The Road to Leh

Trip Start Jul 08, 2008
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Trip End Ongoing


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Flag of India  , Jammu and Kashmir,
Friday, July 25, 2008

Tom and I walked out to the Main Bazaar, which was dark, cold, and vacant in the late night hour. We were headed towards the predetermined meeting spot when we saw a small bus and a few people. "Are you going to Leh? Is your ticket number..." The ticket number matched what he said and we hurled our packs to the man standing on the roof of the bus and boarded. We were pleasantly surprised as we were expecting a small jeep crammed like an American classroom.

The Manali to Leh route is the highest motorable road in the world and is only open during the summer months. We had an 18 hour journey through the Kashmir ahead of us and no time was wasted as we sped north on the bumpy winding road kicking up dust. The vast uninhabited landscape included surreal mountains eroded by the hands of nature and each turn was a new portrait. The "road" was mainly a beaten track revealed by those who came before us and would hardly even qualify as a driveway in most countries. After some time my lack of mountain cruising experience revealed itself as I stuck my head out the window and watched last night's pakora and tea splatter on the Kashmir sand.

Various stretches of the road are maintained by perpetual asphalt laying to compensate for erosion and the damage of the harsh winter as the route is of logistical importance to the Indian military operating near the Pakistani border. There are occasional tent encampments to house the road workers. At the first stop a man came out of one of the tents and offered the standard "food? Chai?" I told him I probably wouldn't be able to keep it down. Security was pretty tight as Tom and I, the only foreigners on the bus, had to reveal our passports at every stop. After about 16 hours of literally bouncing towards our destination I felt I could handle a cup of tea. Sitting on benches that obviously doubled as beds in the tent a guy from California was eating some thukpa (a Tibetan noodle soup). We discussed the coincidence that I-10 began in his city (L.A.) and ended in mine (Jacksonville). After 22 hours we finally arrived in Leh, where we settled down in a guesthouse owned by a cheerful Ladakhi woman slightly taller than my waist.
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