All Over.....Sigh

I'm sitting in Nihonmatsu, Japan, back at work after the end of another bike expedition. My computer's hard drive has crashed, so I have to type this in the teacher's room while pretending to be preparing lessons.

The ride out of Leh to Srinagar was much easier than the ride from Manali to Leh (2 passes instead of 5, and 7 days instead of 10), but it was still more challenging than I had anticipated. We rolled out of Leh on August 17th, late after a delayed breakfast and last-minute errands. On the way out, we met three other groups of cyclists; Ladakh has more cycle tourists during the summer than any other place I've been, outside of Europe. It takes away a bit from the feeling of going someplace far away and different and exotic if so many other cyclists are there. It's a bit like quantum mechanics: the act of observation alters the observed event. Having all these outside observers makes Ladakh less Ladakhi.

Anyway, it was a grim struggle all day against ferocious headwinds as we rode westward to Alchi. The road stayed away from the Indus, rolling instead through barren deserts and over two tiny passes. Luckily it was cloudy, so we didn't have to worry about water as we cycled over the bone-dry landscape. It was apricot season, and we spent much of the ride munching on apricots and spitting the pits at each other. Lunch was a highlight, as we found the only really good restaurant between Leh and Alchi. Alchi was fascinating: the monastery with the oldest surviving murals in Ladakh, it attracts lots of tour buses to see the 11th-century Kashmiri style of painting. Since the Islamicization of Kashmir centuries ago, this vibrant style of art is only found in three isolated monasteries: Alchi, Tabo (in Spiti) and Tsaparang (in Western Tibet). We didn't have much time to look at the paintings as we arrived at closing time, but we had a quarter of an hour to poke around, inspecting the frescoes by the light of our headlamps. It gave it a certain Indiana Jones feel. Audie, Saakje and I (Reini stayed at the hotel, being allergic to culture) all liked the style, full of life and impish humour and individuality, a strong contrast to the formal, lifeless painting in vogue in Tibetan temples these days. Eventually we were kicked out by the chief monk, who wandered around behind us muttering, in place of "Om Mani Padme Hum", "Is closed, is closed, go home, go home, finished" in his best Buddhist chanting drone. We retreated to a peculiar guesthouse across the Indus whose owner wasn't there, ate more apricots and sat up late in the garden playing guitar.

The next day was much more enjoyable in terms of cycling. We stayed close to the Indus all day, undulating constantly from the riverside to precarious ledges blasted from the rock high above the water. We finished the day lower than we started (not surprising, as we were headed downstream) but there was a lot of vertical metres of climbing and descending inbetween. That morning, Audie and Saakje decided to imitate Reini, who always keeps a small wad of "schnuss" chewing tobacco against his upper gums as a stimulant. Audie and Saakje put the tobacco on their gums and were immediately light-headed. Reini and I cycled off towards Khaltsi, and when we stopped for the best lunch of the trip in a lovely garden restaurant, my sisters were nowhere to be seen. Half an hour later, they staggered in, pale and sweating. In a display of bravado, they had kept the tobacco in place for 20 minutes before Audie vomited and Saakje sat beside her with the dry heaves. Barely able to stay conscious, Audie lay on the road wishing for immediate death, while Saakje developed an ulcerated sore on her gums. Needless to say, the two of them have sworn off schnuss for life, and wonder how on earth anyone could get addicted to nicotine.

After that, the afternoon's ride, turning off the main highway and continuing down the Indus towards Dha, was easy. The heavy military traffic of the morning was gone and the scenery was spectacular: steep-sided rock gorges with little green oases clinging precariously to them wherever irrigation made life possible. We took a break to swim in a crystal-clear mountain stream, a welcome break from the unexpected heat. We ended up close to the Pakistani border, and the scenery looked very similar to what I remember of the neighbouring Pakistani region of Baltistan. After Khaltsi, we entered a predominantly Muslim area, and it was immediately obvious from the vast numbers of children running around. We escaped from the curious mob of the oases and camped down by the Indus in an idyllic desert setting, perfect for another open-air concert.

We had anticipated the third day of cycling as being quite tough; both cyclists whom we had met who had ridden the little side road we wanted to take had warned us of terrible road conditions and a long, hard day. We set off very late from our campsite and didn't turn off the Indus up a small tributary until noon. The first few kilometres of the dirt road were in fact in bad shape, and we climbed steeply and slowly up into a lovely deserted valley of apricot orchards and a rushing river, perfect for another swimming and lunch break. After that, the road improved, the valley flattened and broadened and filled with people (it was easily the most densely populated valley we saw in all of Ladakh). Only 30 km from the Indus, after some fairly reasonable riding, we popped out onto the main highway again and camped in the orchard of a hospitable, friendly farmer who sold us eggs laid 5 minutes before. For supper, we burned a pot of lentils to a crisp.

This fact became important for Reini that night, as he was suddenly violently ill. He gamely cycled on, as we climbed a tiny pass (3750 m, but only 200 metres and 7 km climb from our campsite; after the Chang La and the Khardung La, it was a mere molehill) and then rolled downhill all day to Kargil. The scenery was beautiful: lush, welcoming oases, a last outpost of Buddhism (complete with a Kushan-era 2000-year-old rock-carved Buddha), colourfully dressed women out harvesting and threshing barley. We climbed up onto a lush plateau just before Kargil and looked to the south, where Nun and Kun, the highest Himalayan peaks in Kashmir, loomed over the barren nearby hills. We dropped down into Kargil and promptly got lost, thus subjecting Reini, who was in misery, to an hour of searching for a hotel in the wrong part of town. We eventually settled into the Hotel Caravansarai and sent Reini to bed for 16 hours while we went out to eat and play cards.

Kargil was a noisy, busy, gritty shock reintroduction to subcontinental chaos after the relative peace and quiet of the rest of Ladakh. The main bazaar was full of men in turbans and Gilgit caps, with the few women mostly wrapped in full burqas. The traffic was heavy and cacophonous, and the atmosphere rather unwelcoming. At night the mosque loudspeakers broadcast not only the call to prayer but also the entire 2-hour evening prayer service, at maximum volume. It was a pity that the next morning Reini woke up still sick, and we had to spend another day in lovely Kargil, playing cards and eating well.

We were relieved to leave the next morning, but the relief was short-lived. The road to Dras ran within 6 kilometres of the Pakistani border, and signs reminded us to "Beware! You are under enemy observation" whenever we came into sight of Pakistani troops on distant hillsides. The road ran past endless trenches, dugouts and artillery emplacements, showing that observation was the least of the dangers to beware of. It was a tense feeling, although the Kargil sector has been relatively quiet lately. Every time we stopped, we realized that Indian soldiers were observing us unobtrusively. The military presence completely overwhelmed the local population; tiny villages were flanked by enormous army camps. The Dras river, along which we were cycling, was crossed by numerous bridges leading to the front lines. It was not a relaxing atmosphere in which to cycle, and Dras, when we reached it, was not a relaxing place to sleep. It was full of army trucks and bus passengers and, with no power at night, faintly sinister. Most of the windows in town were made of plexiglass so that they wouldn't be broken by Pakistani shelling. We slept in a tiny "tourist cottage" room and were woken up, over the course of the night, by Audie going out to the bathroom, Saakje headed the same way, Reini following suit, our neighbours getting up for a 4 am bus, a major dogfight, the chowkidar waking us up for our bus by pounding on the window and finally by the morning call to prayer. It was not a good night's sleep.

The next day we crossed the Himalaya range for the second time on the trip. Our previous crossing, over the Baralacha La, had taken us to nearly 5000 metres in altitude, but this pass, the Zoji La, is the single lowest pass over the Himalayas at 3520 metres. From Dras, the climb was very gentle, and I spent the entire morning taking pictures of Gujar nomads driving their beautiful horses and their huge flocks of sheep along the valley. The pass itself was an anticlimax, a very flat valley in which suddenly the water was draining in the opposite direction. On the Kashmir side, however, it was a steep cliff crisscrossed by dusty dirt roads clogged with trucks. It took forever to get past the truck convoys, and by the time we arrived in Sonamarg we were completely gray with dust. All the way down there were army snipers posted every few hundred metres; it added to the atmosphere of fear and war that pervaded the air now that we were in the Vale of Kashmir. Saakje and Audie had flat tires and told Reini and me to press on ahead. When they arrived in the village of Sonamarg, they told us that the snipers kept stopping them to chat and to stroke their arms and try to hold their hands. Saakje's previous high estimation of the discipline of the Indian army changed very quickly that day. The army in Kashmir has a terrible reputation for raping, killing and intimidating the local population, and Kashmir has the feel of a town under occupation, rather like Baghdad or Hebron must feel like.

Sonamarg was a dumpy little town, but the setting was marvellous. Towering glaciated peaks soared over spruce forests, steep valley slopes and meadows cut by clear mountain streams. We could see why Kashmir was for generations the preferred summer retreat for Moghul emperors, British officials and backpackers alike, before the bloodshed of the 1990s killed the tourist industry.

The last day's ride into Srinagar was a wonderful ending to the bike trip. The scenery was pretty, with villages of wooden houses and mosques shaped like Hindu temples, fields of corn and rice and the Himalayas in the distance. After a lunch of samosas, the terrain flattened out and we were in the flat basin of the Vale of Kashmir, a densely populated farming area around Srinagar that contains the bulk of Kashmir's population. It reminded me strongly of the Kathmandu Valley: similar climate, similar altitude, similar sense of a long historic and cultural tradition. The last 20 km were very flat and I suddenly, for the first time all trip (after having been the back marker of the group for over a month), felt the urge to ride fast, prompted by the smooth, new asphalt, and I raced into Srinagar at 30 km/h. Suddenly, without warning, we were on the shores of Dal Lake. After an ice cream stop, we made our way to Nageen Lake and a bevy of houseboat owners. We picked the first one we saw and settled into three nights and two days of colonial luxury and indolence.

