Route: Delhi (by bus) –Manali (By SUV)-Rohtang pass-
Keylong-Jispa-Darcha-Baralacha-la-Sarchu (H.P.)-Moray plains (JnK)-Tanglang-la-Leh
(hired ‘local’ SUV)-Hemis-Lamayuru-Alchi-Nubra-Pangong.
I was working with a publishing house in the national
capital, digitally mapping cities, countries and regions around the world ranging
from Argentina, Baja California, China to Scottish Highlands and Islands,
Trinidad and Tobago, Vancouver, Zanzibar etc. On a hot late-June, summer day in
Delhi I with three of my female colleagues decided to lace on our travelling
shoes. After short-listing a few hill-stations of western Himalayas, we zeroed
in on Leh-Ladakh for a week’s trip. A 49 plus ever youthful, energetic and enthusiastic
Madhavi Singh (aka Mavi), a beautiful-humorous Sardarni- Jasbir Sandhu (aka
Jaso) and the stylish and elegant Ragini Govind (aka Ragi) and I (aka Karo) geared
up to tread on the land of high mountain passes-Ladakh (La-Dags). We met Roshni
Pradhan at CCD in Khan Market who helped
us in preparing the itinerary, the list of things to carry and for the travel permit
required for entry into Ladakh and for such other paraphernalia. Roshni advised
us to take the road journey as people who fly directly to Leh may at times
suffer from mild altitude sickness.
The mantra was to travel light so we divided the load
amongst us- I carried the torch, candle/ match box, ear-buds, pen knife (the
items I always carry when I am on the move), Jaso carried sunscreen lotion
(much-needed in Ladakh due to high altitude) and other toiletries, Mavi- the
first-aid kit including oxygen cans and her easily detachable clothes-line came
in very handy while Ragi carried the high energy snacks and the dry fruits.
Each of us ensured that we also carried thermals and sunglasses besides our personal
wear and shoes, gamusa, tooth-brush,
bathroom slipper etc.
We boarded the HPTDC super deluxe bus from CP in Delhi to
Manali on 8th July in the evening. The Manali-Leh Highway, the highest
motorable road in the world, remains open to northern India for a brief period
of the year when the glacial ice thaws, mainly from July onwards to September.
All along the highway road safety signs like “Be gentle on my curves” to “Overspeed
is a knife that cute (sic) a life”, (so wonderfully captured in the book on
hilarious road signs Peep, Peep, Don’t
Sleep by Ajay Jain) keeps a traveler hooked.
With the climb up the mountain, jolly Jaso puked all the way
to Manali as soon as the movie ‘Hera-Pheri’ shown in the bus ended. The bus stopped many a times for Jaso. Luckily
Ragi carried sickness bags. I sat on an inverted steel bucket between the
driver and Jaso (now seated on the conductor’s seat) as she went on throwing. We
reached Manali in the morning the next day which was our first halt in the long
leg of journey. Jaso also regained her health quickly. We saw the town and the
Hidimba Temple in the evening and gulped down hot momos and thupas in the
market. I purchased a green sleeping bag in the market at Manali as I couldn’t
find one in the Delhi markets. Mavi purchased the big multi-coloured umbrella
(which came in handy later while peeing on the road which is devoid of trees,
shrubs and bushes).
We briefly halted at Rohtang-pass (Rohtang meaning piles of dead bodies) where we clicked pictures
with the yaks Jonny any Monny. Foreigners cycling on mountain-bikes are a
common sight in this part of the highway. The road ahead was blocked by a JCB earth
mover to clear off debris so out I went with Jaso for some photo session in a
bed of wildflowers which is my FB profile picture.
The fog slowly lifted to reveal the white-frothy streams and
water-falls cascading from the high green carpet of mountains. Slowly the
greenery gave way to exposed rocky outcrops. With further ascent, the
sedimentary rock formation in the fold mountain viz. symmetrical, asymmetrical,
isoclinal, overturned, recumbent fold etc. that I studied as a student of
Geography in Cotton College, Guwahati, came alive instantly as my eyes scanned the
Greater Himalayas. To me the mountains are not just a physical feature on the
earth’s surface but the lofty highlands with its pristine snow-clad peaks makes
me believe that there is a power mightier than us.
