For Mom, Love Steve

After conquering the Khardung La, I stayed for two more nights in Ley, partially to rest a bit, but also to prepare for the upcoming ride to Manali. Basically, the road is 460 kilometers with about 270 kilometers of it a barren wasteland of high snow passes, crap roads, river crossings, no petrol, and only a couple of temporary tent outposts set up for the truck convoys that make there way to and from Manali/Ladakh for the five months that the passes are open.

I did keep an eye out for other riders so that possibly I could go with someone else, but I heard about one other guy who had just left. Oh well, I figured I had made it that far alone, and Schwinn was running okay, so what’s a guy to do. I had less than a month to go on my Visa and still a decent distance before getting to Nepal.

I spent two days working and getting Schwinn ready, and the following day I left. I had come up with the plan of making a leisurely ride down to the end of the valley (around 45 kms) and spend the night there so that I would shave a couple of hours off the hardest first part. The next day would get me to the two-thirds point where there was a decent city (Keylong) and from there a half day ride on to Manali. Simple. I spent the morning having breakfast at my usual places and saying goodby to the workers. The last preparation thing was to find a metal working shop and have some tire levers made out of the wrenches I had. I was done around 10am and then packed my bags, paid for my room, filled up with petrol (including two extra 3-litre containers), and headed for the little village of Upshi.

The day was fairly nice with just a few clouds blocking the sun occasionally. The valley was blooming and there were villages stretching the whole way. By the time I got to Upshi, I was in a groove and when I saw how small the little village I started thinking that it would be mighty boring hanging out in the five building town with the few hundred residents staring at me the whole day. I figured that I would just keep on going for a bit and stop at a local guest house somewhere closer to evening. Wellllll, things started to get more barren with less and less of civilization. I altered my plans and did a map reconnaissance. On the way there are three high passes: Taglang La (5328M) second highest in the world, Lachlung La (5060), and the Baralacha La (4950M). It was still early evening and things were going smooth, so I figured I would get over the Taglang La and then stop at the tented city of Pang.

Getting over the Taglang was surprisingly easy as the sun was out for most of it. There was a rough patch where they were tearing up the road as well at the top where some long stretches of mud made things touch and go. Once on top above the snow line, the roads were dry and the altitude didn’t affect me at all. I had met only one car going up the road (which I don’t think made it as I lost side of it about half way up.) There were a couple of trucks coming down, but otherwise it was just me. At that time, the peace and solitude was a big positive and I had the top of the mountain all to myself. On the back side it was pretty much the opposite, dry at the top, wet and muddy about a quarter of the way down, and always a few river crossings where the run-off makes its own path.
It was still mid-evening time when I rolled up to Pang, which was a little tented camp with about five parachute tents all set up with restaurants. It was one of the more popular places as they had fully stocked shops to cater to all the passing trucks and tourist vehicles. There was a police check point where I had to give my passport information so I asked the guy if he thought it was possible to make the next tent city at Sarchu which was about 60 kilometers away. He gave the usual 45 degree angle, semi-nod, partial yea, partial no, answer which kind of irritated me so I just took my passport suited up and hit the road.