We had an entire 30-metre long boat to ourselves: two palatial bedrooms, a living room, a dining room and a pavilion at the stern to sit and look out over the lake. It was the perfect way to finish the trip, and we could easily have stayed another week, eating well, reading, playing guitar and cards and chess and (once, anyway) swimming in the green, algae-choked lake. The bird life was wonderful: kingfishers, eagles, dabchicks and moorhens were in abundance, and we had the feeling of having returned to life after the desert desolation of Ladakh.

And then suddenly it was time to leave; a bike ride to the airport, ridiculous security measures, a last game of hearts and of Scattergories, and then Audie and Saakje were saying goodbye to me in Delhi airport.

A Pass, A Peak, A River and A Valley

It's August 16th, and once again a couple of weeks have slipped by without an update, a state of affairs attributable in equal measure to my sloth and the very, very, very poor internet connections available in Leh.

Since I last wrote, we've made a few outings from Leh: up the Khardung La, a climb of Stok Kangri, a river rafting trip and a 4-day trip to the Nubra Valley. In the process, we've almost used up our allotted time here in Leh, and either tomorrow or the next day should see us riding towards Srinagar and the end of the bike trip. We've all lost weight over the past few weeks, and some of us (Audie and I) are starting to look a bit skeletal, particularly in the face. Must eat more.....

After a couple of days of well-earned rest and recuperation in Leh after our Panggong Lake trip, we set off on August 6th for a day trip up what the Indians claim is the highest road pass in the world. For centuries, up until 1950, this pass was the first of 5 major passes leading from Leh to the city of Yarkand, in what is now Xinjiang province in China. Seven years ago, while cycling from Pakistan to Tibet, Audie, Saakje and I rode over the first two of these passes coming south from Yarkand. It provided a bit of a historical context for the ride, other than it being allegedly the highest pass on earth. It was fun to imagine caravans of horses, ponies and Bactrian camels toiling up the pass, laden with cotton goods and opium (India's major exports to China in the 19th century), or coming down into Leh carrying silver ingots, hashish and fine toosh and pashmina wool. It certainly helped pass the long, tough hours of climbing.

Since it was a day trip, we left behind all our luggage and rode our unloaded bikes, which was a treat. From Leh, at 3600 metres, we expected a 2000-metre vertical climb to 5602 metres at the crest of the pass. It was a cold, cloudy day, and fresh snow dusted the pass in front of us as we rolled out at 7:30 am. It was certainly a rare luxury not to have any extra weight to propel up the pass, and Reini, Audie and Saakje set a fierce early pace. I was still not acclimatized to altitude, despite being at altitude for two and a half weeks, and I fell behind as I stopped periodically to pant for breath. The road climbs relentlessly for 43 km at an average gradient of 4%, rising in endlessly coiled switchbacks up the bone-dry barren hillsides. We could look back at the green splash of Leh oasis sloping down toward the Indus, and beyond that to the glaciated peaks of the Stok Range, which were covered in cloud.

The road was in reasonable condition as far as the road-maintenance camp of South Pullu, 14 km from the top, but after that the rigours of long, snowy rivers, snowmelt, landslides and heavy truck traffic turned the road into a potholed dirt track. I bumped along slowly, through intermittent snow flurries, chatting with a Dutch cyclist, and finally reached the windy summit of the pass around 2:00, having spent five and a half hours in motion and, apparently, an hour sitting beside the road on various breathers. Reini and my sisters had been waiting for nearly an hour, so we didn't linger too long at the top, just long enough for the obligatory photos and to check the altitude on our altimeters. At 5300 metres, the altitude was a full 300 metres lower than the claim by the Indians. Not only is the Khardung La not the highest pass in the world, it's not even the highest pass in Ladakh! According to our altimeters, as well as those of most other cyclists who have ridden the Khardung La, it's about the same height as the Taglang La (on the Leh-Manali road) and about 50 metres lower than the Chang La (on the Panggong Lake road). As well, none of these Ladakhi passes are as high as the pass from the Aksai Chin plateau into Tibet on the Kargalik-Ali road in China. We felt cheated, but at least we knew that we had ridden those higher passes as well. The descent was a joy, hurtling down at 40 km/h, back to a late, well-earned lunch in Leh.

The next day saw us heading off by jeep to Stok, a small village directly across the Indus from Leh. We were carrying big backpacks, ice boots, crampons and ice axes, since we were off mountain climbing. Stok Kangri (6050 m; again the Indian government claims some non-existent extra height, giving an altitude of 6121 m) is the highest peak in the Stok Range, the snowiest and most glaciated stretch of the Zanskar Range, to the south of the Indus River. Most climbers hire a guide and ponies to carry their gear, but we wanted to be self-supported, so we lugged everything on our backs.

The first day's walk was pleasant, gently uphill along boulder-strewn riverbeds, past more of the "stegosaurus graveyard" geology we had seen while cycling: vertical strata eroded into spiny shapes between softer layers. It was a rude shock to the body to be carrying so much weight, and I was still unacclimatized, so I lagged a bit behind the others. We had set out late in the day, and we soon discovered the disadvantage of not having a guide; we had no idea which way to turn at valley junctions. The guide for an Israeli group set us right the first time we made a wrong turn, and another time we had to flop down on the ground to wait for the Israelis so that we knew which way to go. We camped just short of the usual campground, which we had been told was full, played guitar and harmonica and slept well, lulled to sleep by the babbling of the nearby stream. Just as we were turning in, an old Ladakhi herder came by and demanded money for allowing us to camp there. Since all she could say was "sleep camping", we were worried at first that she wanted to sleep in our tents! It was quite a relief to know that she was just trying to extort money from us.

The next day was, we knew, a very short one, so we slept late and lounged around as Saakje tried to cook bannock (native Canadian bread) on our stoves. It didn't really work (our pots and pans are too thin, so the bannock burned to the bottom), but it was a nice change in our diet. At noon, we finally set off, arriving at base camp, some 700 metres higher, at 2:00. We set up camp and walked higher up the mountain to scout out the route for the next day before turning in early.

It was a short, restless night in the tents. It snowed several times during the night, waking us up every time, and by 1 am climbers were getting up and setting off. Not keen on climbing in the snow, we went back to sleep, but by 3 am the weather seemed to be improving and I lashed everyone out of their tents and onto the trail by 3:45. The freshly-fallen snow made it easy for us to follow the tracks of the previous climbers, and out on the glacier, we began to catch up to them. We climbed steeply up a snowy slope, without crampons but relying heavily on our ice axes for balance. We then angled across the steep face of the mountain to a steep, corniced ridge which we followed to the summit, trying not to lose our footing and plummet a few hundred metres downhill. Again, I lagged behind the others and arrived at the summit about an hour behind them, at 9 am. Most of the climb was in thick fog, but as we sat at the summit, the clouds parted to the south, affording us a view of the Markha Valley and the Great Himalaya range behind. More spectacular was the nearly vertical glacier at the head of the valley we had climbed, a perfect piece of ice sculpture.

The descent was rather fun, at least after the hair-raising descent of the ridge. I put my crampons on for this bit, and promptly cramponed myself in the back of the leg, shredding my pants and long underwear but miraculously not puncturing the skin. After that, it was a fun sliding, slithering descent in the heat-softened wet snow. To be more precise, it was fun for Reini and me, but Audie and Saakje found themselves escorting two altitude-sick Israeli women down, which took forever as they were very high-maintenance types who drove Audie and Saakje mad with frustration.

By noon we were back in base camp, sipping tea and feeling a bit tired from the 1150-metre climb, the altitude and the sleepless night. Audie and Saakje, however, were keen to get back to Leh, so we packed up camp and trudged downhill for four endless hours. By the time we got to Stok, Reini and I had blistered feet, and I felt as though I'd been through an interrogation at Guantanamo Bay. We caught a bus to Leh, and arrived back at our guesthouse to find that there were no rooms, we were too late for a shower, and we had to pitch our tents in the garden. Hardly the triumphant homecoming we had wished for.

After another lazy day in Leh, we went for a day of whitewater rafting on the Indus. We had been told that we were up for some class 4 rapids, but it was a pretty placid stretch of river, other than 2 decent rapids near the beginning and end. It was, however, a relaxing new perspective on the Indus, and we had a wonderful lunch in the sunshine of an apricot orchard after the rafting. The drive back confirmed our fears that the first day of riding towards Srinagar, rather than being an easy coast downstream on the Indus, is going to be a day of big climbs and descents in the bone-dry desert west of Leh.

On the 12th, with my sore legs from the Stok Kangri descent almost recovered, Audie, Saakje and I set off for a bike trip to the Nubra Valley; Reini decided to stay in Leh and relax. This represented a change of plans for us, as we had originally wanted to go trekking, but the lure of bigger mountains and grander vistas changed our minds. The Nubra Valley, to the north of Leh, lies on the other side of the Khardung La, necessitating crossing the monster pass a second time. In order to save time and effort, since we had already climbed the pass once, we decided to take a taxi to the top and start riding downhill. It took forever to find a taxi willing to take three bikes inside; for some reason most Indian-made cars don't have seats that can be folded down or removed. After a great comedy of errors, we got the bikes loaded and set off. When we got to South Pullu, we found, to our chagrin, that the road was closed to uphill four-wheeled traffic and that we had to pedal the final 14 km of the climb again.

