The Mother of All Drives - Part 5. Tso Moriri - Polongka La - Pang - Chhatru.

Descent from the Polongka La

5 July 2001. Karzok / Tso Moriri - Polongka La - Pang.

I have always considered the ubiquitous omelet, made Indian style with freshly cracked eggs, chopped onions, chopped green chillies and chopped tomatoes - all whisked into a glutinous semi liquid paste and poured directly on to a pan sizzling with hot oil - a great way to start the day when at altitude and when the morning is crisp and cold. The last thing I worry about are the calories and the cholesterol.

The enticing aroma of just such a treat wafted through the small tea shop in Karzok where we sat ourselves down for breakfast. There was a sprinkling of people, intrepid backpackers and globetrotters included, hunkering down under the parachute cloth ceiling. Our omelets soon reached us and as we began to wolf it down, we were interrupted by a petite young girl speaking with a distinctly American accent.

"Oooh! Eggs! That is just awesome, I didn't know you could get eggs here!" she said.

I glanced up and saw a Chinese face looking at our plates.

"Sure you can," I said. "Just tell the cook to bring you some before his stock is depleted!"

"Oh my God! Thank you, thank you, I will, I will!" She ran over to the kitchen side of the establishment and when she returned she looked extremely pleased with herself. It turned out that she and her friend (also Chinese) were from New York and their staple food during their sojourn in Ladakh had been Maggi noodles. The third person in their group was a pleasant middle aged English woman who had decided to see Ladakh after attending her daughter's wedding to an Indian in Kerala.

"Are you serious?" I said, "You have been living off the instant 2 minute Maggi noodles all this time?"

"Ooh," she squealed again, "I think they are delicious! I have never tasted anything like it in New York. I am going to take a whole box of Maggi packets when I go back!"

I looked at her incredulously, shook my head and went back to eating my omelet.

It was a perfect morning perfectly suited to the pursuit of soaking in the gorgeous landscape.

Tso Moriri in the morning

But we had plans to make it to Pang before the curfew was clamped down on the Leh-Manali highway and so, reluctantly, we drove slowly out of Karzok. It was 8:30 am and we reckoned we had ample time to cover the distance. We passed some cyclists on the rough gravel road and admired their grit and tenacity.

The road on the shores of Tso Moriri was an absolute delight

In two hours' time we came to a fork in the road and took the one which would lead us over the Polongka La and into the valley of the Tso Kar. We drove through a stretch of country that was bristling with salt deposits and we even passed the remains of what seemed to have been a salt processing plant. Now it stood mute and disused, perhaps a forlorn testimony to the challenges of trying to do business at these altitudes and in the harsh climate.

The salt flats beyond Puga

A very rough stretch of track followed, rising steeply to the pass. The Gypsy required the 4WD low setting and the first gear to tackle the terrain all the way to the crest. My Suunto watch altimeter indicated a height of 4950 m / 16236 ft at the pass. Since leaving Tso Moriri we had not seen another vehicle or human, the route we had chosen was obviously rarely traversed. We reveled in the sense of isolation and remoteness. On the downside, if we were to have a mechanical breakdown, we would pretty much have to walk out of the area with just the clothes on our backs.

The Polongka La (4950m) 

A long gradual descent to the valley of the Tso Kar followed, the road becoming indistinct and often we would be following old and faint tyre tracks on the sand. Short grass growing in a sparse fashion added a green hue to the landscape, dominated by gentle brown snow clad  mountains under blue skies punctuated by beautiful white clouds. Various species of ducks populated the waters of the lake, often skimming over the surface in short bursts of flight. The Ladakhi pop singer Phunchok Dorjay's album Thundel played in the cassette player, his melodious songs wafting effortlessly into the ether.
(For a sample of his latest numbers check out http://www.saavn.com/s/Thundel )

Tso Kar

Finally we rejoined the Leh-Manali metalled road on the More Plains, about 40 km before Pang. The fuel indicator showed that we were running low on petrol. Using four wheel drive and low gears had been steadily eroding the supply in the tank. We refuelled about 6 km before Pang, emptying the contents of our 20 litre container with the help of a short length of rubber tubing attached to a plastic funnel. The day before we had used up the contents of the 35 litre container on the way to Tso Moriri. I  hoped that we would have enough to last us up to the pump at Tandi bridge.

We reached Pang at around 3 pm, only to be told that the "gate" for further travel to Manali had closed at two o'clock. My driving license had to be surrendered to the check post for the night, to ensure that I did not entertain any foolish notions of slinking out of Pang in the cover of darkness. This was a regular procedure. We were not the only ones to miss the deadline. There was a little collection of jeep taxis and vans and cars clustered around the little village of parachute-cloth tents which spring up in the summer months to cater to stranded travellers. We found accommodation in the form of sleeping space in one of these and spent the evening going for a bracing walk above the highway.