The first chink in my armor came right after Pang where the road turned to rocky shit and a healthy climb. It was like there was no road at all. When I turned a corner I found out why. The road was flooded out as the run-off was coming down the road leaving an occasional strip of non-submerged land on either one side or the other. It was still a steep climb so I just had to gun it and try to lead the bike side to side. One thing I learned is that the Schwinn will pretty much climb through anything, but you just have to keep the rpms up and not try to steer. Water is fine to travel through as it usually is sturdier than trying to go through mud which often time will cause you to spin out or get stuck. The only problem is that you tend to get soaked, but it is a small price to pay versus getting stuck going up a flooded, stone covered road. After about a hundred or so meters of climbing like this I thought there would be an end at the top. I was wrong. At the top was the cause of the run-off. There was a river cutting across the top which was over flowing and the run-off was flooding down the road. The real problem was that the river covered the whole top so that there was only a small patch where you could stop, but that was dirt/mud and it was barely big enough to stop on and it immediately dropped off into the river. You would never be able to get enough speed or rpms to get across to the other side. I had to make a split second decision and just hit the throttle. Not having a chance to see what was the best route, I was about half way through when I saw my two options. One was keep going straight across which was twice as far, or cut to the right where there was a little median where the river and the road caused the river to split. It was closer so of course I pointed the bike and steered toward the little island. Just after that I figured out it was the wrong decision. The bike dropped even deeper and I started smacking into bigger rocks. I made it about two thirds of the way before I bottomed out, lost rpms, and stalled out. I was stuck. That was the first time where it hit me that I was alone, stuck in an icy river, and there wasn’t anybody around to help. I stood there with the water banging into my legs. I didn’t want to look down to see how much water was getting into the motor, so I just stood there feeling the water push against the bike. I was in a mild state of shock as I thought about how I couldn’t even feel how cold the water was. It also donned on me how my usual ability of problem resolution (there are always at least three solutions to any problem), had stalled on me just as my bike had. I had nothing. I was just standing in a river with a bike I couldn’t start, all my belongings (all of them) including a laptop, and all I could do was stand there and not let the bike get washed away. Then my mind kicked in and it started factoring in all the variables and coming up with how long I could stand there before I had to just let go and walk away. Great fucking calculation, really a good motivating thought. Finally, my head cleared and I was able to get off the bike and keep it balanced. I started trying to push it to the bank and got it almost to the edge. I still had my helmet on and it was suffocating me so I had to stop every once in a while and pant it out. Finally, a tourist truck pulled up to the bank and I thought I was saved. Well, the bastards just sat there at the edge of the bank while I am guessing they watched me as nobody got out. It was a few minutes of me just panting and then occasionally trying to get the bike the last meter to the bank. Finally, I looked up to see a local guy running up and reaching out for one of the shocks. It took us a couple of tries as I was wiped out and on the verge of passing out. We finally got it over the bank and the front wheel and motor on to the dirt. I gave a heart felt half wave and he ran back to the truck and they zipped it through the river. That is where I saw that although it was longer, the straight across was the correct route to take and I would assume with all the traffic, the bottom was pretty packed and solid. After a quick lay down, I realized that I had to do something as I couldn’t get stuck somewhere on the mountain all wet with no sun or light. I took a look at the bike and saw that the water had gone over the lower half of the block and only partially got the ignition. I prayed a bit and gave it a kick start. Surprisingly, Schwinn had my back and it fired up without a hiccup. All of a sudden the anxieties left and I was on the road again. That feeling is amazing. Talk about relief and joy combining to form an incredible high. Things were okay.

I couldn’t go back so I had to cross the next high pass at the Lachlung La (5060M). Three thousand meters lower, so no big deal. Just gotta keep moving. By this time I was a bit freaked out about river crossings, but luckily there were only a few smaller ones. The road was even shittier, but it was manageable. Rocks and mud I can deal with. It did get a lot colder as now I was all wet and my feet had gone numb. Unlike the other passes there wasn’t much to see at the top except for the same snow and mud. I was not in the best of moods so I after a couple of photos I was back down on the other side just looking to get off the mountain and down into some valley where the place that I planned to stay was. I guess I was getting tired, but man it started pissing me off that after every turn of a mountain, all you could see were more snow capped peaks. I started hating the Himalayas. I just kept on thinking that the next turn I there would be no more mountains, just a never ending stretch of rolling hills covered in flowers, grass, and bees. Nope, every corner, 15,000ft snow capped mountains as far as you could see. Damn.

Chink in the armor two came on the last stretch before my camp at Sarchu at the infamous Gata Loops. There are like 30 switchbacks as you come off the mountain and down into the 3500M valley. The roads were nice and tarred and I even saw bighorn sheep grazing among the grass. At about turn 25 there was a steep banked tight turn not much onlike the 24 before. For some reason this one was different as all I remember was braking down to a slow crawl when all of a sudden the handle bars gave no resistance and twisted freely, the sound of glass braking, and me on the ground. I just laid there thinking “what the fuck.” Then of course I sprung up shaking it off and making sure that nobody had saw that. I had only dropped the bike once before in the market at Udaipur, so I was worried that I couldn’t lift it with all my stuff on it. It did also occur to me that at least I could say that I had a proper wreck since falling down while going backwards does not sound so impressive. I took quick stock of the situation and saw that the front headlight had somehow got smashed. Other than that, one of the fuel bottles was leaking so I dumped the petrol into the tank, and surprisingly none of the handle bar controls had been affected at all. I of course nervously attempted a start and Schwinn again didn’t let me down and fired right up. I put the bike on the stand and did a quick medical check and found the only thing hurting besides my ego was my left wrist which still worked so it must have just been sprained a bit. After a few deep breaths I started back down reallllly slowly through turns 26-30. The sun had started to set behind some mountains so I couldn’t dilly dally too long and had to push through the apprehensiveness. Just as it started to get dark I pulled into Sarchu.

