Leh – Part 2

by popular demand, i’ve split the last post into 2 seperate parts so you’ll get this delivered to you by email….

continued….

12th Aug 07 – Whiskey Nullah- Pang

We were woken at a sprightly 6am by one of the red spokes group and told that breakfast was ready, it didn’t take us long to crawl from our tent into their catering tent!

We had a short day today, with only a small 300m climb to to the “Lachalung-La Pass” so we decided to go back to bed and leave later as the weather was looking less than perfect. After a few more hours of sleeping we emerged once again from the tent at 10am, this is when we started to notice the effects of the very thin air on our bodies to an extent that we had not experienced before and this would ultimately shape our whole day….

We hung around the tent for a while, made some soup and purified some water, these normally menial tasks becoming a real effort, leaving us breathless and light-headed. packing up our gear took an eternity and we eventually got on our bikes around 1pm ready to start the climb up the Lachalung-La pass, 5090m (16800ft).

We began the climb and immediately we began to notice that we weren’t right, we were very far from right in fact, every turn of the pedal, every meter we went up the weaker we felt. We passed the 4900m mark and the effect of altitude really began to hit home. We were in the lowest gear and every few moments we had to stop pedaling for fear of blacking out, it was like getting out of a chair and standing up too quickly, stars in your eyes, about to feint – our brains were being starved of oxygen.

We continued up the mountain breathing in large gulps of worthless air, just to get a tiny bit of oxygen in, enough to turn the pedals and at an alarmingly slow rate. Every slight change in gradient bought about an enforced stop, gasping for air. It was raining and diesel spewing tata trucks thundered by, but this didn’t worry us, our whole mind and body was tuned to just getting air into our lungs and turning the cranks to get to the top of the pass so we could get down and breath properly.

The 6 mile climb to the 5090m summit took a staggering 2 hours, twice as long as it should have done, the yellow summit marker and the prayer flags for once not filling us with joy and achievement, but just relief that we could get the hell out of this horribly thin atmosphere. We took a quick photo and headed straight down the mountain, we now in the Ladakh region of the Indian Himalaya in the state of Jammu & Kashmir.

After only about 200m of descent the change in our well being was apparent, pounding headaches ceased and pedals could be turned without gasping for air (we were going downhill though). The downhill ride was amazing, the stark change in scenery was unbelievable, we were now riding through a narrow canyon filled with huge ochre red towers of rock following a pure clear river with wind eroded rocky peaks high above us. The valley narrowed and got steeper, the river changed to a rapid dropping over huge boulders and the road stayed high, carved out of the rock above. Eventually we were spat out of the canyon and arrived in a landscape once again changed, the red rock changing to dry sandy slopes with tall thin towers of rock protruding upwards like man made forts watching over us.

Pic – Spot the bike!!

Pic – Lower slopes

Pic – India or Arizona?

Pic – Lots of rock

After this, the road became wet and muddy and we were enclosed either side by steep walls of strangley formed symmetrical rock, twisting and turning on itself hundreds of meters above us, we looked on it in awe as we’d never seen anything like this before, this valley had been an exciting, mind blowing experience with something different to gaze upon at each turn in the road and at only 12 miles long, it was just way too short.

Pic – Strangely formed rock

Pic – Wind eroded rock

After turning a corner we arrived at the “tent village” of “Pang” and found ourselves a parachute tent (tent made from a parachute canopy) to sleep in. The day, although short, had taken a lot out of us so we decided to rest up in Pang for the next day.

13th August 07 – Pang – rest day

There was no cycling today, but Pang itself was certainly a memorable experience that I feel I need to mention it….

We were totally knackered after climbing the Lachalung-La the day before, due to the altitude more than anything else so we had a rest/acclimatisation day at Pang, later renamed to “Pong” for reasons which will become clear.

Pong is set in a small clearing amongst the mountains next to the river, it is a collection of approximately 10 parachute tent dhabas all there to do one thing, provide refreshments and occasionally sleeping facilities for passing travelers, normally jeeps and buses, but also motorbike tourists and occasionally cycle tourists overnighting. We slept in one such parachute tent dhaba, a cold, but cosy collection of mattresses ,like a dormitory, at the back of the dhaba eating area (also a parachute). The dhabas are all in competition with one another and as soon as a group of travelers appear the respective dhaba owners all rush out saying “hello, welcome, come in, come in” etc, trying to catch the eye of the travelers like touts on a benidorm bar street, essentially it doesn’t matter which dhaba you go in as they all sell exactly the same thing, tea, coffee, cold drinks, biscuits and rice/dhal/chappati, the only difference you’ll find between them is in how much they try to get away in charging you for these “pleasures”.

Pic – Our hotel In Pong

Our particular dhaba was ran by an old Ladakhi mamma and her daughter, the mother spent her day humming buddhist prayers playing with her beads, peeling veg and giving her daughter orders. We spent the day drinking chai, lazing around, reading, eating (rice and dhal as usual) and drinking beer from the mammas illegal underground stash, surreptitiously drank inside the parachute for fear of the police checkpoint across the road and the “baksheesh” the mamma would doubtless have to pay the coppers if were all caught!

Pic – Our Ladakhi mamma

There was no sanitation at Pong whatsoever, all toilets were carried out in the clearing behind the tents and the place stank of human excrement every time the wind picked up, one had to tread very carefully (especially when venturing out at night) and of course a wash, unless you wanted to bathe in the freezing river (and who knows what would float past) was out of the question.

Sadly, Matt and I had to use the toilet “facilities’ on a number of occasions, after a weak at high altitude our stomachs were weakened and nothing would stay in us more than a few hours, so we were regular visitors to the Pong open-air toilet armed with a water bottle (the indian way – paper is unheard of) and a grimace.

The day dragged on at Pong with not much to do and the lethargy of being at altitude sapping our motivation to actually do anything. we finally retired back to our parachute after a few “godfather 10000+” beers and some more rice and ****ing dhal!

14th August 07 – Pong – Rumtse

Today will be remembered for two things, a bad decision and a good decision….

We left Pong (not sorry to leave) at around 8.30am destined for the “Mori Plain”, also named “Torture Road” by a cyclist who’d previously ridden across it, we hadn’t paid too much attention to this rather unnerving label, but in hindsight probably should have. The plan was to ride the 32miles of the plain before ascending the “Tanglang-la” pass – this was the day’s bad decision….

After crossing yet another police checkpoint we ascended a 250m climb from Pong up to the start of the Mori Plain, we were feeling OK after a days rest and the climb up to 4800m fairly effortlessley. What awaited us was rather surreal, the plain, a great pancake flat, dusty in places, grassy expanse, set at 15800ft ringed by mountains, like a huge moon crater, and being so high up, anything beyond looked like the edge of the world. It was dotted with nomadic yak herders and filled with minute Tata trucks all making their own way across the plain, ignoring the road and taking their own direct route creating plumes of dust in their wake.

Pic – The Mori Plain

We started across the plain, it was cold and wind was in our faces and I remarked to Matt that “this may not be easy as we think”, suddenly remembering the torture road comment from the Indian guy. The further along the plain we went, the worse it got, the wind picked up, the road condition got worse, frequently turning to thick, powdery sand, sapping our strength as we tried our best to power through it, the only thing keeping our motivation up was the occasional jeep passing us and waving and one particular Japanese photographer who came running from our flank hungry to take a picture of two struggling, weather beaten cyclists!

The road just went on and on, sometimes a little up, sometimes down, but it hardly mattered due to the pounding wind, the monotony of the plain and the dust, in our mouths, our eyes and clogging our bikes underneath, we were now heeding to the torture road description. We finally reached the end of the plain after 32 strength sapping miles, we were tired, bored and resentful of the Mori Plain, this desolate, cold, arsehole of the Himalaya and at 4800m every turn of the pedal had been torture itself.