We lunched at Koksar in one of the dry stone hut dhabas.
Tandi village is at the confluence of Chandra and Bhaga rivers forming the
river Chandrabhaga which flows as the River Chenab downstream from here. As the
vehicle zoomed past, I gazed at the confluence of the two rivers while my mind
unzipped memories of Miss Ruma Baruah’s Geography class in high school- “The
place where two rivers meet is known as confluence (prayag).” I feel blessed
to be her student for it was Miss Ruma who brought the mountains, the rivers
and its valleys come alive in the classroom of St Mary’s School, Guwahati. I
owe much to her for developing an interest in Geography. We refueled our
vehicle at a stone-hut petrol pump as the next refilling station was at a
distance of 365 kms. away from here along this highway.
Our next halt was at Keylong, the district headquarters of
Lahaul. There we explored the quiet-little town and had the pure pleasure of
chomping fresh green peas directly from the fields. In the morning when the
veil of mist cleared we captured the view of the distant Buddhist gompa in the mountain lap. As we
continued with our onward journey we crossed Jispa, an idyllic,
picture-postcard mountainous setting by a stream against the backdrop of seasonal
wildflowers. Jispa’s surreal charm almost took my breath away. We stopped at
Darcha for a quick bite of breakfast on the bank of a river. At Baralacha-la, vast
stretches of stones are piled one on top of the other (like the game of seven
stones) by weary travelers across both sides of the highway to pray for the
onward journey.
Towards the early evening on the third day we stopped at Sarchu. During the day the place is
mesmerizing with barren mountains beyond a few pitched tents where nature in its
‘nakedness’ (since it is devoid of any greenery) looks all the more appealing
to the senses. There is no human habitation, no hamlet miles from here and even
no electricity. Drinking water is also scant. We explored the barren landscape
and reached a tributary which silently glided by carving steep walls. That
Nature could be truly beautiful in all its forms was visible right in front of
our eyes. Like a child I ran, ran to explore so that I don’t miss out on
anything (like Heidi in the Swiss Alps). Like the air which is rarefied here, I
also felt much lighter. But travellers beware- you must NOT over exert yourself
in Sarchu as oxygen is quite less here. Due to this reason some people do
develop breathing problem. Sarchu was Sar
mein dard for me as this was the first time I felt dizzy and developed severe
head ache and puked right after the early dinner of rajma-chawal. I felt so weak and sick that Mavi had to administer
oxygen to me from the oxygen can. I immediately drifted off to sleep.
Next day I was back on my feet after inhaling the fresh morning
air of the mountain. We offered our prayers to the small Shiva shrine erected next
to the campsite and headed further north. We stopped at a tented dhaba at Pang
for lunch. During the day time we crossed the Moray plain. The Moray plain is a vast stretch of high-altitude,
barren, sandy plain with no permanent human settlement and the area is not
blessed with precipitation. There is not even a single sign of human life to be
seen for miles and miles around in this desert plain except a few solitary
herdsmen with their flocks. One may easily get disoriented and lost in the
sandy desert. There is no surface road in this stretch of land and only expert
drivers know their way out. It is here that I badly wanted to pee but felt somewhat
scared to even get off the vehicle alone even in broad daylight owing to the
eeriness of the place. Not to be seen by any passing vehicles while I relieved
myself, Mavi’s huge multi-coloured umbrella purchased in Manali came in real
handy. Since the entire region is arid, we offered one or two of the herdsmen
drinking water in this utterly barren, desolate place and my advice to you is-
Please (with a capital ‘p’) offer them a few bottles of drinking water too if
you pass across this land. You never know when their blessings rain on you.
At Tanglang-la
(17582 feet), the highest point of this highway, I got down with the driver and
once again I offered my prayers in the small shrine followed by a single click capturing
me with the altitude sign by Ka, the driver. It was biting and freezing cold
here and only my cheeks were visible as I discovered later.