Sarchu is known as one of the most barren and cold tent camps on the whole route. There were about 8 tent camps set on both sides of the road. As I passed through, an old man waved at me, so I took that as a sign and pulled over to his sturdily built building. I figured wood and corrugated sheets would be warmer than a parachute tent. The old man was a little life saver. He helped me bring in my stuff, fired up the dung fire stove, served me a couple of cups of milk tea, and then made a double serving of the most delicious instant soup that I have ever had. After the brutal day, I was in a cheery and warm home. Surrounding the little fireplace are a cushion covered sleeping area with tons of blankets. These places are generally just communal sleeping places for the passing truckers and occasional bikers. For me it was a very needed resting oasis.

The next morning I was up around first light at 5:30am. The prior night the man had told me that the last pass at Baralacha La was very dangerous and that the snow melt causes the rivers to be very high especially by mid day after the sun had gotten the snow melting. Great. I definitely wanted to be on the road early as river crossings were not high on my fun list. By 6am I was on the road and by 6:05 I was knee deep in the first ice bath of the day. Just around the corner from the camp there was a freaking huge creek that formed at the bottom of a turn. Just freaking beautiful. Thankfully I didn’t run into any more baths in the valley. The road again turned to shit as I made the rocky climb up the Baralacha La. At the snow line again, the scenery was beautiful, and I got to see some ice covered lakes. It was a very picturesque area. Towards the top, where the snow takes a long time to melt, the roads are tarred and still in pretty good shape as they are inundated by too much run off. Here, I ran into Chink in the armor three. Ice. Black ice. Schwinn does not do well on ice. Schwinn does not do anything on ice except go horizontal (that means fall). I fell five times on a stretch of road about half a kilometer long. Since the road was smooth tar, and we were at a high altitude, ice had formed and stuck. The first time I hit some ice it was quite a surprise as snow is nothing and I usually can pass over it like a patch of dirt. When ice has formed underneath, the bike turns instantly ninety-degrees and I wake up on the ground. Now I understood that the front let braces and foot pegs are not just for propping your feet up and looking cool, but they keep the bike from crushing your legs and arms. The following two were spin outs while barely making the speedometer needle move. If the front or back tires hit any ice at all I would immediately topple over. The freaking crappy part is when you fall, you usually end up on the ice that made you fall, and then you can’t stand up. Picking up the bike is impossible, so on hands and knees I would have to pull or push the bike over to the edge of the road and then spin it around so that the wheels are over the edge then push it up. After the fourth spill, I gave up and was stuck half way up the side of the mountain with ice patches above and below me. I was up around 4500M but luckily the altitude did not affect me like it did Michal and Edith when they got a flat tire coming over one of the passes. Even with the four of them, they couldn’t gain enough strength to pump the tire up after they had fixed it. Michal even was vomiting the whole time. I ended up using rocks to chip and break the ice from patch to patch. Even when the occasional lorry came by, the ice was so solid that it wouldn’t even break. In the end I had to wait two hours for the sun to come up over head and soften up the ice enough for me to make my way through it. The last fall was a doozie and it did wreck me a bit. I was coming down a hill into another hair pin when a little drizzle of water had frozen. My front wheel hit it and spun me and the bike into the snow drift and on top of my right leg and arm. This time I hurt wrist pretty bad and it was a bitch trying to pick up the bike after that. Once again the Schwinn saved my ass and fired right up. With my mojo at an all time low I slooooowwwwlllyyy made my way back down the other side of the pass.

