Bloody Hell!!! What a day, and it all started at 4am with a right kerfuffle!
The bags were basically packed so we just had to sort out a few last minute bits and bobs. We thought we had everything, picked up 2 rucksacks each and set off to catch the 5am bus to Manali. We’d just got around the corner from the guesthouse, when Steve suddenly realised that he was no longer wearing the money belt. He ran back to the guesthouse, assuming he’d left it in the room, and turned the place upside down. I searched all the packs but both of us came up empty handed. Steve grabbed a headlamp and carefully retraced our steps thinking that the money belt must have fallen off.
There was still no sign, and as it stood, we were a fair amount of cash down and more importantly passport-less. By this point we’d made so much noise with our comings and goings that the staff were up and joining in. We returned to the room and while I rechecked all the nooks, crannies and bags, Steve went out into the lane one last time. By now it was starting to get light and if the belt had fallen down somewhere it was soon going to be found. One of the staff went with Steve to help him search and he spotted it lying in the road near where we’d first stopped. Everything was still inside (phew!) but to a certain extent we didn’t really care about the money.
It was much more important that we got our passports back. Yes they are replaceable but if we had lost them we’d have spent the rest of our holiday dealing with Indian bureaucracy. We’d have had to; file a police report, sort out a temporary passport and reorganise our Indian visas. Then on returning to Malaysia we’d have had a day and a half to; sort out proper passports and get new Malaysian work visas. The amount of hassle, red tape and form filling loosing 2 passports would have entailed doesn’t bear thinking about.
Obviously we were extremely pleased to retrieve the money belt and its contents but for some reason didn’t feel as relieved as we should have done. Did we accidentally leave it in the room? Did it drop down in the street? Since we caused such uproar back at the guesthouse; was it ‘found’ so we could all save face? We’ll never know but in the end we all came out winners. We got our passports back and the bloke who found the passport got a hefty tip. Whatever happened we were lucky and on calming down realised we could now concentrate on enjoying the rest of our holiday. No point dwelling on what might have been.
Of course by this time we’d missed the bus and had to formulate Plan B. We went to the ticket office to see if we could change the tickets for the following day. Even though we felt like we’d been up half the day it was still only 7am hence the office was shut. In fact it wouldn’t open until at least 9am and the prospect of hanging around for 2hrs to find we couldn’t change the ticket didn’t appeal. So we decided to hire a taxi to take us to Sarchu where ‘our’ bus would pull up for the night. Surely they’d let us honour the second day of the ticket; after all we’d paid for it, including tent and food.
The guy at the guesthouse organised a taxi for us so he was a winner too as he’d get his cut. We’re we getting too cynical? Anyway off we set – 3hrs later than planned! The taxi was basically a micro van and it was soon apparent that it wouldn’t have the power to catch the bus. Never mind we had all day to reach Sarchu about 275kms away. Initially the road follows the Indus Valley but on passing the military base at Rumtse it starts the 32km climb up to the first pass. I’ll try my best to describe the journey but it’s not going to be easy. This was by far and away the most incredible road trip we’ve ever experienced. There can’t be many more in the world to rival or beat it. Even the photos only go some way to conjure up the scenery and events. Anyway here goes!
Once we started the climb up to Taglang La (5328m) the road gradually and then quite quickly deteriorated. It didn’t take long to leave the tarmac behind and our little van was being tossed around. We were being jostled around so much that our seat collapsed. You guessed it – not the right vehicle to deal with the conditions. We were progressing in the right direction and since we were in the middle of nowhere had no choice but to continue. At the top of the pass we took a breather and a bus pulled up. Steve jokingly said – there’s our bus! On starting the hairpinned descent to take us down to More Plains (4700m) the bus was behind us. Our little van was taking a serious battering and not surprisingly the driver wasn’t too chuffed. He asked if he could flag the bus down to ask if they would take us.
He duly did and it turned out the bus was empty. An empty bus in India is a most rare phenomenon indeed. It transpired they were going as far Keylong (beyond Sarchu camp) and they’d be happy to take us for Rs500/=. Our driver didn’t want any more money (he was happy with his fare to that point), we would save Rs3000/=, the bus driver would get a nice little bonus and our taxi driver could go back home. Once again everyone was a winner.
