Dear Accessindians, Hope you all are doing well. Sharing my following write-up on our cycling trip to KhardungLa at 18,379 feet from Manali having encouraged by my close friend to share it on this platform. I have tried my best to pen my very personal sensory experience in whatever fway I could experience. It was worth every bit at those choking heights Also sharing good news that India is a proud member of International Blind Tennis Association. My efforts with IBSA, have borne fruit; and visually impaired tennis players can now participate in any international tournament by IBTA with official rankings. We have about half a dozen players developing into very good smashers here in Mumbai including couple of women. I hope you’d enjoy the following reading and partially sighted and sighted can enjoy the pictures
Dear readers, Ladakh for long was on my travel bucket-list for its enchanting Himalayan ranges, serene lakes, prehistoric undersea desert, Buddhist culture, Alpine flora and fauna and the unique experience of breathing low oxygen in thin air. I consider myself fortunate to have travelled there in the most experiential way, with also a higher purpose of offering ‘visibility to disability’. Thanks to Adventures Beyond Barriers, I got to do that on the saddle of a sturdy Treta tandem bike. As photographs that follow depict, a visually impaired person like me can sit on the back seat of the tandem bike and stoke pedals to enjoy the opportunity of cycling. In the month of August 2018, I successfully completed a cycling expedition from Manali, Himachal Pradesh to the world’s highest motorable pass- Khardung-La situated in Ladakh. My captain Trevor managed the gears and the steering from the front seat and we both covered more than 500 kms of distance in 10 days starting from the height of 6,726 ft and finishing at 18,379 ft. I still wonder as to how a guy with general fitness like me pedalled through one of the world’s most difficult tracks characterised with steep climbs, bumpy, slushy, dusty roads with an additional challenge of lack of oxygen all along the route which made even daily tasks difficult. But I’m glad that I was part of an inclusive adventure which also invited amputees, cancer survivors and other excluded. I have been working to make lives of my disabled friends as human as possible, through sound ball tennis, goalball, cycling and other sports. Disables are not just people with disabilities, they are ‘human beings’ at heart and in spirit. Every human being, some time or the other, feels ‘excluded’- for appearance, or for accent or for something which is different than the majority. And that’s the biggest disabling factor for that human being. Limitless opportunity is a necessity for every individual to live a happy and fulfilled life. I think our expedition was inclusive in its truest sense. My captain, who was going to steer my bike was a 65 year old Australian, Trevor Ockenden. A couple of amputees, a cancer survivor and a South African women pair with broken pelvic bones were also ready to take on the KhardungLa challenge with other able-bodied persons. I was aware that it was not going to be easy even though I had previous experience of cycling, trekking and marathons. The Manali-Leh road was situated at such heights to which my body was never exposed to. No expert can predict how one’s body would react at high altitudes. The unknown is always scary and it kept me under pressure during my preparations. I felt fit enough after six weeks of gym training on a recliner bike. It was good to know that this expedition wasn’t a race like that of Cliff-Hanger on the Pune-Goa track where our relay team had no breather for a non-stop 30 hour ride. I got a big shot in the arm when Mr. Anmol Ambani himself showed immediate interest and committed to support me in whatever way possible. It is tremendously motivating when your employer backs your positive efforts beyond the office space. Cutting to the start day: Day 1. From Manali to Marhi- 6,725 to 11,003 ft (38 kms) Our very first day was the second most difficult day in the whole expedition. We were to gain 4,278 feet in a mere 37 kms. Trevor’s experience and technical know-how came into play straightaway. We both soon found our rhythm and started climbing up the Beas valley via the upper-Manali road. What unfolded there was my ‘Avatar’ moment- due to a steep climbing road with winding switchbacks angled at 180°, which allowed me to shout out to my other cycling peers right below me. It felt as if I was on the air-borne mountains of the James Cameron hit movie. The lovely sunshine filtered by tall oak trees, the burbling