towards the Chang La in order to make sure that we reach our destination for the day as soon as possible, as the evenings would empower the water crossings and would make our travel difficult with every passing hour. However today there was no such worry. We had already crossed the toughest part for today, and now we were riding on well laid roads full of cheeky road-signs to keep company, such as ‘I love you darling, but not so fast!’

The ride on the way back was on full throttle, partly because of the great roads, and partly because of the feeling of breaking free of the tension of riding up Chang La and crossing all the hurdles safely. We would have reached much earlier, but every now and then some beautiful sight across the roads would hails us down and wouldn’t let us leave before taking a photo. At times like these, the pillion photographer really comes handy, as it becomes a team work. Rider points to the sight he wants to click, pillion clicks, reviews the pictures, and if need be, asks rider to stop the bike. Otherwise we continue without breaking pace.




We saw this beautiful monastery at our left hand side, where the snake like river was providing a beautiful base for the hill on which the monastery was perched proudly on top, and the Sun was shining right on top, making the scene appear as if it would be out of some 3d visualization. The lands of Ladakh continued to offer such majestic sights thrown around carelessly, only for the eyes of a curious traveller.




When we reached Karu, we had to take the Manali road for a while in order to get to the officer’s mess. Tomorrow I would ride on the same roads for making the exit journey from this beautiful journey. We had the lunch at the Officer’s mess at Karu, after a thoroughly confusing criss cross ride in the army settlement, misguided enthusiastically by many persons. By the time we actually reached the mess, the crows in my stomach were preparing to take off.

An army marches on its stomach, and so does a traveler. With full tummies, we moved on to our first sight on way to Leh – Thiksey Gompa. This Gompa has featured in the documentary ‘Samsara’, and I was curious to visit it in person. The weather God too, finally decided to smile upon us, and we were blessed with clear blue skies and bright sunlight. The worries of snow were left past in Chang La, and we felt as if Leh was welcoming us back with open arms and a huge smile.




The roads after Karu passed through numerous villages, and with a little heavier traffic than our route so far. This was expected, as this was the Leh – Manali highway we were riding on. A two lane road connects the villages in twisting motion, and the whole route towards Leh becomes a relaxing ride that lifts one’s spirit up high in the sky.



Thiksey Gompa is one of the better kept Gompas in this region, and one of the largest as well. We saw the Gompa on top of a hill at right hand side of the road. A mildly steep upclimp took us to the gates of the Gompa.



There were hardly any tourists here. We asked around, and came to know that the Gompa was closed that day. Oh, what a disappointment! We clicked pictures here and there, but all of us were upset that we were not able to visit the main Gompa. While we got ready to leave for next sight, we saw some TV crew walking right past us onto the stairs that lead to the Gompa. How come they were allowed while we were not?! We marched inside with them as if being a part of that crew, and then started exploring the Gompa. Later we realized that there was some important function going on inside the Gompa, and so some rooms were closed for outsiders that day. Lucky we ventured in, and not believed the first person that said it was closed, otherwise we would have missed this beautiful place.

We roamed inside the Gompa, walking on the stairs to go further up, much to the chagrin of Nandinee who prefers to walk horizontally than climb up vertically. The Gompa was very well maintained, and it was a pleasure to take a stroll and to click.









As with all the Gompas, this too was situated on a hill, with breathtaking views all around.



The interiors are very well maintained. There was some function going on and hence all the atmosphere inside was quite silent, but that suited ups perfectly. After exploring the Thiksey Gompa, we got down to make our way to the next stop – Shey Gompa. But not without clicking one last photo of the Thiksey Gompa.



Continuing on the same road towards Leh, soon we took a left at a board pointing ‘Shey Gompa’. A steep rocky road leads to the gompa. At other times, this road might have seemed daunting, but after the Chang La adventure, this was an easy climb.



The Gompa is sadly in tattered conditions, and contains some of the most staggering climbs. An old watchman who stoutly refused to be photographed cared for the temple that housed a huge idol Buddha. This idol is located in a temple on the top floor of the Gompa, visible only from the chest up. The rest of the body is said to be below the visible part going as low as 40 feet!



