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Tags: 2011 | himalaya | india | kashmir | motorbike | srinagar | travel The way westwards, towards Zanskar was full of surprises. We saw some of the best preserved Buddhist wall paintings in Ladakh, rode into a golden valley full of wild-growing marihuana and added one more member to our biking team. But before we went to see Alchi, Lamayuru, Kargil and confronted the decision whether to visit Zanskar or not, we had to devour three big breakfasts and visit must-see monasteries scattered around Leh.
The first task was only seemingly easy – I might be small, but my stomach is a bottomless monster. Fortunately Leh was abundant with great value restaurants. The best deal we were able to find was a classic breakfast in Lamayuru Restaurant (big enough to fill us till late afternoon) followed by a great value-for-money dinner in Happy World Restaurant.
This idyll lasted for three days, but since we had a bit more than two weeks before going back to Delhi, we had to start moving onwards. This one was not only seemingly, but also actually, easy and… a bit disappointing as well. A short ride around the monasteries nearby Leh convinced us that the truth about them was simple: the more dramatic the setting or the exterior of a monastery, the poorer the insides. The reason for that was also simple: all Muslim invaders, who across centuries tried to convert the region into following their religion, destroyed all those nicely located, well designed places, as they were usually easier to spot. Only low-key ones or those hidden in mountain valleys were able to survive.
Nice and empty road to Kargil just beyond Leh.
...and a bit worse one, a little bit further ahead. The whole road from Leh to Kargil was dotted with points like that.
Before we left Leh we had Juma quick-check our bikes. Everything seemed to be working all right, but as usual, it wasn’t long before we things started to go bad.
- Darling, there is something terribly wrong with my bike – Justina explained sweetly after a nice downhill.
I didn’t believe her. I was sure that she was just imagining things to cover up for being tired.
Then I saw her riding.
When she reached the magical barrier of 30km/h her bike started to shake like a furious horse, trying to shake her off.
- Why didn’t you tell me earlier that you had problems with the machine? For example when we were at Juma’s garage! – I shouted and demanded explanation – Why? Why!? Now we have to go back to Leh, it is already afternoon, and we won’t get anywhere today! We’re fucked!
And fucked we were. Four days ago, when we returned from Nubra Justina’s bike was working perfectly well and during our three days stay in Leh we didn’t ride at all. Today we went for a short trip around nearby monasteries and everything worked fine. And then, out of the blue, something incomprehensible happened and her bike stopped to cooperate.
Does it sound like a likely story? No? I didn’t think so either.
After a short “investigation” I found out that Justina experienced some problems with the bike already in Leh, but she thought they were temporary and would disappear with time. She didn’t want to bother me and make me anxious. Cute, huh?
Anyways, after a short attack of frustration I managed to calm down. An argument would get us nowhere. We had to stop quarreling and start acting. But what could be wrong with the bike this time?
We didn’t have any clues, as Juma checked the bikes before trip to Nubra, which wasn’t specially hard. We didn’t have any accidents or serious crashes.
A huge (ca. 20 meters long) pool of water on a side road between Leh and Hemis.
Stakna Monastery before a violent storm.
Then I saw a dozen or so drops of water flowing out of the vent. My thoughts instantly returned to that huge pool of water, which we had crossed on our way to Hemis Monastery. What if, by some strange act of evil will, water got inside the wheel, then got stuck between the tire and the tube, and now at higher speeds oscillates and interrupts the work of front wheel? Could it be the reason for wobbling?
What was even more important: how should we verify it without taking the tire off? I didn’t feel like doing it for the first time in a middle of nowhere, just because that was the only thing I could think of. No, that had to wait for somebody more competent.
Going back to Leh seemed the simplest and most reasonable solution. But it would also mean losing another day. Thus we decided to ride as fast as possible (i.e. 25 km/h) and try to fix the problem or at least discover its roots in the first mechanic workshop we encountered. Fortunately we didn’t have to drive far.
- Buahahahaha! A mechanic! Here! You must be kidding! – a Hindu puncture-wallah and his two friends were having a time of their life.
Their tiny puncture repair point was one of those place, where warm welcome or politeness were things still to be invented, but I thought: hey, not everybody has to own a brain, right? Calm down and pity the bastards. It was harder for Justina as in situations like that she turns into a warrior and wants to smash the fools, whatever the costs.
Here she proved right, as the guys were no mechanics and knew only how to pump a tube. And that didn’t help. But at least we learned that too low an air pressure wasn’t a source of Justina’s wobbling problems.
We also found out that the closest mechanical workshop was probably in Kargil, if not further away in Srinagar, Kashmir. Justina had to grit her teeth and ride the apparently damaged bike for some hundreds, maybe even a thousand, kilometers more (if we decided to visit Zanskar).
And though she performed great, that day we managed to get only as far as Alchi, 60 km away from Leh.
After Tabo (Spiti Valley) the Alchi Monastery proved to be the most spectacular heritage place we visited during the whole trip. Extraordinary wall paintings dated back to 11th or 12th century and were the only Kashmiri-style ones, which managed to survive till our times.
Wall paintings in Alchi Monastery. Painted in Indian (Kashmiri) style around 11-12th century.
From Alchi we speeded to Lamayuru. A place famous for another monastery located in a midst of a dry, ” moonlike” – as it is often described – landscape.