I always prefer to sit in the left-hand side while
travelling so that I could watch nature at her best. Not knowing when I dozed
off but when I opened my eyes I saw one of the most spectacular view- nature as
the best sculptor. Later when the River Indus came to sight we knew that our
destination was not far away. Nestled between the Great Himalayan Ranges and
the Karakoram Range, Ladakh is a land of contrast. That was my very first
observation as a geographer-cum-Cartographer. With snow on one side and sands
on the other, rains at one time and scorching heat the next, high-altitude arid
condition at one place to very short-salubrious weather at another, barren
lands here and patches of ‘irrigated’ greenery there, the weather is highly erratic
in Ladakh. Winter temperature may plummet to blood freezing minus 40˚C.
The River Indus criss-crossing, the Chortens/ stupas, rock
carvings and the colourful gate welcome you to Leh town. We had two rooms
booked at Millennium Guest House in Leh, the capital of
Ladakh. Leh was our base from where we covered the places of interest across
Ladakh. The rooms were spacious and clean with hot water available, the neatly
arranged flower-pots across the open passage outside leads you to a lively front
garden with manicured lawn where tables and chairs are laid-out under huge
umbrellas where guests can strum the guitar and croon to their favourite number
under the star-lit sky. Staffs at the guest house are friendly and makes you
feel at home.
Early the next morning while Jaso and Ragi preferred to
catch up on lost sleep, Mavi and I walked the length and breadth of the part of
the town near the guest house. We saw the standing crops in the agricultural
fields and heard the chirping of the birds and the gurgling of a stream nearby.
Such early morning walks in the mountain pumps in fresh air into your system.
It was pure pleasure for the senses which is best captured permanently by the
lens of my mind.
The first place of interest we visited was the Hemis Buddhist Monastery. We had
synced the time when the Hemis festival just started. Perched atop a glen in
the mountain and surrounded by mustard fields below, Hemis Festival is the most
famous of all the monastery festivals over Ladakh. The masked dance is the major
attraction of this festival which attracts both hordes of foreign and domestic tourists.
The incantation of divine Buddhist slokas
chimes out from the monastery and lingers away across the wide valley.
Nemu village on the way to Lamayuru and Alchi is another serene
scenic setting. We next headed to Lamayuru
Monastery which stands atop a high spur and had the unique experience of walking
on the ‘moonscape’- an eroded landscape. The Lamayuru Monastery has the best
collection of colourful thangkas. Located
at a bend on the river Indus, the tranquility of the monastery complex at Alchi reverberates across the surrounding
barren mountains. Its ancient painted murals and fine wood sculpture is sure enough
to make you fall in love with history.
We were so enchanted by Ladakh that we extended our stay by
a few more days. Our guide Sapan Pradhan, Roshni’s younger brother included Nubra
Valley and Pangong Lake. From Leh we headed further north to Nubra Valley. It is hard to believe
that this geographical space was once a part of the Tethys Sea in the
geological past as evidenced by the fossil remains found buried in the sand-dunes.
Hundur is the farthest point where one is permitted to go along the Nubra
Valley, the Line of Control not very far away from here. We checked-in at the
Snow Leopard Guest House at Hundur. The Guest House offers enchanting view
beautified by its extensive front garden of flowers and a vegetable garden. In
the morning when I Aliced myself in this wonderful land, I saw nearly straight-cut
narrow ducts channeling melt-ice water from the nearby brook, passing through
the garden of the guest house.
Hundur is renowned for the double-humped Bactrian camels. Not
to miss the ride, Jaso took a short ride in one of them. The confluence of the
Nubra and Shyok, a tributary of Indus, is a place worth-seeing. Towards sun-set
we contoured the figure of a ‘sleeping princess’ in the distant Karakoram
Range. The sky was crystal clear on a moon-lit night. That late evening we spent
sky-gazing in the sand-dunes of Nubra Valley. Later while Mavi, Jaso, Ragi and
Sapan chatted amongst themselves, I spent a few minutes in silence, alone. The
next day we took a tour to the local Yak farm and fishery. We also made a darshan of the monastery at Diskit
where the colossal Buddha statue towers across the silent valley. While on the
way further north we saw soldiers, dressed all in white, moving in army trucks
heading towards Siachen Glacier. The lilac lavender flowers grown in the wild on
the way to Panamik and the medicinal hot springs are not to be missed in one of
India’s northernmost zone accessible to travelers. On our return we stopped at Khardung-la (5578m): claimed to be the world’s
highest motorable mountain pass. Later all four of us climbed atop a rocky
hillock to tie the colourful Buddhist prayer flag. It is in Kharlung-la that I
was able to get rid of my phobia of heights.
