After sitting in a cramped vehicle for 14 hours traversing through stomach churning and backbreaking mountain roads that climbed above 15,000 feet in many occasions, it was near midnight when we arrived in Leh. Leh appeared like a typical tourist town at first sight. There were long lines of tourist cabs that had completed the day’s shift and resting at their designated layover. There was still a lot of life at the bus-stop despite the late hour, mostly consisting of drivers and passengers who had just arrived. A few people approached us, offering a room for the night or a taxi into the town.
Not wanting the hassle of searching for a place in the middle of the night, we had booked ahead at a family run guesthouse. But we had no clue about the orientation of Leh and the location of our guesthouse. It was too late to call and check. Hiring a cab was the best available option. It did not take long to find taxis. “Sankar,” I called out, and “One fifty,” came the response. Having no idea about the right fare, we took a shot in the dark and bargained for Rs.50. That was all the money I had in my pocket! But no one was interested in a negotiation. It the middle of the night, we were not in a position to wait for a willing driver or look for alternate options.
Having foolishly forgotten to draw money when we left Manali 5 days ago, we were now nearly penniless. I had Rs.50 left in my with me after paying off the cab that took us to Leh from Keylong. We hired a cab for the quoted price, explained him of the situation and asked him to take us to an ATM first. Sirin, the cab driver, did not seem like a happy man that night. He was unsure if the ATMs would be in working condition. The first one we visited – an SBI ATM at the market had downed the shutters. The second one was a J&K Bank ATM that did not work.
Sirin agreed to drop us off at the guesthouse and collect his money next morning. But he grumbled all the way, and did not make any attempt to hide his unhappiness as we drove to Sankar Village. We had earlier refused his offer to take us to a guesthouse run by his friend. And then he was made to drive around in search of a place he had never heard of, for customers who had no money to pay. Obviously he was not having a great day. But he looked a lot more cheerful when we met him to pay his due on the next afternoon. He smiled casually and said “I have trusted you with my money yesterday, you must hire me for all the local sightseeing!”
When we did arrive at the guesthouse, it turned out to be just about 2km from the bus-stop. At Rs.75 per kilometer, it was the maximum I had ever paid for a cab raid anywhere in India. We woke up our hosts who had shut for the day, apologized for having to disturb them in sleep, and finally checked into end the very long day. We discovered next morning that we were staying in a delightful guesthouse.
Here is the list of posts from ‘The complete guide to Leh – Manali Road’
A short drive from Pang are Morey plains – a vast, perfectly flat plateau bordered by low hills. Like the plains of Sarchu, it is another unlikely break from climbing up and down the mountains, maneuvering tight curves and wading through clear streams. Cab drivers seem to look up to being there, and step on the gas and raise dust storms as soon as they enter the plateau. It is so flat that no one cares to stick to the road, but steer at will and make their own way.
In fact there isn’t a proper metaled road for most of the way across the plain. BRO works hard to maintain roads in the tough terrains all along the highway, but here on Morey plains where it seems easier to metal the surface, it is left unattended. The wheels of the vehicles randomly cruising on the plains trample the tiny grass that springs here and prevents any growth along a wide strip. Besides the environmental problem, it affects supply of grass to Khampa people – a nomadic shepherd community living in these parts.
The road begins the climb up to Tanglang la after more than an hour of trampling through Morey plains. Tanglang la (altitude – 5328 meters or 17,582 feet) is the second highest motorable pass in the world and the highest point on the road, after which the final descent to Indus Valley begins.
By the time we got past the plains, sun was already going behind the mountains and the last rays were falling on the peaks. Weather turned hostile as we climbed up and it started raining slowly. Rain turned into a mix of snow and water as we gained altitude. There were fresh deposits of snow along the road, indicating that it has been coming down for a while. The unmetaled road at the higher reaches was slushy and our cab driver was struggling to navigate on the muddy road. I saw an Enfield parked and orphaned on the way, probably left behind by someone who was finding it hard to ride in the tough weather and slushy road.
Tangang la seems to get hit by bad weather fairly often – I have had at least three people telling me about encountering bad weather when they crossed the pass during various months of the tourist season.
As we climbed up to the pass, I recognized faint signs of altitude sickness in me for the first time on the road. We had stopped somewhere close to the top and had to wait for a bunch of trucks to get across each other in the slushy and narrow road. I felt mild headache and nausea and wondered if it meant anything. It could have been the altitude, or it could be because of half burnt diesel fumes emitted by the trucks ahead of us. The windows were all closed to prevent rain and the chill from coming inside, which could have added to the problem. Whatever be the reason, the trouble did not last more than ten minutes and I did not have to worry much.
Weather was much better on the other side of the pass. The last rays of sun were falling on the peaks that glowed in the golden light. We had become a part of these mountains here, passing right in the middle of them and looking at neighbouing peaks from an equal altitude. Clouds, unable to climb any higher, had rested gently on the mountain slopes below us. It was a sight to behold.
The descent from the pass is steady and long, loosing altitude all the way till Leh. Light faded as we descended and deprived us of the views of the valley, but I got a chance to come back on the same route again a month later and see the unusual colours of the mountain slopes in these parts.
The road widens and the landscape becomes a lot more friendly as we descend to the first villages on the Indus Valley. Rumtse is the first peopled place, after which small settlements start appearing once in a while. The mountains here have deep chocolate brown to reddish shades. Sharp, jagged ridges and sawtooth like peaks unseen earlier keep the traveller from getting jaded from the long journey. It is more nearly 18 hours from Manali before arriving at the banks of Indus River in Upshi Village. It still an hour and a half to go before reaching Leh.
The journey ahead to Leh is easy and monotonous. The landscape is friendly, relatively green as the road goes along the Indus River. Villages appear regularly on the way now. Our cab driver zipped through the wide two-lane road all the way to Leh. For someone who is still romanticizing that Leh would be like a discovery of a place out-of-nowhere with just some scattered habitation here and there, it is a disappointment. Bulk of Ladakh lives in the Indus Valley, and can well be called crowded compared to rest of Ladakh. Leh itself has a suburban sprawl with dense spread of shops lining up in an ugly way like any small town on the plains.
Starting from Keylong, it is a long and tiring 15 hours on the road for us, but others on the cab have spent 20 hours sitting cramped in the Sumo. Yet, there is the excitement of having arrived at the place that fascinated me for many years.