Walking above Pang

On our return to the tent lodge, I was impressed by the young lad who was single handedly cooking and serving hot rice, dal and vegetables to a hungry clientele. His cooking was excellent and his service skills even better. It was not the first time that I had marvelled at the talent of people like him slaving away in unknown corners of the world. They would never make it to the glossy pages of Conde Nast Traveller, but they would always leave a lifelong impression on me.

The cook and innkeeper

6 July 2001. Pang - Sarchu - Bara Lacha La - Chhatroo.

Outside our tent motel

I was among the first in queue in the morning to retrieve my license from the check post guards. We set off at 7:30 am after a quick breakfast (of omelets, what else!) but within 20 minutes of driving the Gypsy sputtered to a halt.

I alighted from the vehicle and opened the hood with trepidation, not knowing what I would find. Everything seemed in order. On closer inspection I noticed that the wire attached to one of the battery terminals had worked itself loose. I reconnected the wire, tightened the clamps holding it in place with a small spanner and turned on the ignition. The Gypsy came to life. We all sighed with relief. Since it was a gorgeous morning in a gorgeous location, I was compelled to take a picture before moving on!

The rest of the drive passed pleasantly enough and without incident: a coffee break with Vijay Dutt at his Northwest Adventures camp site near Sarchu, lunch at Bharatpur below the Bara Lacha pass, a refuel stop at the Tandi bridge pump and onwards through Khoksar and Gramphoo towards Batal where we planned to spend the night before crossing the Kunzum La into Spiti. My plan was to return to Delhi via Spiti and Kinnaur and Shimla, thus avoiding repeating the drive from Rohtang and Manali to the plains.

The distance from Pang to Batal was only about 275 km but I had not reckoned with the mountain roads, our leisurely pace of travel and our frequent stops. The sun had set and it was getting quite dark as we tackled the stretch from Gramphoo to Chhatru. The stretch along the Chandra river in this part of Lahul is extremely rugged. There were waterfalls cascading off the cliffs to our right straight on to the road and driving through them provided us with a free car wash. The headlights picked out the potholes  as we progressed slowly and the sheer drop on our left to the torrent below kept me alert and nervous.

We crossed the bridge at Chhatroo to the true right bank of the river and immediately halted at one of the few teashops for dinner. We asked the owner if we could spend the night here and he agreed. Relieved of the anxiety of further night driving we relaxed and settled down to enjoy the simple and wholesome dal bhat sabji dinner.

Chhatroo owes its importance to being the pit stop for travellers taking the Kullu - Kaza bus. I had camped here with Bir Singh on a meadow above the road in Sept 1985 after descending the Chota Shigri glacier from the Sara Umga Pass.
(See http://taccidental.blogspot.ca/2012/07/sara-umga-la-follow-sheep.html). Running out of kerosene for my little Primus stove, I had bought some diesel to keep it going and I can still remember the acrid flavour of our dinners laced with the sulphur fumes of the fuel!

Now, sixteen years later, our entertainment arrived suddenly in the form of five Israeli youth - four males and a female - who tumbled out of a Sumo at around ten o'clock in the evening in the darkness. They were having an animated argument amongst themselves and seemed quite agitated. The driver of the Sumo followed, shaking his head in a gesture of resignation.

"What's up?" we asked him.

"These people hired me to drive them to Chandratal from Manali. We left at 6 in the morning, reached Chandratal by afternoon, they spent a couple of hours there - more than they should have done, given the fact that they wanted to be back  in Manali this evening - and now they insist that I drive them all the back in the dark to Manali!"

"That's a bad idea," I cautioned him. "I have just driven the stretch from Gramphoo to here. There has been a lot of rain up above the road and it is in pretty bad shape. You would be risking your life and theirs by tempting fate. "

"They are offering me five hundred rupees more if I get them to Manali tonight. I've told them that I am exhausted."

"Five hundred rupees is not worth your life," I tried to reason with him. Spend the night here and go back at first light."

We entered the teashop where his clients had already ordered some food. We exchanged cursory hellos and I reiterated that they should not coerce their driver to drive in these conditions, the risk was unnecessary. It was well past ten o'clock and we rolled out our sleeping bags, sought out some appropriate spots in the inner recesses of the shack and promptly fell off to sleep. It had been a long day for us and we planned to make an early start on the morrow.

to be continued....