We stopped at the foot of the Tanglang-La pass and cooked up some soup and noodles, even though our weakened appetites couldn’t sustain it we forced down as much as possible as we knew we’d need it for the task ahead.

We hit the climb to the Tanglang at 3pm, this was late, as the Mori Plain had taken so long, but we thought we’d be able to reach the top bit it got too dark to descend. The cold wind was still in our faces and combined with the increasingly thin air the going was difficult. The pass wasn’t too steep but already we were down to about 3mph, over a week at high altitude was really taking it’s toll, making breathing difficult and heads spin.

We pushed on above the 5000m mark, time was getting on and we were making slow progress. We stopped for another rest, we lay down at the side of the road, breathing in buckets of worthless air just to get some strength back for the road ahead, it was now becoming apparent that time was not on our side, it was 4pm and we still had a long way to climb. We pushed on still thinking it was possible to make the summit before the 6pm deadline, the lack of oxygen maybe clouding our judgements, but at our next rest stop we both realised we were fighting a losing battle and were not going to make the further 300m of climbing to the top, with enough daylight to get down, at the stupidly slow speed we were reduced to travelling at. It was time to make a decision. Our options were camp where we were at over 5000m and finish the climb the next day, go back down to a safer altitude and start again tomorrow at a more sensible hour to hail down a passing truck to take us the remaining distance to the top, leaving us enough time to get down before nightfall.The first option, go down, was never really an option, we were 300m from the top, we’d nearly killed ourselves to get this far, there was no way we were doing it again. The second option, camping where we were, we considered seriously, we had acess to all important water and enough food to last the night. In the end we had to discount this option for safety reasons, after spending over a week at high altitude it would have been dangerous to sleep a further 500m higher than the night before and at over 5000m this risk is heightened and would surely left us both in the grip of AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness) and trying to ride the next day after a further 16 hours at this altitude would have further exposed us to danger, on top of that, the last thing Lisa had said to me before I left was “no heroics” which had led us to the logical, ultimately safe decision of hailing down a truck to get us to the top, the best decision we’d made all trip and the previously mentioned good decision of the day.

As luck would have it an opened back truck turned up within 10 minutes, we hailed it down and there was no question of him not giving us a ride up here, with the help of the worker sat in the back of the truck bed we got our bikes, luggage and ourselves into the back of the truck and took shelter leaning against the cab.

A bumpy cold 45 mins later we were dropped off at the top, a little dejected on having to get a lift, but ultimately happy that we’d made a good decision under difficult circumstances. It was bitterly cold and we wrapped us once again in every piece of warm clothing we had to begin the decsent. At 5340m even descending is tough, there is so little oxygen that even taking a drink of water leaves you breathless, your head is pounding with pain and the lack of oxygen in your brain makes navigating the rocks and potholes in the road tiresome.

Pic – After Tangalang

Pic – After Tangalang 2

As we descended we started to feel better, the roads got smoother and breathing got easier. After 17 miles of descending we eventually arrived at “Hotel Rumtse”, another parachute tent dhaba, we were exhausted and looking forward to a up of chai and a comfy bed. We collapsed into the dhaba but not before being reunited with the truck crew who had given us a lift and who, amazed at our quick progress down the mountain were more than happy to see us.

15th August 07 – Rumste – Thisksey

We awoke in the cold dhaba, as usual feeling sluggish, the altitude taking it’s toll on our health and spirits. Our toilet habits remaining unchanged, dotting the rocks at the back of the dhaba with annoyingly frequent puddles of the previous nights rice and dhal. Today, however, was going to be different, we were at the end of the Manali-Leh highway, there were no more mountain passes, torture roads or cold dhabas to contend with, we were going down, downhill all the way, to thicker air, warmer climate, comfort and hopefully soild bowel movements!!!

We hung around the dhaba drinking chai and lemon tea, but not having the stomach for any breakfast – we couldn’t face another omlette-chappati. We eventually summoned the motivation to pack up and eventually got on the road at 10.30am and went straight into a downhill ride. We freewheeled past several small buddhist villages, following the famous Indus River, it’s fertile banks teeming with agriculture and the people looked healthy and happy, waving at us from all angles.

After about 45 minutes we followed the Indus river into a spectacular rocky gorge and once again, at the turn of a corner we were blown away by the stunning scenery before us. The sheer faces of purple coloured rock, glinting in the sun, set against the clear, clean, babbling Indus and it’s green banks were a perfect antidote to the hardship of the previous week. We flew down the sweetly tarmaced road, grins on our faces, thinking the Mother Himalaya was giving us something back for our efforts in traversing her over the previous month, our sweat and pain being rewarded in a way only we could appreciate and this specific time and place.

Pic – Indus gorge

Pic – Indus gorge 2

We continued through the gorge, barely pedaling and stopping to take numerous photos, not only of the picture around us, but the frequent BRO road safety signs, such as “Be Mr Late, not late MR”, or “don’t let your insurance policy mature before you”, humorous words, but with a serious message due to the thousands of deaths that occur on Indian roads every year.

Pic – BRO Road sign

The gorge finally opened up and we followed the Indus as it changed from a fast flowing river into calmer, wider bosy of water as we entered the Ladakh Valley and it’s first major town, Upshi. We’d descended tp 3600m and the change in our physical state was unbelieveable, we felt great, full of energy, our lungs were overflowing with oxygen and we felt like new men, their wasn’t a parachute tent in sight, the place, although rather ugly, was teeming with people and the resturants weren’t limited to rice and dhal!

Pic – Welcome to Leh

We pushed on past “Stanka Gompa” to a monastery town called “Thiksey”, the wind was against us, but that didn’t matter, we were full of energy and eating up the miles. We found a lovely, comfortable hote in Thiksey, with hot water, a full menu and cold beer. We ate lovely home made chips, the thoughts of cold parachute dhabas and rice and dhal well and truly behind us.

Pic – Stanka Gompa

Pic – Thiksey Gompa

After that I washed, I’ve never had a wash so good, it was a ritual cleaning, the hot water and soap washing away the dirt, the grime and the pain of the previous week, I felt so alive and went to bed feeling clean, more that clean and with a smile on my face that reflected all the beauty, the ups and downs and the sheer majesty of what i’d experienced over the previous weeks, a feeling that will stay with me for a long time to come.

Pic – View of dry ladakh from Thiksey Gompa

17th August 07 – Thiksey – Leh

We left the comfort of the Chamba hotel in Thiksey , our haven for the last few days, after visiting the impressive Thiksey Gompa, a huge Buddhist monastery towering hundreds of meters above the town.

As we reached the outskirts of Leh we ran into a huge gathering, thousands of people on the streets and tens of thousands more packed into a field. On enquiring what this event was we were told it was the The Dalai Lama giving a reading. Ladakh is mainly a Buddhist area and it seemed everyone had made the journey to see His Holiness, on foot, packed into cars and buses by the thousand, there was not even an empty space to be seen of the roofs of the buses!

We made our way through the crowds and after a 300m, unexpected and very hot climb we arrived in Leh, the capital of Ladakh, Jammu & Kashmir State, India and our last stop on the Manali-Leh Highway, after over 250 miles of awe-inspiring, altitude ridden, stomach churning, rice-dhal fuelled cycling.

We still had one more challenge ahead of us, the ascent of the highest road on Earth (The Khardung-La Pass), but that could wait for a few days, it was time to soak up the atmosphere of Leh….

19th August 07 – Leh – Deskit

After a few days in Leh, which included a visit to see the Dalai Lama speak, it was time to face our ultimate challenge, the ascent of the Khardung-La pass, the highest road on the planet. We decided however, that instead of just riding up the pass and then back down that we would get a jeep up to the top from Leh and ride down the other side and explore the Shyok Valley, stay overnight and ride back up the pass the next day. So we rented a jeep for us, our friend Gerard (a Dutch cyclist we’d met on the Manali-Leh Highway and subsequently hooked up with in Leh) and our bikes for the 25 mile uphill trip to K-top (the local name for the for the summit of Khardung-La).

