Paddling my way through the crowded roads of Delhi always inspires me to head to the mountains for some alone time with the love of my life, my beloved cycle.
So I decided to go to Kashmir. This was my second cycling tour in this region and I was positive about pulling it off. Though I didn’t have time to make my own itinerary, as I was busy planning the same for others, I was sure that this 20 day trip was better planned than the last one.
Looking forward to meeting new people along the way, and celebrating the spirit of life with them, I began my journey to the mountains.
Panting and trying to catch my breath, I barely made it to the train station. But well versed with where to check in my wife (the cycle) I scraped through.
Srinagar was the place that I wanted to start with, new route and I didn’t know anybody there.
I got most of my gear delivered at the airport, thanks to the Decathlon staff in India who considered the situation urgent. It was easy to cycle with my pannier bags, a sleeping bag and the much discussed tent. The other essentials weren’t used at all.
Surprisingly I didn’t have a single flat or even a minor repair throughout the 700 kilometer expedition. But all said and done Border Road Organisation (BRO) rocks!
If you ever visit Srinagar, you should watch out for the witty and funny slogans that the BRO has put up on almost every corner of the roads.
As for the road, Srinagar-Leh highway is like a biker’s dream. I did do a lot of off-road cycling in Ladakh but the overall tarmac laid out at this height, was phenomenal.
My first stop should have been Sonmarg, but I could only get to Ganiwan because of delays.
Tired and parched in the harsh mountain sun, I started looking out for places to pitch my tent.
And that’s when I came across a nice camping site, owned by a family of gujjars. This nomadic tribe started out from Jordan in search of green pastures and today they are spread in and around Eurasia.
They invited me into their home like a family—this is the best thing I like about the mountains, the people are so giving and caring. And then there were the usual questions of what brought me to Kashmir on a cycle, tales about the things to do around and why I should stay there for a longer period.
I had a wholesome meal and then laid down under the stars to listen to Bilal’s (eldest son in the family) stories—I created his Facebook profile and he is pretty excited to connect with the world and spread happiness.
Mornings in Srinagar are eventful. If you want to finish your chores then you have to get really early, way before the village bursts into action. It was amusing to take a bath in a local stream with a group of village kids.
Looking down the edge of the stream was the Sindhu River. The water was ice cold and so we got in and out in a jiffy. I was feeling refreshed and was rejuvenated for the long ride through the Dzozilla pass.
There was a long farewell meeting. I promised them that I would stop on my way back and I did.
I got a lot of goodies and cautionary advises for my journey ahead. The eldest son, Bilal, accompanied me till the village of Gund. Here I saw a few groups riding the rapids on a raft.
And then I headed forward.
Sonmarg, the next destination, known for its green meadows, seemed like a crowded place. I stopped by for a quick lunch. It was expensive and the taste was mediocre. People were worried if I would cross the pass in time to reach the village of Gumri or not. So, I rode as fast as possible. There was a slight drizzle, but I managed.
The Dzozila pass is only 10,000 feet high, but is known for its dangerous lanes and cold winds. I was lucky to cross through it before night fall. But the problem was that there was hardly anybody in Gumri, except for the truck drivers who weren’t allowed drive through the pass at night.
I pitched my tent and went out in search for food. Dinner was delicious and the restaurant owner invited me to stay at his place for the night. But as I had already pitched my tent, I headed back to campsite, only to find myself surrounded by wild dogs.
I left my cycle on the side, quickly picked up as many things as I could and walked back slowly. Clearly it wasn’t safe to camp outside, so I waited for an army vehicle on the main road to guide me to my tent. It was almost midnight when the army officers dropped me at the restaurant.
I was tired and a little scared but the restaurant owner invited me in and arranged for a comfortable bed. I wish I could charge my Go Pro too, but no complaints.
Next morning, I started the downhill ride to Drass. It is the second coldest place on Earth which shot to prominence after the Kargil War of 1999.
You will be surprised to know that, in winters the temperature in Drass drops as low as -40 degrees celsius!
