The Mother of All Drives - Part 4. Leh - Khardung La - Tso Moriri

Kyagar Tso. En route to Tso Moriri.

04 July 2001.

It had rained all night and it was still raining as we loaded up the Gypsy. We headed out of Leh at 7:30 am, giving us plenty of time to reach Karzok on the shores of Tso Moriri, or so we thought. We had barely gone a few kilometres when a strange buzzing sound began to emanate from the region below the steering wheel. The intensity of the sound increased as I accelerated and began to resemble an angry hornet's nest. Before this skewered our plans any further we decided to investigate. I looked for loose parts which might be creating friction and generating the sound but could find nothing. Fearing that the problem might lie in the bearings of the steering wheel which had been changed at Choglamsar only a few weeks earlier, we decided to stop at the Maruti Service Station where the repairs had been done. The facility was closed.

We made a couple of enquiries and were advised to seek help on the Leh - Kargil road! Not having a viable alternative, we soon found ourselves back in Leh and heading in the direction of Kargil. A mechanic at the Ladakh Auto Works was quick to diagnose the problem - it had nothing to do with the steering. The speedometer cable was the culprit and he soon had it fixed and we were back on track.

The delay had cost us an hour and a half, which meant we were now ready for breakfast. A fitting repast of omelets and eggs at Upshi gave me time to reflect on the events of the last couple of days.

01 July 2001. Shang Sumdo

We were in a state of bliss after our little trudge to the top of the lower of the two Kang Yaze summits a couple of days earlier
(see http://taccidental.blogspot.ca/2014/10/kang-yaze-trekking-peak.html ) and were camped in a lovely field of grass beside the Shang river. Earlier in the afternoon we had seen a herd of thirteen bharal as we trekked down the Chokdo nala and to see them scampering up an incredibly steep slope of scree was like an extra blessing being showered upon us.

Bharal in near perfect camouflage on a scree slope

In the evening, the guide Thondup and Hans, one of his clients, dropped in to say hello and return the pair of crampons that Hans had borrowed from me so he could climb Kang Yaze with the rest of his group. They invited us for some beers at their camp site which we politely declined as we were too lazy to move from the wonderful warm grass of our little meadow.

Shang Sumdo

L to R : Franklyn, Ravi and Franco. Tents were not needed that night.

02 July 2001. Shang Sumdo - Leh. Encounter with Goodwill Ambassador.

An hour and a half of flat walking on a gravel road brought us to Martselang, the entrance to the Hemis Wildlife Refuge. An official spotted us here and gave us a backdated receipt of Rs.280/- per head for the 14 days we had spent within its borders during our trek and climb. Two weeks earlier there had been nobody on duty at this check post! We paid our dues and hopped into the waiting Gypsy, emblazoned with the sign "Nezer Inexpensive Adventure" and were back at the Nezer View Guest House in Leh in about 45 minutes.

In order to celebrate our modest success we decided to treat ourselves to Chinese cuisine at a restaurant that evening. After the chow mien and the chili chicken and the fried rice had satisfied our cravings, we reverted to the old staple chai as the eatery began to empty. I noticed a young and lean male with slightly long hair nursing his brew at a table across from us. He smiled and came over to our table. "Good evening, gentlemen," he said. "Mind if I join you?"

We glanced at each other, shrugged our shoulders, and I said, "I don't see why not. Have a seat."

He pulled up a chair and sat himself down.

"Can you guess which country I come from?" he said.

I took one look at his visage and declared confidently,"Israel!"

He was visibly impressed. "How did you know?"

"Experience," I muttered.

He took a sip from his cup and then said,"I am sure you are wondering what this is all about. Well, I'll tell you. It is my mission to repair the unfortunate damage that some of my countrymen have done to the reputation of the Israeli nation around here by their thoughtless and sometimes brash behaviour. You can call me a Goodwill Ambassador for Israel!"

"Well, it is about high time," I responded and narrated the little incident we had witnessed a few weeks earlier
(see http://accidentaldriver.blogspot.ca/2015/01/the-mother-of-all-drives-part-2-raskat.html ).

For the last fifteen years or so I had heard stories from the local residents of the many mountain villages in Himachal Pradesh about young male and female backpackers from Israel behaving in ways that had caused minor friction in the host communities. Sometimes the consequences had been tragic: there had been reports of untimely and unnatural deaths of some of them. Most of the stories were hearsay and it was difficult to corroborate, but the fact remained that their reputation had been tainted.

The Goodwill Ambassador was obviously also aware of these tales and had set out to correct the imbalance. We chatted amiably for a while, he thanked us for our time, and then it was time to go. We had set an early departure for the Khardung La in the morning and were looking forward to what has been touted as The Highest Motorable road in the world.