Pic – The Dalai Lama

We travelled up in the comfort of the jeep to 5350m, took a few pictures, chatted to a couple of motorcyclists we’d met previously and began the downhill ride towards the Shyok valley. The road was rough for the first 5 miles or so as we left the glacier topped pass. The scenery on this side was fascinating, huge mountains towered above, with a view in the distance of some huge Himalaya snow-capped giants.

Pic – On the descent of Khardung La

Pic – On the descent of Khardung La – 2

Pic – View on the descent

The road soon changed to nice tarmac as we followed the valley down past rivers and waterfalls and some stubborn yaks to the village of Khardung where we stopped for lunch in the shade of the dhaba. We continued down the valley before turning being confronted with the Shyok river far below us and the massive wall of bare rock mountains, some of the biggest we’d seen up close, on it’s northern flank, making us feel amazingly small.

Pic – The Shyok river

We were high up from the floor of the Shyok river valley, but the river still looked huge snaking it’s way down the valley. We negotiated some more hairpins and eventually arrived at the river after descending over 2000m from the pas. It was hot as we followed the river along the plain, the area being dry and sandy. After a while we left the river and crossed a pancake flat, pure white, sandy plain, following a completely straight road across it before going into a 200m climb and descending again back to the river. We followed it’s marshy banks up to the quirky little village of Deskit, another village dominated by a huge Buddhist monastery and dotted with hundreds of white “Stupas” (Buddhist monuments). We found a quaint little guesthouse and the three of us spent the evening chatting, drinking beer and eating rice and dhal (for a change)

Pic – On the plain

20th August 07 – Deskit – Leh

We awoke to a 5.30am alarm call after a short night’s sleep in balmy Deskit. The reason for this stupid-o-clock rising time was that we had a long day ahead of us, not only were we going to climb the highest road in the world today, but we also wanted to ride out to the sand dunes of Hunder (about 5 miles past deskit and close to the Pakistan border – or as close as our permits would allow) to see the sun rise.

We were on our bikes by 6am cycling along in the cool morning air, leaving Deskit just as she was waking up and heading out onto the sandy plain arriving at the dunes just as the sun was staring to peer over the mountains in the distance. We sat down on top of a dune, int the cool, very fine, grey sand and although this wasn’t exactly the Sahara, it had a quiet, peaceful desert atmosphere about it.

Pic – Sunrise on the dunes

We watched as the sun rose over the mountain, changing the formations of shadows on the dunes and bathed in the clear, warm morning light before it was time to head back to Deskit where we had a breakfast of baked beans on toast (would you believe!).

We got a jeep back up to Khardung village and began the climb of the Khardung-La, 20+ miles up to 5350m (17600ft) – although the Indians claim it’s over 18000ft, we’re a bit sceptical on this, but hey – it’s bloody high!

Even though we’d seen the same scenery from the opposite direction the day before we were still fascinated and today being a lot more cloudy gave the mountains a moody atmosphere. We climbed at a good rate, help by the fact that we didn’t have so much kit with us (we’d left it in the guesthouse in Leh as we were only away for the night). I felt good, not having the usual altitude breathing problems that we’d experienced in the previous weeks, due to the fact that we’d been sleeping at a lot lower altitude for the past 4 days.

Pic – Climbing the Khardung-La

We arrived at the halfway point on the climb after about 2 hours, a small village called North Pollu and had lunch of Maggi noodles before heading off for the second and hardest half of the climb about 2.45. We were now at 4650m, with another 700m to climb and about 3 hours to do it in, leaving us enough daylight for the descent back into Leh.We continued up the climb, rather enjoying it and setting a steady pace, breathing was good and legs were fighting fit as we reached the end of the tarmac at around the 5000m mark. From here on the rough road slowed us down, legs were tiring and body temperatures started to drop as the air cooled. We had about one and a half hours left to get to the top but were confident we’d make it because, although tiring, we felt better than we had done on the whole trip.

Pic – Near the top

Pic – Near the top 2

After admiring the amazing view in the distance, which included a rare sight of the Karakoram mountain range in Pakistan, we finally limped on to the summit of the pass at around 5.45pm and after a cup of hot tea and some union-jack decked photos we began the cold descent to Leh, just as the sun was beginning to drop behind the mountains.

The first 5 miles of the descent was a rock-strewn, bone jarring bounce-fest before we hit the race track smooth tarmac for the last 20 miles, gliding along at 30mph+, negotiating the bends and curves with confidence as the sun dropped below the horizon giving the snow capped peaks a fluorescent pink glow.

After an hour of descent we arrived in Leh in darkness, negotiating the back streets and alleys without the aid of bike or street lights before arriving in the centre and stopping for a celebratory beer.

We’d crossed the Himalaya, cycling over 750 miles and climbing 15000m (50000ft) in the process, we’d pushed ourselves over the Manali-Leh Highway and reached the highest road in the world and now we’d turned our pedals for the last time in this wonderful country of India.

The end.

Leh- Ladakh (Jammu & Kashmir)

Thank Buddha we made it, we’ve traversed the mighty Himalaya and rode our bikes to the top of the highest road in the world, the Khardung-La Pass, 18000ft above sea level….

see the pic below…

Top of the Khardung-La Pass

here is the final chapter of our journey….

8th Aug 07 – Keylong – Patseo

After a couple of rest days in Keylong and quite a few beers with the hotel manager the night before, we left Keylong on a hangover at around 11.30am, we went straight into a long, hot, slow climb, both of us feeling rubbish and blaming the altitude, but it was probably more to do with the festivities of the night before (they say you shouldn’t drink at altitude – hmm). The climb went on for quite a while following the bhaga river as we slowly came out of our self-induced stupor as alcohol was replaced by cool fresh mountain water.

After a few hours we descended back to the river to a place called “Darcha” and a collection of dhabas on the river crossing, one of which we ate in, then retired inside to the mattresses for a sleep. We were out for a while and didn’t leave the dhaba until gone 4pm after showing our passports at the ploice checkpoint. As we crossed the river we immediately began another climb, it was good tarmac and after resting we ascened it with ease.

At the top of the climb we put some warm clothes on as it was getting late and turning cold in the shadows of the moutains. As we turned away from the climb, the scenery changed from the green slopes of Keylong to the drier, sparser slopes resembling Ladakh. We continued uphill to Patseo, where there was a small grassy plain, already occupied by a bunch of cyclists on an organised tour and a couple of dhabas. We made our home for the evening in one of the dhabas and the owners served us with chai and noodles. The owners were, as usual, warm freindly people who made us feel welcome. We camped in our tent near the dhaba.

Pic – camping at patseo

9th Aug 07 – Patseo – Baralacha-La – Sarchu

We left Patseo, after being told by one of the guides of the cycling tour group that this was “the toughest day on the Manali-Leh highway” and that we should have left at 7am – it was 10.30am – bugger! Oh well, we like sweating it out in the hottest part of the day!

Anyway, after hearing this we were a bit apprehensive of what lay ahead of us, that being the “Baralacha-La pass”, all 4950m (16300ft) of it. The day didn’t start well, we both didn’t feel too good, a combination of altitude and tiredness, we had tired legs and were beginning a 19 mile climb 3 hours later than is recommended. Another factor in this equation was that the roads were terrible, we bumped and jarred our way up at 3-4mph to “Zing-Zing bar” a dirty, road builders dumping ground filled with oil drums, hoping to find a dhaba for a cold drink, there wasn’t one so we pushed on further up the pass until we found one.

We stopped for a coke and to reassure each other that we’d make the climb with enough spare daylight to get down the other side, but we were already having reservations and we’d only been going two hours and the summit seemed an eternity away.