The first permanent settlement was the little village of Darcha. That marked the beginning of civilization and I was ecstatic. Although I had about thirty kilometers to go to the first main city, it marked the beginning of the easy road. I did have one more pass to go, but the whole way would be permanent little towns which all had little tourist guest houses I could stop at and even some with petrol. I did my final passport check and then was on my way. Chink in the armor four came at about six kilometers outside of Darcha where they were doing construction which required me to stop and wait. I pulled over and shut off Schwinn. When they opened the road I went to fire up and nothing. Nothing. I have never had a nothing problem with Schwinn, ever. I tried and tried and nothing. Finally I started getting a bit deeper into things and found out that I wasn’t getting a spark out of my ignition. Then I backtracked it and found out the battery was dead. Shit. I tried push starting it and nothing. While working on the bike I stood up and grabbed the handle bar. My hand bumped the clutch lever and the bracket snapped and now my clutch lever was dangling there. Fuucccckkkkkkkk. Now I was screwed as I brought a spare lever but no bracket. Crap. While contemplating what to do a couple of Indian guys came by on Enfields making the Ley run. They tried to help but were pretty much useless. We decided that they would ride to Darcha and try to have someone to come back and give me a hand. A while later a kid from the only mechanics shop came out on a bike and he just concluded the same thing I already knew, the battery was dead. The weather broke and it started getting kind of nasty. I told him I didn’t care about fixing the bike at that moment but would rather concentrate on getting back to the village and into a guest house and the following day I could get things fixed. He went back into town and sent out a tractor and trailer to haul back the bike. Since the tractor and trailer were used for rock hauling it was not the best suspension in the world and we ended up breaking both kick stands, my signal lights, and while trying to push start the bike my tail light. Even though it was tough we managed to get the bike back into the village and into the guys shop. Unfortunately there was no electricity until late that night so I just ended up hanging out in the little ten building rest stop area. It was a nice place to stay though with my room right next to the river and snow capped peaks on both sides of town. The people were extremely friendly and they served some good food. By the end of the day, just like my first day, I was a happy camper.

The next day after not finding a bracket anywhere, we ended up just reversing the front brake bracket and getting the clutch working again. With a fully charged battery the Schwinn fired right back up and after breakfast I was on the road again. Even though the roads were much better I still took it mightily slow as my mojo was gone and my front brake handle was being held together with string.

I finally made it to Keylong and headed straight for the mechanics shops. I purchased a couple of brackets and had him look at my charging system as the problem had never happened before and I still had one more pass to go. He checked the battery and found that it was dry as a bone. He filled it with some bottled water and I was back on the road again. I thought about staying in Keylong for the day, but again I figured it would be better making it to Manali and spending a few days repairing the Schwinn, especially as it did save my life more than once.

The ride over the last pass was probably the worst out of all of the passes that I did. Even though the Rohtang La is only (4000M), the top was the worst in regards to run off. The last 1000m climb is on a series of switchbacks one on top of the other. On each one the center portion was one long stretch of standing water. My feel were submerged the whole time. The second to the last pool was the deepest that I had encountered and actually submerged the whole exhaust system as I could hear the exhaust bubbling from underneath the water. It was scary as hell as the weather was a shitty and it was freaking cold. At the top I ran into a carnival as the place was packed with Indian tourists who come up to the top to experience snow. It was exactly like driving through the market area in a big town. There were people all over the place, trucks and buses locking up the roads, and just a big cluster fuck trying to get through. It was the last thing I needed as it was still cold as hell and the same mud puddles everywhere. It took two hours to get out of that mess and down into the pine covered valley of Kullu Valley. There it was tarred roads, a major city, a plethora of lodging and all the amenities one would expect from a major tourist destination in India. I had arrived and survived.

As I gleaned back on this little adventure, I remember the conversations I had with a Belgian guy I met who’s nightmare would be to end up getting stuck in a river, soaked to the bone with the sun going down. The other was with Michal who highly suggested that I do the trip with somebody else or possibly three as it was very sketchy for them on the way there. While going through these armor chinking, I did feel a lot more vulnerable than I have in a long time (since the run in with the Guerillas on the train in the Republic of Congo), and I think that possibly I should back off a few of these solo runs and perhaps pick up a partner or two when these types of situations arise. There are just so many variables that could lead to disaster. We’ll have to see. I can’t stop living though.

A happy note, my laptop survived the whole thing. When I got to Manali I opened up the computer and saw that the keys imprint were imbedded in the dust on the screen. Not a good sign. When I tried to start it up the screen came up black. On the third re-boot it fired up fine and is still working fine. That was a happy moment.

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