03 July 2001. Leh - Khardung La - Leh

We were not the only ones making the pilgrimage to the Khardung La, as we soon found out. There were jeeps full of tourists, motorcycles, cycles, minibuses and regular sized ones, and vans all vying for space on the narrow road leading up to the pass. This was a change from the thin traffic that we had encountered on the Darcha - Leh sector. The road was fairly steep and once again I had to engage the 4WD gears to help our Gypsy to the crest of the Khardung La.

The mandatory self portrait for the records.

A mix of sleet and light snow greeted us on the pass. There was a booth manned by the soldiers stationed there dispensing free hot tea to one and all. My well known weakness for the brew made me join the long queue of hopefuls. Unfortunately, by the time it was my turn, the urn containing the tea was empty.

Ravi (in blue) chatting to the soldier

When I returned to the Gypsy, Ravi was chatting with a soldier who hailed from Maharashtra and who was obviously delighted to have the opportunity to speak in Marathi to a fellow native.

The crowd was a delightful mix of nationalities. There was a group from Brazil on a fleet of Bullet motorcycles and their trip had been organised by an Indian who lived there! There were Italians and Germans and French toiling their way up the tortuous road, clad in lycra and anoraks and pedalling stoically on their cycles; some came in groups, some came solo, but all of them came armed with steely determination. I was sure the heady atmosphere owed something to this enthusiasm in addition to its impressive altitude.

Franco above the notch of the pass

04 July 2001. Leh - Upshi - Chumathang - Mahe - Karzok / Tso Moriri

The road from Upshi to Chumathang along the Indus torrent was delightful, the rugged cliffs beside the route occasionally softened by bushes of wild roses clinging tenaciously to seams of soil sandwiched between layers of quartz and granite and sandstone.

Driving along the Indus between Upshi and Mahe

Lunch stop at Chumathang

Ravi (left) and Franco tuck into fried rice and noodles.

We interrupted a card game in progress at the Mahe bridge check post.  After the usual pleasantries and registration process we crossed the river and almost immediately drove on to a track of gravel and stones. There was a sense of entering an enchanted world.

Big fat marmots popped out of their burrows to look at us, some even ran alongside to satisfy their curiosity, while yaks grazed in the green pastures unconcerned at the passage of another four footed beast carrying four strange two legged creatures and grunting and creaking at every twist and turn.

Between Mahe and Puga

The sky was utterly and uniquely dramatic as it can be only in Ladakh. The miles rolled by and we did not encounter a single vehicle. A long line of sheep hove into view on our left and soon a body of water soaked in shades of aquamarine blue appeared. We had seen no road signs since leaving Mahe and were not too sure how far we might still be from Karzok and the shores of Tso Moriri. There was a yurt near the water's edge and I drove straight towards it.

The three dots are yurts at Kyagar Tso

As we stepped down from our vehicle a man emerged from the yurt. He was well built, clad in homespun garments and had a weather beaten face with wrinkles indicating many years of living outdoors in these harsh conditions. A strong wind blew his long matted hair and scraggly beard to one side. He looked as wild as the landscape around him and no one could ever doubt that this person absolutely belonged here.

I made a sign of greeting and said, "Jule". Then, in Hindi,"Karzok? How far to Karzok? To Tso Moriri?"

The man opened his mouth and said something in his native tongue that none of us could understand. I looked at the gaps between his stained teeth as he grinned and repeated my question.

He began to gesticulate vigorously with his hands, pointing repeatedly to the sandy ground beside his yurt. A couple of children and a woman now appeared from inside the structure.

"No, no," I said,"We don't want to camp here! We are looking for Karzok!"

He shook his head. We got back inside the Gypsy, yelled a cheery Jule to the wife and kids, and took off in a cloud of dust, hoping that Tso Moriri was somewhere around the corner.

After what seemed like a very long afternoon, during which we also had to stop to refuel from our spare jerry can, the limpid blue waters of what could only be Tso Moriri appeared through the windshield. A light breeze ruffled the surface and flashes of silver flashed from the wavelets generated. We stopped to touch the water and splash our faces with its cool essence. It was like being delivered unto the promised land! Karzok was now within reach.

The final stretch to Karzok along the shores of Tso Moriri

It was 7:15 pm when we drove into the collection of houses and lodges of Karzok. We checked into the  half finished "Tso Moriri Hotel", paying Rs. 400/- for two rooms for the night. Hot water was supplied to us in buckets to bathe in. A sensational feeling of rejuvenation followed.

An almost full moon bathed the vast expanse of the lake and the rolling mountains around it and life couldn't have been better.

to be continued.....