After the dhaba the roads improved, thankfully, from rock to tarmac, this lifted our spirits and we began to progress better the meters beginning to click up on our altimeters. At one of our rest stops we were joined by a small gang of BRO (Border Roads Organisation) workers, this a military organisation who build and maintain the high mountain roads, providing tarmac to make ours and more importantly, the militarys lives easier while negotiating these unimaginably high, remote roads. The BRO gang consisted of a foreman and 3 workers, they parked their tarmacing machine beside us and immediately got out their lunch, which had been warming somewhere in the guts of their rig and offered to share what they had with us. We jumped at the chance of chappati and veg curry as we’d only eaten biscuits since we left. Again, like the tribeswomen of the Kunzum-La, this was unprovoked kindness, one which you would never experience had you not been suffering up a mountain on a heavy bike, as opposed to shooting through in a jeep or bus. They shared their lunch for 4 with an extra 2 and I have no doubt, while we were busy gobbling it down, that they had less than us to eat.

After lunch the guys proudly posed for a photo next to their tarmac rig, we said our goodbyes and pushed on up the pass feeling better for the food.

Pic – BRO crew (and Matt) on Baralacha

We finally limped on to the the summit at about 4.15pm, put on some warm clothes and collapsed against the wall of the small buddhist shrine, a welcome sight after 6 hours of climbing. We took some photos and surveyed the barren, beautiful, snow-capped peaks about us prepared to face the rocky downhill in front of us, the sun was getting low, the air colder and we still had a fair way to go before our destination of “Sarchu”.

Pic – On top on the Baralacha La pass

We bumped our way down the “road” as fast as we could under the circumstances as we knew time was against us. We forded rivers, got wet feet and pushed on, until eventually coming to halt at the back of a traffic jam of Tata trucks which had fromed due to a broken bridge across a river. We snaked our way through the jam and, being cyclists, were given special treatment and helped across the bridge by a gang of workers and a helpful English tourist (himself stranded) over the broken section of the bridge, which was lucky, as there was no way we’d have been able to ford the raging torrent beneath.

We follwed the rough road further downhill, before another watery rocky section pummelled us, causing my pannier to break and Matt to fall off! After a further 12 miles of horrible road we eventually turned onto the Sarchu Plain and a beautiful, straight, slightly downhill tarmac road, it was bliss, we crusied along at 30mph following the pancake flat plain, surrounded by jagged , bone-dry peaks, until eventually pulling into “Raspian” campsite and hiring a comfortable tent with real beds and supply of good food and cold beer! We were at 4400m (14500ft) and took the next day off for acclimatisation.

11th Aug 07 – Sarchu – Whiskey Nullah

Woke up and actually got up at a staggering 6am! What a sight we saw, the moutains at the edge of the plain in front of us were glowing gold in the clear early morning light with cloudless sky a gorgeous rich shade of blue.

Pic – Morning on the Sarchu Plain

Pic – Golden mountains

After a slow pack-up and a breakfast of the now tiresome omlette-chappati we hit the road at 9am, we cruised along the plain, stopping regualry to take take photos of the staggering beautiful scenery about us. Where the grassy plain ended golden mountains sprouted up, glistening gold and yellow in the morning light. The lower slopes of the mountains were covered in shining bright scree, like space dust with the Lingti river cutting a narrow gorge bisecting the plain with small towers of rock protruding from the gorge caused by erosion from the ever present southerly wind that sweeps down off the Baralacha-La, shaping much of what we can see before us, as well as helping us along with it’s warm presence on our backs.

Pic –The Sarchu plain

The plain turned a sharp-left and we continued on the smooth tarmac road, the mountains continued to fascinate us, changing colour again as the dark blue sky changed to a cloudy haze and with it a welcome drop in temperature. We bumped into a some fellow cycle tourists going the opposite way and exchanged info on our respective roads ahead and were surprised to learn that “The Gata Loops”, our next big climb, were literally just round the corner, as we weren’t expecting them until the next day, we put this down to unreliablle maps, but we were feeling good so it didn’t worry us too much.

So, a day early, we began the climb up the Gata Loops, 21 hairpin bends climbing up to 4700m (15500ft) and resembling the fabled Alpe-D’Huez. I was looking forward to this challenge as I’d climbed the Alpe itself in 2002 and watched the magnificent Lance Armstrong tear the field apart in the Tour De France that year on the same mountain. With Lance in my mind (if not in my legs) I cruised up the loops at a good speed, sadly, Matt wasn’t feeling too good and sat behind at his own pace. We regrouped at the top of the climb and rode under the prayer flag banner together before stopping for a rest.

Pic – View from the Gata Loops

Pic – End of gata loops

The Gata loops culminated in the “Nakeela-La Pass”, by finishing the loops we thought we’d finished the pass itself, sadly we were wrong and a tough 6 miles further of climbing awaited us before we topped out the 4940m (16300ft) of the Nakeela-La pass. This 6 mile stretch took us at least another hour on our tired legs (Lance well and truly gone from my mind) and being up at this altitude, the lack of oxygen was slowing our progress.

We eventually reached the summit, the prayer flags again being a welcome sight. We changed into warm clothes and took shelter from the cold wind and rested, observing the hundreds of small stome cairns all about the summit, eerily resembling garden gnomes. We didn’t hang around too long, the thin air and stone gnomes playing tricks on our oxygen depleted minds!

Pic – Top of Nakeela-La Pass

We set off on the short downhill to “Whiskey Nullah”, a small grassy plain in between two passes, our camp spot fro the night, “nullah” meaning stream and our only oppurtunity for essential fresh water. As we closed in on the camp spot we saw it ws already occupied by the same tour group (Red Spokes) we’d met in patseo, we rolled in on our fully laden bikes and were given a warm welcome by them and a lot of compliments due to the fact that we’d kept up with them, unsupported, carry everything we needed to survive on our heavy steel bikes! They were very hospitable and treated us to a fully catered dinner snd breakfast which was much appreciated!!

Pic – Camping at Whiskey Nullah (tatas in the background climbing the Lachlung-La pass)

Continued in next blog post……

In “Keylong” – getting ready for the big stuff

Hello Boys and Girls, the story so far….

2nd August – Left Kaza (3650m) after a rest day and with a nasty cough due to the high altitude. Went straight into a climb and my breathing was terrible, constantly fighting for oxygen, after about an hour we stopped for some chai and noodle soup in a dhaba (local tea house) in a tiny settlement called “Hull” (LOL). We had an hour break here and what a difference it made, my breathing after that was fine, due to the small acclimatisation gained from sitting still for an hour.

We pushed on, following the Spiti river again as it went into a spectacular gorge (see pic), looking more like Arizona than India, with sheer vertical rock walls plummeting down 2000ft to the river below. As we left the gorge we were confronted by something we’d seen very little of recently, that was grass, which stretched out on a plain in front of us, a sure sign we were coming to the end of the desert that was the Spiti valley and it’s river, which had been a constant companion at our side for the last week or so.

As we turned on to the plain we were immediatelty hit by a strong cold head wind making our progress fairly slow. We stopped on the plain and sheltered from the wind (and a breif shower – something else we’d not seen in a long time) behind a huge rock and cooked some soup and noodles and had a sleep. We left at around 4pm expecting a fairly steady ride up to our destination, “Losar” – but the wind had different ideas! The final 15 miles weren’t fun, the temperature was dropping and the wind was getting stronger making life difficult as we ascended the spiti river up to it’s source in the Kunzum mountain range, passing ugly black glaciers, which looked all the more daunting due to the dark cloudy sky.

We stopped in a tiny dhaba for some well needed chai to warm our bodies and spirits and eventually arrived in Losar (4075m) cold and tired just before night fall. We got a room in a run-down rustic little rest house, had a dinner of rice-dhal-chappati (the staple diet in these remote villages) and hit the sack, ready for the next day and our first Himalayan pass – the “Kunzum La” dividing the Spiti and Chandra valleys and lying at 4550m (15015ft).