sound of the fast flowing Beas and gusty cold winds on these steep climbs built a surreal ‘virtual reality’ for me. Upon reaching Marhi, it wasn’t that pleasant. Strong icy wind coupled with rains and struggle for oxygen did not promise comfort that I was looking forward to after 8 hours of hard pedalling. The smallest 6 by 4 ft tent which was going to be my shelter for the next 10 days too was a grim reminder that I was on an adventure. Day 2. Marhi to Sisu- via Rohtang pass at 13,300 (58 kms) The discomfort of the small tent and the cold windy rains at Marhi were motivating enough to get me saddled up for the forward journey. After a consistent climb for about 8 kms, we reached touristed Rohtang pass with shallow breaths. What followed from the top was good 25 kms of bumpy downhill where we didn’t have to pedal much. Once the topography flattened off, we were joined by the gushing Chandra River with grey waters. I was surprised to know at Khoksar village that there was another river called Bhaga some 60 odd kms downstream. This surprise stemmed from the fact that many Marathi devotional songs address a river skirting around Pandharpur in Maharashtra also as Chandrabhaga. Nonetheless, upon reading I learned that both these rivers Chandra and Bhaga originate from the glacier close to Baralacha pass on eastern and western ends of the glacier and after flowing for about 100 odd kms meet again at Tandi to further become the mighty Chenab in Jammu. The same river accompanied us right up to our next camp at Sisu. The tranquility arising out of its constant flow was sporadically being disturbed by the construction activities on the ambitious Rohtang tunnel. Our encampment was at a beautiful spot nestled in to the orchids of apple and apricot trees just next to the river and a helipad. We both had reached the camp before even the tenting team; hence few pictures were clicked of the amazing view across the camp where under the clear blue sky a waterfall was merging into Chandra from a tall snow-capped mountain. Day 3. Sisu to Jispa- via Tandi, Keylong and Dipak taal swim (44 kms) By the third day, our body was getting used to pedalling in the mountains. Previous day’s briefing had painted an easier picture of the better tarmac road with not much climb. But the biggest pain was in the backside. Let me share that for amateur cyclists the most nagging pain emerges not in the knees or the back but in the butt area. I had trained on the recliner bike and was paying the price for it. No amount of guard in the form of gel padded shorts, gel bike seat or Vaseline was offering comfort. Having heard my periodic whining about the pain, Trevor the wise old man gave me his wisdom that no cribbing would help and instead, I should accept that pain as a by-product of something good, the fun of riding in mountains. The same viewpoint helped me prepare for challenges that lay ahead. About 8 kms from Sisu we reached Tandi which is the very last petrol pump before one can reach Leh about 365 kms away. It wasn’t a pleasant stop for a break as too many vehicles crowded the spot emitting fumes. But just few metres away lay a dramatic site of Chandra-Bhaga confluence. And similar to a happy ending of a ‘feel-good movie’, I bid farewell to Chandrabhaga, moon’s daughter Chandra and sun’s son Bhaga who finally meet at Tandi after hurtling down from Baralacha pass for 115 and 65 kms respectively. By now as Trevor pointed out, the cultural signs had given way to Buddhism from Hinduism. We were able to capture few pictures of the Buddhist gompas and colourful flags with multiple floats. We’d also learned local greetings “Jhulay Jhulay!” which invoked a warm welcome from scantily dispersed local folks and migrant road labourers alike. Further about 9 kms from Tandi, Trevor and I came upon an impressive antique stone gate dominated with Buddhist symbols. We had arrived at Keylong town. What was impressive was just beyond the Buddhist gate; lay a small Hindu temple with a goddess as its deity. Trevor was amused and I, with a proud smile told him, “It happens only in India.” Twenty kms to our next camping site at Jispa, we came across a beautiful lake called Dipak Taal. A couple of riders were daring enough to swim into it, but I could not muster courage after touching the freezing water, especially when we were going to get our first hot bath in the evening after Manali. We zoomed through the remaining distance in the hope for a hot bath and a comfortable bed. But, bringing my own luggage to the second floor made me experience breathlessness that I’d never experienced before. I had the most joyous bath of my life that