Seeing Pathankot in the early morning light was surreal. It seemed that the dirty, dusty town, shrouded now in a light fog, was a refuge for a slew of Pakistani people. We passed by sleepy-eyed kids emerging from their tents while their parents were cooking their meagre breakfast. We pressed on nonetheless, unable to offer anything of our own.
We passed a truck stop, perhaps a Customs area, with hundreds of trucks, big and small lined up for (perhaps) inspection. The road was pleasant enough, for now. The mountain roads, however, laid waste to that. It seemed that the roadworks there were never ending, the dust and dirt now ingrained on our jackets and helmets. The numerous trucks and buses we overtook on the hazardous road only re-passed us when we stopped for photos or a chai. Sometimes I felt like kneeling down and praying for the road to improve. And sometimes it did, for a measly 2km or 3km before reverting to gravel or dirt.
Srinagar was touristy. The Dal Lake, its tourist epicentre, is vast. And full of immobile, gaudy houseboats. We were boated to our house (hotel?) boat, showered the dust off and braved the traffic for dinner. Nepalese, this time.
Morning dawned, and the boat ride back to the jetty at 6am was cold. It was drizzling slightly. For the first time, the thermal underwear and rain suits were utilised. Dal Lake looked pretty without the tourist hordes, but the fog over it obscured the mountainous backdrop.
For the first 50km, the road was narrow but well paved. A big tree splits the road, right up the middle. Astounding. I had high hopes for an easy ride to Leh, our destination. But it was not to be. The road became worse, with landslides and rocks creating kilometres long tailbacks of lorries, buses and vans. Once, a big rock, the size of a suitcase, fell close to my right, scaring the life out of me. The trip would have ended there and then. I said a silent prayer and pressed on past the hundred plus trucks (static, this time) as usual, dodging the odd Tata Nano and small lorries coming the other way.
The road is one of the most dangerous in the world, and for good reason. Everything with wheels or legs share it. It is a ribbon of damaged tarmac and dirt, skirting the mountain. With remnants of guardrails above a few hundred metres of cliff. Sometimes the road has fallen away but the guardrail remains, suspended above the cliff. Rocks are arranged neatly beside these landslides, seeing them prompts a quick dab of the brakes and a slow and steady approach.
But after that road came Zojila Pass, a high altitude road that initially starts as tarmac, then gravel, then dirt, then slush and even interlocking pavement. There were no guardrails whatsoever.
Snow made an appearance and we finally saw the grandeur of the Himalayan Range up close. A ride into what looked like a small lush, green valley surprises you when it takes a full hour to traverse that valley. It makes you feel small and insignificant. Then you meet the hardy inhabitants of Drass, Sonamarg and Kargil. Meeting them makes you feel over privileged instead. We forget our misgivings over a lamb curry.
The Srinagar-Leh Highway is actually a military road. Numerous Indian Army camps dot the landscape. The road is made just so that army trucks and tanks can traverse it. Anything else makes do. I guess that’s why Leh has its own airport.
We arrive even dirtier than the day before. The altitude has not kicked in yet, so we call our friend from Delhi from a borrowed phone at an Internet cafe. My phone coverage fell out as soon we passed the Jammu-Kashmir border, about 400km ago. We get to our little homestay room with a communal bathroom in the dark. It is now 8pm and we had been riding for 14 hours. The night-time temperatures here reach zero but luckily our room is equipped with a radiator. Still we need the down blankets and sleep in our thermals.
I feel dizzy and lightheaded after dinner. Ah Boy says I look a little blue in the face and hands me some paracetamol and prescribes an early bedtime. Tomorrow we will attempt to reach our goal; Khardung La.