Gritting our teeth, we unloaded the bikes and started riding. It was a completely different experience this time, however. We all seemed to be perfectly acclimatized, at long last, and the weather was cloudless and warm. We pedalled up the pass almost effortlessly and soon enough we were back at the top of the "Not Even the Highest Motorable Pass in India, Let Alone the World". The ease of cycling was partly due to not taking camping equipment with us, but mostly, especially for me, it was because we could finally do exercise at high altitude without panting and gasping for oxygen in the thin air. The descent was perfect: great road surfaces and a wide-open vista of badlands, canyons, irrigated oases and the vast glaciated peaks of the Karakoram in front of us. We descended nearly 2000 vertical metres into the valley of the Shyok river (a major tributary of the Indus) and put up for the night in a small truck stop in Khalsar where we ate some of the best dal bhat (rice and lentils) of the trip and played cards late into the night.

The next day we rode a grand total of 22 km to the village of Diskit, where we found a spotless, well-run guesthouse (truly a rarity in these parts), dumped our bikes and took to our heels through the sand dunes that fill much of the broad, dry Shyok valley. In true XTreme Dork fashion, we ended up in a swamp at our first attempt, but we perservered and found some lovely small dunes and even a few two-humped Bactrian camels, although they were being used to ferry package tourists around. It was a lovely break from cycling and a pretty area. We felt confined, however; much of Ladakh is an off-limits military zone, and while we could gaze at interesting-looking valleys emerging from the Karakoram, we were forbidden from exploring them. Ladakh is far harder to explore than the Northern Areas of Pakistan, where, with a few exceptions, every valley is open to hiking. This feeling of confinement, along with the fact that virtually all trips in Ladakh have to be out-and-back, rather than one continuous path without backtracking, makes Ladakh a less appealing destination overall than Nepal, northern Pakistan or Tibet, at least for bike tourists.

The last two days were devoted to climbing back out of Nubra. The first day's climbing was easy, made easier by spending the entire climb on ethical debates and word games like Just a Minute and Metaphors. We stayed in a "tea hotel" that turned out not to be a hotel; we were put up in the bedroom of an unfortunate son of the family. The next day, we climbed the rest of the way to the top of the Khardung La on India's Independence Day, with essentially no traffic all day. That makes 2.5 times that we've climbed the Khardung, and I think that's enough for anyone's lifetime. After another fun freewheel down into Leh, I collapsed into bed for 11 hours of well-earned sleep while Audie, Saakje and Reini went out for celebratory beers. Since Independence Day is marked by 3 days of Prohibition, they had to drink furtively at our favourite restaurant, La Pizzeria, where the waiter brought pot after pot of "ice tea", to be drunk out of teacups.

So now it may be our last day in Leh, with its dangerous drivers, imported beggars, excessive numbers of cycle tourists and overcrowded accommodation. The Lombardy poplars which line the oasis started to shed their fluffy seeds yesterday, and everything is covered in a layer of snowy white fuzz. I think that tomorrow we will start our ride to Srinagar, which should take about 7 days. This depends a bit on the Dalai Lama, who is coming to Choglamsar, 7 km from here, tomorrow. If he is making a public appearance tomorrow morning, we may stay for that. If not, it's off to the medieval frescoes of Alchi Monastery, the unusual Buddhist Dardic culture of the Dha area, the dour Muslims of Kargil and finally the Zoji La and the long downhill into Srinagar and its houseboats.

Until the next update, I remain

Yours Acclimatizedly

Graydon

Panggong Sidetrip

We're back in Leh after a beautiful but strenuous trip out to Panggong Lake. It took us 2.5 days of hard riding to get to the lake, and 2 days to get back, leaving only one afternoon and one morning camped beside this gorgeous salt lake, but I think all the hard pedalling was worth it.

There is a bit of history to my interest in the lake. In 1998, during our Pakistan-Mt. Kailash bike trip, Audie, Saakje and I cycled past the eastern end of the lake, and were so struck by its stark beauty that we cut short the day's cycling and spent the afternoon swimming and lounging by the lakeshore. It's a long (115 km long), narrow (4 km wide) lake that is shared, none too happily, by India and China. It's a salt lake; you can see that at the western end, where we just visited, the lake must at one time have flowed out into the Tangtse Valley, but no longer. This results in the eastern (Chinese) end of the lake, with all its inflow, being fresh water, while the western (Indian) end is very salty, to the extent that even the groundwater from deep wells around the lake comes up brackish.

We rode out of Leh on Saturday, zipping along the flat, broad, desert Indus Valley for 35 km to the military camp at Karu, and then starting the nearly 2000-metre climb to the Chang La pass (5330 m). We made it about halfway up the 43-km road, found a nice riverside campground and collapsed into our tents, very legsore.

The following morning, refreshed, we finished the climb around noon, took a few celebratory snaps and then started the descent. We have no decent maps, but I had had a look at a good map that another tourist was carrying, and it seemed to show a continuous downhill for 75 km to the lake. Imagine our distress when, after a fast zip downhill, we realized that in fact we had to climb 30 km upstream along a river to get to the lake. This sapped our will, and we settled in for a dreadful meal of chow mien at the village of Tangtse before camping at a beautiful riverside spot.

The next day, the climb to the lake was gentle, along a vast, stark, beautiful valley lined by glaciated peaks, with a narrow strip of riverside meadow dotted with yaks, donkeys and horses. By noon we were at the lake, where we camped on the shore, swam (turning our skin into salty pachyderm flesh), played guitar and watched the sun play on the desert peaks on the opposite shore. It looked a lot like the Saudi shore of the Red Sea as seen from Dahab, on the Sinai Peninsula, if you ignored the occasional white patch of glacier peeking out. The saltiness of the water, though, didn't do our bodies much good, and we woke up with very sticky, salty mouths.

The ride back was a bit more fun than the outward leg, as we knew exactly what climbs and descents were coming. The climb towards the pass was steep and exhausted us, but we were revived by a great macaroni and cheese supper created by Saakje in our lakeside campsite. We spotted hoopoes, marmots and mouse hares as we ground uphill.

The final day, we crossed the pass in fine form by noon, took some pictures (it was sunny, this time) and then set off for an adrenaline-filled 43-km descent. Once we got clear of the bad road near the pass summit, we averaged 35 km/h as we flew downhill in an hour the road that it had taken us an entire day to climb. We lunched beside the Indus, then battled headwinds back to a massive (and well-earned) supper of pizza and beer in Leh.

Our plans have changed a bit because of time pressure; it looks as though we will not trek back to Manali, but will instead ride to Srinagar and fly from there to Delhi. It will be a good idea, I think, given our slow speed and the bother of dealing with our bikes while trekking. It will also allow us to see another corner of India that we haven't seen yet.

Hope that everyone's having a great summer. Talk to everyone soon.

Graydon

Now I Leh me down to sleep

Greetings from Leh, the little town at the tiptop end of India, capital of Ladakh and desert oasis par excellence. It's our second day of laziness, lassitude and banana lassis, but our bike ride here was unexpectedly tough in terms of effort and acclimatization to high altitude, and Audie, Saakje and I all seem to be even more tired and out of shape than we were when we arrived two days ago. It's all very puzzling.

But I digress. Let me backtrack. I spent three days of touristing in Delhi: Humayun's Tomb, the oldest mosque in India (the Qutb Minar and attached mosque, much of it built from a Hindu temple, which leaves the curious sight of half-clothed Hindu deities on the walls and columns of a mosque, which shouldn't have any depictions of the human body at all), the green and lovely Lodi Gardens full of royal tombs, the vast and stately Government buildings along the Rajpath which are reminiscent of the layout of Washington DC.

After that, it was time for the ultimate horror: the night bus north to Kullu. It was cheap (only 220 rupees, or 5 US dollars) but interminable, uncomfortable and rather like an experiment in sleep deprivation. I was glad to stagger off the bus in Kullu with my bikeat 10 am, assemble it, and bike off to the nearest hotel to sleep away the rest of the day.

I spent the next day on a day trip up one of the more famous Himalayan valleys, the Parvati. It was very pretty and forested and steep, but the incessant rain impaired my appreciation for its beauty. At the end of the paved road, I found a gloomy little hot spring town that looked a bit dismal, and promptly turned around and spun back downhill again towards Kullu.

I rolled along the east bank of the Beas River the next day, along one of the five major rivers of the Punjab. In 326 BC, some distance downstream, Alexander the Great's plan to conquer the world came to an end on the banks of the Beas when his troops mutinied and refused to march any further east. Nowadays the Kullu Valley, through which the Beas flows, promotes itself as the Valley of the Gods, and if it is, then the gods have a good aesthetic sense of where to live. It's a fairly steep-sided valley, with pastures and peaks sloping down to huge waterfalls leading into conifer forests and then vast fruit orchards.

I put up for the night in Naggar, site of a lovely castle situated like an eagle's nest high above the Beas. I was a paying guest in the castle, which at 200 rupees ($4.50) was a steal. I went out to explore the Roerich Gallery, full of the paintings of the anthropologist/artist/mystic Nicholas Roerich, who spent many years in Naggar.

The next day I finished my solo cycling with a ride up into Tel-Aviv-in-the-Himalayas, also known as Vashisht, a little village near Manali with some nice hot springs and full of Israeli hippies. I indulged in the hot springs and watched the Israelis making the scene. After a day and a half, Audie and Saakje arrived in a driving rainstorm and the expedition was complete. A day of fiddling with bicycles and buying supplies and we were ready to roll north to Ladakh.

