Jule!
RAP signing in from Leh, the capital of the Ladakh region of the state of Jammu and Kashmir, northern India. The past week had us leaving the comfort of quiet Dharamkot and undergo a lengthy and perilous bus journey from Dharamkhot --> Manali --> Leh. We finally arrived in this breathtaking mountainous desert and are preparing for our most ambitious trek yet, which will take us through the Markha Valley and the snow leopard capital of the world.
Our stay in Dharamkot was fairly pleasant, if you ignore the daily intestinal Troubles (shout out to our shepherd buddies and their fresh goat's milk). The multitude of Israeli hippies and (mostly) stoned locals helped create a very calm and relaxing atmosphere, a perfect recipe for recovery. The brief sighting of Mr. His Honourable Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama as he exited a conference in nearby McLeod Ganj, and our participation in a local yoga class (note: no amount of Om chants could help me touch my freaking toes. Damn flexible Indians and their yoga) added to the experience. As wonderful as this little mountain retreat was, we soon grew restless and organized ourselves well enough to leave the region and ride north.
And what a ride north it was.
We first had to swing by our old haunt in Manali to catch another bus that would bring us to Leh. We quickly booked the last remaining seats on a night bus that would allegedly have us leave Manali at 1:30 AM and arrive at 9:00 PM the same day (Allegedly. After 5 weeks in India, you would think we'd have learned our lesson and realized that nothing really works the way it should in this place. Call it innocence, naivety, youthful exuberance, whatever. We were set to learn that lesson all over again). We punctually arrived at the pick up spot and climbed into the rolling metal box that would be our home for the next while, and lo and behold - our last minute tickets had us seated at the back of the bus (classic) on a bench that, in its better days, could have comfortably accommodated maybe 3 people if they were less than 5'5" and weighed 150 lbs. Thank goodness we fit that description. We squeezed ourselves in this sardine can and swung down to pick up the remaining passengers, one of whom would have to join us in the party seat. And as the lucky Israeli girl glimpsed her fate, she immediately exclaimed: "It is impossible for me to sit in a seat that does not exist! There are three men (insert high fives) in this seat! I cannot do it! I must seat in front!" So the honour of joining us was awarded to a diminutive Nepalese dude who wasn't as worried about the lack of space.
Fast forward a few hours to the foot of the Rochang La, a 3800m ish pass. We had been driving a solid 5hrs and had covered about 30km (mainly due to the fact that our driver wasn't that well rested and needed himself a little catnap to avoid any undesirable events). The sun was rising and exposed the mountain peaks that surrounded us as we sipped hot chai at a roadside stall. Suddenly, all of the discomfort of the past hours was forgotten; we were in the middle of the Himalayan mountains at the time when night gives way to day and the snow capped peaks were bathed in golden light as the last of the stars faded away. Amazing.
The progress for the remainder of the day was just as slow as the beginning of the journey. Fortunately the bus was equipped with a sound system and the aforementioned Israeli girl entertained us with a mix of Hebrew songs, as well as our personal favourites, Nickleback and Alanis Morissette. These classics seem to transcend all cultures and religions - seemingly, the new world order will be ushered in on the wings of Chad Kroegers harsh, constipated belch and Alanis' insufferable whine. Shiva take us all.
At 8 PM, we were still about 9 hrs away from our destination. The passengers took a vote and we all decided to stay the night in Sarchu, a little roadside stop with a few restaurant/sleeping quarter tents. We fell asleep on a bed of rocks (literally) and awoke the next morning to find that the bus was unable to start, due to the diesel being frozen in the tank. S'all good though - our fearless driver just lit a nice little cardboard fire under the tank to loosen up the fuel a bit and we then pushed the bus onto the road and down the hill for the ol' "push-start" maneuver. No problem. The morning's success endured the rest of the day as we crossed high mountain plateaus and Taglung La, the second highest pass in the world, to arrive in Leh around dinner time.
Leh. Ladakh. Gettin' Leh'd. This place is absolutely magical. Nestled in the heart of the Ladakh range, a desolate range of 5000m+ peaks, the town of Leh is a true melting pot of cultures. Calls to prayer can be heard from the muezzins and Hindu shrines dot the cliffsides. But it is the Tibetan/Buddhist influence that is the most obvious; chortens, gumpas, and manni prayer wheels are found around almost every corner. The ancient Leh palace dominates the skyline. We spend the afternoon exploring its many rooms (note: once you get in these historical spots there's no limit to what you can do. If a door is unlocked, if a wall can be scaled, if a pee can be taken in an old latrine, its all good. Anything goes in India, the land of no-rules, as long as you have the gonads to do what it takes) and taking in the gorgeous views that surrounded us. This palace belonged to the Ladakhi kings of ancient times who adhered to Buddhist law and Tibetan customs. For example, we learned that no wheels we're allowed in the region (except prayer wheels) as they were prophesied to dismantle the social structure of the time. Also, dances to exorcise the ego were commonplace; costumed men and women would stab voodoo like dolls to symbolize the need to embrace the higher spiritual self and letting go of the ego to embrace your all-oneness with the universe.
As we explore this magical town, we can never get away from spectacular views of the surrounding mountains. So, we have organized a trek through the Markha Valley that will take us from village to village. There, we will stay with local families who will feed and lodge us (and our guide. I guess we've learned that much from our past camping adventures) as we explore the Ladakhi wilderness.