The condition of this Gompa is a little better than Leh palace, but it is nowhere as maintained as Thiksey. However, as with all old places with history, this places oozes with charm that encompasses the visitors.

We climbed down the Gompa, and it was time to bid adieu to our riding partners. It had been many years since I rode with friends, and this small encounter with strangers rekindled the happy memories. The army couple moved on to their destination that night, and we prepared to move to ours.

At the opposite side of this Gompa, we saw a sign ‘Holy-Fish-Pond’. I couldn’t get the meaning of this sigh, as there were various permutation-combinations of the meaning: Ordinary pond containing holy fish - Holy pond containing ordinary fish – Holy fish in holy pond and so on. But the little pond was very picturesque.



We gathered speed and started moving fast to Leh, as the sun was packing its things to take leave for the day. While riding, I heard a loud clanking noise as if something metallic has fallen off the bike. I realized the poor chain cover of Vesta had finally given up, throwing away the one screw that feebly held it in place for so long. Soon I was being overtaken by other vehicles who gestured or shouted at me ‘KUCHH GIR GAYA!!’ (something fell off!)

I turned back to pick it up. Luckily no vehicle had run over it, otherwise it would be resting in a trash can at Leh. I remembered seeing the garages yesterday, which were not too far from we were. We got in one such garage on the way back, and got the cover fixed. While the work was ongoing, I overheard two bikers speaking in Marathi. I struck a conversation, curious about their story. They had rented bikes in Manali and were coming from there. Their experience of Rohtang La – the first pass on the Manali – Leh highway – was very bad, with slush and rain thoroughly painting them. Also, I learned from them that the general condition of motorcycles rented from Manali is much more in doubt than ones rented in Leh itself.

They too had stayed at Pangong Tso yesterday like us. When asked about their experience about that stay, one of them was very enthusiastic in his response.

‘There were free drinks! There was some party in that hotel and we were invited to that party, and there were free drinks! The weather turned gray and we couldn’t get much good photos of the lake, and the snow freezed us to the bikes, but did I tell you about the free drinks?!’

Smiling as to how the definition of happiness changes from person to person, we took their leave and headed back to Leh. We filled up petrol from the petrol pump just outside Leh, and went to collect our luggage from the senior tourists that carried it with them. They welcomed us like we were family, and we were chatting up till it was 8 pm. As we had to go back to hotel, pack all the things finally and move out of Leh tomorrow, we had to stop the chat, but not without exchanging the email ids and phone numbers.

We returned to hotel at 8.30, and faced the lady owner who was looking quite worried. ‘Bohot late ho gaya!’ she asked caringly. It sure felt nice to see such care extended by new persons. But I guess this is what Himalaya does to you. It brings people closes, and it melts the distance between minds. Where strangers offer helping hands and businessmen actually care about customers. The magic of Himalayas continue affecting every soul fortunate enough to spend a moment in the shadows of the great mountains.

It was a very long day, and we wearily carried ourselves to bed post dinner, and drifted to sleep. Tomorrow we would leave this hotel and Leh, and would head back home through Tso Moriri route. It was supposed to be an comparitively easy ride now on, or at least so we thought. Another adventure was awaiting us tomorrow, with twisted smile on its face. But that calls for another story, another time.

Re: Vesta tours and travels: Dreams of Leh

superb.. nice tour and great pics..

Re: Vesta tours and travels: Dreams of Leh

One of the most detailed T-log on Ladakh trip I've come across. T-logs like help people, like us, who're planning to go to Ladakh and will be able to prepare themselves for the possible obstacles to be faced and how to face them. Hooked on to the thread. Keep it coming.

BTW superb pics !!!

Re: Vesta tours and travels: Dreams of Leh

I really enjoyed your journey.... Wonderful to have partner to share the crazy moments of life together. Hats off to both of you.

Re: Vesta tours and travels: Dreams of Leh

A good news regarding the travelogue. I had submitted this to Wrangler True Wanderer contest, and it is selected to be one amongst top 10! I will be going on another tour from 24th to 30th April 2014, and would be posting a separate thread documenting the same. If you like reading that, please vote!