Witnessing Heaven on Earth: Motorcycle Ride to Ladakh | Semi-Solo | Duke 390

I wish we could have stayed at Sonmarg overnight. Surrounded by the snow clad mountains on one side and the alpine enveloped ones on the other, you are practically standing in heaven. And the golden rays of sun bouncing off the white snow atop the mountains is a picture worth painting.

After having spent most of our afternoon at Sonmarg, we revved again towards Kargil. A steady ascent led us to our first high altitude pass- Zoji La. The landscape takes a turn in colour as the lush green is slowly replaced by the barren brown. That’s when it dawned on me we were slowly approaching Ladakh. Well, that and also a board saying 'Welcome to Ladakh'.

On the way, it started to rain. Not my first time riding in rain, but droplets of water that only minutes ago were floating over the snow peaks, hit your face at 80kmph, you tend to surrender. To add to that, I couldn't feel my fingers as they were encapsulated by the freezing rainwater. This meant it was time for the customary tea break. My fellow travelers followed my lead and soon all of us were engaged in 'Chai pe Charcha'. As the rain receded, we hopped back on our saddles.

Next morning, the day finally arrived for which all of us had set out on this trip. We started riding towards Leh. En-route are the two high altitude passes: Namika La and Fotu La. Fotu La has unarguably the best roads in Ladakh, where I was belting my Duke without a sweat.

Fotu La lead us to Lamayuru, called the Moonland of Ladakh. Another place where I felt it was worth staying overnight. I could imagine how splendid it would be to see those brown pieces of rock covered in the golden glows of the setting sun, but it was all left to imagination as we took a minor halt at the Lamayuru monastry before rolling forward.

The roads continued to be butter smooth up until Leh. We stopped for a break at Magnetic Hill, unfortunately though we couldn't witness the optical phenomenon for which it is famous for. We reached Leh eventually after the sun had already set, bringing one epic day of ride to an end.

The next day was spent in local sightseeing and getting the permits. It was supposed to be our deserved rest day before starting the second leg of our journey. The extra day also allowed us to get acclimatized to the altitude. Having been to Ladakh and couple other high altitude regions before, it didn't take long for me to adjust but the Germans suffered. One of them specifically more, as he had to endure severe headache and vomiting in the morning (It is always advisable to start taking AMS tablet, usually Diamox, 2 days in advance). Rest of the day however went smooth. The Royal Enfields received service as my Duke could only watch haplessly, with no KTM service centers within a 400km radius. We called it a day at about 11pm, after spending hours shopping and haggling with the shop-owners, looking forward to the next week and hoping no hiccups hit us. Only, we were about to receive a huge jolt.

Second Leg: Leh to Tso Moriri

I am not sure how many people are aware of this, but motorcycles rented from outside of Ladakh aren't allowed beyond Leh, by the local travel union. Their logic: It would take away the opportunity for the local population to earn money if tourists rent vehicles from outside. On a moral scale, fair enough I would say. From a legal perspective, not so much. However, my fellow travelers who had rented their motorcycles in Delhi had devised a plan to beat this. They rented 'White-plate' motorcycles and had a fake sale agreement which said they had 'bought' the motorcycles from the Delhi based rental company. However, the RC for these motorcycles was still in the name of the original owner.

We left Leh around 8am towards Nubra valley, with our accommodation booked in Hunder. That is pretty much the standard route followed by almost everyone who visits Ladakh. En-route is the famous Khardung La, which what most people aren't aware is only the third highest pass on our little planet. On the way, there are two check posts. One of them, the police post where you need to submit a copy of your permit. Before that is the travel union check post, whose job is to keep a tab on non-local rented vehicles. We are supposed to show our driving license and motorcycle RC. I was on my own motorcycle and faced no issues. My fellow travelers however fell into the pit. The travel union authorities were smart and it took them seconds to realize the motorcycles were rented. The Germans played the card of 'Damsels in distress'. The other guy did a good impression of a Delhite when he said 'Janta hai mera baap kaun hai?'. The authorities wouldn't budge and asked them to return to Leh and rent local motorcycles. Meanwhile I was taking a sunbath on my saddle. Hours passed and we finally concluded that I would continue the ascent towards Khardung La while the rest return to Leh. We assumed we would eventually meet in Hunder at the end of the day. Mother nature had some other plans for us though.

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1. Reach Khardung La top without a puncture - Check

2. Take a customary photo in front of the 'Highest motorable road in the world' board - Check

3. Climb up the Khardung La gompa and roll down along the snow - Check

4. Have the national meal of Ladakh: Maggi and Chai - Check

5. Engage in 'Chai pe charcha' with random strangers - Check

Now was the time for the descent. However, looking at the long line of stranded tourist vehicles, it was clear to me there was a landslide. Couple of enquiries later I learnt there were five landslides within a km distance. Being a Sunday afternoon, the army officials were relaxing in their camps and were another two hours away from even reaching the spot. Add another three hours to clear up the snow, provided we were lucky.

I was used to getting stranded in traffic in Bangalore, but Khardung La was a different ball game altogether, with its mammoth 5400m height and a thin layer of atmosphere. I saw a dozen people getting sick due to scarcity of oxygen and getting ventilated at the hospital atop. The hospital eventually couldn't keep up and ran out of supply . The authorities advised people to return to Leh. Being the adamant idiots that we were, I and a couple of bikers decided against it. Five hours which felt like an eternity and countless cups of chai later, the lady luck finally sang. The road was cleared and we were frewarded for our stubbornness. If I have to be honest, another hour and I might have had to be admitted as well. There was a buzz running through my body, my head was pounding against the skull and I felt weak in my knees without being in love. It was clear that the oxygen level in my blood was plummeting. Fortunately in another hour, I had returned to a far less hostile height of 3500m. With another 50km to kill until Hunder and the sun setting its sights on the horizon, I decided to spice up the remaining ride. My inner Rossi awakened as I started belting around the curves. The mountain on one side and the cliff on the other gave me an adrenaline rush like nothing else could. Soon, I saw the first hint of sand dunes that needed no guessing I had made it, after an eventful day. As for my fellow travelers, I thought I may not see them again. I did however, but only for a couple of hours the next day.