We soon established that the bus was on official police duty and already had another hitcher on board. We took our time choosing ring side seats to take in the views and stow our bags. The best part of the vehicle change meant we were now travelling in something that was much better equipped to deal with the appalling road conditions. The drawback of being in a bigger vehicle soon became apparent when we met a truck travelling in the opposite direction. The bus had to reverse back up the dodgy road and perch itself on the edge so the wagon could pass. Doesn’t sound too bad does it? One slight miss judgement of error and you would find yourself plummeting down a vertical mountain side.
A mode of transport of choice, with tourists, is to rent an old Enfield motorbike and travel the road from Manali to Leh. It must be exhausting hauling a big, heavily laden bike like that over the high passes. Another popular choice is to cycle the route. Now some die-hard fools / super fit folk (you choose!) fill their panniers and go it alone, making the bikes heavier and the cycling much more difficult. Oh to be that fit! A better option is to go as part of a tour so you have a back up jeep and help on hand. Either way, we really couldn’t see how it could be anything other than an extreme endurance test. How can it be enjoyable to slog up long, steep passes day after day, on dirt tracks, with wagons bearing down on you?
About 70% of the vehicles are petrol tankers and the majority of them are on army business. The Leh to Manali road is only open for a maximum of 4 months a year. So the government has to make sure all the bases stock piles enough supplies during that small good weather window. Watching petrol tankers squeeze past each other is somewhat alarming. Just to add to the heady mix the normal supply wagons, which make up about another 20% of the traffic, are generally carrying gas cylinders. The majority of the drivers (including our bus driver) are Sikhs. They really are a hardy bunch and all of them go about their work graciously. Our driver continuously showed courtesy to other road users and he readily agreed to give us and others along the way a lift. Stereotypes exist for a reason and we’ve found Sikhs to be friendly, helpful and tolerant. Anywhere else in the world this would be rightly be classed as a dangerous job and the drivers would be paid danger money and other bonuses. I’m sure these tough, brave fellas get paid a pittance.
On saying that, they’re positively rich compared to the road builders. The Boarder Roads Organisation (BRO) is a big employer in the area with teams of men and women trying to repair and improve the road. Even though the job only pays about Rs100/= (less than 2 quid) a day, with food and lodging included, BRO have no problems finding able and willing workers. Just as well food is provided as the nearest shop is miles and miles away. As for the lodging, well that leaves something to be desired. The flimsy, shabby tents they have to huddle into by the edge of the road made our trekking tent look like 3* accommodation. Most of the workers are inadequately dressed for the bitterly cold weather. In hundreds and hundreds of kilometres the only machinery we saw was a couple of bulldozers and a tarmac machine. In other words the roads are hand built, in harsh conditions and the teams are working at high altitude. It just goes to show how dire the poverty must be in places like Bihar to continuously attract a work force. All along the way the workers were ready to smile and wave as we rattled by. Puts things into perspective doesn’t it?
Back to the journey. The descent into More Plains was as hair raising as you’d expect. The longer we were on the bus the more we realised just how lucky we’d been in securing this lift. The driver was very good – he kept a steady pace and always waited in the most suitable spots if he’d seen traffic approaching. Once we reached the plains the scenery changed yet again. This area of the world never ceased to amaze us with how suddenly and dramatically the geography and geology changed. The plains stretched for almost 50km and are alleged to be the grazing grounds for local Nomadic peoples. We hadn’t seen any sign of habitation since leaving Rumtse hours and hours earlier. The plains were just as devoid of life; animal, vegetable or human. In fact after a couple of kilometres even the road disappeared. Honest – all the vehicles simply chose its favourite route. At the end of the plains is an army and road builder’s camp, Pang, where we stopped for lunch.
The plains came to an abrupt end and the road dipped down into a wide gorge. Our travel guide describes this next section as; “24kms of truly awe-inspiring scenery”. For once they were not exaggerating and even those words don’t sum up just how impressive it was. Basically we entered a mini Grand Canyon where the sand and rock formations were out of this world. By now the skies had cleared and the shadows cast by the rocks added to the striking beauty. In fact – out came the camera! It wasn’t easy to frame the pictures while handing out of the window, bouncing and bumping along but we had to try. Against the odds we got some great results.
