Riding out into morning traffic in Jispa

The tents in Sarchu valley

A serenade by Chie Hiroshima in the Sarchu tents

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2003-06-23 - Road to Leh (Day 3) - Jispa - Sarchu (Day 69)

We get out on the road again and are just past the hotel when we have to negotiate our way through a herd of goats and sheep going up the road. It was an amazing sight to watch Paul and Jo ride through a mass of a couple of thousand animals going every way and not necessarily being interested in giving way. We ride on and start the climb up to Baralacha La Pass through what is the most amazing terrain. The only way to describe it would be as a moonscape with rocks of every size from small slides of sand running from high up on the pass down to the road and several hundred meters wide, to the same thing but in slides only composed of boulders larger then a man composing the entire slide. There is however little time to look at the surroundings as the road is taking 100% concentration as the pavement has become very broken, wet and with potholes marking the entire way. As we go higher the snow runoff starts getting even heavier with streams crossing the road leading to deep mud, and potholes filled with water so you do not know what is in them. The road becomes mostly a mixture of dirt, stone and mud with the stones being in patches of ones either so small that the bike slips in them like sand, or patches of fist sized rocks which the tires slip between. On the way to the top, my muscles become tense to the point of pain from having to manhandle the bike this way and that to find a path through. To make things more fun as we get closer to the top, we get above the snow line and there are snow banks looking above us on both sides several feet above our heads on both sides of the path. As the sun is out, this is all melting adding a chill to the air and ensuring that the road is covered in freezing water.

Paul is urging us to press on as quickly as possible, though I did not know what the big hurry was at that point, but I was soon to find out. We come to the first major river crossing where snow runoff has turned into a river washing out the road. On one side of the embankment is the fast flowing river, on the other a straight drop off down the side of the cliff. The shallowest side is close to the cliff edge, but if the bike goes down the water pressure could easily push bike and rider right over the edge. The water speed is fast enough that I can't see the river bed and don't know what is down there whether it be soft sand or rocks which would knock me over if I bounce off them. Being less confident and more cautious then Paul, I have fallen behind and when I reach the river side he has already been waiting impatiently for a while for me to catch up. He waits as I attempt to go through the river, but mid-way through, I get stuck in the loose sand. I'm fortunately able to keep the bike up in the current and Paul had got me to turn the idle way up before entering which fortunately keeps the engine running and though I'm soaked, I get the bike started again and make just to the other side of the river when I hit a rock and fall over to the side. Paul and Jo are nearby and we get the bike up without too much damage though we are all now wet. We ride on further with the road condition getting even worse as the water continues to get more abundant with streams running down the tire tracks. We hit another part of washed out road and in this one I hit one more patch and drop the bike just at the far bank but this time braking the clutch bracket and putting more bruises on my legs as well as giving my feet another dunking. The clutch bracket is holding on by one screw though its split and big pieces are broken off, it is still serviceable and we decide to push on rather then fix it as conditions on the road are continuing to get worse as it gets later in the day and the snow runoff increases in intensity and depth. We hit another river and it is the same thing again I have a fall just through the river with Jo helping me get the bike up. By this time, my sense of humor is long gone and I am a bundle of nerves and adrenalin caused by the difficulty of riding, the falls and the cold of being dunked in the water.

We find a clear spot and Paul and I replace the clutch bracket and I dump the water out of my boots. Fortunately, I had been wearing waterproof socks, which had kept the freezing water off my feet, but still the boots are soaked and cold. At the top we stop for a second but the altitude is tiring us all out as is the tough riding and the cold and none of our moods is very good, mine being the worst after the falls. Clearing the top, and heading down we soon come to a tent oasis, stop for an hour to rest, and take some time for an attitude adjustment. The oasis is filled with a busload of Israelis who have been stuck there since the night before when their bus had two flat tires. They were not pleased but in still in good humor for the most part providing pleasant conversation as I dried out.

With hot tea in our stomachs and dried out from the water we set back off on the road past the worst of the trip. The road didn't improve too much still being a constant rolling of potholes and streams running down the road, loose gravel and mud requiring constant concentration but the sun being out and being off the peak of the pass it had warmed up a bit and the riding was comparatively easier. We head down onto the Sarchu plain and I have my last mishap as we are riding through deep mud, a couple of feet thick. The bike sticks and starts to slide a bit in the mud and I put my foot down to stabilize the bike but my leg sinks up above my boot into the mud and sticks. Fortunately, I am going slow, but my foot is not coming out of the mud and the bike falls to the left. I put my arm out to catch myself as I go down and it sinks into the mud as well leaving me with an entire left side, and camera bag covered in mud. I climb out of the mud and lift the bike up myself probably because of the rush of adrenalin from being so pissed at such an inglorious mess getting mud everywhere as I try to kick the bike back to life. Just a couple of kilometers further on, Jo and Paul are outside of the tents that make up tonight's sleeping quarters and they just shake their heads as I drive up with one side covered in brown caking mud.

We pull out the lawn chairs next to the tents, sip tea, and dry out from the ride. Fortunately, the sun is out and the sky has cleared up though the plain is bracketed by a constant hard wind off the mountains. The tents prove to be quite comfortable until a couple of jeeps full of Israeli's pull up and change the atmosphere. In a reenactment of the attitude I saw in Manali, the group is rude to the staff to the point of being exceptionally annoying. In an example, first picture that we are in the middle of nowhere, staying in simple tents which are the only facilities for the next hundred kilometers. It is Spartan to say the least. One of the Israeli girls says to the guy who is running the tents, "I want a menu," he replies, we don't have a menu, there is only one set dinner for everyone - rice and vegetables and chapatti. She is taken aback, "But I don't eat rice, and I paid for my dinner same as everyone else so you must accommodate me, I want something else." She is practically yelling this in a totally condescending tone while I sat there thinking, "you little spoiled brat! Do you know where the hell you are? Do you think there is a refrigerator and stove in that tent kitchen?" Jo and I just looked at each other shaking our heads.

The wind was strong enough to be whipping the sides of the tent into my cot and I have to move the cot to the center of the tent to avoid it being hit by the sides as they flapped in the wind. As with the night before, we are awoken by a guy honking his horn in the middle of the tents at 2am, which I was not in the mood for. Both Paul and I get out of bed to give the guy hell. Paul is much more diplomatic then I am and after asking what the heck was up and finding that the man was terrified that he could not find his young son who could not breath because of altitude sickness was honking to call him back, Paul actually turned sympathetic. Me I was a little more hard-hearted after being woken up the night before and after that day of riding and just grumbled back to bed.

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