day and went to sleep thanking the inventors of electricity and water systems. Day 4. Jispa to Higher Zingzingbar- Climb of 3,280 ft (37 kms) Leaving the comfort of the hotel in Jispa was not easy. We were going to get to bathe only on the 10th day of our expedition upon reaching Leh city. But a warmer day with clear blue skies were pretty tempting. Today, we were going to climb about 3,200 feet. Thus, our accompanying doctor warned us to watch out for any sign of Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS). The beautiful Lahaul-Spitti vallies lay ahead in the rain shadow region. Thus, its landscape was getting further barren. The only green patch in the form of thorny shrubs was now restricted to the bottom of the river basin. Harsh sun and cold dry winds had scraped mountains barren of any life, which stood around us imposingly with their glittering snowy crowns. Strange triangular protrusions adorned the lower valley, which someone contented, were the result of years of wind-weathering. Others attributed the peculiarity to the 50 million years old great Indo-Eurasian tectonic crash. I found the vast lifelessness around us “very dramatic”- no sign of civilisation, no tree, not even a shrub, and no sign of a high-flying bird but still a life-giving river was gushing past us through a deep narrow valley. It was perhaps Bhaga which was bucketing along to meet Chandra way back at Tandi. I felt that the kind descriptions by Trevor were inadequate to my unseeable senses and decided to get off the bike to soak in the experience of the gusty winds, the harsh sun, the sound of the river and the absolutely desolate environment around me. Few metres away, I lay down on a stone formation which felt pretty custom-made to my liking. Even though Nature around me was harsh, I felt lasting peace in that captivating place. My meditation was interrupted by another tandem closing in on us. We were stunned to know that they had survived a truck crash in the town of Keylong. We were once again reminded of dangers of our adventure. In about 12 kilometres we reached Zingzingbar. But that was not it; this was kind of a mini Zingzingbar. We had about 6 more kilometres of tough climb to reach our final camp site at Higher Zingzingbar located at 14,435 ft. The last bit was pretty tough. I was feeling cold right inside my head as if my brain was freezing. I was very uncomfortable and numb while pedalling to the camp site which was extremely cold and low on oxygen. But misty, cold, quiet and colourful mountains as Trevor described, were a sight to behold. With great discomfort due to choked breathing, I had very intermittent sleep all through the night. The weight of those mighty mountains had in effect prolonged my experience of that day, on the Mars-like surface under the beautiful clear blue sky. Day 5. Zingzingbar to Sarchu- via Baralacha-la at 16,043 ft (55 kms) Our crew was confident that we’ll manage the upcoming long ride given our previous performance and good roads ahead. The region was largely desolate but interspersed by greenery and manmade orchards. A well-lit valley on the right enabled me to see large mountain shapes better. It reminded me of summers of the Konkan region. We were told to expect many streams on the way which hurtle down on to the very road from the surrounding snow melting peaks. Thanks to them, Trevor and I discovered a new thrill. We would, unlike other pairs who were cautious and would walk through these waters, would avoid all the hassle and burst through these streams. I am generally pretty cautious, but by now, I trusted Trevor’s judgment and had faith in the sturdy tandem bike of ours, which I later named the ‘Wheeled-beast’; inspired by the wildebeests, who are known for the largest terrestrial mammal migration on earth. We slowly kept climbing towards Baralacha-la which was 18 kms away from Zingzingbar. On the way we met quite a few people employed for road works in those treacherous parts. But the memorable encounter was with a large native flock of sheep, which blocked our way for more than 10 minutes. After all, they were the real bearers of this beautiful land and definitely commanded that much respect. After less than couple of hours’ joy ride we started our ascend to Baralacha-la. During the climb, we missed noticing the famed Suraj Tal Lake. I am unable to remember any difficulty in summiting the pass, but certainly the height of 4,850 metres had its bearing. Like other great passes, here too, it was shrouded in an eerie cold mist with low oxygen and cold temperature. The pass had a very small unimpressive milestone board but its significance forbeing