Day 22: Leh - Zing Zing Bar (15th Sept 2014)

Woke up at 5 am. Quickly changed and started with the second half of my story by 6:15 am. I had set my target to halt at Zing Zing Bar skipping Pang in between, which meant that I had a tough riding day ahead of me. Just as I was leaving the Leh gate, I stopped to have one last look at Leh. Once I started again, I didn't look back as it would have only deepened the pain.

The checkout

The Leh Gate

As I crossed Karu, I saw the black clouds over Thaglangla. I knew I was heading towards trouble.

Thaglang la looking menacing

As soon as I started ascending towards Thaglangla, the icy breeze started to make my hands numb. They just refused to be in my control.  I had to stop every 5 minutes to blow hot air into my palms and rub them just to get them back in my control. After about an hour of repeating this exercise, no amount of blowing into my hands helped. By then my feet too had started to go numb. I desperately wanted something much hotter. That's when an idea struck my mind. I knew that the engine and the silencer of the bike would be very hot after revving the engine for some distance. So I started riding for 10 minutes, climb down, alternatively place my hands and feet on the heated silencer till I regained control of my limbs. This went on a repeat mood for about an hour. Then came the masterstroke from mother nature. About two kms short of Thaglangla, it started snowing. So slippery had the road turned that the Army convoy had to park their trucks for the snowfall to stop. I could not afford to do so. By now I knew that the temperature would start becoming warmer once I crossed the pass and start descending. Crossing the pass was a survival tactic. Any additional minute spent on that snowfall was worsening the situation for my hands and feet. I reached Thaglangla at 9:10 am. It took me 3 hours to cover a distance of mere 50 Kms. As the freezing temperature started to restrict the flow of blood in my body, my brains started to lose its reasoning power.  Last I remember is that I was sitting beside Chitti (that's what Linda calls my Royal Enfield .Inspired from the movie of one of our favorite actors - RAJNIKANT !!!) with my hands on the heated silencer and with absolutely no idea where I was. It’s at that point I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned back and I swear I saw an angel. Now, it was not the kind of angel that I had grown up listening stories about. Unlike the angels from the storybook, this one was a male, had a black face, not because of his skin colour (a controversial statement I know) but because of the tar smoke, and not a treat to look at.  He was a labourer from BRO. Seeing my plight, he called me inside his tent, or at least what looked like a tent. It was just an 8 feet X 6 feet area (approx.) covered with a plastic sheet. There were five others staying with him. He knew exactly what I needed so he lit a stove in full flame and placed it in front of me. As the heat of the stove started to put back life into me, he ordered one of his friends to make a cup of tea for me. I never drink tea but at that point, anything warm was God sent. I remember one of them saying, “Geelas ekdum aachi tarah se dhoona sir kay leya” (make sure that the glass is washed properly).
Once my senses were in prime again, we started sharing stories. I had not realized but these labourers were some of the most travelled people within the country. They had been to almost every corner of the country for some project or the other. One old man in his late 60s from Bihar had a very sound knowledge of the geography that can put some of the geography scholars to shame. He had in-depth knowledge about a remote village in Manipur to the posh areas of Mumbai. Spoke about the political situation in Kerala too. Two amongst them were from Chattisgarh. The way they narrated their naxal stories made me feel that I was watching a Ram Gopal Verma movie in a theatre. The old man was not very fond of my story, especially the part of me leaving my job. I could see that he was not very pleased to hear that part. The younger ones showed some interest, a tiny bit of it. Before I realized, I had spent about 45 minutes chatting with them. By that time there was enough warm blood in my body which would help me with my onwards journey. As I was getting ready to leave, I offered them some money.
“Paisa ke baat mat kijeya sir” (Don’t talk about money), said one.
Of course, how could I offer money to these angels? How foolish of me.  I didn’t insist because there was certain principle assertiveness in his voice and I didn’t want to cross that line. It was an experience which screams out that money is but a paper.
“Aagar aap kay pas sar dard ka dawai hai toh day dee-jee- ay, yaha par khali sarkari dawai milta hai, jo mitti ke jaisa hota hai” (If you have any medicine for a headache then please give us some. We get only government medicines here & those are as good as mud); added the same guy.
I immediately acted on this opportunity to pay back and reached out for my medicine box which Shirsha, one of my sisters in Bangalore who is a nurse by profession had packed for me. I gave them all the medicines that I had and emptied my medicine box. The headache medicine was so precious for them that even the ones who didn’t have a headache popped a tablet. They said it was a precautionary step  :)
As I walked out of the tent the only regret I had was that I couldn't take the picture of the angels that I met at 5328  meters above the sea level as the battery of my camera was low. A picture of them in the tent would definitely have made my story much interesting. Today I cannot recall their faces. If they walk past me, sadly, I will fail to recognize them. The pang of this regret was a bit difficult for me to digest initially but now when I think about it, I guess that’s how it’s best designed to be. Angels have never been photographed ever, have they?