Upon arriving we were greeted by terrible weather, which made sight-seeing pointless. We decided to rode on, only to turn back after six or seven kilometers. It was too wet and cold to continue all the way up to the Fotu La pass (4108 m AMSL) in heavy rain and howling wind.
View of Lamayuru Monastery and surrounding "moonlike" landscape on a sunny morning.
Next day, when the sky cleared, we managed to reach the long awaited Kargil.
It proved to be dark, dusty and ugly city with heaps of filthy, cramped restaurants and a heavy military presence. There was also one motorbike service station, where to our infinite surprise we learned that… there was nothing wrong with Justina’s bike. At least nothing that could be detected. Or repaired. At least not here. Maybe in Srinagar, Kashmir, 200 km away.
Unable to fix anything we had to fast forward to the next point on our “wanna see” list: the visit to Zanskar. We had been dreaming about reaching that isolated piece of land since we left Delhi. We skipped the trips to Sangla Valley (Himachal Pradesh), Pin Valley (Spiti Valley), Panamik (Nubra Valley), Pangong Tso and Tso Moriri lakes (Ladakh) to have enough time to get to Zanskar and go for a week-long trek in more remote areas of the region.
And there we were: at the crossroads, trying to make the best choice possible.
As far as we knew the road to Padum was probably the shittiest one in Ladakh. There were absolutely no mechanics anywhere in whole Zanskar. No regular public transport reached Padum, as the tourist season was already over. Renting a jeep would cost us around $300 one way. There were also around 20 rivers to cross with unknown number of bridges. The weather was fast transforming from bad to worse and with only 14 days till Delhi, we didn’t feel like taking the risks of getting stuck in the middle of nowhere, abandoning the bikes, hiring an extremely expensive jeep and still missing our flight back to Poland… But, hey! somebody might say, that’s what an adventure is, right? Not knowing what will happen tomorrow! Risking it all for sake of pure enjoyment! Yeap. That’s right. But this time we lacked the balls. Suddenly we felt tired with desert-like mountains, endless moonscapes and constant struggle with motorcycles, which broke down faster than cells split. We needed change. We needed a green Kashmir.
A little bit further, a painting on a military checkpost read: "drill + skill + will = kill".
At the foothills of Zoji La (3528 m AMSL), which separated Ladakh from our craved for destination, we met Sebastian. A Germany-born Kiwi, whom we befriended in Lamayuru. It didn’t take us much time to agree that from now on we would travel together.
The pass itself was easy, but quite spectacular, especially the downwards part. Being full of serpentines, mud and stones it offered a thrilling ride. It was also there in a traffic jam caused by overzealous truck drivers, where Justina’s soul of a warrior once again exposed itself.
She was pushed from the road by one of the lorries, and full of wrath she dragged the driver out from the cabin and ordered him to put the machine back on wheels. No mercy, no regret. The weakling, unable to finish the task himself, had to ask another one of his kind for help.
Sebastian and the road leading from Zoji La to the Vale of Kashmir.
Craggy serpentines leading from Zoji La Pass to Srinagar, Kashmir.
Carpathian-like villages dotting kashmiri mountains.
In Kashimir lush forests, rich with pine trees were all over the place. Villages, full of houses with solid ridge roof gathered along straight roads, like scared children. Here and there we saw round-edged yellow busses waiting for delayed passengers. It all looked familiar, but it took me some time to realize, where I had seen it. Suddenly it became clear. Ah, yes… Ukraine! Romania! The Carpathians! Somehow, after crossing Zoji La, we entered Eastern Europe, not Kashmir, and it felt like being back home.
The very Vale of Kashmir, surrounded by purple mountains, with extensive golden fields, heaps of orchards and an intensive smell of wild-growing marihuana, was a real paradise to our starved senses. We entered it after three weeks spent among barren wastelands and we were overwhelmed. Now imagine how miraculous it must had been for all those all those pleasure-hungry traders, dead-tired after the trying crossing of the Himalayas? It seemed to me so natural, that they didn’t restrain themselves from using all the luxuries they could afford and squandering most of their hard-earned money in that dream-like valley and its magnetic pleasures. I perfectly understood their reaction of ultimate exhilaration upon seeing all those green trees, fertile fields, real architecture and alluring women shrouded in seductive perfumes.
Anyways… Upon reaching Kashmir an important part of our trip ended. After three weeks of trying travel across desert valleys and plateaus of the Indian Himalayas we finally returned to a lush, green zone. Most of the “highlights” were already behind us and we were starting to feel that our journey was slowly coming to an end. But we didn’t want it to transform into a dull and prolonged return to Delhi. We still had almost two weeks of riding left and we wanted to put them into the best use possible. And nearby there was another disputed region, which I wanted to visit since a long time. Sure it involved a chance of getting shot at or kidnapped, but those holidays were supposed to be an adventure and not a dinner at aunt’s place, right? Thus, after resting for two days in Srinagar and filling our bellies with local specialties we decided to head South-East towards the lair of the so called “Kashmiri terrorists”, where virgin peaks and treacherous jungles awaited us.
…but to hear that very special story you will have to wait a bit longer than usual, as from now on I will concentrate on writing a Polish version of the blog.
Sringar, Dal Lake at sunrise.
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