For Mom, Love Steve

Having conquered the Zoji La Pass a few days prior, which was the only way into the Himalaya lined state, I took off this time fully loaded with saddle bags and as much fuel as the tank would hold (@ 14 litres.)

Unfortunately, the crystal clear weather that I had for the week in Srinigar left when I did. It was nothing horrific, but it was one layer of light gray clouds. In elevation, the difference in temperature between sun and shade is often quite drastic. Even with a t-shirt, long sleeve button up, and two fleece jackets, the cold air was still permeating down to my skin. It was much different when I went the first time and was fine, even to the top of the pass, with a t-shirt and fleece jacket.

I zipped through to Sonamarg rather quickly, with the initial awe of cool weather, mountains, and snow capped peaks having worn off. I did the registration thing at the base of the pass and started my way up. It got pretty snappy cold up there, enough so that I donned my new raincoat and gloves. I only had a couple of skid outs and otherwise zipped right up to the top. I was still having a little fouling out problem, but after winding up first and second gears, it clears it out and runs fine there on out. At the top it was the usual view and I patted myself on the back for successfully making it through the only (I thought) rough patch to making it into Ladakh.

The “I thought” part kicked in really quickly on the backside when I reached the part where I stopped at my first run through. In one of the pictures, you can see me parked on a concrete road section right after the dirt road ended. From there it is a gradual snow covered decline down into the next turn. Well, I had thought that it was just this gradual, concrete road down to a sun lit valley with flowers blooming and birds singing. Nope. Not even close. What I got was run-off covered, rock patch road with arctic winds whipping right off the tops of the snow covered peaks. In the title, I stated I peed in my pants. Well, I did, literally, twice. “Pissing in your pants” is a kind of slang term used in I guess America and other English speaking places, but it actually means to be scared. Well, I wasn’t scared, I was wet, freezing, my hands were frozen into claws and to get my pants down was about five layers of zips, snaps, and buttons. One thing with elevation, at least for me anyways, is that I have to pee, a lot, especially after coming from somewhere where I was just laying around eating and drinking. I have to pee about every hour for the first day or two any time I am above 3000m. Drinking a ton of water is also about the only real way to stave off the affects of altitude so drinking like a camel didn’t help either. Now, don’t think that I didn’t try, but after barreling through some shallow pools of ice water and some not so shallow, I was drenched from waist down. Having decided against buying waterproof lowers, it was just jeans protecting the nether regions. Just for the record, the last time I tried to get my pants down, I couldn’t undo the buttons on my jeans and ended up pulling the button off of one of the button-flies and scratching little Schwinn when I pulled my pants back up. After I was about half way down, it was over, I didn’t give a crap as standing out in the rain and cold air trying to get my pants down just wasn’t going to happen, so I did as they did in Dumb and Dumber, psychologically fought against what is the normally right and wrong, and let loose. And you know what, it is just like in the movies, a moments relief as the heat just runs through your body and you give a sigh of double relief, and then to my surprise, there was no ill after effects. I was still getting pounded by water from the bottom and the top, so nothing lost. Hell, the second time was even easier. But enough about that.

It was the similar carved out road in a deep valley surrounded by snowcaps, but when it is cold and rainy, it just kind of loses its sex appeal. The only real meaningful pass through was a little village called Drass, which is the second coldest inhabited city in the world, second only to some place in Siberia. Minus 30-40 degrees Celsius in Winter. Brrrrrrrr. Other than that, the weather cleared a bit and I was able to cool air dry off as I zipped my way to the halfway point of Kargil.

Kargil is a governing city of the surrounding area so it is slightly larger than a village. Half of it is also made up of an Indian Army base (one of the closest border points with Pakistan.) For most, it is just a in-transit stop over half way between Srinigar and Ley. Although to most it is a one night stop, I stayed a second night not only to rest a bit, but also to do a little strolling around and learning about how the people make it through the closed off freezing winters. The passes to Srinigar are only open from May-October and the Ley side from June-October. The rest of the year the valley is closed off to outsiders with the exception of those who might fly in. Some of the locals said that they go for about six months with no fresh fruits or vegetables and usually end the season eating strictly dal (lentils). Crazy, although it also signifies that the work for the season is over and now they can just party and have festivals. For others it meant get the hell out and go to Goa for the winter.

Luckily, waiting the extra day, I caught a stretch of some no cloud sunny skies. It was picture perfect with beautiful views, semi-warm weather, and dry roads. I took advantage of it and stopped by the little village of Lamayuru for a few days for some R&R in the sun and my introduction into the Buddhist religion of Ladakh. All of a sudden it was monasteries and Gompas (churches) with a bunch of Monks wandering around (not shaved heads). I even got a chance to spin my first prayer wheel. The change of food was also a huge positive as now soup and momo’s were on the menu. After Lamayuru, I made the 1.5 hour drive to another religious village, Alchii, of course it took me five hours as it was just a gorgeous day and the views were outstanding as the road wove through a canyon with a Himalayan fueled river running through it. Alchii turned out to be a kind of designer tourist town so I didn’t really enjoy it as much although it was beautifully manicured and it was also home to the only surviving Buddhist temples from back in the 11th century. It has the epitome of early art in the Chhoskhor Temples and I was just told another World Heritage site. I even got to meet the local Lama, although he seemed pretty disinterested in the whole thing.

The following day I left Alchii and made the final run to Ley and limped into town with a leaking front shock but otherwise in pretty good spirits as I just beat a storm that rolled in that evening.

And that is where I am, sitting in Ley, recouping and preparing to do a few local runs around the area. What I did not factor in correctly is that the pass that would take me out of this valley and back down into India is usually closed until July. All fine and dandy except for the fact that my visa expires the end of June. Not good. But you know what, thank god for Global warming. The weather has been changing and now, they are expecting the pass to be operable by the middle of May. Hell yea to pollution and the Green House effect. I just might make it over the pass in time and not have to retrace my steps back to Srinigar.

If my writing bores you, I will follow it up with a kind of picture Diorama. Enjoy.

*******Change that, I can’t find a place that will allow uploading of photos, so it might be a little longer.****************

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This entry was posted on Saturday, May 10th, 2008 at 11:41 pm and is filed under India. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.