Covering roughly 77 km long stretch of road between Losar, Kunzum La Pass and Grampoo, where we joined Leh – Manali Highway, took us around eleven hours. After daylong bone-shaking it was like a dream come true. No stones, no potholes, no stream crossings. Well, almost no. Just black, flat and fully sealed road. Being able to ride smoothly as fast as 50 or 60 km/h was almost orgasmic. But before we could get fully satisfied the night was already upon us and we had to find a place to sleep.

That proved to be more than demanding than in Spiti, as all flat places near the road were occupied either by houses or fields. I guess that is what fertility and development really means... Anyway, after a dozen or so kilometers I was ready to pitch the tent virtually anywhere, even on the verge of the road, but Justina strongly opposed that idea. She feared, not without a reason (Hindustanis drive like maniacs), that a truck could run us over during the night.

Eventually, as I became too tired and therefore too angry to continue the search or sensibly talk to anyone, so Justina decided to ask herself for a place to camp in a dhaba we were just passing. To our great surprise the owner turned out to be an… outdoor instructor, as he readily described himself, who invited us to stay at his house’s courtyard.

Next day we went to Keylong, the main settlement of Lahul Valley. The road was mostly very good: asphalted and two lanes wide. There we had to make a short stop in order to visit Chunni, who was considered to be one of the best mechanics on Leh – Manali Highway. Our machines needed some adjustments: the chains were definitely too loose, as sometimes the gears switched spontaneously and Justina’s bike started to give a worrying sound from the rear wheel. Fortunately the fixes were only minor, and we were informed that both bikes should make it to Leh, where they would probably require another visit in a service center. With moods thus elevated we were ready to continue. But before that happened we met a bunch of local bikers coming from opposite direction. They were all members of a club from Delhi called India Bull Riders. So, bro, what’s the condition of the road up there? I asked one of them. The guy took a longer look at our protective equipment, then examined our worn out bikes, finally scratched his chin and slowly said: Up to Sarchi it is more than okay. Then it becomes a nightmare – mud and water everywhere, hidden potholes and no asphalt. It goes like this for 80 or so kilometers. But you say you came from where? Spiti? Hmmm… then you’ll probably be fine.. Just take it easy. So we should make it? Really? Somehow I found that dubious. These guys were planning to leave Keylong at 14 pm and reach Kaza (the “capital” of Spiti Valley, some 185 km away) before midnight. A journey which took us whole two days of hard riding. If for them that section between Sarchu and Pong was a nightmare, how difficult would it be for us?

That day we didn’t get too far away from Keylong. For most of the time the road was good, flat, asphalted and wide, but there were some section where construction was still in progress. Anyway, somewhere near Patseo I felt too tired to go on, exhausted by the previous day’s crossing of Kunzum La Pass, and I had to stop. Fortunately nearby we found a couple of tents pitched near a small like. There was also a basic dhaba, so after making the price 60% lower than initially offered (and making the owner to throw in free food), we decided to stay there for the night. Baralacha La (4890 m AMSL), the first pass on our way, had to wait till next day.

At 10 in the morning, we were already there. The road was fully asphalted and in good condition. In comparison with Kunzum La it even felt boring. Undisturbed and relaxed we continued up to Sarchu, which we reached around midday. Flat, green plains, surrounded by mountains reminded me of Afghanistan’s Wakhan Corridor and its Eastern plateaus inhabited by Kirghiz nomads.

Anyway, from there, according to India Bull Riders member’s words the road should start to rapidly transform into a living nightmare. Having that in mind, tensed and awaiting treacherous potholes or unexpected road ends behind each curve, we drove unnecessarily cautiously, but bad roads were nowhere to be seen.  So before we knew we negotiated our way through the famous Gata Loops, Nakee La (4738 m AMSL) and Lachung La (5060 m AMSL) passes. Then, while descending the latter one, my bike suddenly lost all power.

Jesus fuckin’ Christ! What now?! Why isn’t this piece of shit working as it should? Why the hell do we have to fix those God damn bikes every fuckin’ day?! Why can’t we just ride them?! Those and similar mutterings and thoughts occupied my consciousness, when the breakdown became too serious to ride. The problem seemed to have came out of the blue. All day long the engine was working almost perfectly, then we had a short stop, and when I turned it on again, it lost ¾ of its power. When I added more than a little throttle the engine stalled, instead of accelerating. It was annoying, but at least the device worked. Then, suddenly, it stalled once and for all and it wouldn’t ignite anymore. We were in the middle of nowhere, the sun slowly sank behind surrounding mountains and the nearest mechanic was to be found in Leh, some 190 km away. I could either wait for a passing car or try to fix the problem myself.