the source of Chandra and Bhaga- in effect the Chenab River that spans about 960 kms invoked a feeling of reverence in me. Between BaralachaLa and Bharatpur, unpredictable headwaters of a river block the way. We were strictly warned against crossing it. The support crew was concerned that all the riders lagging behind too should reach the crossing soon. As the day progresses, snow melts, burgeoning the wide stream to grow to an extent that would make it impossible for even SUVs to cross over. Only on this occasion was our bike loaded onto the support truck for 200 odd meters to cross the wayward watercourse. At Bharatpur, a few gritty locals had erected a tent Dhaba, which provided the ubiquitous food in this region- Maggie, Thukpa and Knorr soups. I refreshed myself with a hot chicken soup and we set on our course for Sarchu. The route that followed was characterised by lifeless desert scape on the Sarchu plains, which allowed us to gather speed and soon enough, we reached the border of Himachal Pradesh and J&K. Having crossed the ceremonial check post, we arrived into the mysterious Lama Land of Ladakh. We crossed over a bridge and rolled on to the left, towards fluttering orange and blue abodes (tents) of ours. Day 6. Sarchu to whisky nullah- via Gata Loops and NakeeLa at 15,647 (49 kms) Having read bit about the Manali-Leh track, I had picked out my personal challenges- Gata Loops, Tanglangla and KhardungLa. All the experienced riders in our group had built supernatural sorts of image of Gata Loops. It is a dreaded series of 21 incessant sharp hairpin switchbacks which lift the road by 2,500 ft in a matter of less than 10 kilometres on the way to Whisky Nalla from Zingzingbar. It is a road construction marvel and at the same time, a testimony to the BRO’s capabilities to carve out motorable roads in the treacherous Himalayan ranges at dangerous heights. A stark reminder of the same lies on the left of the 19th switchback. There lies a huge pile of water bottles, left behind by scores of travellers in reverence to BRO personnel who had died at the spot on account of dehydration while building Gata Loops. We were also given a friendly challenge by the crew to count exact 21 switchbacks as many faulter at it due to its maze-like characteristics. Trevor and I had decided to take it easy as we often used to end up in the lead anyway. In a few kilometres, we reached at the foot of the loops. The view there was stunning under the clear blue sky and warm sun. Trevor pointed my hand right in the sky at about 85° to the top of one mountain where a beeline of trucks could be seen clinging to their serpentine course like ants on a doughnut. It could be demoralising for people who can see I guess, but for me it was “one pedal at a time” all the way. Our real strength was our peddling rhythm and Trevor was a master of gear change at appropriate moments. We would not allow our pedalling cadence to change much due to excellent gear management by him. Against our target of breaking at the 11th loop, we broke at the 8th switchback itself to soak in the atmosphere of stupefying Gata Loops. I again felt delighted to have taken up this adventure to experience such a magical land. After about five more breaks against the two planned, we counted our 21st switchback. One signboard reading “Gata Loop ends here” confirmed that we had counted the loops perfectly due to our benchmark of counting the switchback only when the 180° turn happens. Little ahead, we met group of European tourists who were astonished and encouraging of our efforts. We took some pictures with other tandem team of Commodore Srinivas and Veren, where a fallen stone had made a huge gorge in the mountain and close by, a finger-like white stone stood awash in the bright sunshine. Our group’s discussion had concentrated on Gata Loop all the way and nobody talked much about the Nakeela pass. Trevor and I were proud of ourselves that we had done the loops without much trouble but the real trouble was just going to start. The sun had become harsher and Trevor could see much steeper climbs ahead of us. Our crew was not telling us the accurate distance between the top of Gata Loops and the Nakeela pass in order to keep riders motivated. But in my opinion it worked against us as we would depend heavily on our route planning. We were told a mere five kilometres distance between Gata Loops and the pass. Accordingly, we both spent much of our energy reserves for five kms. But Nakeela was still nowhere in sight. Trevor based on Strava app concluded that perhaps the crew team had made a mistake of calculating the distance. I was pretty demoralised