Our final stop was at
Pangong Tso (Lake), a place much glamourised
later by the Amir Khan starred Bollywood movie 3-Idiots. Only 1/4th of
Pangong Lake lies in India while the remaining lies in China. It felt like
Heaven to bask on the shore of the zero-pollution, blue-green turquoise coloured
lake. We were lucky enough to see the rainbow at Pangong Lake. While my 3
companions preferred to laze around the camp I went for a slow leisure walk on
the shore of Lake Pangong. From a distance I saw a western tourist, sans any
clothing, ready to take a dip and so I decided to make a u-turn. Very soon I
reached my trio-companion. Suddenly 3 children appeared in front of us cycling.
They were God-sent for me as I am very passionate of cycling. I greeted them ‘Julay’
in the typical Ladhaki style and requested if they would be kind enough to
allow us to cycle for a few minutes. They happily agreed. It was by far the
best cycle ride in my life till date. We gave the young ones chocolates which
they too gaily accepted and rode off. At night the 4 of us churned out stories
from our lives as the moon’s reflection on the still waters of Pangong had an
embalming effect on each one of us. I wrapped myself in a layer of warm clothes
before I buried myself inside the sleeping bag. The next morning I took a dip
in the still, cool and clear waters of Pangong Lake before kissing the paradise
good-bye.
Our tour guide Sapan took us to a Ladakhi village home where
we interacted with the elders and the young members of a joint family. We were
offered rich and creamy yak butter-milk which tasted almost like soup to me.
Jaso and Ragi who didn’t quite relish the taste stealthily passed the bowls to
Mavi and me. The fireplace in the spacious kitchen, adorned with its shinning
utensils, low table and carpets, kept us all warm and comfy. We were also
offered home-made surpi.
All my travelling companions were vegetarians so throughout
the journey I also took veg food though my tongue did get to taste boiled eggs.
We munched on dry fruits and took tea breaks throughout the cold, serpentine
route. One evening during our stay at Nubra, Mavi even prepared hot soup with
fresh vegetables and like gluttons we emptied the bowls in no seconds. Maggi in
the mountain is a gastronomic delight for tired and hungry travellers. We slurped
and gulped down piping hot bowls of soupy maggi (it was not banned then) at
almost every stop. Maggi with freshly chopped vegetables cooked in the pure mountain
water and garnished with finely chopped onion, green chilli and a dust of pepper
powder adds to its aroma and taste. I wonder what travelling in the mountains would
be now without it after the ban. Sigh!
Can any women’s trip be complete without shopping? Though we
didn’t shopped till we dropped, as our travel cost shot up by a few grands
owing to extending the duration of our stay and the return journey from Leh to
New Delhi by air, nevertheless all four of us visited the Tibetan market and
got mementos for our dear ones and colleagues. I purchased a brown shawl for
Ma, a unique brass bottle-opener (a gift for my husband) and a bottle-green coloured
Tibetan cross-button shirt for myself. Leh Market is a maze of shoppers selling
fruits and vegetables, pendants, trinkets, amulets on the pavements to those
housing expensive shops dealing in Thang-ka,
Pachmina and Kashmiri shawls, carpets, samovar and Kashmiri handicrafts and artifacts,
apricots and other dry fruits, traditional Buddhist Ladhaki tops, precious and
semi-precious gems and ornaments, internet cafés, Tibetan restaurants. All 4
of us got the cotton tee of different colours and sizes with
“YAK-YAK-Yak-YAK-YAK” embroidered on it which we decided to wear on the day of
re-joining office after the trip. After purchases have been made we sizzled at Leh
Café. Towards evening Sapan strummed the guitar while the 4 of us made an
evening to remember for the rest of our lives at Millennium GH as we sang English,
Hindi, Punjabi and Assamese songs. A few foreign guests in Millennium GH, not
to be left behind, joined us too pouring a musical ambience in the evening.