The Mother of All Drives - Part 3. Darcha - Bara Lacha La - Tanglang La - Leh

At the start of the More Plains.

The road stretched straight as an arrow across the More Plains in a classic demonstration of parallel lines merging at infinity. In this case, the perceived distance of infinity was substantially more than that at sea level, thanks to the incredible clarity of the high altitude atmosphere, the lack of smoke stacks and the lack of moisture.

Whooping with delight, I slipped the transmission into fourth and floored the gas pedal. The overloaded Gypsy lumbered forth, accelerating slowly. Soon we were going at a fairly good clip and the landscape whizzed past, the occasional nomad family glimpsed in a blur. It was the first time since leaving Solang that we had achieved a speed exceeding 50 kmph and I was elated.

View from the edge of the More Plains

Our elation did not last long. Suddenly, the steering wheel seemed to be possessed - the whole contraption began to vibrate violently. I slowed down. The vibrations continued. My three companions looked rather concerned. I knew what they were thinking: without steering control, the next turn on these mountain roads could be fatal. I pressed down on the wheel in an effort to stop the vibrations. Soon, I was leaning with my full upper body weight on it and it seemed to help. I drove slowly in this positively inelegant fashion for quite a distance before easing off the pressure. We were almost at the other end of the More Plains and the first curves were in sight.

Looking back on the road - seen here as a faint line on the slopes to the left - leading up to the Tanglang La

Downshifting on the gears, I turned the steering gingerly. The Gypsy responded. With a sigh of relief, we continued. The Tanglang La, the highest pass (at 17,582 ft above sea level) ) on the Manali - Leh road loomed ahead many kilometres away and we kept our fingers crossed. It was cold and windy on the pass and a brief snow shower welcomed us. We lingered just long enough to thank the powers that be at the small shrine built and maintained by the Border Roads Organisation, the omnipotent entity without whose sterling work travel on the northern frontiers of India would be impossible.

The multi-faith (Indians should be proud of this!) shrine at the Tanglang La.

Leh was now only 111 kilometers distant and it would be downhill from here all the way.

Flashback to 14 June 2001. Rohtang Pass - Darcha

The escape from the hordes thronging Rohtang Pass was well timed and all four of us sighed with relief as we glided down to Khoksar and headed for Darcha. Every time that I have crossed the Rohtang Pass, the meaning of Rain Shadow has been driven home. On the Manali side of the road, rain falls copiously and the landscape is green and verdant, forests clothe the hillsides and clouds lie in the hollows. On the Lahul side of the pass, a sea change is immediately noticeable: the air feels drier, the hills assume a more rugged profile, the colours of the slopes take on more earthy shades of brown, beige, russet and ochre. The clarity in the air accentuates every ridge, every slope, every rock and pebble and imbues the world around with a subtle divinity.

We stopped briefly at Tandi bridge to refuel and as we turned off the road which leads further to Udaipur a shiver of anticipation ran through my being: the route from here onwards would be new to me. I had passed through Udaipur en route to climb Menthosa in 1986 (see http://taccidental.blogspot.ca/2012/08/menthosa-climb.html ) but the road to the Bara Lacha La and beyond would be a new experience. We reached Darcha at dusk and found a lodge on the roadside where we could spend the night.  The night was cold and chilly and the place was extremely quiet. We were the only tourists here and we savoured the exclusive solitude. We retired to bed early with instructions to the tea shop owner next door to wake us up at 4 am with a brew. I anticipated a long day ahead and it was imperative that we cross Pang before the authorities closed travel on the Pang - Leh section at 3 pm.

15 June 2001. Darcha - Bara Lacha La - Pang - Tanglang La - Leh.

It was well below freezing as we motored out of Darcha in the dark at 4:30 am. We drove in silence as the headlights picked out stretches of the road ahead, its feeble artificial glow competing with the splendour of the dawn as the world around us began to light up slowly. At Patseo, we crossed an Army check post where my license and the vehicle documents were checked and our passage registered. This ritual would be repeated many times on our way to Leh and we soon had a drill perfected: as soon as I spotted a check post ahead, I would slow down and come to a stop, Ravi would hop out with my license and the documents and trot briskly across, greet the soldiers with a cheerful smile, make small talk, complete the formalities and trot back to the Gypsy. Ravi had been born with a permanent smile and it was great to have him on board.

