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.