Leh-Manali

I left Leh early in the morning after a quick breakfast with Olik who insisted I wake him before I left. A couple croissants later I was rolling down the major rode to Manali. I quickly began witnessing the impressive scenery that was to hold my attention for the next two full days. The journey began with large golden hills flanking each side, and a river flowing between them on my left. I was swept away by the grandeur of the mountains and stopped after a couple hours at a lone tea tent. I continued up into the mountains to the first of three passes I was to cross on my way to Manali. As the road ascended it also became less driveable (as is often the case) and my bike stalled in a muddy work zone next to a small group of tar-covered migrant workers from Calcutta or Bombay. After a brief panic I remembered what I had scene a mechanic do in a similar situation: change the spark plug. If the bike doesnt start, says the general wisdom, check the plug. I had a spare with me and copied the procedure I had scene the mechanic carry out, and after all was done and ready, the bike started. The tar covered workers were all impressed with my technical abilities, and I rode off in high spirits, having actually fixed my own vehicle for the first time in my life, and that, in the middle of the fucking himalayas!

I continued and rode through the pass, one of the highest in the world at about 4700 meters. I was at this point regretting not buying a new camera before the trip, because my camera was not working and I was riding alone, therefore no pics. And this is the most amazing place in the world damnit! At the pass a group of jeep drivers helped me fix a noise problem caused by my carelessly connected leg gaurds.

I continued down the southern side of this amazing pass (what's its name?) and came to a plateau with a river and a impassable bridge. A truck itself was sitting on the bridge with one of its massive tires blasted through one of the metal planks. A man on the side told me the only cross was through the river. I had seen this done a few times in a internet motorcycle tutorials i had seen before the trip, but I hadnt ever crossed a river before! I braced myself, put the bike in solid first, and dove in. The river was only 7-8 meters wide, but almost a meter deep! The water came up to my knees as I made my way to the middle, but in only 4 seconds I was out and heading towards Pang.

The scenery here was all Ladakhy desert mountains, golden ridges, huge spralling hills and wide sandy plateaus. No green at all. Eventually I entered a vast playa flanked by massive mountains on both sides. The rode between was straight and unpaved, rocky. I road fast, standing up on my bike at times to spare my body the abuse caused by the rocky road. Eventually we reached the pundras, and my bike slid this way and that the moment we hit sand. I tried to keep steady on the thick sand, but having little experience in this terrain, I came to a halt as the bike sank. As I tried to get out of the sand the bike kicked up clouds of dust which settled on me and everything I carried. I couldnt get out of the sand but luckily a group in a jeep came to my rescue and gave me a push out of the sand. As I road off I noticed the bike was coughing and sputtering, and after another half hour of brutal sand riding it stopped completely. I was stranded with a non-functional bike in the middle of the himalayan desert.

No worried however because just like with the spark plug, I also figured this problem out. I put two and two together and figured the air filter was loaded with sand. I didnt have the necessary screw driver but managed to stop a motorist with one. I took out the filter like I had seen the mechanic do, cleaned it by shaking it around and banging it on a rock, put it back in and amazing the bike started. I rode off, pleasantly surprised by my new ability to fix broken motorcycles!

After the pundra I entered one of the most beautiful rodes of the Leh-Manali route: a dusty sandy rode flanked by hills that sprouted actual sand castles, lots of them. The only downside to this rode was that the jeeps in front of me kicked up so much sand that it was impossible for me to pass them to get out of their wake.

I arrived at Pang covered in dust and ate at a Punjabi Dhaba tent with some Punjabi truck drivers.

After Pang I continued through more crazy sand castles, high mountain passes, golden hills, and saw as the golden brown mountains became randomly interspersed with varying shades of light green. A river seemed to always be somewhere to my left, and maybe this, along with the decreasing altitude, accounted for the increasing greenery. The rode itself, even from Leh, was mostly paved with stretches of broken asphalt and potholes. Some stretches were sandy and rocky, where landslides had destroyed the roads, but for the most part I had seen worse roads in India. The only major obstacle up to this point was the river crossing and the sand.

I was driving alone alone and therefore rather fast, and only later, in Manali, would I realize the damage that can be caused by driving fast over rocky terrain on a Royal Enfield.

I entered a phase of increasingly winding rocky and sandy road and had a seriously fun time. I stopped for a break and realized I had lost my keys, which must have lept from the bike when my bike flew off a bump. I decided to go back and look for my keys. After a futile attempt, I turned back and continued the ride. The sun was beginning to set and I was getting anxious to get to Sarchu, my destination for day one. At about six I reached the bottom of the descent into Sarchu, a long flat valley with more green than I had seen in a long time, and finally reached an inhabitable area. Most of the ride up to this point saw no villages, people or animals, except for the two tents in Pang and the one tea stall early on, as well as a dhaba at the first pass and the road construction workers. When I reached Sarchu I was dead tired, exhausted from the long tiring trip, about 200 kilometers, covered in dust and sand, and eager to sleep. Sarchu is not a city but basically a rest stop for truck drivers and groups in jeeps. I ended up sleeping in a restaurant's circus tent in the back with fifteen other truck drivers, mostly punjabi. I only realized the next day that 50 meters onwards were actual guesthouse tents, which were much more expensive. I went to sleep at 9pm that night and woke up at 5am to continue the second part of Leh-Manali.