Peace out my hombres. Keep well. Have fun. RAP out
RAP signing in from Leh, the capital of the Ladakh region of the state of Jammu and Kashmir, northern India. The past week had us leaving the comfort of quiet Dharamkot and undergo a lengthy and perilous bus journey from Dharamkhot --> Manali --> Leh. We finally arrived in this breathtaking mountainous desert and are preparing for our most ambitious trek yet, which will take us through the Markha Valley and the snow leopard capital of the world.
Our stay in Dharamkot was fairly pleasant, if you ignore the daily intestinal Troubles (shout out to our shepherd buddies and their fresh goat's milk). The multitude of Israeli hippies and (mostly) stoned locals helped create a very calm and relaxing atmosphere, a perfect recipe for recovery. The brief sighting of Mr. His Honourable Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama as he exited a conference in nearby McLeod Ganj, and our participation in a local yoga class (note: no amount of Om chants could help me touch my freaking toes. Damn flexible Indians and their yoga) added to the experience. As wonderful as this little mountain retreat was, we soon grew restless and organized ourselves well enough to leave the region and ride north.
And what a ride north it was.
We first had to swing by our old haunt in Manali to catch another bus that would bring us to Leh. We quickly booked the last remaining seats on a night bus that would allegedly have us leave Manali at 1:30 AM and arrive at 9:00 PM the same day (Allegedly. After 5 weeks in India, you would think we'd have learned our lesson and realized that nothing really works the way it should in this place. Call it innocence, naivety, youthful exuberance, whatever. We were set to learn that lesson all over again). We punctually arrived at the pick up spot and climbed into the rolling metal box that would be our home for the next while, and lo and behold - our last minute tickets had us seated at the back of the bus (classic) on a bench that, in its better days, could have comfortably accommodated maybe 3 people if they were less than 5'5" and weighed 150 lbs. Thank goodness we fit that description. We squeezed ourselves in this sardine can and swung down to pick up the remaining passengers, one of whom would have to join us in the party seat. And as the lucky Israeli girl glimpsed her fate, she immediately exclaimed: "It is impossible for me to sit in a seat that does not exist! There are three men (insert high fives) in this seat! I cannot do it! I must seat in front!" So the honour of joining us was awarded to a diminutive Nepalese dude who wasn't as worried about the lack of space.
Fast forward a few hours to the foot of the Rochang La, a 3800m ish pass. We had been driving a solid 5hrs and had covered about 30km (mainly due to the fact that our driver wasn't that well rested and needed himself a little catnap to avoid any undesirable events). The sun was rising and exposed the mountain peaks that surrounded us as we sipped hot chai at a roadside stall. Suddenly, all of the discomfort of the past hours was forgotten; we were in the middle of the Himalayan mountains at the time when night gives way to day and the snow capped peaks were bathed in golden light as the last of the stars faded away. Amazing.
The progress for the remainder of the day was just as slow as the beginning of the journey. Fortunately the bus was equipped with a sound system and the aforementioned Israeli girl entertained us with a mix of Hebrew songs, as well as our personal favourites, Nickleback and Alanis Morissette. These classics seem to transcend all cultures and religions - seemingly, the new world order will be ushered in on the wings of Chad Kroegers harsh, constipated belch and Alanis' insufferable whine. Shiva take us all.
At 8 PM, we were still about 9 hrs away from our destination. The passengers took a vote and we all decided to stay the night in Sarchu, a little roadside stop with a few restaurant/sleeping quarter tents. We fell asleep on a bed of rocks (literally) and awoke the next morning to find that the bus was unable to start, due to the diesel being frozen in the tank. S'all good though - our fearless driver just lit a nice little cardboard fire under the tank to loosen up the fuel a bit and we then pushed the bus onto the road and down the hill for the ol' "push-start" maneuver. No problem. The morning's success endured the rest of the day as we crossed high mountain plateaus and Taglung La, the second highest pass in the world, to arrive in Leh around dinner time.
Leh. Ladakh. Gettin' Leh'd. This place is absolutely magical. Nestled in the heart of the Ladakh range, a desolate range of 5000m+ peaks, the town of Leh is a true melting pot of cultures. Calls to prayer can be heard from the muezzins and Hindu shrines dot the cliffsides. But it is the Tibetan/Buddhist influence that is the most obvious; chortens, gumpas, and manni prayer wheels are found around almost every corner. The ancient Leh palace dominates the skyline. We spend the afternoon exploring its many rooms (note: once you get in these historical spots there's no limit to what you can do. If a door is unlocked, if a wall can be scaled, if a pee can be taken in an old latrine, its all good. Anything goes in India, the land of no-rules, as long as you have the gonads to do what it takes) and taking in the gorgeous views that surrounded us. This palace belonged to the Ladakhi kings of ancient times who adhered to Buddhist law and Tibetan customs. For example, we learned that no wheels we're allowed in the region (except prayer wheels) as they were prophesied to dismantle the social structure of the time. Also, dances to exorcise the ego were commonplace; costumed men and women would stab voodoo like dolls to symbolize the need to embrace the higher spiritual self and letting go of the ego to embrace your all-oneness with the universe.
As we explore this magical town, we can never get away from spectacular views of the surrounding mountains. So, we have organized a trek through the Markha Valley that will take us from village to village. There, we will stay with local families who will feed and lodge us (and our guide. I guess we've learned that much from our past camping adventures) as we explore the Ladakhi wilderness.
Peace out my hombres. Keep well. Have fun. RAP out
Sounds like you boys found an amazing spot! Loving the blog updates :)
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