Next morning, I set out towards Turtuk which is a three hour ride from Hunder. Turtuk is usually known as the last village before LOC. However, it isn't. A local informed me that LOC lies 10km beyond, near the village of Thang. As I approached the village, there were signboards saying 'The Enemy is watching you'. Definitely not for the faint hearted!

Having seen the LOC, and the enemy bunkers and confirming that they were indeed watching us, I started the ride back to Hunder. For the first time, I realized the gravity of the statement 'Siachen me hamare jawan ladh rahe hai' as I saw both, Siachen and the jawans.

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I was in Nubra valley and any trip to Ladakh is incomplete without a visit to the sand dunes. Hunder is famous for the Bactrian or the double-humped camel. Back in 2012, I had taken a ride on the camel and yet barely remembered anything. This time around however, it was time for some photography so I could capture the memories forever.

At night, I regrouped again with my friends. By this point in time, they definitely had become much more than just fellow travelers to me. The nightmares hadn't ended for them as one of the guys fell off his motorcycle while riding towards Khardung La and ended up with a broken arm. One of the motorcycles they rented from Leh gave up on them and had to be dumped at a mechanic shop. Not to mention, the extra night they stayed in Leh due to the landslides in Khardung La the earlier day. We spent the night chatting and playing games. I didn't care I had to leave the next morning, knowing this would be the last all of us were going to be together.

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Kareena kapoor on-board a scooter approaches Amir khan, stops, removes her helmet and continues to walk. There's a beautiful blue lake in the background, guarded by a series of brown hills painted in the shadows of the clouds above them. The water in the lake so clear and magical, that you can see the reflection of the world above.

That pretty much is the first time most of us saw Pangong Tso, albeit only on a screen. I saw it again a few years later on my first trip. But like most things from the past, newer memories had taken its place. This time though, I was certain I would soak in enough and lock it inside a chamber to never be replaced by anything else.

Another landslide, couple of nervous river crossings and some of the most beautiful kilometers of my life later, I had arrived at Pangong. When the first image of the blue sky reflecting off the near standstill water reaches you from between the hills, the effort of riding all the way seems worth it.

The next day was the most eventful day of the trip. Had I been aware of the road conditions, I may not have traveled along the route. There were practically no roads for most of the 200km between Pangong Tso and Korzok and no human existence for long stretches. Fear and the absence of people whatsoever were the only the constants until I reached Nyoma. The most worrying moment for me was when I was stuck in a river crossing. With knee deep water and half the motorcycle immersed, I looked around hoping for help. All I saw were mountains and vast stretches of barren land. Putting all my trust in the Austrian engineering, I twisted the throttle as I let go of the clutch lever. The motorcycle roared and twisted as the stones underneath the flowing water wouldn't let the tyres stick, but I escaped. Phew!

Late in the afternoon, having almost regretted my decision to set out solo, I finally saw glimpses of something that resembled Pangong Tso. I had done my homework on this as I knew this emerald coloured beauty was Tso Kyagar. A perfect entree & built up to the main course, Tso Moriri. Only a couple of kilometers more to endure, I said to myself.

Tso Moriri is not frequented by too many tourists considering the distance from Leh and the road conditions. This adds to the beauty, that it already is. Mighty mountains, snow capped peaks, lush green fields and the deep blue water stretching to the horizon, Tso Moriri offers it all. What truly stunned me was the magical feeling it offers, the sense of untouched purity.

Please, don't be stupid and not spend an entire day at Korzok. It is every bit worth it as I regret now, while writing this.

Final Leg: Delhi via Manali

After enjoying the sunrise at Moriri Tso, I finally started the final leg of the trip. Final, because this was my last day in Ladakh. The non existence of roads continued until I reached the Leh-Manali highway. For the first time since I had left Kargil, I had seen proper tarmac.

The feeling was amazing, only to be broken to pieces once I crossed Pang. The route to Sarchu was bad but by then, I had almost gotten used to the broken roads. I stayed overnight at Sarchu with barely any energy left to ride further. It was the end of my Ladakh adventure as I would be crossing into Himachal Pradesh the next day.

Day 13 was dedicated to some of the worst possible water crossings. Barely 10kms beyond Sarchu, I found myself going against the tide, surrounded by nothing but water and rocks. Oncoming traffic of heavy vehicles only made matters worse. The wave of water crossings continued until Baralacha La. Aside some Bangaloresque traffic at Rohtang La, the rest of the ride went smooth as I finally reached Manali.

The next two days were spent just riding leisurely back towards Delhi. I halted at Mandi and Chandigarh for a day each. Riding back from Ladakh, I saw the landscape go from barren brown hills to the winding roads surrounded by snow of Manali and from the pine trees of Mandi to the paddy fields of Punjab, all in a mere 500km. I doubt any other country would offer such a diversity. During those last three days, I dreaded going back to the mundane life awaiting me in Bangalore.

On 15th July, I boarded the Duronto express from Delhi, while my mind and heart were trapped in Ladakh amidst the flowing memories of the mesmerizing landscapes. I have already promised myself I would visit Ladakh again, hoping to not be boarding that train alone the next time.