The first day was spent climbing steadily up the 4000-metre Rohtang Pass, over the Pir Panjal Mountains. The scenery was lovely and green and full of waterfalls and forests, and since the road was partially closed ahead, there was little truck traffic to disturb us. We had a perfect lunch of chapattis and Gruyere cheese overlooking the valley, and then climbed on, past long queues of trucks and jeeps delayed by landslides, to a riverside campsite at about 3000 metres' altitude.

The next day we climbed on, up the endless switchbacks, through cold fog, reaching the crest of the pass in the early afternoon. Another chapatti and Gruyere lunch finished off the cheese, and we bumped downhill on execrable roads into the valley of Lahaul, where we camped beside the Chandra River.

Day 3 began with the arrival of a new member of our crew. Reini, an ex-professional snowboarder and serious mountain biker from Austria, caught up with us as we were about to set off. Despite the obvious mismatch in our cycling speeds, he asked to join us for the company. That day we rode through the settled parts of Lahaul, a very Tibetan-looking and Tibetan-influenced valley, lunched in Keylong, the capital, and then slept beside the river after a long day of good riding.

Day 4 was shorter and harder, with a long climb uphill towards our next pass. We passed beyond the region of cultivation and for the first time started to feel the effects of not being acclimatized to altitude. We camped in a dismal location next to a road construction camp and slept poorly.

We were awoken the next morning by a herd of sheep running amidst our tents. We continued our slow climb up to the Baralacha La (4900 metres), the slowness being emphasized by the fact that the morning's sheep and accompanying shepherds beat us over the pass. Our progress was further slowed by the appalling road conditions, construction and traffic jams, and we ended up pushing our bikes for long stretches. At least we got over the pass and descended to a beautiful riverside meadow to camp.

Day 6 featured some of the best actual cycling of the trip, on roads with real asphalt and no landslides, and we raced through lovely landscape until we suddenly found ourselves confronted by a 700-metre climb up an interminable set of switchbacks. It was while climbing those that I realized that I was not at all acclimatized, and I felt absolutely exhausted. Audie and Saakje weren't feeling at their best either, but at least they got uphill at a respectable rate. We camped on the other side of the 4900-metre Nakee Pass, looking up at the next half of this double pass, the Lachung La.

In the morning, after running into an English cyclist, Pete Jones, who was heading the opposite way, we climbed slowly up the 5000-metre Lachung La and then descended along a lovely desert canyon, on unlovely formerly-paved roads, to the army base of Pang, where we called an early halt. Audie, Saakje and Reini stashed a cache of water ahead of us that afternoon while I dozed in the sunshine, hoping to recover some vestiges of energy and strength.

Scenically, day 8 was a major highlight. We climbed up onto the high-altitude (4700 metre) Morey Plains and then undulated our way across this lovely grassland, watching for wildlife (didn't see any) and nomadic Changpa shepherds driving their flocks across the plains. At the end of the train, we climbed halfway up the final and highest pass, the 5300-metre Taglang La, but my body badly let me down, with my lungs, heart and legs all completely exhausted. We camped beside the road in an old road construction site and settled in for another night of limited sleep and less rest at 5000 metres.

We finally made it over the Taglang La the next morning, with all three Hazenbergs climbing very slowly, out of breath and out of energy. We realized we weren't even close to being acclimatized to this altitude, a feeling emphasized by how disconnected our brains felt from our bodies, a bit like being enormously drunk. This altitude-induced inebriation made the ride downhill more than a bit challenging and dangerous, but we finally hit great pavement, settled Ladakhi villages and food, and absolutely flew downhill. We passed through our first Ladakhi villages, full of Buddhist chortens and gompas and white-washed cubic Tibetan houses, and then through a landscape of eroded vertical rock strata that Audie compared to a stegosaurus graveyard. Before we knew it, we were in the Indus Valley, eating momos and camping in an idyllic riverside spot.

After all the effort involved in the first 9 days, the last day was a bit of a triumphal procession, along level, good roads, with stops to investigate Tikse and Shey monasteries, and even the stiff climb away from the Indus into Leh seemed like a cakewalk. It was a shock to be in Leh: stuffed to bursting with tourists (lots of familiar faces from Vashisht), restaurants everywhere, traffic, noise and (best of all) pizza and beer.

We've realized that now, even after 2 days of sloth in Leh, we're not even acclimatized to the moderate 3600-metre altitude here. I don't know what went wrong with our acclimatization, but we're in worse shape now than when we started in Manali. Maybe our upcoming 5-day ride to Panggong Lake will see us come back to life. Or maybe not. I think it's time for another pizza.

Hope everyone's having a great summer, and hope to have better luck with Internet connectivity in the future.

Jule!!

Graydon

In Delhi

I have arrived safely in Delhi. I flew in last night, collected my bicycle and luggage and sailed out into the scrum of touts and taxi drivers confidently. I had already reserved a hotel room and got a pre-paid taxi to save on later arguments about the fare. Suddenly I was out in the streets, my bike lashed to the roof rack, watching the river of humanity that is India flowing along the roads in intermittent rapids of buses and taxis, with back-eddies of pedestrians, rickshaws and cows lining both sides of the street. It was surprisingly mild (my thermometer read 29 degrees, a far cry from the 44 degrees I saw a month ago on my weather page) and not raining, and soon enough I was in the bustle of Paharganj, the main tourist ghetto of India's capital.

Somehow I had forgotten how hideous Delhi can be. I suppose that it being the rainy season, the city isn't looking its best, but compared to Kathmandu, my favourite big city on the subcontinent, it seems squalid. Even the tourist ghetto of Calcutta, Sudder Street, seems less down at heel. On the other hand, it is a lot cheaper to eat and stay here than, say, Japan, and in a few days I'll be on my way to the north, monsoon floods permitting.

Two days ago, on the 6th, I had a quiet last day riding to Narita airport. The night before I had been glad to be staying indoors at my friend Nick's house in Oyama, as torrential rains beat down all night. I left the next morning and soon, to my delight, the rains stopped and the weather stayed dry all the way to Narita. I rode south and then east, cutting through Noda, the home of Kikkoman Soy Sauce, along one of the most unpleasant roads in Japan. I used to think that Route 4, Janan's version of the Trans-Canada Highway, was the worst road in the country to cycle along, but I realize now that I was naive and ignorant of the true horror of prefectural road 17, which has all the snarling truck traffic of Route 4 but only 2 narrow lanes, no shoulder or sidewalk and nothing scenic to recommend it. I stopped in for tea with Satomi, one of my students who's going to be a math teacher in my old stomping ground of Morogoro, Tanzania, where I lived with my family 24 years ago.

Then I continued, past endless factories, warehouses, asphalt and concrete, through woods ankle-deep in garbage thrown out of passing cars, until I found a shortcut to the Tone River embankment. Japan, with its mania for pouring concrete, has devoted billions of dollars to paving the banks of most of its rivers, but the really big ones are spared this fate, being hemmed in at a respectful distance by huge earthen dikes topped with small roads. Along the Tone, these dike-top roads are closed to cars, leaving them the preserve of cyclists and joggers, so I spent a couple of happy hours in peace and quiet, looking out over the rice fields to the south and the bird-filled marshes towards the actual river, zipping along. Eventually I turned off and headed south on the last 15 km leg to the airport. I found a ramen restaurant run by an ex-sumo wrestler and stuffed myself silly on chanko ramen, a protein-rich dish that is used to fatten up sumo wrestlers. It was possibly the most filling meal I've ever had in Japan, and the perfect antidote to the hunger caused by riding 100 km.

I camped in a disused lot close to the airport, got up early and rode the last 10 km to Narita, arriving in plenty of time to disassemble the bike, pack all the luggage into one monstrous backpack (plus some carry-on items), pick up my ticket and check in. The airport police were suspicious and made a note of my Alien Registration Card details; I wonder if my employers will get a call about a dodgy-looking employee of theirs taking his bike apart outside their police station. At check-in, I got a nasty surprise. I'm always over the luggage allowance, but usually I get away with it, or with paying $50 for having outsized luggage, to wit my bike. This time, however, with 38 kilos (24 kg of luggage and 14 kg of bike), they wanted to charge me. They very nicely only charged me for 8 extra kilos, rather than the 18 kg by which I exceeded the limit, but my jaw dropped when I saw the bill: US$ 350! I begged. I pleaded. I protested. I batted my eyelashes at the attractive check-in clerk. I told them that I was a penny-pinching bike tourist on a world tour. Eventually, in the face of my stubbornness, they consulted with management and told me, quietly, that they would make an exception, but JUST THIS ONCE! I thanked them profusely and scuttled off before they changed their minds. In the end, the flight was 80% empty (I had 4 seats to myself to stretch out and sleep), so it wasn't a question of weight, and I was glad that I was able to charm my way through. On the way, the captain pointed out distant Himalayan peaks that may or may not have been the Everest group poking out behind towering monsoon cumulonimbus clouds.

So now I hope to cross paths with some friends who are returning from trekking and cycling in the Himalayas; I hope they have some good tips. The newspapers (my favourite part of India: 5 cents for a great English-language daily, full of news, with cryptic crosswords and chess columns) are full of accounts of landslides, floods and washed-out bridges to the north caused by monsoon rains. I hear that the road from Kullu to Manali, along which I hope to cycle to continue getting my flabby legs into shape, is cut by a landslide at the moment. I hope that the papers are right and that the worst of the torrential rains will now sweep to the northeast and inundate Assam and Bangladesh rather than Himachal Pradesh and Kashmir.

