Leh-Manali Part Two

I slept in Sarchu inside a dilapidated one room tent serving fried noodles all night long to weary truck drivers. I slept in my clothing under a foot thick woolen blankets often supplied in cheap tents at high altitudes where no other guesthouses are available.

I left early in the morning with all the refreshed drivers and after dawning every article of clothing and covering m face with the pashmina started the long journey to manali. The sun rose behind me as I started down the road out of teh Sarchu valley and lit up teh entire mountain range before me. I began climbing to the second of teh passes I was to conquer and was stunned by the expanding range before me, climbing higher and higher. The mountains here were simply huge, and more than ever I felt like a space adventurer travelling on some forbidden far off planet. I saw more and more green, especially of the mossy variety - no trees, and the sun created so many shades of green and gold that I had to stop a few times just to take in all this beauty. Undoubtedy I was in one of the top contenders for most beautiful place on earth.

The road itself was surprisingly decent. With all the talk about the Leh-Manali being the hardest road in the world, having to climb three passes, ride through rivers, sand and mud, brave violent snow, rain, thunder, lightning and even dodge landslides, I was finding teh ride quite easy, even comfortable. Mostly asphalt, the road was broken in some places, and some stretches were rocky and sandy, but no big bolders bulging out of the road, no seriously steep hills, no potholes. The weather was perfect, I couldnt be luckier travelling alone on the worlds most dangerous road.

I reached a valley with a few dhabas and had an aloo parantha with egg and tea while drooling over the mountains climbing high over the river next to me. I continued to Keylong, driving through more and more greener mountains again ascending higher and higher over the widening river below. At certain points I found myself riding on narrow roads high near the mountain peaks at nearly 4500 meters, and down below one could see only a deepening void, far far away.

I reached Keylong and drove through the city, deciding whether or not to spend the night. While the city was pleasant enough, and teh views from the guesthouses amazing, I decided against staying since it was only eleven. I had the whole day and only 100 km to Manali. If the road was good I could make it by three.

I took a short break after Keylong and hiked up to a nice view point and drooled some more over the vista before me. The ranges were starting to look more like the mountains in Manali now.

I road and road and road an road on more high windy roads and eventually reached the most trying of hurdles. Before me was an actual river ON the road, flowing towards me. The road turned into giant boulders adn a river came from the right, flowed on the road for 20 meters, adn continued off to the left. I looked for a way around but found none. I went for it. The bike struggled against the strong flow and sharp boulders, heaving this way and that, nearly falling over. Both feet completely in the water, exhaust fumes rising fast with steam as the bike in first gear struggles against the current. Surely the other way is easier. Eventually I made to the end and breathed a weary but proud sigh of relief - I made it.

After this the road to Rhotang Pass was more of the same. I past the turn off to Spiti which I was to actually arrive from a few weeks later. After this turn I found myself entering a thickening fog. Up at Rhotang Pass, where a few months earlier I had seen Indians sledding and riding ponies on icy slopes, a heavy cloud submerged everything, and suddently I could see only two meters ahead of me. Nothing looked familiar, because I could see nothing. The cloud brought dew which created mud on the road. The road up here, like most passes, is unfinished adn the sand turns to mud in rainy conditions. I road slowly with my high beams on for a few kilometers down the Manali side of Rhotang pass and honked enthusiastically to any oncoming traffic, which appeared before me like ghosts coming out of dark clouds.

Eventually the cloud subsided and I saw once again the view familiar to me from my ascent to Rhotang a few months earlier which ended in one week of miserable altitude illness adn food poisening. I rode on, excited about getting to Manali in one piece, but still i had one more challenge ahead of me. A landslide had knocked out a couple kilometers of road a few months earlier and work was being done on the road. Teh rain had turned this entire stretch into thick, soupy mud and a semi had gotten stuck, creating a huge traffic jam. I rode through the mud slowly with two muddy feet on the ground. I tried to pass a truck on the right because there was no room on the left, and found myself riding seriously close to the edge on slippery terrain. I chastised myself for this, and asked an Indian man to push me back onto the road. I continued in the mud and in an instant saw the bike topple over into the mud. It slipped. I picked it up and continued. The same thing happened again two minutes later, to the amusemetn of some Indians who came to me and told me to stop using the front brake in the mud. I took their advice and continued on to Manali without any more incidents.