Motorcycle Explorer February 2015 Issue 4 | Page 141

A
fter Rohtang I call in at the final petrol station for over two hundred miles where a
queue of vehicles lines up to fill their tanks ready for the journey deep into the heart of the
Himalayas. There is plenty of tarmac, sometimes smooth but often a bit on the rough side, which
keeps me on my toes, though the lack of traffic makes for a calm life. Each bend in the road
brings fresh landscapes and scenery, all of them stunning; I find I’m riding along with a big grin
on my face. The bike is smooth to ride and responds well, and then I reach my first real water
crossing, a river rushing from the snowy peaks above carves its way across the road. No-one is in
sight, even after a wait (I was hopeful!), and so I resign myself to wading through – I gasp, the
water is icy cold, and it’s also flowing quite strongly, so I have to brace myself just walking
through. I work out the best route across and return to the Enfield, fire her up, and taking a deep
breath, ride across, slipping a bit on the stones underneath, but holding her straight towards the
small bank on the other side where I go up and over back onto the road. I feel a sense of
achievement, the next one looks a bit trickier, but there are a group of riders already there going
in the opposite direction who insist on helping me out – long live chivalry. They’re very
impressed to hear that I was solo on the previous crossing. I continue riding, with one eye on the
time, it’s been a long day and I’ve got the dreaded BaralachaLa pass ahead of me- again, not the
highest pass, but this one is renowned for bad weather.
"I’d reached my destination for the
night – Sarchu Tent Camp, at
4200m"
The temperature has plummeted as I make my way up the zigzag roads to reach it. Not even
pausing to take a photo I continue down the other side, where just 20kms later after some very
rough riding with snow banks 20 feet high on either side of me I come across some chai tents
lining the road. I park my bike up with a couple of others and stop to drink the hot, sweet chai
while chatting with my fellow travellers, guys from Bangalore who have never seen snow before
and also don’t have bike gear for cold conditions, some of them are wearing trainers and this is
in wet, sub-zero temperatures. There is an air of camaraderie amongst us all; a sense of
achievement in having crossed BaralachaLa and that Ladakh is within our grasp. I could have sat
there for the rest of the afternoon, but needed to push on past more snow banks and through icy
pools of melt water. The sun was starting to go down when I reached the final checkpoint, a khaki
tent beside the road which doubled up as a bedroom for the guys on duty, I presented my
passport and bike papers and was waved on through. I’d reached my destination for the night –
Sarchu Tent Camp, at 4200m, the ONLY place to stay; with a range of tented accommodation
options – there are no solid buildings. I chose the cheapest one, and got a discount when I
pointed out there was no mattress- just a carpet. The guys shrugged and made me a cup of tea to
cheer me up. Luckily I was carrying my Thermarest sleeping mat and sleeping bag and so I
managed to make my tent cosy enough to sleep in. I was carrying my own small tent but felt too
exhausted and nauseated by the lack of oxygen to think about putting it up. Plus my feet were
still wet through from walking through the rivers earlier in the day, I needed to stay somewhere
that had a source of heat – it was going to be hot water bottle time in my sleeping bag that night.