So until I leave Delhi in a few days, I will amuse myself eating great Indian food and watching the endless theatres of the streets here. My current favourite sight is that of 10 schoolgirls in uniform crammed into, or hanging onto the sides of, one cycle rickshaw pedalled by a wisp of a man whose every muscle fibre strains from the exertion. It's an image to remember if I ever feel sorry for myself and my 30 kg of luggage in the mountains.

Rainy Day Cyclist, 36

It is an article of faith in Japan that there are four seasons in Japan. It is even a common misconception that Japan is unique in the world in this regard. If you ask a Japanese student to write an English composition on the climate or weather in Japan, I guarantee that some statement about four seasons will occur. And yet this commonplace assertion is, in fact, wrong. There are FIVE seasons in Japan: summer, fall, winter, spring and a month-long rainy season, or tsuyu. Once you point this out to your Japanese friends, they will probably agree with you, which makes you wonder how the misconception survives so vigorously.

I mention this only because the rainy season is here in full force. I have spent two full days cycling south from my temporary home in Fukushima prefecture (the place under the centre ring in the following map: http://map.yahoo.co.jp/pl?nl=37.34.54.595&el=140.26.04.106&la=1&fi=1&sc=10, (the town of Nihonmatsu), towards Narita airport (under the crosshairs of http://map.yahoo.co.jp/pl?nl=35.46.24.848&el=140.19.20.291&la=1&fi=1&sc=10, through almost non-stop rain. It has not been fun in any way. I have been cold, wet and stiff for 2 days, but nothing that another few days in the saddle won't cure. The rain has been amazingly constant; I feel like the Rain God in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, becoming a conoisseur of the dozens of different types of liquid precipitation. I hope the monsoon rains in India don't spill over the Himalayas to drench us every day in Ladakh!

I've ridden through a series of forgettable little towns, with names that translate prosaically to things like Two Pines (Nihonmatsu), White River (Shirakawa), Horse Head (Bato), Little River (Ogawa) and now Little Mountain (Oyama). I'm still essentially an illiterate in Japanese, except for the few hundred simple and common everyday words used in place names and people's last names, driven into my head by constant repetition while driving or cycling. I still haven't sat down to memorize the two thousand others that I would need to be functionally literate, and perhaps this indicates a serious lack of commitment to Japan and its culture. Maybe it's just as well that I only spend short bursts of time here.

To avoid spending all my time cycling damply along, I've lingered under convenience store awnings, consulting maps and reading Bruce Chatwin's superlative travel book The Songlines. It's dangerous literature, as it's an enquiry into the roots of myth, spirituality, religion and human culture, arguing that it all derives from migration and travel on foot. I certainly feel spiritually refreshed and culturally awakened by being back on the road, even if it's been a series of rather unscenic Japanese highways seen through a perpetual downpour. The tiredness and listlessness of the past 3 months have dropped away and I feel fully alive again. Maybe I need to spend even more time connecting to my nomadic roots

Anyway, the first 200 kilometres of the warm-up ride are going fine, my Achilles tendons (always my weak spot at the start of a trip) aren't too painful, and I'm looking forward to sleeping indoors tonight at my friend Nick's dry, warm house. At least it's been useful for making sure my body and bicycle and equipment are in shape for bigger challenges to come. Every time I start a new bike trip, it takes a couple of days to get used to handling such a heavy, awkward beast. It's rather like pedalling a fully-loaded shopping cart.

Until next time, I remain

The Soggy Nomad

D-Day -7

It's only 7 days until I fly to Delhi, and I'm in a frenzy of last-minute preparations. I have to write one final pointless report for work, clean out my apartment, drive my posessions south to Oyama to my friend Nick's house for storage, get the last bits of information and addresses that I need for the trip ready, and then ride south to Narita airport. It's about 260 km and it will be a much-needed warm-up for this trip.

I feel woefully underprepared for this trip: fat, lazy and out of shape. I was forbidden from riding to work by fascist busybodies for whom I work, and the result has been far less cycling than I'm used to. It baffles me that in Japan, this sort of ridiculous intrusion into an employee's personal life is normal and almost expected. The official reason for forcing me to ride the bus to work is that it's "dangerous" for me to ride. The fact that I've ridden 30,000 km on bike tours around the globe in perfect safety cuts no ice with them. Apparently, the little-travelled, paved, wide road that leads 10 km from my apartment to work is far more dangerous than, say, the Howrah Bridge in Calcutta, or the Grand Trunk Road in Pakistan. It would be a perfect warmup for a day of sedentary activity to gain 400 vertical metres before work, and then to zip downhill at the end of the day. Instead, I sit, crammed into tiny Hobbit-sized seats in a crowded stuffy bus, getting slightly carsick from the turns. As a gesture of liberty, I'm riding my bike to work this afternoon, so that I can see how my new chain, gear-shift cable, pedals, tires and front wheel behave.

Anyway, I can't wait to put a winter of laziness, stress, tsunamis and really grim jobs behind me and find the liberty of the mountains again. I may or may not be invited back to work here (we're told 2 weeks before the start date whether we're needed or not; makes you feel really loved and respected), and if I don't, I'll just have to keep riding and hiking in India, Bangladesh and Burma instead.

So this is the plan for the summer's travels. It's another XTreme Dork misadventure, featuring three of the original Dorks: myself and my sisters Audie and Saakje. It's an all-too-short cycling/hiking/climbing trip to the Indian Himalayas, specifically to the far northern bit of India: Lahaul and Ladakh. I've been to the mountainous bits of Pakistan, China and Tibet that enclose this area, so it will plug a big hole in my personal map of the Himalayas. I'm going to add the text of a big prospectus I wrote while trying (unsuccessfully) to induce friends to join the trip after this, so those of you interested in details can read on, while the rest of you, dear readers, should feel free to ignore the rest. Talk to you all later.

Graydon

Cycling the Indian Himalaya

Another Xtreme Dork (Mis-)Adventure

The basic idea: To ride mountain bikes from the Indian lowlands up into the lunar Tibetan landscape of Lakakh to see some scenic bits, then to climb a wee peak and take a brisk stroll south from Ladakh back to the plains.

The team: Three of the Hazenberg siblings (Graydon, Audie and Saakje) and anyone else misguided enough to want to join in.

When: July and August, 2005.

Rendezvous: Manali, India, July 16, 2005

Finish Date: Audie and Saakje have to leave by August 27; Graydon may or may not continue later than this, depending on jobs and similar sad necessities. That’s about 7.5 weeks in total.

Costs: Aside from airfare to Delhi, very inexpensive. Perhaps US $10 a day (tops) while cycling and maybe $15 a day while trekking? If you budget $1000 for the whole trip, you should have plenty of cash left over. We will be staying in cheap guesthouses or camping while cycling and camping while climbing and trekking, so our only expenses should be food, pony rental (for trekking) and local transport to and from Delhi.

Visas and permits: Everybody needs either a 3-month or (preferably) a 6-month Indian tourist visa. Check out the situation on getting Indian visas wherever you are. Most places, if you’re not in your home country, there’s an annoying “telex fee” to your home country to see whether or not you’re a criminal. Usually the time on the 6-month visa starts ticking the moment you receive the visa, while the 3-month only starts when you enter India; so, if you’re going for the 6-month visa, don’t apply too far in advance. Make sure that your passport is valid until at least the end of 2005; otherwise get a new passport before applying for the visa. The 3-month is single-entry only, while the 6-month is multiple-entry.

We also need permits to visit Tso Moriri (although see next paragraph), Pangong Tso and Nubra, but we can get them in Leh. If we ride Kinnaur-Spiti-Lahaul, too, we will need an Inner Line Permit (checkpoints in Sumdo, Yangthang, Jangi) which we can get in Kaza (if riding north) or Rekong Peo (if riding south). For both of these, we need lots of passport-sized photos (possibly 10 in total), which you can either bring with you (look into taking a digital photo and printing off an A4 sheet of 30 or so small photos), or have them done in Delhi pretty cheaply).

From the Lonely Planet Thorn Tree: “For Tso Kar you don't need permit, since it is just a few km out of main road. We first went to Tso Moriri and I remember that on Mahu bridge you have to pay a small fee. If you tell them you are student it is like 5 Rp or something. Don't even remember, cause it was so cheap. But I don't remember if we needed permit for Tso Moriri. Well, around Tso Kar you certainly don't need it.”

If we don’t need a permit, or can avoid the checkpoints, we could incorporate a trip to Tso Moriri into the main Manali-Leh ride—see the second Corax itinerary below.

Guide Books:

Lonely Planet Indian Himalaya.

Lonely Planet Trekking in the Indian Himalaya.

Hugh Swift: Trekking in Pakistan and India.

John Keay: When Men and Mountains Meet: Explorers of the Western Himalaya.

It would be nice to have a copy of both of the LP guides. Hugh is amusing and ideosyncratic. John Keay’s book is good background reading, but it’s heavy to carry around.

Maps: Obviously a necessity (as Xtreme Dorks will attest to after the KKH to Kailash navigational fiascos). It would be nice to have a couple of different ones. If anyone sees these ahead of time, snap it up and let me know so that we don’t buy too many copies of the same map. Here are some possibilities.

Nelles Maps: Northern India, 1:1 500 000

Nest & Wings Baspa Maps: Kinnaur, Spiti and Lahaul Valleys (on sale in Delhi)

Lonely Planet Road Atlas of India and Bangladesh (big and heavy)

Food and Accommodation: From the Lonely Planet’s Thorn Tree: “There's accommodation along most of the route (ranging from hotels in Keylong to parachute tents in Patseo and Pang). A few cyclists don't bother with camping kit, but going without ties you into some long, hard days between food & sleeping stops. Anyway, the camping is spectacular, so I'd definitely recommend it if you don't mind lugging the kit.