3rd August – both overslept in Losar (probably due to the lethargy of sleeping at over 4000m) and finally headed off about midday after producing our passports at the local police checkpoint and being warned by a local the weather was not going to be in our favour. Today we were to conquer our first Himalayan pass, the culmination of riding uphill for 3 weeks and to the source of the Spiti river, the Kunzum La.

The first few miles out of Losar were were fairly flat, but being at over 4000m we were noticing the lack of oxygen and were both feeling a bit strange with headaches and nausea. As we started climbing the pass the weather deteriorated (as the local had warned) but we pushed on regardless. The temperature started to plummet, so we put on some warm clothes and gloves, it was a bit late by now though as our fingers were already going numb. As we turned a corner on the pass we saw some local tribeswomen sat around a small fire, Matt made a shivering gesture towards them and they immediatley invited us up the grassy bank to sit and warm oursleves by their fire. They then proceeded to make us hot butter chai and stoked their small fire for our benefit. They were truly wonderful people who gave us everything in return for nothing, although Matt gave them a gift of a pocket compass they never expected anything in return but a smile and to see us warm.

After warming our hands and feet by the fire and our insides with the butter chai we pushed on for the final few miles of the pass as the weather further closed in. We reached the top (see pic)  and after a few photos headed straight for a little hut we spotted situated next to the Buddhist shrine on the peak of the pass. Inside the hut was an old hermit who invited to sit next to his oven and warm ourselves, while another passing traveller provided us with hot chai from his flask in exchange for a share of our 2-day old chelsea bun which we all devoured. After 45 mins of warming up we wrapped up in ALL the warm clothes we had, including some thick socks which we placed over our gloved hands and headed straight for the downhill side of the pass, saying goodbye to the Spiti valley and entering the Chandra valley and the district of Lahaul. It was a slow, bumpy, cold and damp ride down the pass which eventually led us to the tiny “summer” settlement of “Batal”, containing a dhaba and a shrine, luckilly, as it was getting late,  the dhaba had a small bunkhouse in the cowshed adjoining it. We spent the evening in the dhaba eating rice-dhal-chappati and drinking chai (and even a beer!) and retired to the cold cowshed. The dhaba owners were freindly, hospitable people, the dhaba was warm and cosy and we slept like babies in the cowshed!

4th August – After breakfast at the Batal dhaba we bade farwell to our hosts and headed off at 9.30am. Today was going to be a downhill ride, so we were expecting a fairly steady day. True to form however the ride was far from easy and we should know by now that a “steady” day is rarely heard of when cycling the Himalaya! We were to be following the Chandra river all day and unknown to us at the time the Chandra Valley has the second highest snowfall in the world after Antartica, over 30 metres per year and as a consequence of this the valley remains buried under snow for some 6 months of the year and, as we were finding out, the ruined roads had to be rebuilt every year, so it was we’d stared our “fairly steady” day on one of the most rocky, boulder strewn, broken and unimaginably tough roads in the Indian Himalaya.

The first few miles were torture, we could not go much quicker than 4mph with every turn of the pedal jarring our bikes, bodies and heads. We couldn’t even admire the scenery about us for fear of taking our eyes off the “road” and hitting a bike stopping boulder! After about 4 miles we’d had enough and sat by the edge of the road contemplating the unthinkable and hailing down a jeep, lorry or bus to take us down the valley to better roads. However, traffic on the road was extremely light (for obvious reasons!) so we pushed on, and we were glad we did, for after a while the road improved from terrible to bad, the downhill slope got steeper and we were treated to the most stunning scenery we had experienced so far on our trip, in this little known most remote part of the Indian Himalaya, known as the Chandra Valley in the district of Lahaul.

We followed the fast flowing Chandra river on this most broken of roads, fording waterfalls and rivers exploding down from the steep slopes above us and cutting the road in two at every bend. The valley was littered with boulders bigger than houses, brought down by thousands of years of glacial metling and freezing, the valley was narrow with towering black bare rock mountains and glaciers above us, but looking so close that we could touch them, while the valley floor gave way to grassy meadows housing grazing wild horses. After a while we found an isolated dhaba and went in to warm oursleves as the temperature outside was still pretty cold. Just as we eneterd the the dark little dhaba and placed ourselves on the cushions and blankets it started to rain heavilly, so we hung around for a couple of hours drinking chai, eating rice-dhal, being closely watched by the curious locals and waiting out the rain.

We continued down the valley stopping every few minutes to admire the majesty of what was before us, this was the real Himalaya, a dark foreboding mouth filled with jagged snow capped teeth, we were cold, our bodies jarred by this broken road, but we were in our element and we knew it.

After a few more punishing hours for us and our bikes we arrived in the tiny settlement of “Chatru”, we’d descended about 500m down to 3400m and we’d had the best day so far, in this, the wild expanse of the Indian Himalaya. We camped at the local dhaba, or host supplying us with food, chai, beer and stories of his days as a trekking guide while we sat in the warmth of the dhaba covered in blankets and feeling that we were in the about the remotest part of the world that we’d ever had the good fortune to be in. The Chandra valley had been imprinted on our minds forever and had left us with a smile that would take a long time to wear off.

5th August – We awoke to rain pelting our tent so went straight back to sleep, eventually rising after the rain ceased at 10am. After a slow start to the day and a late breakfast we eventually hit the road at midday on what was to be the fourth cycling day in a row and the toughest day yet.

We went straight into a long climb taking us high up above the Chandra River winding it’s way past numerous waterfalls and solid walls of rock eventually emerging, after a small altercation involving some feral moutain dogs and some well aimed stones, at the road junction settlement of Grampho on the famous Manali-Leh Highway, which was to be our home for the next two weeks. We stopped in a a dhaba for chai and noodles and waited out yet another bout of rain.

We continued to follow the Chandra river but the valley had opened up and the scenery was not as exciting as the previous days. In the distance however we could see huge Himalayan giants as the clould occasionally broke to reveal their snow capped peaks. The area was very green and agricultural, with potatoes seemingly the crop of choice. We descended back to the Chandra river and followed a rough rolling road to the village of Sissu where we stopped for a coke in a breif period of sunshine. After Sissu we began to climb again, a climb that would go on for 9 miles on our now tired legs. It was getting late and we started to think that we may not be able to reach our destination of “Keylong” before nightfall. The climb finally ended and we began a nice long descent on decent roads back down to the Chandra River and it’s confluence with the “Bhaga River” at the village of “Tandi”. It was about 6.15pm and according to our map there was a huge climb to Keylong, one which we would never have made in the hour or so of daylight left. We realised quite quickly that Tandi, an ugly little place, consisting of nothing but a petrol station, a few outbuildings and a bunch of dodgy looking characters hanging about, would not be a place we would like to spend the night. We decided to ask the petrol pump attendant about the road to keylong and as luck would have it our map was wrong, it was not the monster climb we were expecting, but a fairly moderate climb of 200 meters over 5 miles. We decided to continue and pushed our tired bodies and bikes (both which were in need of some serious maintenance) up the road to keylong, following the Bhaga River now,  arriving at last light and luckilly getting a room in the town which was full due to a Police recruitment fayre happening the next day.

We’d had four tough days of cycling with the elements well and truly against us and we were looking forward to a rest in keylong.

7th August – had a couple of days rest in Keylong eating nice food, servicing the bikes and our bodies, in the form of a full-on tough “Auyervedic” massage. Tomorrow we head into the real big stuff of the Manali-Leh highway, 8 days of 5000m (16500ft) passes, and the high altitude desert plains of “Ladakh” where nomads camp and water is scarce. The next time I’ll post we’ll be in “Leh” with the Manali-Leh highway behind us and several stories to tell….

Until then.

Some pics….