At the end of the gorge the road began to rise again – it was time to tackle the next pass. First of all we climbed up to Nakee La that just about had a sign announcing its presence to the world! However, all eyes were focused on getting to the top of Lachang La at 5060m. The going was understandably slow but thankfully incident free with the descent involving the negotiation of 21 Gata Loops – that’s hairpin bends to you and me! How on earth they ever managed to carve a road through this part of the Himalayas defies all logic. By this point it looked like someone from the road planning department had been doodling but the design stuck!
Sarchu is yet another place that only exists because there is a road. It is a truck stop with a collection of tea tents and very worryingly an offy-tent! Granted I’d need a stiff drink after driving on those roads all day every day with a highly inflammable load attached to my cab! This was where we hoped to catch up with our bus and find our luxury tent. Ah! No buses in sight and the only tents were extremely shabby – there was no way we were staying.
We already knew our ‘rescuers’ hoped to reach Keylong before resting for the night so we asked if we could continue with them. Thankfully the driver readily agreed and actually we were having a ball on our private bus and didn’t want to shift. We’d been chatting with our few fellow passengers and the atmosphere was convivial and relaxed – had to beat the tourist bus. On exiting Sarchu we passed various luxury tented camps and presumably we should have been in one of them. There was no way we’d be able to find the right one and there still weren’t any buses in sight. If we had talked our way into a bed for the night goodness only knows how we’d have found some transport the next morning. Sticking with our private Indian police bus was the preferable option.
The road continued for quite some way before the beginning of the climb up to Barcha La at 4890m. This was to be our final pass of the day and even though it was lower there was much more snow around. In fact at times the bus brushed along the snow walls that formed the mountain-side edge of the road. To add to the excitement we didn’t start the ascent until 7pm-ish giving us only about an hour of daylight to get up and over the pass. You’d think that an hour to cover the 10km up and 30km down would be ample time – wouldn’t you?! Not on those roads. It took us until 8.30pm to get to the top and by this time it was almost pitch black. The patches of snow along the edge of the road were becoming increasingly regular. Due to the sunny day we’d had there was lots of snow melt across the road too. Luckily it hadn’t started to freeze – yet!
Since it was now dark we assumed we’d be the only vehicle / fools still going. However, there was still the odd tanker crawling its way up the pass headed for an overnight stop in Sarchu. We’re not sure what was worse – being able to see the hazards and the stomach-churning drop-offs or not knowing. All we could do was continue to put our faith in our excellent driver. Having to reverse in the dead of night to be able to get round the bends was rather unsettling. Still, we descended safe and sound and on reaching Darcha the driver had had enough. He’d been driving on those shocking, dangerous roads for 14 hours almost non-stop and needed to rest.
Darcha is the first permanent settlement we’d seen since leaving Leh and marks the start of the Zansker Range treks. Watch this space – if we ever return to that part of the world we fancy trekking in this area. There was a choice of tea tents and homestays but none of them appealed to us. We asked if we could sleep on the bus and not only was that acceptable but they shifted the seats to make longer beds for us. I pointed out the futility of wasting their time and effort on me but no one was listening! So the sleeping bags were put into service once again and we got ourselves very comfortable. The others quickly spotted how snug we were and before long everyone was using the bus as a hotel. Goodnight!
Day 2
Darcha (3400m) – Manali (2050m)
Via Rohtang La (3978m)
Following a surprisingly good sleep we were up and at’em early doors ready for the next instalment of the journey. Everyone else was up early and we were on the way again by 6am. By now we knew the bus was aiming for Chandigarh and to get there would have to go through Manali. We made a point of saying we were headed for Manali but the bus pulled over in Keylong anyway. That morning we’d picked up several more passengers, all of whom were bound for Manali, so we tried once again to get the message through. We asked if we could stay on the bus and once again that was fine.
The road trundled along relatively tamely although of course the scenery continued to be lovely. We gradually saw more villages and general signs of life. Breakfast was taken in Koksar while the driver dealt with some paperwork. We expected to be asked to present our passports but evidently not. Steve declared it was time to return to civilisation when I declared the public loos to be super. They weren’t really of course but the cubicles had locking doors, the loos were clean and flushed and there was soap and running water in the sinks. Bear in mind that we’d spent most of the holiday; camping, in shabby guesthouses and on a bus – they seemed a real treat to me! We worked out that we’d averaged a shower every 3 days and only once had the luxury of lukewarm water.