Food wise, it's pretty good. You can stock up on pasta etc in Manali, then again at Keylong, whose bazaar has plenty of dried fruit, nuts, veg etc. Between Keylong and Upshi is the only stretch where things start getting remote - though there are still dhabas (roadside cafes - usually a kerosene stove, a couple of packets of biscuits and maybe a couple of eggs for whipping up an omelette). Parachute tents are qute a local institution - same as dhabas, just in an ex-army parachute. There are usually rocks with rugs laid down on them which you can kip on for Rs20-50 (25-60p)”.

Bike Shops in Delhi: (for last-minute panic purchases). From the Thorn Tree: “When you go from Pagarganj to the Red fort, you are passing through Chandni Chowk and a few hundred metres before you reach the Fort, there is a side road on your right. There are about 10 cycle shops there.”

Photography Shop in Delhi: Kinsey Bros; Connaught Place A-2, New Delhi

Itinerary:

(Manali-Leh direct)

July 18-25: 8 days?: Ride Manali-Leh. It’s 478 km (see charts in Appendix), with 5 major passes, the highest 5360 metres high. To compare it to some other roads covered by XTreme Dork expeditions in the past, it’s most similar in length, height and number of passes to the first half of the Kargalik-Ali “road” in Western Tibet. The road will be mostly unpaved, but at least there’s more food available than in Tibet!

July 26-28: 3 days: Relax and congratulate ourselves in Leh, celebrate Audie and Saakje's birthday, take some pictures, eat a lot of food, get some permits processed.

July 29-Aug. 1: 4 days: Ride north over what’s claimed to be the highest road pass on earth (Khardung La, 5602 m), the first stage of the ancient caravan trail to Kargalik and Yarkand via the Aksai Chin plateau (the Xtreme Dorks rode the second half of this route, on the Chinese side of the border in 1998), check out the Nubra Valley, back to Leh. (see first route notes below).

August 2-5: 4 days: Climb Stok Kangri (6121 m), a trekking peak just outside Leh. After all this time at high altitude, it should be a doddle, as we’ll be as acclimatized as we’ll ever be. We can apparently do it without a permit, and we can rent axes and crampons in Leh.

Aug. 6-10: 5 days: Ride either to Pangong Tso or Tso Moriri, two high-altitude alkaline lakes east of Leh. Both are spectacular, with good chances, particularly with Tso Moriri (see second chart below for kilometres to Tso Moriri: 211 km one way) , of seeing Tibetan wildlife—kiang (wild ass), gazelle, antelope—and Tibetan nomads. I’d prefer to go to Pangong, as we rode along its Tibetan shore in 1998, but I’m open to persuasion.

August 11-25: 15 days: Trekking Leh-Padum(capital of Zanskar Valley)-Darcha. This should be a spectacular trek across the Zanskar Range and the main Himalaya range back down to the Leh-Manali road. We’ll have to hire ponies to carry food, since, unlike Nepal, there aren’t tea houses along the way. This is particularly true if we take the less-travelled of the two treks from Ladakh to Padum (over the Cha Cha La). This should be a real highlight of the trip. What to do with the bikes? We can either pack them into a couple of jeeps and send them to meet us in Darcha, or we can partially disassemble them and load them onto ponies, as other cyclists have done. I don’t know which sounds scarier!

August 26-28: 3 days: Riding south from Darcha to Manali and getting back to Delhi from there by bus or jeep.

August 28-September 8: 12 days (optional add-on): If anyone is staying longer, we can ride east from the Rohtang Pass into Lahaul, Spiti and Kinnaur for another 2 weeks or so, ending up in Shimla. The scenery is supposed to be sublime, with more Tibetan culture and scenery in Lahaul and Spiti (Spiti is just down the Sutlej River from Lake Manasarovar and Tirthapuri, and has one of the most important monasteries in the world in it) and green, forested slopes in Kinnaur.

That comes to 49 days, or 7 weeks, not counting the optional return loop through Lahaul and Spiti. Of course, a lot of these day totals are guess-timates, but the trekking total should be pretty accurate, and the cycling times shouldn’t be too far off.

From the Thorntree:

There's only one permanent landslide in Kinnaur & Spiti and that's at Malling, between Nako and Tabo. There's a pulley system which operates across it, and you can send your bike over for a few rupees, and yourself - if you're feeling brave. Most people walk across the slide area. There are two routes - one which takes 35-40mins, and a longer, safer one which takes about 90mins. Follow the locals - though you might be hard pressed to keep up with them over the rocks.
You may hear that people have jeeped across Malling - this is true, but they use a higher road which is only drivable until the end of March, when the snow and ice starts melting and the mountain becomes unstable again.

Apart from Malling, there are usually smaller landslides throughout the area in summer. Kinnaur is particularly prone, and it can take the army a day or two to clear the roads. We hauled our bikes over a couple. It's not a pain in the ass, and locals will usually offer to help. Think twice before handing over panniers though - it's not unknown for things to be removed from them once you're out of sight. The big advantage of slides is traffic-free roads.
If you see a bloke by the side of the road with a red flag on a stick, there'll be dynamiting ahead. Makes sure he sees you before you whizz past - a few cyclists have found themselves running a gauntlet of explosions and falling rocks after ignoring him!

This is from 2003 & 2004 - hope it helps.

After this ride, if I’m not working in September/October, I’m also thinking of riding in Arunachal Pradesh (if I can swing a permit), Bangladesh and Burma. Another possibility is to return to Iran and finish the Silk Road Ride by riding through the Caucasus republics en route to Eastern Turkey. Company would be welcome on these possible adventures, too.

Equipment:

Those of you who have done a big bike trip before can ignore this. This section is for those of you new to bike touring on crap roads up big mountains in the back of beyond.

Basically you need to have biking gear on top of ordinary trekking and camping gear. It adds up to a lot of weight, so you need to have a strong bike with strong racks and strong rims and hubs. This is the basics on what to have/buy/look out for.

Bike: Much of the trip is on rough dirt roads, so a mountain bike frame with strong 26-inch wheels is best. You don’t need a fancy mountain bike, but a good brand name like Rocky Mountain, Giant, GS, Marin, Specialized, Trek, Gary Fischer or the like is a good idea. Try to get one set up with touring in mind. It’s far easier to put luggage racks on front forks without front suspension shocks, but those are tough to find. Important: make sure there are bolt holes for attaching luggage racks on the back and front forks, and on the frame behind/below the seat! Talk to the bike shop to make sure that luggage racks can be attached to the bike.

I spent about $550 on my Rocky Mountain Sherpa, and this is about the minimum for a bike that will last. Make sure that the bike has strong rims: double rims are a good feature. It’s better to have a steel (aka, cro-moly) frame rather than an aluminum frame, as it absorbs shock better and can be welded if it breaks. Look for decent components (brakes/gears/shifters): Shimano XT, Deore, Deore LX, or SRAM grip shifters. 7, 8 or 9 speeds on the back, 3 in the front, with a small “granny gear” as the smallest chain ring on the front. My bike is set up with 22, 32 and 44 teeth on the front chain ring, and it’s pretty good both for climbing and for going fast.

Tires: The best, longest-lasting tires available are Schwalbe Marathon XRs. Try to get some. Continental makes decent touring tires, but try to get Schwalbes. Schraeder (car-type) valves are better than Presta (narrow) valves because you can fill them up at gas stations or using a truck’s pump, if your pump dies.

Luggage Racks: Blackburn and Tubus are two of the best names. Try not to buy “low rider” front racks, as they may snap on rough roads. Steel racks are more easily welded if they break, but most good racks are aluminum. I use a Blackburn Expedition back rack and a Blackburn MTB “high rider” front rack. Use good quality steel bolts to attach racks and make sure they’re firmly bolted into place. Loc-Tite (found in the plumbing section of hardware shops) is useful to glue bolts into place. If you have front shocks, make sure that the front rack can be attached properly. Do this well before the day you leave so that you can fix it before you leave, if there’s any problem.

Saddle: A good saddle is essential. Your bike may come with a comfortable saddle, but verify this by taking it on lots of training rides. Many long-distance tourers use leather Brooks B17 saddles instead of gel saddles. If you do buy one, break it in by riding at least 500 km before the trip, so that the saddle fits your butt! It hurts at first, but feels good later. Gel saddles (like the Specialized Body Geometry series) feel good at first but hurt after a few thousand kilometres; they would likely last for the duration of this trip.

Panniers (luggage bags): You need 2 front and 2 back panniers. Look for a good attachment system (you don’t want to lose panniers on a long downhill!), big capacity and waterproofing. Ortlieb are the big name, with big, sturdy, waterproof panniers, but they’re very expensive. Ostrich are good. I use Serratus World Tour panniers with separate rain covers. Make sure they fit properly on your racks, and that all your stuff fits into them! Most folks also want a handlebar bag for camera, maps, wallet and snacks.

Cycling Computer: I don’t like touring without one, but it’s not strictly necessary. The Cat Eye series of computers is good. I use one with an altimeter incorporated. Wireless ones are out now and save the problem of snapping the wire leading to the wheel sensor.