Spiti Valley gorge

At the top of the Kunzum La pass 

Glacier in the Chandra Valley

Chandra Valley

Arriving at Keylong

In “Kaza” – the heart of the Spiti Valley

Hello All,

it’s been a while since my last post and I’ve a lot to write about….

we left our mountain retreat of Kalpa, fully recovered and ready for what lay ahead of us. Before we left decided to offload some of our “unnecessary” kit to lighten the load on our weighty steeds, so their is now a very lucky Kinnauri dude parading round in a pair of diesel jeans coupled with a flashy cycling top and a full size travel towel which he will be using for his morning yoga sessions!

Our next destinaton was the aptly named “Pooh” which we reached after a 45 mile ride. The day started great riding through a beautiful gorge passing waterfalls and stunning moutain scenery, however after a while we ran out of food and water, but were relieved when we rounded a bend and saw a sign saying “welcome to pooh”, that relief quickly turning to horror when we saw Pooh nestled on a hillside 1000 feet above us. We had no choice but to climb up to the village with our stomachs empty, our legs shot and our thoats as dry as the desert air. We finally made it just before sunset, filled oursleves with water and staggered into a total flea pit of a room the only bonus being the wonderful Nepali food we were served for dinner.

The next day we cycled to the moutain oasis of “Nako”. The day started with a downhill dash leaving Pooh and following the Sutlej river canyon once more. We finally reached the confluence of the Sutlej and Spiti rivers, turned north and entered the Spiti valley. we immediately began to climb, a climb which would last all day. The scenery began to change  quite dramatically going from the relatively green, tree spotted moutains of Kinaur to the treeless barren slopes of the Spiti valley. After a few hours of climbing we stopped in the shade at the side of the road and cooked up some soup and noodles, we were at about 3300m and it was the first time we started to notice the altitude, not, as expected in our breathing, but in a light-headed almost drunk kind of way, slurring our words and becoming rather clumsy. After lunch we laid down on the tarmac and had a short sleep, it was miraculous, we felt so much better. We continued the climb up to Nako and arrived just as the sun was going down, we had climbed up to 3800m (12500ft).

We had a day off in Nako and spent the day reading and eating tibetan food.

We left Nako on July 28th and went straight into a climb up to 4000m, this was the first time we experienced some oxygen deprivation, we both suddenly pulled up gasping for air. We got our breath back and continued to climb very slowly, feeling fine and not noticing the lack of oxygen again.  We reached the top of climb, marked by a small buddhist shrine perched on top a rocky ledge with a verical 1000ft drop below it (see pic below) and went straight into a fantastic, smooth tarmaced downhill, eventually stopping after a few miles to admire the stunning view of 360 degree moutains around us and the spiti river meandering below, we took some pics but both agreed the camera would never do justice to the majesty of what was  before us. We continued on the 8 mile downhill back to the spiti river (3100m) and after having our papers and “inner line permit” inspected at the police checkpost we officially arrived in the Spiti valley denoted by a “welcome in Spiti valley” arch across the road. We were now in pure, high altitude, desert coutry, with wind shaped, bone dry peaks all around us, their lower slops covered in loose shail. The air was dry, out throats raw and our lips cracking in the afternoon sun and we pushed on steadilly climbing up river to our destination of “Tabo”. After a lunch of rice and dhal and a sleep in the shade in the little outpost of “Hurling” we stocked up on tasty, mineral filled, local moutain water and evetually arrived in “tabo”, a peaceful little town at 3500m, surrounding one of the oldest buddhist monasteries in asia, we bagged a room in the monastery itself, found a resturant and gorged oursleves on 3 courses on western food – and the odd beer – our peace restored!

Had a terrible nights sleep in the monastery, not only did the bed seem to be made of rocks (designed for monks – not cyclists) but the constant howling of dogs and cows in full-moon frenzy made for a few hours of restless sleep (probably not helped by the couple of shots of local moonshine “arach” before bed).  We left Tabo, feeling tired and after 5 miles stopped for a 90 minute sleep in the shade of a dissued local building. The sleep, a coke and a chelsea bun (would you belive!) revived us and we continued to our next destination “Kaza”, I was at last starting to feel good on the bike, my fitness being the best it’s been so far. We climbed gently all day and arrived in Kaza aroud 5pm. We plan to stay here in kaza for 3 days, due to a couple of side trips we want to make in the area.

31st July – hired a jeep to take us and our bikes and drop us in the remote moutain village of “Mudh” – we’d seen photographs of this otherworldy place on the net and  we had to see it for ourselves, then we were going to cycle the 35 miles back to Kaza.  Mudh is situated in the stunningly beautiful “Pin valley”, with moutains similar to the now familiar moutains of Spiti, but distinctly greener, not only on the moutain slopes, but in the abundance of agriculture that surrouned the Pin river, field upon field of corn and peas. We arrived in Mudh, had some lunch and cycled up the track to the back of the village, the best place to observe this stunningly situated village, tucked in at the base of a huge rock formation and looking tiny with the towering peaks behind it (see pic). After taking pics we headed back to the village and began the rough, rock strewn descent of the pin valley, back to the spiti valley and kaza. Our bikes were given a severe hammering, but held up admirably and without the burden of panniers we flew back to kaza and popped in the local pub for a pint. Tomorrow we’re off for a ride up to the “ki monastery” situated on a pinnacle of rock at 4200m (14000ft), then we’re leaving the comforts of kaza and heading up to our first major pass, the “kunzum la” 4500m (14800ft) and the barrier between the spiti valley and our next destination, the “lahaul valley” and the start of the biggest challenge yet, the “manali-leh highway” a rough, high-altitude, 400Km stretch of road taking us to the ladakh region and reputidely one of the most amazing stretches of road on the planet!

I may be able to write a post in “keylong” but if not, the next post will be in “Leh” and by then the Manali-leh highway would have been conquered – let’s wait and see

It’s been an amazing adventure so far, but the best is certainly yet to come

“Namaste” to all you readers, see you soon…..

 links to a few pics….

Sunset in nako

Shrine on high road out of Nako

The Spiti Valley

View of Mudh village

The Pin valley

In “Kalpa” – chillin’ in The Him

We left Shimla for the first leg of our bike trip after a photo call with the hotel staff who wanted to pose with us and our bikes. We started climbing immediately and it lasted for the next couple of hours. I didn’t fel too great after being ill for the previous days, the weather was hot, I was losing fluids by the pint and it was all rather uncomfortable. The road the levelled off as we passed through many little shabby little villages, stopping occasionally for a pepsi, the people were all smiles and waves and a few even stopped us so they could pose for pictures while their freinds snapped us with their mobile phones (yes, they’re everywhere!). I even made the mistake of letting one hyper-active local have a go on my bike, the saddle was way too high, the weight on the bike too heavy, he wobbled up and down the road at which point I caught him and kicked off him off  before he fell over a cliff

We pushed on for a few more miles before the road started to climb again, now I was really feeling the pinch, feeling sick and cramping up. The plan was to ride to a village called Narkanda, but we stopped about 10 miles short, I was wasted and the weather was closing in. We got some food, but i couldn’t eat – I was still sick.

Luckilly we found a cool little place to camp, in the grounds of an upmarket guest house and the owner allowed us to use the kitchen and bathroom facilities. I ended the day on a downer praying to Shiva that i could shake this sickness!

 We started the next day with a steady 10 mile climb to Narkanda, there were frequent roadworks and we were eating dust, I still felt rough and hadn’t slept well in the tent the night before. We rolled in to Narkanda at lunch time, at 2800m we were in the clouds, it was chilly and there was a strong scent of marajuana in the air, with the plants growing everywhere (a sight which has become very common over recent days).

After a few cups of chai we left the clouds of Narkanda and went straight in to a fantastic 20 mile downhill ride, through conifer and ceder forests with monkeys and more marajuana plants , we started to boil as the tempertaure soared from 21 to 35 deg C as we desecended down to 1100m to meet the the Sutlej river, a rapid mud coloured torrent flowing in from Tibet.