Riding through the loose sands of the Moore Plains this time was even more difficult as compared to the previous time. Despite riding at 5-10 kms/hour, it was extremely difficult to balance Chitti in that ankle-high mud. After Chitti and I freed ourselves from the tricky Moore Plains, from a distance I saw a black sheet over the brown mountain. It was an unusual sight and I had not seen it while I was heading towards Leh on the same route a few days ago.  When I came closer, I saw that the black sheet was a heard of about 600 black Yaks. The sheer size and the number of yaks made every traveller stop to check for real. Too bad that my camera was out of charge. It would have made a good click.

When I reached Pang, I had my lunch at the same Padma hotel and I also charged my camera's battery. Curious to know what happened to the guy from Delhi who had suddenly fallen ill and had to be rushed to Leh army hospital (Read 12th Day - 5th of Sept), I asked Padma about him. She told me that the guy recovered well in the hospital but couldn't complete his ride. Later someone had come to collect their bikes and luggage which they had left at the Padma hotel.

The onward ride resumed at 2 pm. As soon as I had started, I was held for half an hour to give way to about 50 army trucks. I had not seen such an army might ever before.  They kept on coming one after the other from the blind end. It was some spectacle to see. Finally, the driver of the last truck in the line smilingly nodded his head signalling that I could now proceed.

Army power

The afternoon sun had turned the small stream of water that I saw on my way to Leh into a full stream on the middle of the road. I carefully crossed the road sticking to the edge of the road which was shallowest.

 I came across one rider who had a flat tyre. They had changed the tube but didn't know how to fit the tyre back so I helped them. By the end of it, I was happier to fix the problem then they were.

I reached Baralacha at 4:30 pm. I initially found it difficult to believe that I had reached Baralacha pass. The late evening sun had transformed the place beyond recognition and it no longer was the dreaded snowcapped cold place which I had seen on my way to Leh. The warm appeal of Baralacha forced me to stop for a moment. It was the last 'la' that I was passing on this trip, so I took my time.

With the setting sun, the temperature started dropping fast. Riding hard, I finally reached Zing Zing Bar ice cold at 6:30 PM and checked in the same Zing Zing Bar camp that I had used during my trip towards Leh.

Zing Zing Bar Camp

I ordered Maggie to warm my body. I had not uttered a word about how cold I was but strangely Sonam (the owner of the camp) lit a stove and placed it in front of me. It's no brainer to guess that commodities like kerosene are very precious at that remote place. Every drop is valued as it's a survival kit. Though I was loving the stove, I told Sonam not to waste his kerosene on me, but he played deaf and left the camp to me alone.

After some time, a group of riders calling themselves 'Indian Army Fan Club" stopped for a tea break at the camp. They had come on a trip through some adventure agency. One amongst them was a friendly Brazilian girl. I didn’t ask her name and neither did she ask mine, but we discussed at length about the Brazilian debacle in the world cup. As the camp was full, I ordered a packet of chips and went outside the camp. Once the group left, the camp was a mess.  Some of them didn’t even have the decency to throw the used tissue papers in the dustbin so they chucked it on the floor instead. As Sonam, the owner of the camp picked those used tissues from the floor and rearranged his camp he said;
“ Mujhe dekhnay se pata chalta hai kaisay kisim kay guest hai. Mein aisay guest ko jyaada entertain nahi karta hoon” (I can judge a guest by the way they behave. I don’t entertain such guests)

Later that night two riders stopped by as their bikes were facing some problem. They were cousins and were riding from Delhi. It had been one of their dreams to go on a Leh bike ride. I thought it was a spark plug issue, so I cleaned it thoroughly. The performance improved but the bike was still not ready to climb the steep slopes. The bike was in no condition to cross Baralacha so Sonam advised them to get the bikes inspected at Sirchu. It had grown pretty dark by that time, so they decided to halt along with me for the night.
 
That was my toughest day throughout the trip. The distance which I had covered in 2 days while heading towards Leh had been covered in a day.

At the end of the 22nd Day, I had covered a distance of 321 km and been visited by angels of an unknown kind


(Do read the other days chronicle listed on the same page)

#Royalenfield  #trip #leh #bikeride #adventure #ladakh #travel