Spare Parts: You absolutely need several spare spokes (two different lengths for each side of your rear wheel), a pump, a spare inner tube, a flat tire repair kit (glue, patches and tire levers) and a multi-tool (Park Tool, Cool Tool or Alien Tool). I would highly recommend one spare, folding tire, in case one wears out. Bring spare brake pads (you’ll burn out a couple of pairs on these downhills) are a good idea; if you have V-Brakes, you can buy slide-out brake shoes into which you can slide new rubber pads without having to carry the heavy brake shoe assemblies around with you. One spare brake cable and one spare gear cable would be a minimum. I have fancier stuff (pedal wrench, chain whip, freewheel tool, etc.) for replacing spokes, replacing chain rings and pulling off pedals and crank arms. We really only need one of these heavy things in the expedition. Consider carrying a spare chain (one that fits your gears! 9-speed chains are different from 7-8 speed chains), or at least a few replacement links.

Camping Gear: We need to have enough tents and cooking stoves (universal fuel stoves that burn everything are what we need) and pots to accommodate everyone.

Everyone needs a sleeping mat and sleeping bag.

Iodine or chlorine dioxide water treatment is a must. I have a ceramic water filter.

Petzl headlamp.

Big backpack? (good for extra storage, climbing, trekking; can be bungied across the back panniers). You need a waterproof rain cover for it.

Small collapsible backpack? (Day hikes, walking around town, etc.)

Clothes:

Zip-off pants (useful as shorts and long pants).

Cycling shorts or underwear/skins to go underneath.

Active-wear T-shirt and turtleneck.

Long cycling tights.

Rain pants.

Gore Tex jacket.

Rain cape (optional; useful for hiking).

Lightweight hiking boots.

Sports sandals (good for cycling in until it gets too cold).

Wool socks.

Cap.

Sunglasses.

Cycling gloves (optional, but saves you numb, tingling fingers).

Other stuff:

Whatever keeps you sane. I carry a shortwave radio, binoculars, sketching kit and travel guitar. A good, thick book that can be traded around when you’re finished it.

Music/Entertainment: There will be two travel guitars and a couple of harmonicas. It would be nice to have lots of music to play, so a bunch of lyrics and chords to your favourite songs would be a service to everyone, and would expand everyone’s repertoire. (Search the Internet; http://www.tabrobot.com/ is a good search engine for songs.) A travel chess set, travel cribbage board and playing cards will be a must.

Training/Fitness: This is going to be a physically demanding trip, so make sure you’re physically ready, especially if you haven’t done a big bike trip before. Load all your gear onto your bike and go for a bunch of rides to toughen up your legs and butt. Since we’re going to climb huge passes, you need to concentrate on climbing big hills with a fully-loaded bike. We’re not going to be racing up those passes, but everyone needs to be able to make it in a reasonable time. We’ll likely average 60 km a day on rough roads, 80 km on paved roads. Be ready!

Appendix: Useful links, charts and sample itineraries

http://www.out-there-biking.com/manali-leh-itinerary.html (from a commercial bike touring operation)

http://www.lowdin.nu/MTB/MTB-Himalaya.html (nice pictures)

http://www.arizonahandbook.com/India_H1.htm

http://himalayacycling.pedalglobal.net/tour1_main.html

http://www.sentient-entity.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/route.html

http://www.lac.ethz.ch/heinz/ruegger/biking.html (not much info, but check out the photo of the bike on a pony’s back for trekking!)

http://www.vintagesound.com/tnails1.html (story is cut off, but the photos are good)

http://www.betzgi.ch/hoehenrausch/route.html (quoted below for great detail on distances, etc.)

Two Kashmiri routes (from Janne Corax’s website)

Manali-Leh-Nubra Valley, India.

The route.

http://www3.utsidan.se/corax-e/diagrams%20maps/lehmans.gif

Manali-Leh Distance/Altitude Chart

Location	Distance	Altitude Processed	Altitude raw
			Avocet	GPS	Indians
Manali	0	2050	2050		2050
Rohtang Pass	52	3987	3976	3997	3978
Tandi	110	2888	2888
Keylong	118	3096	3096
Darcha	146	3344	3344		3350
ZZ Bar	172	4071	4072	4070
Baralacha Pass	194	4870	4872	4868
Sarchu	225	4313	4300	4325
LP	250	4200	4200
Nakee Pass	268	4903	4888	4917
LP	273	4720	4720
Lachulung Pass	279	5095	5032	5158	5065
Pang	300	4500	4464	4535
Moore Plains Start	307	4752	4752
Moore Plains End Debring	347	4660	4660
Taglang Pass	366	5360	5296	5423	5360
Upshi	427	3432	3432
LP	472	3252	3252
Leh	478	3561	3560	3562
Khardung Pass	515	5327	5312	5342	5514
Khardung	547	4036	4036
Khalsar	571	3324	3324
Deskit	590	3245	3288	3201

Leh-Tso Moriri-Manali Distance/Altitude Chart

Location			Distance	Altitude Processed	Avocet	GPS
Leh			0	3561	3560
LP			6	3252	3252
Upshi			51	3432	3423
Churnathang			141	4016	4016
Mahe Bridge			163	4136	4136
Bifurcation Tso Moriri/Tso Kar			176	4356	4356
Namshang Pass			188	4739	4756	4721
LP			196	4620	4620
Hill			200	4684	4684
Tso Moriri - North end			211	4541	4503	4578
Hill			222	4684	4684
LP			226	4620	4620
Namshang Pass			234	4739	4756
Bifurcation Tso Moriri/Tso Kar			246	4356	4356
Polokong Pass			267	4940	4916	4964
Tso Kar			282	4563	4524	4601
Manali - Leh Road			304	4660	4660
Moore Plains End			339	4752	4752
Pang LP			346	4500	4464	4535
Lachulung Pass			367	5095	5032	5158
LP			373	4720	4720
Nakee Pass			378	4903	4888	4917
LP			396	4200	4200
Sarchu			421	4313	4300	4325
Baralacha Pass			452	4870	4872	4868
ZZ Bar			474	4071	4072	4070
Darcha			500	3344	3344
Keylong			528	3096	3096
Tandi LP			536	2888	2888
Rohtang Pass			594	3975	3952	3997
Manali			646	2050	2050

Lahaul-Spiti-Kinnaur Distance Chart

Kilometre Distances (NB: This guy rode Manali-Lahaul-Spiti-Kinnaur) Kullu- Manali (50) - Rohtang Pass (3980m, 51) - Gramphoo (11) - Chhatru (17) - Chhota Drara (17) - Batal (15) - Kunzum Pass (4600 m, 12) - Losar (19) - Kaza (57) - Tabo (47) - Yangthang (56) - Recong Peo (103) - Rampur (82) - Narkanda (64) - Shimla (64)

Total KM from Rohtang to Shimla: 615 km

Leh-Manali Chart (altitude, distance and road surface, as of 1997)

http://www.betzgi.ch/hoehenrausch/route.html?faktor=100&start=1#d

http://www.betzgi.ch/hoehenrausch/route.html?faktor=100&start=2#d

(From Peakware.com)

Climbing Stok Kangri

Fact Box
Elevation (feet)	20082
Elevation (meters)	6121
Location	LADAKH Asia
Best Climbing Months	July, August
Easiest Summit Route	Basic Snow/Ice Climb

Stok Kangri can have snow and ice or not. The climb is not extremely steep but the last bit (1 hour before summit) it gets steeper; the path is narrow and a little exposed. Hands are not needed when Stok Kangri is climbed.

(From Summitpost.org)

About the peak

( Add Info View More Info (0 Posts) Add a Photo )

Having the Indus Valley already on a considerable altitude, many mountains around here exceed 6000 m easiely.
One of it is Stock Kangri and its twin Golep Kangri. You can get to the base of Stock Kangri by bus or by taxi, which will take you about an hour. In one day you hike up to the saddle between the two peaks, which is on approx. 5200 m. It might makes sense to hire a local guide and a couple of mules or donkeys, as it's sometimes critical to find the correct of all the scattered valleys. Additionally, it's quite reasonable to bring a tent, food and a stove with you, which is easier to carry on a mules back.
From there you can climb up the either Stock Kangri or Golep Kangri by using ice axe and crampons. From both of the summits you'll have a great view over Indus Valley, Zanskar and to the near Chinese and Pakistan mountains. The decent back to the base should be possible in one day.
If you intend to climb both of the Kangri-twins it's reasonable to climb the easier Golep Kangri (approx. 6100 m) first. After decent to the BC, enjoy the rest of the day in the deserted surroundings. You'll be perfectly acclimatised when you head for Stock Kangri the next day.

Stock and Golep Kangri are perfect objectives for fit trekkers without advanced climbing experience who want to summit on their first Himalayan Peak. It is one of the main peaks of the Zansker range.

The route over the South Ridge of Stock Kangri is straightforward, challenging and interesting. On a clear day you'll get great views of the Karakoram Range provided, sometimes even K2 in the far distance.

( More "About the peak" photos/images All Stock Kangri photos/images )

Check out some great photos to get a feel for the climb and the scenery.

http://www.photojenic.co.uk/home-page/stok-kangri-pano.html

http://home.versatel.nl/mauricevanmeteren/Ladakh_2001/html/Stok-Kangri-11.html

From the Thorn Tree: “It is not technically difficult - there is a flat glacier to cross with no crevasses and slope&ridge of snow and scramble. So late it might be even not necessary to use crampons and ice axe but bring it anyway (you can rent that in Leh). It is altitude that turn most people back so be well acclimatized. It is good to do a trek before crossing as many high passes as possible, spending nights on as high altitudes as possible.
It is very close to Leh - you can reach base camp from Leh in one day and next day you are on the top and back in Leh if you are fit and well acclimatized. It is more comfortable to do it in 3 days. It is also possible to have another camp just below summit (ABC).
Formally it is a trekking peak but it seems nobody cares about permit, not even local agencies.”