We followed the rivero on a tough, up and down road spotted with occasional landslides and rockfalls for about 25 miles until we reached Rampur. I still had a sick stomach and no appetite, I was feeling below par and all I wanted was a bed and sleep. I managed to get some soup down me and slid into bed feeling crap.

I woke up feeling as bad as when i went to sleep, we cycled about 4 miles and we decided to abandon for the day after I was violently sick at the side of the road. I was still ill and needed to get better. We hired a jeep to take us to our next destination “Kalpa” and we decided we were not going to leave until i was fit and ready.

So, as i sit here writing, I’m in beautiful little Kalpa, a Kinnauri tribal village where few white faces are seen and the tibetan looking, earing wearing locals (men and women) observe you with a reserved curiosity. I’ve spent a couple of days sitting on the balcony of our little guesthouse, reading, chilling and catching glimpses of the holy mountain Kinner Kailash, 6000 meters in all it’s glory, a glory which rarely reveals itself due to the monsoon clouds. I feel much better now, my appetite is returning and I’m even considering eating a curry later. I’ve had my first beer in 5 days and the only beer i could get was a super-strong “Zingaro” – the label reads like this…..

“for thousands of years we have seen brave men ride horses. We have heard their stories of courage, pride and hard fought victories. Zingaro strong beer is a celebration of these victories. It has the strength of 100 horses. And the spirit of brave men. Men like you.”….

We are heading off to the Spiti valley in the next day or two out of the monsoon cloud and into the desert, where the mountains are huge and the skies are bigger – Zingaro! – I’m taking a six-pack!

until the next time.

some pics….

Kalpa – view from balcony

Kalpa – view from balcony 2

Rekong – village next to kalpa

In Shimla – running late!!

Hello All,

arrived in Delhi on Sunday, it’s monsoon season and it was like walking into a sauna.  Experienced the full onslaught of monsoon rain on Sunday afternoon and it was so refreshing, the temperature dropped by 10 deg C in a matter of minutes, the city bathed itself as I stood outside and got a well needed soaking.

24 Hrs later we came to Shimla, after a nightmare airport experience trying to get permission for our bikes to be transported on the small prop plane, it was only after much pleading and stripping down of the bikes that we finally succeeded, all this at 5 in the morning after a few hours sleep the night before. The plan was to spend a day in Shimla doing some sightseeing, getting the bikes ready,  getting supplies and ironing out any problems, but as we’d had a only a few hours sleep and a lot of travelling in 48hrs we decided to spend an extra day here catching up on some sleep.

After a nice rest we went out to see Shimla; Shimla lies at 2200m in the foothills of the Himalaya and was originally a hill-station for the British Raj, a place to escape to during the unbearably hot Indian summers, the climate being a pleasent 75 Deg C. The town itself is built on the side of a huge mountain with buildings seemingly stacked on top of each other up the steep slopes, interspersed with with narrow alleyways containing bazzars selling all kinds of goods, foods and spices, connected by steep staircases, crawling with monkeys, who seem to rule the roost and without a car in sight!

We spent the evening eating curry and drinking some kingfishers and strolled back to our hotel at about midnight ready to head off next day.

But all was not to be as i woke next morning to a nasty stomach bug and spent the next 24 hrs between the bed and the toilet, Delhi belly had hit me for 6 and put our plans on hold for the immediate future.

As I sit here typing I’m starting to feel better after a day of drinking water and eating fruit and finally this evening a stomach settling pizza (I can’t face curry!)  The plan is to head out tomorrow for the first leg of the journey, the bikes are ready, we’re as ready as we can be, 2 days later than planned, but better late than never eh?….

Links to a few pictures….

Delhi Monsoon

Shimla Monkey

Shimla sunset

Living the dream – cycling the Indian Himalaya

On July 15th my mate Matt and I will begin a 6 week dream trip to the Indian Himalaya. We will be starting in Shimla, heading to the Kinnaur area, followed by the Spiti valley and the (in)famous Manali-Leh highway a 500km stretch of road open for a mere 4 months per year, linking the remote region of Ladakh with the rest of India and containing some of the highest road passes on Earth . After a short stay in Leh (during a rare visit by His Holiness The Dalai Lama) we intend to head into the Nubra valley via the Khardung La pass, reputedly the highest motorable road on the planet at an altitude of approx 5350m  and then on to Pangong Tso lake before heading back to Delhi and home. If you want to keep up with our adventures subscribe to this blog and we will update it as often as we can.

Watch this space….

 spiti.jpgmanali-leh.jpg800px-khardungla3.jpg

Mountains and minarets – Day 1 – March 17th 06 – Antalya – Olympos

Day 1 – March 17th 06 – Antalya – Olmypos (52 miles +800m)

We started late today because Matt had a sickness bug. We left at around 11.30am and cycled out of Antalya Old Town (Kaleci) to pick up the tramline, this, according to the brothers Mavi and Ani (who ran the guesthouse) would lead us out of the city by the best route, avoiding closed roads and one way streets. We rode on the tramlines (literally)for a few kilometers and had to get out of the way of a tram on at least two occasions. We then got back on the road and headed down to the beach area where we followed the promenade for a few km and then joined the main highway out of Antalya.

My bike 

We were given countless beeps and waves from everyone along the road and from cars and trucks, we weren’t sure whether it was because we were cyclists / foreigners or both, but it was a nice gesture and we always reciprocated. The road itself was rather dull and quite busy (and this is “off” season, though for cyclists “on” season wouldn’t be fun due to the extreme temperatures, 45Deg C is not uncommon), but it did have a good shoulder all the way, and the drivers were always courteous.

on the road from Antalya

We left the main road after about 18 miles to go though a “resort town” (I use the term loosely as it was a bit of a dump) called Bebedi, by now we were quite hungry and looking for lunch as it was 4 hrs since we’d eaten (a nice Turkish) breakfast at the guesthouse in Antalya. We eventually found a restaurant amidst the concrete of hotels and apartments and tacky shops and sat down for lunch, what happened next was rather surreal. The waiter came over, he spoke no English, and just a little German and took our order of 3 coffees and a tea (I was going to have a beer but Brown convinced me otherwise). The coffee arrived and it was lukewarm and didn’t taste too good. After a 30 min wait the waiter returned and by pointing at the menu we asked for 2 shish kebabs and a pizza. 30 mins later the waiter returned with our food, consisting of 2 chicken burgers (eh?) and a very small pizza. This was never enough food for 4 hungry cyclists (let alone he bought us the wrong food!) so by more gesticulating and pointing we ordered some chips. He then came back with 4 lamb shish kebab, so we cancelled the chips and I ordered that beer. The food was quite poor (compared to what we’d had inA ntalya the night before) and the price was a rip-off. After about 2 ½ hours since entering this dull/expensive little town, we were on our way cycling out of Bebedi, with a slightly bad taste in our mouths.

sun breaking through

 It was gone 3pm and we still had over 30 miles to cover, and we weren’t exactly sure how much light we had, as we were still on winter time.  We got back on the main road and made good progress for about 10 – 15 miles, then we hit our first big climb, which we weren’t really expecting, considering we were just supposed to be following the coast today. The climb took nearly an hour and as we started running out of daylight  and with the temperature dropping we came to our turn off the main road and looked forward to a long descent back down to sea level (from about 500 metres). After taking a few snaps of the snow-capped Mt.Olympos we began what we thought would be an easy 7km cruise down to our guesthouse, how wrong we were…. 

Andy and Mt Olympos

At the end of the descent, with no sign of the Olympos resort village, and the light almost gone, the road became a river, which we had no choice but to ford, barefoot (the water was over our knees) as we were told by a local that Olympos was on the other side. We put our shoes and socks back on and were told by another local to follow the beach along to Olympos, it was now pitch black! We trudged our heavy bikes through the soft sand for about a km when we reached a more severe river which we weren’t going to ford.