By the time I reached Drass, it was really late and so I sought help from a few army officers. They were happy to be my host for the night.
These officers are so used to seeing foreigners come on trek and cycling expeditions to the mountains, that their first reaction on seeing me was “Aa gaya firang” (here comes another foreigner). But once they recognized that I was an Indian, we got along really well. In fact one of the officers belonged to my hometown.
Next morning, I bathed in the army quarters—hot water bath after such a long time. Though I was behind schedule—as always—I took my own time to bid farewell. And after promising to stay in touch, I headed on to the Kargil War Memorial; the highest and the only war memorial to be built at the site of the war.
I also had the privilege of meeting the famous Indian cricketer, Benny Rogers. After talking to him for a couple of minutes, I continued with my journey.
I rode through a hilly town where after every ten kilometers people spoke in a different dialect. Neverthless, everyone was equally welcoming.
The workers called out to me for tea, “Join us for a cup of tea.”
And I obliged.
They narrated stories about the Kargil War, and how they helped the Indian army. I could not only see the truth in their eyes but also the pain of losing their loved ones. They invited me to stay but I couldn’t because it was only 1 p.m. in the afternoon, and I needed to cover some more ground.
The ride till the memorial was fun. There were some ups and downs, but the road was lovely. As for the view, it started to get a little desert-like, especially as I was approaching the memorial.
I had my lunch, charged my Go Pro and watched a Bollywood movie for a while. Subsequently, I decided to pitch up somewhere outside the town. And that’s when I came across a makeshift colony of construction workers who invited me in.
They were so sweet that they pitched up the tent for me. I wanted to share a few stories with them, but their stories were far more interesting so I decided to listen instead.
The workers talked about everything, from future of India to the future of their children. It was amazing how in a few hours’ time they found a confidant in me.
This small interaction with them was enough for me to understand how workers from different parts of the country live in a completely remote area.
Packing up is as easy as pitching, but putting things back in a small bag involves some technique so I asked the workers if I could do it on my own.
I just have one regret about this trip, that I didn’t click any pictures of this perfect perfect camping site that gave had bird’s eye view of the valley.
However, without wasting any more time, I cycled ahead to the village of Mulbekh which leads to the Fotu La Pass. 13,478 feet above ground, this is the highest pass on this route.
I cycled through the village of Budhkharbu, where I stopped to have a decent lunch.
It was raining and I was wet and tired. But I wanted to go to Lamayuru Monastery to catch a glimpse of the ongoing festival so I asked a truck driver for a lift. He offered me some Maggi to eat. It was mixed with rice and vegetables, which was surprisingly tasty. He expedited my climb to the pass, from where I let go of the support vehicle.
And then began the fun part, downhill cycling.
I stopped by a tea stall and found that the festival at Lamayuru was already over. Nevertheless I rode as fast as possible, only to see a peaceful and quite monastery.
I called a friend who advised me to stay at his sister’s house in Alchi. But thanks to a little miscalculation I was stuck at Khalste till 8 p.m.
I was trying to decide if I should look for a place to camp or try to reach Alchi as soon as possible, when all of a sudden I was stopped by an army barricade. The officers asked me to head back to the village as it was not safe to ride at night.
While I was looking for a camping site I met a bridge contractor from Meerut. He introduced me to a camp site owner from Dehradun and a retail shopkeeper from Delhi. They treated me like a hero returning from war carrying my bags, getting me food and offering me alcohol. I was so tired that I fell asleep instantly after pitching the tent.
Next morning, I woke up early to cycle to my final destination, Nemo.
I explored Leh and the areas surrounding it, on a motorized vehicle. But I carried my cycle everywhere and got on the saddle the moment I saw an opportunity.
By the end of my expedition I had covered a total distance of close to 700 kilometers. I don’t know the exact distance as my odometer stopped working, probably because of excessive cold.
But one thing that I have realised after this trip is that my journey will never stop. Because every day is a new challenge, and I am ready to face this challenge one day at a time.
If you want to know more about my journey, please watch the video below.
Mohit Poddar
Image Courtesy [Sapna Reddy]