Leh - Laid Back
Trip Start
Mar 03, 2005
1
39
235
Trip End
Ongoing
Leh,
India
Monday, June 13, 2005
Flying through the streets of Delhi in the middle of the night, you get to see just how many people sleep at night on the footpaths or in the middle of roundabouts on the grass. Its an incredible sight when in a half hours journey, you see around a thousand people, getting their regular night's snooze in public. And these weren't the hidden backstreets, these were some of the main thoroughfares through slightly more modern New Delhi.
I doubt if there is a more spectacular plane journey in a major-sized Boeing, than the one to Leh, in northern India. Sure, you can get in a 4 seater and land on some dirt track in the Congo, but its a different story when you are in a decent sized Boeing 737, with jet engines, and without the Indiana Jones theme-music playing in the background.
The flight takes you at normal cruising altitude, over the flat plains of Haryana, the Punjab, southern Himachal Pradesh. The you hit the Himmies.
The Himalayan Range just appears from nowhere, and its high. The peaks simply don't appear that far away from you, and they go on forever into the horizon. You don't realize how high these mountains are until you think that you are cruising as you would in any other jet journey, but the mountain tops are just a few thousand feet below you.
Then suddenly the plane (remember, Boeing 737, a biggin...) dips and starts descending into a valley. Actually its a valley within a valley. Leh is surrounded by smaller mountains, with the snow capped Himalayas further on one side and the snow capped Ladakh range on the other, encircling it. Because there is little room to manouvere, the plane actually descends in a spiralling motion, going round and down in circles with the white peaks all around you. Then once you are closer to the ground, it dips over the smaller mountains, which are just desert brown dirt, and either beside you or only a few hundred feet below, until it is low enough to approach the runway (which you have been circling for around ten minutes).
The runway seems short from above. That's because it IS short. The plane touches town with a couple of major bumps as the pilot has to get it down as quickly as possible. Then he slams on the brakes and reverse thrust in full, and you subconsciously also use your own breaking foot as if you were driving it yourself.
If your pants aren't a shade of golden tanny-brown by this stage, then you either slept through the flight or haven't been eating gravy-based curries for the past month like moi.
I actually enjoyed it, though I was apprehensive. For some reason, regular turbulance makes my stomach turnover and I get the first-date sweaty palms going, but when its just an exciting flight because of the destination or landing procedure, then I'm all for it. Ye-hah!
Leh is in Jammu & Kashmir. You are warned not to go to Jammu and Kashmir, as the Pakistani's and Indian's are still in dispute as to who owns it. Add in a few Kashmiri's wanting independence (through violence), and you've got yourself a hotbed of insecurity, though it has toned itself down over the past year or so. Leh is however the exception. I suspect its predominantly because the region is made up mostly of Buddhists. Hence they tend to refer to it as the region of Ledakh rather than being a part of Jammu and Kashmir.
The Ladakh region is predominantly a dry desert. When its not bitterly cold and snowing (9 months of the year), its dry and warm (the other 3 months). Thankfully I'm here during the dry part, though it does get chilly at night, somewhere near the 4 degree mark. Leh is surrounded by mountains between 5,000 and 6,000 metres, and sits at 3,500 metres itself, near the Indus River. Only the immediate areas around the river are green. The rest are a mountainous brown dirt, straight up to the snowline. Its almost like being on some other planet.
Arriving from Delhi (somewhere near sea level) to 3,500 metres in one go means that you can be susceptible to altitude sickness due to the thinner air, which can actually kick-in in unfit people at around 2,500 metres. the theory is to take it easy for 24 hours as you acclimatise. But I figure, hey I'm fit and healthy, so I'm hitting the trails.
Leh is a sleepy, quiet little town that travellers use as a base for going trekking from. After walking through Old Leh, alleyways and mud houses, I headed up the hill to Leh Palace. The Palace overlooks the town, sitting high on a hill. That means steps. I trudge on. Cos I'm fit and healthy. It was built in the 17th Century and is now falling apart, with holes in the floors and walls. Above further up the hill is an old Buddjist Gompa. The views down the valley are amazing. But with some speed, I'm tired and a little lethargic and need to be careful because the track down is a little dangerous. But hey, I'm fit and healthy.
Arriving back at the guesthouse, I'm realising that the altitude is taking effect already. I've got a little headache and a dry cough, but not to bad, but they are signs. A decent afternoon kip does the trick, but I remain a little lazy and hazy for the rest of the day. I can only imagine what it would be like to come here carying a few extra kilos and without a decent fitness base.
