September 20, 2023 to September 25, 2023
A Final Goodbye to Ladakh - the Land of the High Passes
From Tso Moriri to Manali
The next five days consisted of pass after pass, each climb testing our endurance with little time to recover before the next ascent began. Yet, these were some of the most breathtaking roads of the journey so far—winding through barren, Mars-like plateaus and framed by towering, snow-dusted peaks. By now, we had spent over a week above 4000m, and while the altitude had become our new normal, the thin air still made every pedal stroke a challenge. But our spirits remained just as high, especially after reaching the top of a pass, where the cold wind stung our faces, and the vast landscape stretched endlessly before us. It was always a relief knowing there were a good few hours of downhill freewheeling until the next pass called us from the bottom.
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After a sizeable pass, we rode along a plateau with a mild incline that seemed to stretch on forever. To make things worse, the wind blasted our faces, and there was no shelter in sight for miles. Camping wasn’t an option—not just because of the exposed plateau, but because I was running low on water, and we had no food left to cook. There was only one choice: to keep riding.
As darkness fell, we continued along the main road, trucks thundering past us. Eventually, we reached a steep drop-off—on our left, a sheer cliff plunged into the darkness, while to the right, the road zigzagged sharply downhill.
Exhausted from the long day's ride, we stopped at the first place we could find—a small but popular truck stop. The people inside were surprised to see us, but we were only concerned with filling our stomachs and resting our aching bodies. We ate while watching a bizarre Bollywood movie on a flickering box TV before retiring to our room, which we were almost certain had bedbugs. Sticking to our usual routine, we covered the beds with our dirty tent ground sheets and hoped for the best.
I was lying in bed reading when Nabil stumbled in, covered head to toe in dirt and dust. My first instinct was to laugh, but his face told me something had happened. After hearing the story, though, I couldn’t help but laugh.
Sam had heard Nabil calling for help and rushed outside into the darkness, only to find that Nabil had fallen into a hole on the way to the toilet. The local health and safety standards—if they existed at all—had allowed for a deep pit along the path to the toilet (a hole-in-the-ground style one), covered only by a couple of loose planks and a sheet of fabric that acted more like a trap than a safety covering. Sam managed to find a ladder nearby, and after some struggle, Nabil climbed out—unharmed but filthy and pumped full of adrenaline.
It wasn’t the night of rest we had hoped for, but after a day like that, sleep came easily.
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We passed a few of these beautiful creatures along the way (I believe they were Bharal). They weren’t particularly shy and are common in rocky areas above 3,000m. As the primary prey of snow leopards, they play a crucial role in the ecosystem—though unfortunately, we didn’t spot any of the elusive big cats.
One of my favourite passes was the Gata Loops, starting from the Nakee La Pass and then speeding down 500m through the 21 sharp hairpin bends, a wonder of engineering which left me wanting more!
Mistakenly, I fed a dog a small corner of chapati, and it followed me up the barren Baralacha La pass. I loved its company, but I felt really bad seeing it follow me the whole way, especially since I didn’t have much food to give. There was no way I could outrun it either, as I was battling a nasty headwind and the steep climb.
The dog stayed with me all the way to the top. Out of guilt, I rewarded it with another piece of bread, though it was nowhere near enough to replace the calories it had burned running beside me for two hours. I really wanted it to turn back, but instead, it did the complete opposite and ran down the pass with me.
This time, I was fast enough to outrun it, but when I turned for one last look, I could still see it running. I wonder if it’s still looking for me.
Eventually, the descents became longer than the climbs, and the air thickened with oxygen as we dropped to as low as 3000m. The landscape grew greener, reminiscent of Kashmir. People were growing cauliflower on the mountainsides, winching it across the valley to their villages. We also began to see more people, though it still didn’t feel overwhelming.
The rough roads took their toll, and my saddle rail unexpectedly snapped, leaving me to pedal standing for the rest of the day. Fortunately, we weren’t far from a town and stopped for the night at the “Hob Knob Hotel.”
Although it wasn’t on our route, we decided to hitchhike to the larger city of Manali through the long tunnel separating us from it. Hitchhiking is a strategic game, and seeing four dirty cyclists together wasn’t exactly enticing for passing drivers. Instead, we locked our bikes in a small cluster of buildings near the tunnel and hoped they’d be left untouched. We then split into pairs to increase our chances. Before long, a Tibetan man picked us all up and drove us into the city.
Reaching a new city was always exciting for our bellies because it meant a change from the usual diet of rice, lentils, beans, and roti. More importantly, I managed to find a new saddle—the “Firefox”—which would become my far less comfortable seat until I met Ilaria in Nepal. She would bring me a replacement Brooks after I wrote to the company explaining my issue. While in Manali, Seb and I also needed a “medical test” for an upcoming mountaineering course in Sikkim. The doctor, well aware of what was required, was perfectly happy to make up some results and sign our forms. We were both relieved and got it done for cheap.
After a successful day and stocking up on many extra kilograms of nuts, we took a shared taxi back through the tunnel and retrieved our still-secure bikes. Around the back of some buildings, we found an abandoned structure and slept well, despite a persistent dog that kept trying to join us. The discarded banana boxes made for excellent padding to sleep on too.
Next time, the infamous Spiti Valley!
Today's ride: 300 km (186 miles)
Total: 300 km (186 miles)
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