“Stok Kangri is a technically easy climb but you do need crampons & an ice axe. Plastic boots would be preferable also. You can get an unofficial guide fairly cheaply in Leh. You should be able to rent all of the above equipment also. It´s possible to do the climb in 3 days but most people take 4. Officially you need a permit for this hill which is expensive but if you go with a local guide & are discreet you should be able to do it without one. You can arrange pack horses in Leh. Doing one of these treks & hanging out in Leh for a bit should ensure you are acclimatised. 2 short days will take you up to a campsite on grass at about 5200 metres. You can camp higher but that would be on snow. From the 2nd campsite you go up a huge snow ramp to a ridge at about 6000 metres & then along a snow & rock ridge to the summit. There were no crevasses when I was there.”

Trekking Route/Itinerary:

http://www.pocketsprocket.com/Routes/kargildarcha.html This is from a cyclist who hired ponies to carry bikes from Padum to Darcha. He paid Rs 250 (US$ 5) a day for a pony man and 3 ponies.

From a commercial trekking group’s website,

http://www.razdanholidays.com/high-adventure/zanskar-trek-padum-to-lamayuru.html

these are two treks (in reverse direction than we will go) from Darcha (on the Manali-Leh road) to Padum (capital of Zanskar, midpoint of the trek) and then from Padum to Lamayuru. From Darcha to Padum, they take 9 days of trekking and 1 day for a side excursion to a monastery. From Padum to Leh, they take 10 days (including 2 half days). I think that it’s not unreasonable that we will go faster (15 days rather than 19) as we are fitter and will be more acclimatized than the typical commercial trekking client. Remember that we won’t be carrying heavy luggage, so we will have winged feet! Unfortunately, since we’ll have pony men with us, we’ll have to negotiate and insist on the schedule that we want.

Darcha-Padum

: Day 1 :: Darcha/Chalang Tokpo (Trek)
Morning after breakfast start trekking to reach Chalang Tokpo (3580M) in about 5-6 hours. This day's trek is eassy and Gradual all the way. Overnight stay in tents.

Day 2:: Chalang Tokpo/Zanskar Sumdo/Ramjak (Trek)
Morning after breakfast start an easy trekking to Zanskar Sumdo (3750M). Proceed to Ramjak., total trekking time is approx. 7-8 hours. Overnight stay in tents.

Day 3 :: Ramjak/Chumikanakpo (Trek)
Morning after breakfast start trekking to reach Chumikanakpo (4060 in about 5-6 hours. Climb steeply immediately after the Campsite and then climb gradually up to Chumikanakpo. Arrive and overnight stay in tents.

Day 4 :: Chumikanakpo/Shingola/Lakonng (Trek)
Morning after an early breakfast start trekking 16 Kms to reach Lakong (4100M) by crossing Shingo La 5100m). The climb to the pass is not difficult but climbing down is quite steep through the Glacier. The day is quite long and Tiring, 7-8 hours approx. Arrive and overnight stay in tents.

Day 5 :: Lakong/Kurgiak (Trek)
Morning after breakfast start trekking to reach Kurgiak (4060 M) by covering approx. 14 Kms, 6-7 hours approx. Now you will find the difference in the features of the mountains as you are in Zanskar, Arrive and overnight in stay tent.

Day 6 :: Kurgiak/Purne (Trek)
Morning after breakfast start trekking to reach Purne (3745M) trek for about 5-6 hours. Arrive and overnight stay in tents.

Day 7 :: Purne/Phuktal Gompa/Purne (Trek)
Morning after breakfast start trekking for an excursion to Phutkal Gompa which in one the most impressive Gompas in Ladakh by covering approx 14 kms. Return back to purne and overnight stay in tents.

Day 8 :: Purne/Ichar (Trek)
Morning after breakfast, cross small Canyons of Pudding stones, which leads to Char village and passing Hanumi and Surle villages. Arrive at Ichar, 5-6 hours approx. Overnight stay in tents.

Day 9 :: Ichar/mone (trek)
Morning after breakfast start trekking to reach Mone (3650 M) 5-6 hours approx .Arrive and overnight stay in tents.

Day 10 :: Mone / Padum (Trek)
Morning after breakfast start trekking to reach Padum (3560 M), 5 - 6 hrs approx. Padum is the old capital of Zanskar. Arrive and overnight stay in tents.

Padum-Leh (usual route):

Day 1 :: Padum/Karsha (Trek)
Morning after breakfast start your first day's trek to Karsha (3610 M) by covering approx. 7 kms in 3-4 hrs crossing the Doda river. A 15th century Gelupa Monastery (popularly known as Karsha Gompa) dominates the scene. Arrive and overnight stay in tents.

Day 2 :: Karsha/Pishu (Trek)
Morning after breakfast start trekking to Pishu (3665 M) by covering approx. 13 kms in 4-5 along the river Zanskar. Arrive and overnight stay in tents.

Day 3 :: Pishu/Hanumil (Trek)
Morning after breakfast start trekking to reach Hanumil (3960 M) by covering approx. 14 kms in 4-5 hrs through Pidmu after continuing to the left bank of river Zanskar. Arrive and overnight stay in tents.

Day 4 :: Hanumil/Purfi La/Snertse (Trek)
Morning after breakfast start trekking to reach Snertse (3745 M/15 kms). After crossing a steep and difficult climb to the pass, Purfila (3900 M). From the pass it is a steep descent upon Omachu river and from there it is about one km climb upto a wonderful Campsite at Snertse. Arrive and overnight stay in tents.

Day 5 :: Snertse/Hanumala/Lingshet (Trek)
Lion's pass which is also the highest pass on this trek. First the climb is through the terminal Moraine and then through the long Glacier. The climb is not steep but the Descent through the steep Glaciers a little difficult. Proceed to Photoksar via another pass called Boumitse La (4200 M). The day is quite long and Tiring, 7-8 hours approx. Photoskar village is a town of clusters of Homes, Green Fields, and a Gompa above in a dark brown cut crop. Arrive and overnight stay in tents.

Day 6:: Lingshet / Foot of Shingla
Early morning after breakfast start trekking to the base of Singla, 6 - 7 hrs approx. Dinner & overnight in camp.

Day 7 :: Foot of Shingela / Shingela / Photoksar (Trek)
Early morning after breakfast start climb up the Shingela Pass (5230 M) which takes about 2 hours. Shingela means the lion's pass which is also the highest pass on this trek. First the climb is through the terminal Moraine and then through the long Glacier. The climb is not steep but the Descent through the steep Glaciers a little difficult. Proceed to Photoskar village is a town of clusters of Homes, Green Fields and a Gompa above in a dark brown cut crop. Arrive dinner & overnight stay in tents.

Day 8 :: Photoksar/Sirsir La/Hanupatta(Trek)
Morning after breakfast start trekking (6-7 hours approx.) to reach Hanupatta (3770 M) after crossing Sirsir La (4230 M). The climb to the pass is steep but the descent is gentle. Arrive and overnight stay in tents.

Day 9 :: Hanupatta/Wanla or Shila (Trek)
Morning after breakfast start trekking (6-7 hours approx.) to reach Wanla (3645 M). Wanla is a small town with its Maroon and white Monastery Perched above the town on a knife edged ridge. Arrive or proceed to Shila (about 30 minutes easy walk which is another nice camping site) and overnight stay in tents.

Day 10 :: Wanla/Lamayuru

Morning after breakfast start trekking (4-5 hours approx.) to reach Lamayuru (3510 M). Lamayuru Gompa is one of the most impressive and well maintained monasteries in Ladakh. Arrive and visit Monastery.

Padum-Leh (alternate, remote route via Cha Cha La):

Taken from http://www.greatindianoutdoors.com/trekking/zanskar.htm

This one might not be possible in August because rivers will be at their highest, and there are several river crossings that might be lethal then. It would be a nice trek, though, through amazing canyon country.

Day 1: Padum - Zangla: 20 km, 7 hrs
Highlights: Crossing the Tsarap River Bridge & The Karsha Gompa

Day 2: Zangla - Local Village (Sumdo): 9 km, 3 hrs
Highlights: Multiple River crossings & The Zulung Valley

Day 3: Sumodo - Intermediate Camp: 16 km, 6 hrs
Highlights: The Cha cha la (4950 mts) that offers superb views of the Himalayan Range Beyond Padum.

Day 4: Campsite - Tilat Sumodo: 17 km, 7 hrs
Highlights: Crisscrossing the river and some wildlife.

Day 5: Tilat Sumodo - Base of Rubang la: 17 km, 6 hrs
Highlights: The Khampa Nomads with their Hundrends of Yaks & Horses.

Day 6: Base of Rubang la - Markha: 17 km, 6 hrs
Highlights: Rubang la (5020 mts) offers awesome views of the Stok range, the First glimple of Markha Valley.

Day 7: Markha - Thochuntse: 12 km, 5 hrs
Highlights: Part of the Zanskar gorge, Markha river crossings

Day 8: Thochuntse - Nimaling: 7 km, 3 hrs
Highlights: The Nimaling Plains & the Mani walls and Chortens that dot the trail. Also a side trip to the base of the Kangyaze peak (6000 mts) is possible.

Day 9: Nimaling - Sumodo: 18 km, 7 hrs
Highlights: Too many! The Kongmaru la (5150) highest pass on the trek, bird's eye view of the Ladakh and Indus Valley, Kangyaze peak in full majesty

Day 10: Sumodo - Hemis - Leh : 10 km, 3 hrs
Highlights: The Hemis Monastery & National park