By Richelle
Sunday 11th of June 2017
I have never struggled to put finger to touch screen as much as I have for this blog post. The last 2 weeks in the northern tip of India have held indescribable adventures, and near death experiences, all of which I will share in slightly edited detail to keep the mums and dads worry free. Ladakh is a remote and unique pocket of northern India, it requires a traveller's complete commitment to the journey, wildness and the unexpected. It also requires a road trip of epic proportions from the safety of Manali, all the way to the city of Leh. Only one member of our posse seemed to acknowledge the questionable vibes emanating from the prospect of a 18 hour mini bus trip, the rest of us swept away by a sense of adventure and a ‘nothing bad will happen’ attitude. We waited up for most of the night, keeping ourselves entertained with local guitar players and cups of tea. At 1.30am, huddled on a street corner, our minivan / torture chamber pulled up, and we got our first glimpse of the man who makes a living out of scaring the shit out of tourists, and delivering them barely in one piece across the state border. In all fairness, these drivers fly along the unkempt roads more than 3 times a week, every week, during the peak season - and that experience has to count for something I guess…
The road to Leh had only opened a few days before our departure, this, as well as unplanned rock falls, landslides, snowfall and blizzards make it one of the most arduous, unpredictable and dangerous road journeys you can make anywhere in the world. I only believed we had arrived when my swollen feet touched the dark bitumen in a seemingly abandoned bus park, close to 23 hours later - more on this further down.
Have you ever entrusted your life to a driver on synthetic drugs and cigarettes (of an unidentified substance)? Have you ever felt all 4 tyres of a van suspended mid air? Have you ever driven 80km/h around a hairpin corner, 5000m above the earth? Have you ever wee’d at 4095m in the snow? Have you ever watched the world from the inside of a blender? We have.
My memories of the long journey flash behind my eyes in a blur of speed, shouts, spine shattering bumps and dizzying heights. It all started with a 2 hour delay, based entirely around a Tibetan woman insisting on transporting herself and her bag of corn. They couldn't seem to strike a deal until Daniel marched down and blasted them. In retrospect, this may have been the catalyst for the speed demon driver we created. Our driver clearly had a second-place complex, insisting that our van overtake and lead the road, no matter the risk involved in the process or the welfare of the poor travellers left in our dust (or ice in some cases). After filling every seat on the bus, the journey began at around 3am. We were all deprived of sleep for most of the journey, wired awake on fear and adrenaline. The only ones who seemed oblivious to the situation were the Israeli tourists, drugged up on sleeping pills, heads covered over with blankets. His driving style made sports bras for women and men an absolute must, and lead to more than one confrontation, Daniel almost flying through the centre aisle and out of the windscreen in the process. His lead foot also meant it was near impossible to photograph in focus, the blurry shots below are the best I could manage. A member of the Tibetan family who had caused our early morning delays fell victim to altitude sickness, the elderly woman seemingly unconscious at times, her female companion yelling and screaming. Molly used her Tibetan to try and decipher what she was saying - ‘She has a cold, she is cold, she is old’ - while Alex fed her skittles and the driver continued at his extreme pace to get to lower ground. The high mountain passes also had other consequences, exploding nut butter jars and splitting headaches - it was quite the menagerie.
With all the action inside the van, it was easy to forget the incredible and surreal landscapes we were flying through - it was like nothing on earth. Gigantic mountain peaks, arid plains, desertscapes, ice walls, rivers, waterfalls - Ladakh has it all. The thin road wove around the formations of mountains, forcing itself into the rock walls and vertical planes. In true Indian style, there were also several serious, yet entertaining government road signs, some of my favourites being ‘Are you going to a party? Why drive so dirty?’, ‘Drive on horse power not on rum power’ and ‘No AIDS, Know AIDS’.
As the hours ticked over, and the high passes rose one after the other, we grew wearier and wearier. It felt like it was never going to end. Tea stops and toilet breaks didn't seem to break up the monotony. Night fell, the temperature dropped and we neared the highest point of the road yet - 5300m. And boy, what a finale! The drivers window broke, allowing a relentless blizzard to whirl around the inside of the van for over an hour, as we all chanted ‘slow, slow, slow’, feeling the tyres slip and slide along the icy mountain pass. We crawled down the steep cliff side, leading the way, of course. As the snow eased, the town of Leh came into view - we had made it! It was just past midnight. Leh welcomed us with a complete absence of taxis, a chorus of barking street dogs and cool mountain air. We threw on our packs and walked the 2kms through the ghost town to our Skyland Guesthouse, where we were welcomed with honey ginger tea, happy Ladakhi faces, comfy beds and a giant puppy Saint Bernard named Marley! Things were looking up.
It took about 2 entire days to recover physically and potentially a lifetime, psychologically. Leh was a beautiful place, making it easy to settle in and create a home nest - Marley really helped on this front too, it was so nice to have a big friendly giant gallop towards you and between your legs every evening on arrival through the front gate. Our days here were spent eating local Tibetan food, German bakery treats, exploring winding ancient alleys and mud brick houses, climbing to sky high monasteries, volunteering at local english conversation classes and walking every level of the royal Ladakhi Palace, once the home of kings and queens. Exploring this palace was a real highlight for me. As well as 360 degree views of Himalayan beauty and green compartmentalised barley fields, the 17th century architectural icon is built into the rocky ridge, feeling every bit as medieval and enchanting as the guidebooks make it out to be. Molly, Daniel and I took full advantage of having the place almost to ourselves, exploring all 9 levels, including the Buddhist shrine and photo gallery space. Climbing further up the mountainside, encouraged by the rhythmic chants of pooja and white washed stupas, we explored the monastery from top to bottom, admiring golden deities, safely tucked away behind dark doors and stone walls.
This was only the beginning, valleys further afield beckoned, promising adrenaline kicks and friendships forged in Markha stone. We couldn't wait any longer, the trekking bug was awake and kicking, it was time to hit the Himalayas once more.