Antony and I decided to go off on foot, following the river back inland to see if we could find Olympos, was it real, or was it a myth? we were starting to think that maybe we would be spending the night on the beach, which wouldn’t have been so bad, as the night sky was fantastic, although it was getting quite cold by now. After about 5mins we realized we were on some kind of path, then after about 15 mins of following a distant light, we bumped into some divers who confirmed that the resort village was just a bit further up the path and that we’d been walking through the ancient city of Olympos since the beach! We walked back with the divers, who had a better torch and gathered up our bikes and the 4 of us pushed our bikes into the resort village, finally arriving at the first bar we saw at about 8.30pm. We found our accommodation, had a well earned dinner of soup and vegetarian casserole and couscous followed by a couple more beers while we sat warming ourselves by the wood burner and joking that our first (easy?) day had turned into a bit of an epic.

Mountains and minarets – Day 2 – March 18th 06 – Olmypos – Kumluca – Kumluca

Day 2 – March 18th 06 – Olmypos – Kumluca – Kumluca (42 miles, +570m)

We left Olympos at around 9.30 this morning and after a few km of flat road we began the climb back up to the main road, this time without having to ford the river as we were on a different road (the road we probably should have came in on last night). The climb was a steady gradient and around 8 miles long, winding past houses and small farms. We reached the top in around an hour and crossed over to join the main road and noticed an old man selling oranges. This was a good place to stop for a rest, so we wrapped up as the temperature had dropped due to the altitude and feasted on the most beautiful tasting oranges I’ve ever eaten (and they cost next to nothing).

Leaving OlymposOrange sellerorange stop


After about 30mins we got back on our bikes and descended about 8 miles into Kumluca and back into the warm air. We bought some lunch of bread, sausage and cheese and cycled out of Kumluca, accompanied by an annoying little kid on a bike who kept asking for money (a very rare occurrence).We found a lunch spot a few km out of town, just before the next big climb of the day. After lunch we began the climb, again it was a steady gradient, rising up 350m to a lake. By the lake were some goat herders and many goats and they gave us the standard wave and smile as we rode past

.Mountain viewlake viewGoats

After the lake we headed up through a beautiful river valley and after a few miles we passed a lovely spot, so decided to camp out, we had no tents, but the weather was looking good, the spot had a plenty of wood and fresh water and we had a enough food on us for a decent evening meal – sorted! We unpacked all our gear and proceeded to assemble the most important part of our camp, the shelter you may think, no, the fireplace! 

Matt tending the fire

After a while we got a nice fire going, we were chilling out around the camp then it started, a few drops of rain were in the air and on looking up we could see our nice blue sky had turned distinctly grey. We built a shelter as fast as we could from sticks, zip ties, a survival blanket and a piece of rotten plastic sheet we found. The shelter wasn’t too bad, and would keep the rain off three upper bodies; I had a bivvy bag, so at that time wasn’t particularly concerned. The rain then got harder and we had to water proof up and get under the shelter and cook some food which we did after packing our kit away in our panniers to protect it from the ever hardening rain. We cooked our dinner and ate under a leaky shelter, the rain was now coming down hard and lightning flashes filled the sky, it was then we made a group decision to abandon the camp and get back on our bikes and ride in the pitch black the 15 miles or so back to Kumluca, which we did so with just our head torches and the lightning flashes to light our way.

After about an hour of fairly easy riding, mostly downhill, we arrived back in Kumluca about 9pm. We managed to find a pub (we have a knack for this) and after parking our laden bikes outside, with the owner of the pub promising not to let the bikes out of his sight, we relaxed with a few beers, dried ourselves out and munched on nuts and plates of fresh fruit salad. The owner kindly booked us into a nearby hotel room; we thanked him and set off to find the hotel which we did after a few minutes searching. 

We had a room between all 4 of us, we whacked up the heating and hung our dirty, wet clothes out to dry filling the room with pungent odours and returned to the ‘pub’ for a couple more beers. We chatted with the locals who gave us good information about roads surfaces, gradients and accommodation options (so we would not need to camp again) and we were then treated to an uplifting weather report by the pub ‘oracle’ who promised us there would be “no rain” a point he enforced with a swift movement of his hands – we believed him. And as it turned out he was bang on.

Mountains and minarets – Day 3 – March 19th 06 – Kumluca –Elmali

Day 3 – March 19th 06 – Kumluca – Elmali (50 miles, +1370m)

We left Kumluca in the bright sunshine after a lovely breakfast of savoury pastries and ‘chai’ (Turkish tea drank in a glass without milk and with plenty of sugar) and the plan was to head to the ancient ruin of Arykanda. We rode out through the suburbs of Kumluca and through several small villages accompanied as usual by smiles, beeps and waves, passing minarets and even a few small ruins at the side of the road, parts of which were now resourcefully being used to keep bees! 

 RuinMinaretwhere we are heading…

  We came to a junction and a local man gave us directions, and then invited us in for chai, but we had to decline as we knew we had a long day ahead of us especially when we asked about the gradient of the road and he just pointed up. Just before we started on what was going to be the biggest climb of the week a man came out of his house with a load of oranges for us and proceeded to peel them with his knife and offer them round to us, like the other day, they were gorgeous, we had 2 or 3 each. We chatted with the man for about 20 mins, said our farewells and started on the climb. This climb would eventually take us from sea level up to 1120m, we were in for a long one, and it was baking hot already. 

on the passhigher up the passon the pass 

The climb was fairly steady and the gradients not particularly difficult but in the beating sun we were losing fluids by the gallon, however we had the gorgeous snow capped peaks in front of us to take our mind off things as they drew ever closer. About halfway we came to a junction that wasn’t on the map so I went to ask directions at a nearby stonemason business, and what do you know, we were invited in for chai, this time taking them up on the offer, not only out of courtesy and intrigue, but to escape the sun for a bit. We were greeted by the “general manager” and shown into a cool room with a huge marble table and served chai, it tasted good. We exchanged pleasantries and broken conversation with the manager who was learning English and enjoyed a welcome break. We were then offered to fill our water carriers with the “the best water” which came straight off the mountain, we did so as we’d gone through quite a bit already, it was as the manager said, you could taste the freshness.  We began the second half of the climb, sweating up the hill for another couple of hours, admiring the scenery and chatting with the “Elmali Boys” a bunch of young lads on motorbikes who saw us at the side of the road and came over for a chat, we were to bump into them 2 or 3 times up the mountain.

Rest stop“Elamali Boys” and AntonyNear the top of the pass

Our destination was going to be Arykanda but after missing the turn and finding out there was no accommodation anywhere near and we didn’t fancy a night without tents above the snowline, so we decided to push on up the mountain to the town of Elmali where we’d been assured there would be a hotel or pension, although time was getting on and Elmali was still a way off. The vista in front of us was spectacular, a huge plain surrounded by inspiring snow capped peaks. We wrapped ourselves up in full winter clothing as the temperature had gone from about 25deg C to less than 10 and the clouds were gathering. We descended a small amount and began the slow ride into Elmali along the pan flat plain with a strong, cold wind in our face, it was getting late and we were all feeling tired.

 Elmali plainElmali plainarriving in Elmali
The straight road into Elmali took forever and we finally rolled in to town at about 6.30pm, cold, hungry, dehydrated and in need of a beer (which tends to be a good cure). Alas we didn’t find a bar (a temporary set back) but a friendly local guided us by motorbike to the town’s hotel, we put our bikes on the roof for safe keeping and crawled into our rooms. After a hot shower we strolled into town for some food and that beer and managed to get a meal in the only restaurant still open. We’d had a hard day today, and after finding out the town had a hamam (Turkish bath) we all decided it would be a good time and place for a rest day. And it never did rain.