India 2: Of gluttony and punishment

In June 2017 I went back to India for two weeks' trekking close to the south-west border of Jammu-Kashmir followed by two weeks' motorbiking in the eastern part of the state, up to the area known as Ladakh. Here's a map. 

The short orange line is what we covered in two weeks' walking.
The longer blue one represents three days' of tough biking.
Red splurges are where the road was worst!

The walking bit was great but you petrolheads don't want to know about that. You want to hear about the infamous Leh - Manali highway. Why is it one of the most notorious roads in the world? And what on earth possessed me to try and conquer it? Check out any number of YouTube videos if you want to see some wild riding and OTT commentary in which the words 'awesome' 'bro', 'wicked' and 'om mani padme hum' feature often.

Why? Well it does take you over some of the world's highest road passes. Tanglangla is about 5300m, Baralachala is 4890m and Lachulungla is 4927m. Only Khardungla, near Leh, is said to be higher at 5350m. As you'll see in the two next blogs, the highway also has some very challenging riding. 

To hire a Royal Enflield 500 costs about £15 day in India. It's not pretty but it's rock solid, comes with a big luggage rack, and can be repaired anywhere. You'd be daft to use anything else.

But I wouldn't want to give the impression that it's all like that. Perhaps only 50km of the total 500km is 'rough', by which I mean un-made road, covered with mud or water, stretches that are under repair (a constant task in some areas) or otherwise damaged by the harsh  elements in this remote and high-altitude area, where deep snow regularly makes many roads impassable for months on end. 

Before going to India, I had read that, whenever the Leh-Manali highway was washed away by flood waters, the military would be there to re-open it, since this is one of only two routes into north-eastern Kashmir. And there were certainly plenty of military vehicles about, especially in Leh which has some very large military camps around it.

But the army don't seem to do much in the way of road mending. This is all done on their behalf by the BRO, the  Border Roads Organisation, aka Himank. And they are much in evidence, with hundreds of groups of (mainly women) workers, breaking rocks, filling holes, building culverts and laying tarmac. They are also renowned for the cautionary roadside reminders. 

According to Wikipedia, Himank is responsible for the construction and maintenance of roads and related infrastructure including the world's highest motorable roads across the Khardung La, Tanglang La and Chang La passes. Himank's work ensures access to sensitive military areas including the world's highest battle-ground at the Siachen Glacier and Pangong Tso Lake (at 14500 ft) whose waters span the de facto India-China border. Nicknamed “The Mountain Tamers”, Himank's personnel battle tough terrain and extreme climatic conditions and are constrained in most areas to work within a short working season of four months as roads get blocked by heavy snow and extreme cold temperatures. Most of the manual labourers are from Bihar, not from Ladakh.

It took me three days to ride up to Leh. The first major hurdle is the Rohtang Pass which is being extensively rebuilt and which feels like one long off-road diversion though, in reality, is probably only three hours of first-gear misery. If you want to get a bit of a picture of what it's like, check out the next two posts, Water, water everywhere and Mud glorious mud. 

India 2: Mud glorious mud

The Russell steed: a 500 Bullet

I got going around 7.00 and we had a pleasant enough ride through Keylong and stopped for a cup of tea at Tandi Bridge - me with wet feet again after an unforeseen river event/crossing that went higher than my Sealskinz! Then through the check at Koksar and on to the Rohtang. Most of it was simply awful! Going uphill and with added weight on board, in a couple of places Jane had to get off so I could even move. We slid backwards several times on wet rocks, with the front brake locked up. It's not a natural thing to do on a motorbike - you have no control and just have to hang on until you stop. Or come off.

We came off twice, unrecorded by any camera

And then there was the mud. Not encountered on the way up, this was deep and horrible. There was a tyre-width track of perhaps 30-40m long and axle-deep mud. It was almost impossible to follow. And, as soon as my 'stabiliser' feet went out, the stability got worse! At least twice I got stuck and once the bike started to fall over - to be saved by a cheerful road mender who pushed me out of the immediate trouble. But I was sweating, gasping for breath, lacking confidence and genuinely unable to see how I could get out of this - almost certainly the hardest riding I have ever had to do. 

