Breathless in Pang
Aaron Jacob recounts a thrill-packed biking trip into Ladakh

If someone were to ask me what the wildest thing I had ever done in my life was, my answer would be: the trip to Leh. I would suggest this route as a form of therapy to anyone who would like to be as crazy as me and the rest of us who attempted to reach Leh on our bikes but had to unfortunately stop about 150 km short of the destination. But who cares! It was the journey that mattered to all of us, and the safety of our team.

The trip was planned for July when the roads are open and school closed. In May 2006, PBR and I got serious about chalking out our schedule, and we had more company, with VRW, SSM, Anju Mann and Salil Rawat joining us for the trip. SSM had purchased a Maruti Gypsy for the trip and this was good for the bikers, because we could travel light and carry more spares for the bikes.

So there we were, getting our bikes tuned and serviced, buying our raincoats and accessories and confused because everyone was giving us information which was scaring, rather than helping us. Everything finally in place, we left on July 3. PBR and I had our Unicorns, Varun his Bullet and Salil his Pulsar. The route we planned was Dehradun, Chandigarh, Manali, Patsio, Pang and Leh. D-day dawned and we were flagged off at 9:30 am by KPB.

The road to Chandigarh is boring and dry, except at Kala Aamb. Going at an average speed of 55 km, we reached Chandigarh in the evening and headed straight to Ravibir Singh’s house . I had heard of Dosco hospitality and, believe me, this too was straight from the heart.

Chandigarh to Manali is a long route, so we decided to leave early. The roads were good but dusty. After Mandi, the hills kick in, and the scenery changes. We were making good speed, though we had to stop every 50 or 60 km because the bikes do rattle you up. Tea at General Verma’s place took us right into the apple orchards of Kulu. The team reached Manali late in the evening. It was raining, but we managed to find the army establishment, with PBR leading the pack.

All the bikes had run 500 km by now and we had to oil the chains and check our machines. It was fun doing it under the streetlights at the rest house after dinner, and planning for the journey ahead, which started early next morning.

Having a quick breakfast at Manali, we headed towards Rohtang, the first of the passes at 13,050 feet. Staying a while to take some photos we headed downhill again, and then the road got worse. We lost the tarmac at Rohtang and after that, we had only bits and pieces of road all through the route. I was cursing myself and praying that we would get back in one piece.

The interesting parts were the water crossings, seven of them till Patsio, some of them treacherous, because I could feel the bike slipping over the rocks. So the trick was to put the bike on first gear, rev hard, keep praying, try to cross, and not stop praying till the crossing was complete! We had water come all the way up to our exhaust pipes. Wherever we found tarmac, we put on some speed, and slowed down when we had to offroad. The sprint to Tandi was splendid because we got a stretch of good road and we had the Beas flowing down below and breathtaking views of the hills ahead.

Tandi is the last petrol station for another 365 km and all the vehicles stop here to top up before heading into the wilderness. We reached Patsio before last light and we were tired with having been so long in the saddle. I just needed a place to sit which would not rattle. The road had left us shaken and we had another eight days of riding! We were doing fine, except that we were tired and needed to rest. Patsio is an army transit camp in the middle of nowhere at 12,500 feet. Over tea at the Officers’ Mess, we were discussing the road ahead and MTS (who met up with us at Patsio) just shook us up again by informing us that worse roads awaited us. The Bullet boys, with SSM, were still very enthusiastic. PBR and I were, in contrast, cribbing that the bikes were not meant for such roads. We had, optimistically, thought that it would be plain cruising and a smooth ride among the clouds.

Late in the evening, talking to the passing truck drivers, we decided to move ahead to Pang, our next pit-stop, though we knew that we only had a bumpy ride ahead.

The next day we left camp at first light; we had left the trees behind after Tandi and the wilderness beckoned. The rugged landscape is like a Wild West movie set and I felt like a cowboy riding my steel horse. We reached Bara Lacha La, another pass at 16,500 feet. We were advised not to stop at the passes for long, so we just stopped to take the mandatory pictures and then rolled down. Right on top of Bara Lacha La there is a crater lake where the water is turquoise blue. I wanted to stay there for some more time but was forced to move on because my breathing started getting laboured.

Approaching Shishu for lunch, the scenery took on a different colour and for me this was the best part of the journey. This is the Moores plain and the wind has sculpted this place to such splendour, it’s a sight to behold. We stopped there and started clicking our cameras. We then reached Shishu for lunch at another army transit camp, courtesy MTS, and got ready to take on the Gatta loops. The Gatta loops is a series of 21 hair pin bends which take us to Lachulung La, the next pass at 16,800 feet. They should rename it Killer Loops because they gave me the jitters. I had Shivam as my pillion and I had to stop after 10 loops to pass him into the jeep. To add to the dangerous hairpin bends was melting tar which threatened to make us skid.

Pang is another army transit camp and we had the officers’ rooms for the night. Breathless took on another meaning because of the high altitude. Two of our teammates found it tough to breath and suffered nausea and headache. All of us, in fact, were showing signs of altitude

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