Last but not the least, the presence of the Indian Army, the
Border Security Force (BSF) and the Indo-Tibetan Border Police (ITBP) which mans and protects our
border deserves salute. The white snow is turned deep red when blood of our
brave soldiers spill in cross-border shelling and aerial bombardment, their
round-the-clock-surveillance along the border areas to keep terrorists at bay
from infiltrating into our country so that the millions of Indians across the
latitude and longitude where India extends could work, travel and sleep in
peace. Braving the harsh terrain, the adverse climate, the inhospitable and
remote location, living away from their families, our soldiers continue to lay
down their lives for their soil. Drivers ferrying tourists and travelers to
Ladakh happily load newspapers into their vehicle and deliver it to the Army camps.
As Ka-our driver, did in one of the camps, I saw young and robust jawans playing
volleyball in the Army camp. Furthermore, the Border Roads Organisation (BRO)
which maintains the treacherous mountain highway also deserves accolade. The glacial
streams wash away the asphalt road and eat away the road surface leaving
potholes of varying depths. At times rock debris blocks the highway bringing
the flow of vehicles to a grinding halt. The highway is in most places capped by
overhanging rocky mass with steep descent over the cliff plummeting to
thousands of feet below. The width of
the highway often narrows down at certain points where you only close your eyes
to pray as the vehicle from the opposite direction inches forward. Unskilled
labourers, both men and women, working on the highway could be seen toiling hard.
JCBs in this part of the highway are a sure sight.
The muezzin calling out the faithful to the evening prayer
from the Jama Masjid in the bazaar at Leh to the white-washed Buddhist chortens/
stupas and gompas, Ladhaki men and women dressed in their traditional wear hand-wheeling
prayer wheels, the bright and colourful Buddhist prayer flags, the sharp multi hair-pin
bends in the mountain, greeting complete strangers ‘Julay’, the solitary
goatherd/ shepherd with their flocks, hot Ladhaki butter-milk, the munching of surpi, the Magnetic Hill on the Leh-Srinagar Highway, the stops at the tent
camp roadside eateries for a cup of garam
black-chai, Maggie in the highway, the
barren mountains with isolated patches of melting snow, the u-shaped valleys
and its hanging glacier . . . all remains etched in my mind’s slate till date. The
small airport at Leh was teeming with troops of the Indian Army and tourists.
As we boarded in and the aircraft left the airport tarmac, the bird’s eye-view of
Ladakh appeared to be as equally spectacular as the journey covered by road. Like
a circumambulation, we crossed the Zanskar Range and the mighty Himalayas.
As we descended by flight, I realized why our not-so
friendly neighbours vie for Akshai Chin and why J’nK is the bone of contention
between India and Pak. Ladakh is a golden key that clicks open many locks in
the treasury of nature. It is Nature’s cradled treasure-trove and a tourist’s gold-mine
of delight, hence JnK is popularly called ‘Paradise on Earth’.
The trip to Ladakh was more than a journey for me. It was a
learning experience for me to discover a land which knitted different
civilizations in the silken past. Just like the caravan routes through Ladakh
which once connected present-day Turkey to Tibet, this journey knitted a strong
bond of sisterhood, of love and bonhomie amongst the 4 of us, to abdicate my
unknown hidden fears and to re-discover myself in a sacred parikrama in the journey of my life. The Buddhist sloka “Om Mani Padme Hum” (Hail to the
Jewel in the Lotus) which I heard more than seven years ago in Keylong has
woven self-confidence and self-belief on the humming loom of time, to move
ahead in life despite challenges and adversities. Hence, after I reached Delhi
I decided not to digitize a map of Ladakh but to key it in the computer instead
as it was a soul-stirring journey to Leh-Ladakh. Ju-Leh! Julay!
P.S.- When I opened my air bag after reaching home in Delhi to be greeted
by my husband and Lulu- our dear pet cat, a butterfly emerged from my bag and
flew away.