Again, not me but it could so easily have been...

It seemed to go on for hours! There were at least two areas of deep mud on the ascent, as well as countless puddles, streams and rock pools. I need training in how to handle these conditions. I tried to force myself to hold on to the accelerator and not to touch the front brake. Also not to feather the clutch but to select a gear (usually first) and trust the bike would not stall, however slowly the road forced us to go. Usually this worked ok - especially with lots of muttered swearing, exhortations to 'keep going in a straight line' and fighting the handlebars. 

However it wasn't fun in any sense. And I didn't even feel any sense of achievement in getting to the top; just exhausted, angry and cold footed. The road seemed to improve as we went over the top and into the every-present cloud that was lurking when I went the other way. 

But the Rohtang had one final trick to play on us: the cloud did not thin and the drizzle did not lift because we had come into the aftermath of monsoon rains. Unable to see clearly (poor sunglasses, hopeless visor) and stupidly not having put on my wet weather clothes, down we went, getting wetter and colder, ie precisely the wrong condition to tackle the Rohtang's final challenge: washed away roads. In less than two weeks since I had climbed the Manali side of the pass, the roadscape had been completely transformed. It was more like a battle zone, with rivers of mud carving their way through the tarmac like it was made of sand, great chunks of road having slipped away, oceans of pebbles and rocks spilling out on to the highway - horrendous!

And what does the average Indian car or lorry driver do in such conditions? Switches on his headlights, puts his hand on the horn and roars through puddles regardless of who is coming the other way. I'm sorry to record that my formerly critical opinion of Indian drivers has been reinforced, reached new levels of grumpiness as one after another failed to slow down and pushed us out of the way. I even told a couple of drivers off for lack of consideration but was met with smiling incomprehension and cheerful waves, a combination that is extraordinarily hard to face down!

India 2: Water, water everywhere

At about 10.30 this morning I was standing astride my rented Royal Enfield 500 - the Bullet - in the middle of a fast-flowing river. The icy water filled my walking boots instantly. And the bike had stopped. There followed a minute - perhaps less - of frantic pushing and shoving on my part which resulted in my top half getting very hot and bothered. But the bike was firmly stuck between invisible rocks on the riverbed, which had been washed downstream when the river overflowed on to the road. It's a common occurrence at this time of year, when the rivers are fed by the fast-melting snows further upstream. 

I had encountered the blockage about ten minutes earlier on the road near Darcha, as I turned a corner in the road to see a small queue of lorries and cars, their drivers all taking pictures of the leading car which had also become stuck in the river. With unusual efficiency, a tanker driver found a length of metal cable and hauled the offending car back across the surging waters - from where it took another 'run' at the crossing and got across safely. 

Not your humble scribe but you get the idea...

I waited while the queuing vehicles each took their turn and only then went forward to see how best a mere two wheeler could negotiate the torrent. There was no way back: the Manali to Leh Highway is the only way to cross this particular stretch of mountains, so forward it had to be.

Soon afterwards I was stuck in the middle. Since I was obviously not going to get out on my own, I got a helpful shove back on to dry land from one of the many spectators, where I regained my composure and tried to start the bike again. First time! What a workhorse is the RE.

That was the worst of five or six such river crossings during the day. Annoyingly it was followed by a long and arduous climb to Baralarcha La, one of the day's two high passes about an hour later. By that time my tiny feet were seriously cold as the icy river water sloshed around inside my boots. A roadside stop in the sunlight was required to dry off my feet, change socks and grab a coffee. 

When I left the café some time later, I blush to admit that I had donned waterproof socks and my walking sandals which, once again, proved to be ideal footwear for just about every activity! 

Tanglang La - at 5328m, literally and figuratively the high point of my Indian ride