I was nowhere close to being a mechanic. I had never even changed a punctured tire in a bicycle. I had just made my car’s driving license in June and learnt to ride and superficially maintain a motorbike in India. Now, somehow, I had to fix it. Fortunately, we had so many problems with the machines already, that I had some general ideas about what could be wrong, but because of either complexity of the root causes or lack of proper tools/knowledge I was able to resolve only one cause of breakdown:  the presence of water in carburetor. And as far as I knew the real cause was totally different.

But guess what? It worked!

The treatment was easy. I had to close the fuel inlet and unscrew a valve, which through a small pipe emptied the carburetor.  In the beginning there was no effect, but after a few repetitions I managed to get the engine going again. In order to prevent it from choking on more demanding sections, where I had to go slow, I increased the idle RPM level. The only drawback of this solution was the fact that while on null gear or with the clutch fully engaged the bike was going faster than I desired. But I didn’t knew any other options. Luckily Pang, a collection of provisional tents and dhabas, was only 10 kilometers away.

As could be expected the night didn’t wonderfully cure my machine. So, when the final morning came I wasn’t that much sure whether I would reach Leh at all. I managed to start the engine, and though it lacked power and choked when I added more throttle, I somehow climbed up to Moore Plains. There something unexpected, but typical for India happened. Out of nowhere the engine started to work again as it should and as the asphalt was very good and we rode as fast as we could.

The good section of the road continues for about 20 km. Then it turned into an off road. But almost everywhere new road construction was in progress.

Eventually speeding proved to be a rather bad idea, as the seemingly inviting quality of the road was only a clever deception. From time to time, a short, maybe 10 or 12 meters long, section made of concrete slabs intersected the main road. It was slightly arc-bended to allow water to flow through the middle. Unfortunately the crossings weren’t constructed too precisely and in the first two or three such places we hit an invisible step between the asphalt and the slabs with both rims. After such a long trip, I had established a personal relationship with my bike, and when it received those hits I felt almost a physical pain.

The main attraction of our last day on Leh – Manali road day was definitely Tanglang La Pass, the highest one on the highway (5360 m AMSL). Climbing up was very pleasant, though the condition of the road was rather bad. Because of all the potholes, bumps and ruts,  I felt as on a motocross track. Riding fast, jumping from one small hill to another to avoid a sudden hole by a narrow turn was only possible, because my mind was relaxed and my body was working automatically. I was exhilarated. Surprisingly the engine worked perfectly almost to the very top of the pass, when again it started to choke a bit.

Finally, after two or three more hours of riding, we arrived at Upshi, where Leh – Manali Highway entered the Indus Valley, in which the capital of Ladakh was located. But it was in Karu, some 35 km before Leh, that we encountered some of the most peculiar examples of India's goverment megalomania. Karu was a military base, with the road cutting it in half. Next to it were located various billboards with slogans invented to both rise the spirits of soldiers and convince passersby of army's great prowess. Thus one of them stated: "Lhasa... Beijing... We will be there!". That of course wasn't all. According to oficial propaganda India, was not only a military, but also an economic superpower. A friend of mine, with Ph. D. in econimics, who's been working in his field in India for 1,5 year now, and deals a lot with both Hidustani high ranking officials and businessmen, once told me: they all believe that within 15 or 20 years, Indian economy will surpass that of China. How could they hold such opinions? Did they never leave Delhi or Bombay? Didn't they see that most of the country wasn't even close to early industrial era? It was rather medieval in its looks, social and economic structure. How the hell were they going to fast forward to post-industrial era within 20 years? I hadn't got a slightest idea. And I doubt that officials had or have, as statistics and "the invisible hand of the market" are their only creed. But my friend, dealt with my uncertainties quickly: Do you know why they believe it? They have never seen China.

Anyway, in Ladakh all of this was seemed rather funny than scarry. And on the stretch between Upshi and Leh the road was perfect, so with the sun violently setting against the jagged Himalayas and dark storm clouds we felt like young gods. The change of surroundings and the quality of light in comparison with previous days was so shocking that I was pretty sure this was the most beautiful place I have ever seen. But… this was before I we went to the Nubra Valley.

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