There is no public electricity in Leh during the day. Many businesses have their own generators, but those who don't go without between midnight and 6pm. For six hours only, a giant diesel generator spews out pollution into the main area of town, providing power for the residents and tourists in Leh. Its a bizarre sight - you are in the most beautiful countryside, and smoke is piling out of a building and over the town centre, so the lights work. India is a still a strange country.
Its a little chilly at night, somewhere near the 4 degree mark, so the beanie and woollens are back out.
I organised a taxi to take me to some of the other villages in the Ledakh area. My driver Dorjey and I set out in a Toyota 4WD around 8.30am to see what we could see. On the way, the road is a little curvy, but the local Ledakhi roadways board has things under control by posting various good natured warning signs along the roadside.
My personal favourites are...
"Better To Be Mr Late, Than Late Mr"
and the almost racey...
"Darling I Like You, But You Are Going Too Fast"
Hemis is 40km's from Leh down through the Indus Valley. It is a small town with a traditional Tibetan Monastery, the huge Hemis Gompa. My arrival was in time for the morning prayer session , with dozens of old and young monks seated inside the main room of the temple, chanting their Oms in harmony. The Gompa is flanked by the giant Kangyaze Peak at 6,400 metres, just over the back fence. I still find it difficult to comprehend the height of these mountains, as they don't seem to be that big, but you forget you are already sitting at half their height.
Back over the Indus River, I arrive at the village of Thiksey, and it too has a very impressive Gompa. It sits atop a hill, next to the village fish pond, complete with trout. Its a multi-storeyed affair, with an indoor buddha stretching upwards to the second floor level, smiling like a cat that stole the cream. A Monk lets me onto the roof for the amazing views down to the Indus River, and the dry brown hills and snowy mountains. I received special treatment due to my carrying of the universal monk passport - the level one clippered hairdo.
Heading towards Leh once more, the Shey Palace also sits on a hill with a great vantage point. It is the former Summer Palace of the Kings of Ladakh. Its currently getting a coat of Wash 'n' Wear Dulux to get it through the next 300 years. I don't know if the slogan 'If its worth doing, its worth Dulux' translates into the local language. The traditional temple smell of burning incense is overtaken by turpentine.
My final stop is back over the Indus River again, to Stok Palace. It was the former Palace of the Kings, outside of summer. I'm not sure why the Kings needed a separate summer palace just round the corner, but kings will be kings I guess. It is time to return to Leh for a Lemon Honey and Ginger Tea. I am now addicted to the stuff, averaging three mugs a day here in the mild regions.
On my final full day in Leh, I consdired doing a full 12 hour bus tour to a high altitude lake, but I thought that would be putting my quickly acclimitised body under too much pressure. Instead, I thought "I'll go mountain bike riding!"
It was more difficult to find one than I thought it'd be, given I way in the mountains and I was afterall seeking a mountain bike. Eventually I located one that wasn't Indian Quality. I started my ride west towards the village of Spituk, 8 kms away.
Around 10 minutes in, I thought I was going really well. But it was only then that I realised that I was actually yet to peddle. It is all downhill through town, past the airport and through to Spituk, with only the final ride up the hill to the village Gompa, which overlooks the airport. After a short uphill I'm already panting like a Labrador with its head out the car window on a summer's day.
The military build up in Leh is strong due to the Pakistani Kashmiri conflict nearby, but its only now overlooking the airport that you realise just how many Indian Armed Forces are stationed here. The airport is basically an enormous military base that allows the odd domestic airliner to land. There are barbed wired compunds everywhere, with jeeps and troop carriers constantly on the go. A sign warns you not to take any photos.
I had leaned the bike against a wall and stopped to take in some water while looking over the base below. It took all of two minutes for a military jeep to be sent up the hill to scout me out and see what it was I was doing. They didn't take long to realise that I was just some daft Australian riding a bike and drinking water, and not a Pakistani spy or Kashmiri freedom fighter ready to blow up the joint. But they were watching me closely, so I headed off back on the road up to Leh.
Heading back up the road in a very low gear, the Ladakhi jaws are hitting the ground. You can tell they are wondering what the hell I am doing riding up hill. I'm starting to wonder that myself. The thin air is taking its toll. I stop every kilometre, then every 500 metres, then every 200, then gee that next building will do. Then I walk the last part as I'm completely stuffed. I can understand why they make Olympians train at these levels. I'm not the most unfit person on this earth, but I can't even ride a few kilometres without nearly going cuckoo.