We soon began the 16km ascent up our final pass Rohtang La (3978m) where the road was just as abysmal as the rest we’d travelled on. Let’s just say that virtually the entire 483km route is in a perpetual state of construction. BRO are trying to improve it but it’s going to take years. Then, when they do finish the improvements, each year the winter snow and ice break it all up. Seasonal job for life!
With this being the lowest of the passes we thought we’d witnessed the worst of the white knuckle rides – more fool us! The 12km stretch down to Marrhi was as narrow, steeply sided and twisting as those mentioned earlier. However, this section had the extra scare factor of winning the ‘worst road surface yet’ award. The rain and snow melt had turned the track into a quagmire and there was a noticeable increase in the volume of traffic. Apparently, many residents of, and visitors to Manali, pop up to the pass for a day trip. This in turn leads to many vehicles being driven by people who don’t really know how to handle the conditions in cars that are far from suitable.
The trucks and buses had made ruts in the muddy goop forming the best route down. The tiny Suzuki cars didn’t have a wide enough axel to be able to take advantage of this. It wasn’t much fun watching them bounce between the ruts on the edge of a terrifying drop-off. At times the drivers were so enthusiastic that all 4 wheels left the surface – scary. To add to the chaos a lorry had broken down and a jeep was firmly stuck. Mind you we had no sympathy for the jeep driver as it serves him right for queue jumping. There are mountain road rules and etiquette to abide to you know?! To make matters even worse, we were up in the clouds and visibility was minimal – a right pea-souper! To add to the drama the vultures were circling too. Honest there were loads of them and we were so high we were actually looking down on them cruising on their thermal. It took 2 hours to descend 12kms – enough said.
The road improved a great deal after that – couldn’t fail to really! It was still very bumpy but we reached the land of tarmac again. The only tricky sections were near streams and rivers where we had to plough through the former and use bridges for the latter. All the bridges declared themselves to be temporary and weak and were only just bus width. Just when we thought we could relax and enjoy the last stretch to Manali the road chucked up more surprises. Yes we were on tarmac but we still had hairpins and sheer cliffs to deal with. The gradual increase in habitation meant we now had people and animals leaping into our path too.
We had 10kms to go when the bus started spluttering. At only 9kms to go it conked out. So near, yet so far. We didn’t want to look ungrateful so we waited while the driver tried to negotiate some repairs. It didn’t look like much was going to happen any time soon so we decided to flag down a vehicle to take us to Manali. Luckily it wasn’t long before a local bus careered round the corner. We quickly gave the driver his ‘fare’, yelled thank you, grabbed our bags and threw ourselves into the back of the bus that didn’t really want to wait for us.
We finally reached Manali bus station following almost 24 hours of travel over 2 days. Bangsar, Kuala Lumpur to Singapore is over 500kms and that coach journey takes 5 hours! We worked out that the average speed had been somewhere between 20 and 25 km/hour. Not much more than my average cycling speed to and from work in KL!!! Granted it was a long, slow trip but it was also the most incredible journey we’ve ever done. The vistas, views and valleys were second to none. Add in the adrenalin pumping, heart stopping moments and it makes it a journey we’ll always remember. It’s going to be some time, if ever, that we embark on another to equal or beat it.
Manali
On finally reaching Manali, we jumped in a tuc-tuc and asked the driver to take us to Sunshine Guesthouse, that we’d been led to believe was “full of old-world charm”. For that read run down, no signs of life and didn’t look like it had been open for some time! A little wandering brought us to Gaurav Guesthouse and at Rs250/= (less than 4 of your English pounds!) we didn’t expect much. It wasn’t palatial but was okay and had 24 hour power including a hot water shower. Joy!
Obviously we felt we were at sea level by this point but were actually still at 2000m. It was the rainy season and we awoke to find the lower Himalayan foothills, and Manali, shrouded in mist and cloud. Chilly too, but at least we had full oxygen levels and pottering around didn’t feel like full on trekking any more. We didn’t really do much more than pottering and stopping off for brews and tall, cool ones to be honest. It’s very much a backpacker’s town so there are loads of cafes and restaurants to choose from. It was raining most of the time so we weren’t inclined to sign up for any tours and the trekking was way too tame!