Approach to the Bara Lacha La

As the Gypsy laboured up towards the Bara Lacha pass I had to lock the front wheel hubs, engage the 4 WD gears  in Low mode and nurse the vehicle up in second gear. We were heavily loaded and I do not think the Gypsy had been designed to carry such a weight. A small bus carrying a group of BSF (Border Security Force) men and emblazoned on the front with the Swaraj Mazda logo soon overtook us as we crawled slowly towards the top of the pass. I envied the bus its diesel heart and the torque that it could pump out!

Suraj Tal - just before the crest of the Bara Lacha La

The music of Phil Collins and UB40 kept us humming to their beat, the reggae of the latter especially suited to our leisured progress.

At the Bara Lacha La. L to R : Franklyn, Franco, Ravi.

We stopped for a couple of pictures at the pass before beginning the long descent to Bharatpur, the oddly named collection of teashops and dhabas. The name was totally at variance with the more local names of the other stops on the route. A motley collection of vehicles was parked here, headed for Leh or Manali. There was a bus which had come all the way from Kashmir and I could only admire the stamina and fortitude of both the passengers and the driver for undertaking such a rigorous journey in the spartan comforts of public transport.  Suddenly, I noticed a truck mounted on a Tata 407 chassis which looked very familiar. On closer inspection, it turned out to be the same one I had seen at Auli a few weeks earlier on my return to Joshimath from the Bagini Glacier trek
(see http://accidentaltrekker.blogspot.ca/2014/04/bagini-bouquet.html ). I said hello to the crew, they were the staff of Rimo Expeditions, the outfit which had been in support of Harish Kapadia and Suman Dubey's expedition to the Nanda Devi Sanctuary and whom I had also bumped into at Auli!
(For Harish's account of that trip see : https://www.himalayanclub.org/hj/58/9/nanda-devi-juggernaut/)

Ice still covered parts of the fledgling Tsarap river as we descended from the Bara Lacha La

A Lahuli girl in one of the dhabas whipped up omelets for our breakfast in record time. Thus fortified, we drove onwards towards Sarchu, enjoying the rugged scenery. There was one more social call to make a few kilometres before Sarchu. We drove into a flat meadow dotted with tents and a sign declaring North Quest Adventures. Vijay, an acquaintance of Franco's, who managed this campground, pulled out some chairs while his staff plied us with biscuits and tea.

Bharatpur

Ravi taking advantage of a photo-op between Bharatpur and Sarchu

Vijay (left) plays the genial host at the North Quest Adventures camp ground.

Things went fairly smoothly after the steering wheel incident at the start of the More Plains, but we kept our fingers crossed nevertheless as we descended on the snowbound stretch below the Tanglang La. Sighting a herd of yaks cheered us up as the snow gave way to gravel lower down. Soon evening chai was called for and we pulled in at the 3B "restaurant" which was constructed from the ubiquitous old parachute cloth covering almost every tea shop on the route. As we waited for the tea an olive green Army Gypsy came to a halt outside and an extremely smart looking lady officer dismounted, accompanied by a private. She had a baton under her arm and her cap was planted authoritatively on her head. Though a ragged bunch in comparison, we almost sprang to attention like a couple of soldiers. She acknowledged us with a curt nod, spoke briefly with the tea shop owner, and strode out as quickly as she had come in.

"She is a doctor," whispered the chaiwalla to us as we sipped the refreshing liquid from the cups he now offered us.

Descent from the Tanglang La - the black dots in the middle distance are yaks

At Upshi the road joined the one coming from Mahe and as dusk fell we could finally see the mighty Indus as it flowed northwest towards Leh. It was almost dark when we passed through Shey, the famous whitewashed chortens looming and vanishing as the road took a slalom course through the monuments.

At 8 pm we arrived in Leh, almost fourteen hours after having left Darcha. We were tired and hungry and longed for a good night's sleep and almost immediately fell victim to the solicitation by the son of the owner of the Nezer View Guest House!

The next morning we drove to Choglamsar to a Maruti service station to have the steering wheel problem looked into and to contact a muleteer for the pack animals we would need for our trek from Martselang to the base of Kang Yaze, the peak we planned to climb. For that story, see http://taccidental.blogspot.ca/2014/10/kang-yaze-trekking-peak.html

Car wash at Choglamsar

For the moment, we were content to let the two enthusiastic boys wash down the grime of the journey from the Gypsy after the bearings supporting the shaft of the steering wheel had been replaced. These two boys were the most cheerful lads I have ever seen working in an auto repair facility anywhere in the world!

We left the vehicle in the premises of the Hotel Horizon on the evening of 18 June because our guest house had no parking space. It would remain there till the next phase of the drive. In the meantime, we had a mountain to climb!

to be continued.....

View from Nakee La

Refuelling en route

The Indus river at Choglamsar