Manali to Delhi - The Last Ride in India

I left Manali early on Wednesday morning after spending just under two weeks there having my bike converted into a classic which it now is. I spent two of the most boring and relaxing days of my journey waiting for Bonnie the mechanic to finish and each day I would go to his garage and stand there looking whistfully at the bike and with sorrow at him in the hope that he would speed up the work in order to get rid of me, if not out of pity then just to get rid of the love-sick bull mooning around the place. It didn't work. But then it was ready (except for some minor cosmetics to be done in Delhi) and after a test drive to town and back, a distance of about 4 kms, I too felt that It and I were both ready to hit the road one last time.

So early on Wednesday morning I rose, brushed ny teeth, had a last shower, made coffee, woke up Amit and Maya who though they were not going with wanted to see me off (at the ungodly hour of 6:45). We did this and that, said this and that, smoked this and that and then I was off. For the past week it had rained very heavily every night from about 3 or 4 often till 10 or 11 but this morning promised to be better with few clouds and an open road. And I was off and 20 minutes later it started to rain and went on doing so till 12:30. Sometimes it was light rain but more often it was hard and once I even stopped at the side of the road in a dhabba with a bunch of curious locals (of course!). But after that the rain stopped and I eventually discarded my "SCANIA" on a branch by the side of the road hanging on a branch for the next lucky scavanger - it is big enough to house at least a family of Indians. Good luck scavanger wherever you are!

The route was as usual in the north magnificen, I drove through narrow valleys with raging rivers, I wound up and down the mountains (none of which, incidentally, were snow topped - but I still get to use the term). The road was good and not overcrowded but I am running in the bike and can't ride too fast. So I'm going about 50 - 55 and I pass through Kullu where I once went specially (in a particular fit of miserliness, to print pictures for 6 ruphees instead of the 10 I was beimg charged in Kasol - I must have saved at least 5 ruphees on the 3 hour trip) and then Bhuntar where I spent the night on the way to Paravati and then the temple where Guttes gear gave out and we could only limp on and then Mandi and then Ner Chowk where Houdini hit the car and then through Barmana and Ghaggas and Bilaspur and Swangaht and Kiratpur and Rupnagar and Kharat where I turned right and Morinda where I turned left and Fatehgarh Sahib where I turned left again and then I was on the NH1 to Delhi.

A few kms down the NH1 I pulled into Ambala for the night - for your
information Ambala is one of the places where the Indian Mutiny of 1857 started. Why have I mentioned all these places? Mainly because they are ndestinguishable, they are all dirty and dusty and rundown and set in beautiful surroundings and I drove for kms along the Kullu River and then the Beas River and still the towns were dirty and dusty and rundown.

The next morning I set of to do the last 200 kms to Delhi and it was most frustrating to be on a real highay for the first time since March and I couldn't do more than 55! I was passed by busses and trucks and cars and even rickshas and the ocaisinal bicycle ricksha! The only things I could be sure of passing were the bullock carts.

The nearer I got to Delhi the heavier the traffic got and all of a sudden I
was in the city and in a traffic jam and totally unaware of where I was. I
stopped an autoricksha and told him to lead me to the Main Bazar and he did just that, leading me right to the hotel I had chosen. I am now settled in a room the size of a basketball court with A/C and TV and an overattentive staff who barely allow me to enter or leave without bugging me.

What I have seen of Delhi is not much, the Red Fort and Hanumans statue and the Main Bazar and it is all dirty and unappealing and anyway I dont really have time for touring and the weather sucks and so I don't believe I will see much of the city.

Now I am off to Conaurght Place to find a MacDonald's - I need a fix even though I know the burger will be chicken - but think of the chips (fries) and milkshake.

Leh

Well here I am in Leh. The journey here was not of the easiest - 420 kms, 180 of them road and the rest "no road". When we left Srinigar it started to rain and it didnt stop for 2 days, that is till we were about 2 hours from Leh. On the way we crossed 3 unpaved passes with the highest being 3500 meters more or less, none of them were paved and the few sections that were were covered with muddy water - driving was excrutiatingly slow, mostly in
1st gear both because of the climb and because of the mud (Amit and I were especially careful, or cowardly) because on the return trip from Gulmarg (near Srinigaar) we both slipped, slid and fell at the same spot and do not want a repeat of it.

Despite the really hard ride we did manage to take many, many photos and when I reach Manali I will send them (it's expensive here and I am a well known cheapskate). How can I describe the scenery, its indescribable, but of course I'll give it the old college try. The first leg is through Kashmir and its all lush and green with little glaciers coming right up to the road and streams, tiny ones running across the roads and picturesque little villages and herdsmen and their tents and flocks and many soldiers and army
camps and deep ravines with the fast flowing Indus all along the way and it cuts through solid rock to get where its going and then after Kargil, a passionately Shi'ite town where we tried unsuccessfully to dry out (the second day I put nylon bags over my socks because my shoes were soaked) the whole world turns into a desert with high snow covered mountains and more
rain and two passes and mud and wet and cold and lots of "no road".

But we made it and met our friends from Kasol and got ourselves a lovely guest house which we have completely taken over - 5 rooms of Israelis (9 people) and one of Danes (2) and we run the place.

We decided to take a camping trip in the Nubra Valley and to get there you have to drive the worlds highest motorable road (according to BRO and The Lonely Planet) where the highest pass Khardung La reaches 18380 feet (don't ask me why feet, maybe a leftover from the Raj) which is about 5500 meters and it gets cold and there is not enough oxygen but the road, except for a
very few sections and the very steep climb - about 2000 meters in 40 kms, is quite an easy drive. So we're going camping and we've got everything including the kitchen sink and we reach the top in about 2 hours and we do the obligatory photos with bikes and sign and have the obligatory puff and we're on our way. Oops, no we're not, Gutte's bike won't start. Nachum, who had been miserable till then, suffering like me from the effects of the lack
of oxygen brightens up and in 10 minutes has the engine stripped and has found the problem, but 10 minutes turn into 2 hours and we're all suffering from the height so we stop a Tata and load the bike on and Gutte sets out for Leh again. End of Camping Trip! I had moaned about having to go camping but was now most dissapointed (wew have planned another shorter one for
tomorrow) and I am sure I would have moaned and whinged but I am truely saddened. the remaining 5 bikes turn around to follow Gutte and 10 minutes later Toto's bike dies - another Tata! Maya joined him for the ride and how they managed to roll a joint as the Tata bounced and jounced (is that a word?) down the road is beyond me. I was feeling pretty bad myself on the way down so I stopped and vomited. I also lost everybody else but arrived,
or limped "home" first.

After about 30 minutes during which iI just sat, the others started limping in too and Maya made us all a delicious potato soup which did much towards our recovery. Toto's bike was ready last night but Gutte's may take longer.

I think that the boys enjoy it more when their bikes break down, they seem to thrive on the adversity. Ah well, no Nubra valley this time, maybe next year. Any takers?

Now we are waiting to do the Leh-to-Manali road which is supposed to be the hardest and the next petrol station is 300 kms from here. There are 3 passes, all high and tough. But in the meantime we have met here a group of 70 Indian Enfield riders and if they can do it so can we, even though they were a ralley and rode empty with all their luggage on a truck and mechanics and 3 doctors. But hats off to them anyway.