due to lack of accurate data and added to that; worsening conditions were not making it easy. We were close to the top but still the pass was not in sight. We were running out of breath due to lack of oxygen. I felt like the LODR protagonist, Frodo Baggins who finds it increasingly difficult to ascend Mount of Doom under the burden of Sauron’s powerful ring. Funny enough, but the sun too seemed like the ‘Eye of Sauron the Terrible’ emitting awful fire upon us blinding my little remaining vision. Trevor was also tired. He looked weaker for the first time on the expedition due to lack of sleep the previous night. I had to step up for my partner. I gave my everything which created spasm in my right knee, staying there till the end of the expedition. Today I think of it and ponder that perhaps AMS was catching up with me that day. We kept motivating each other and going further and there stood a beautiful concrete marker- Nakee La pass. I hugged the top of the large triangular milestone and became emotional. The feeling was very humbling. For the first time on the expedition, I felt tested. I had earned the ascend to the top today. Nakeela made an indelible mark on my memory as the second most testing pass of the voyage. And it wasn’t because this pass is known to be one of the highest. It is not. But that very day Mother Nature had decided to make it memorable for me. Our camp site Whiskey Nullah was just 8 kms from the Pass. Upon reaching there we got to know that for the whole ABBF group the ascend was tough. Three to four members of the support crew were down with AMS. Finally, group leaders had decided to pack everyone and head for the camp at 3 pm itself. Trevor and I were amongst the only three bikes which had made it safely. Thus the mood in the camp remained grave throughout the evening. To conclude, Nakeela and Whisky Nalla had lived up to its frightening notoriety for being risky for inexplicable reasons as it was not even one of the highest points on the route. Day 7. Whisky nullah to Tso Kar- via Pang and LachungLa pass at 16,598 (71 kms) The original itinerary at the start of the expedition had outlined 11 days to cover the distance between Manali to KhardungLa. But because we were doing pretty well till the fifth day and the weather remained favourable, we unanimously decided to crash the schedule of day 7 and 8 instead of camping at Pang itself. It meant peddling 29 kms to Pang, 12 kms to Morey plains and 30 kms to TsoKar within a day. I loaded myself with a heavy breakfast to be able to delay lunch as I had experienced nausea post-lunch the previous day. But it worked against me. We had to pedal hard straightaway as the LachulungLa pass was just 8 kms away from the camp. Besides, the weather was discouraging as if the ghosts of Whisky Nalla were still bewitching our road to the top. A dreary haze had engulfed everything around us. It was damp and very cold as if we were riding through a cloud. Breathing became difficult due to the choking of nose and my sputum as Trevor noticed, went green. My nose was bleeding a bit from the previous day anyway. Heavy breakfast became too heavy to handle and I retched everything out. It made me feel lighter but because I was not careful about drinking sufficient water, I became dehydrated. The worst of all my head starting aching. I wasn’t feeling good. Trevor played a warhorse by keeping me involved and motivated. We somehow reached the LachungLa pass and soon started our descend. For the first time, Trevor and I could catch up with the tail cyclist. I was glad to mingle with the group on the wheels and not just a pair of us wondering in the wilderness. Lalit, our tail-watcher was carrying his Bluetooth speaker which entertained me while descending from the top. Few kilometres downhill, we met the youngest member of our group- 15 year old Siddharth. He was observing something with a sense of awe. Achtung! This is going to be my most memorable vision of the whole journey. I too stood wonder-struck at the sheer loftiness of Rock Mountains around me. A couple of kilometres ahead we came across other members of our group discussing the same phenomenon. Few compared it with the Grand Canyon, others with Australian Outbacks, but all agreed it was truly out of this world. The most stunning feature of these towering mountains was that they were absolutely exonerated of any dirt. These gigantic rock cliffs stood very close to the road rising up to hundreds of metres in almost a straight incline of 90 degrees. To add to its magnificence a small riverlet was emerging from behind the mountain to our left, continuing along the course of the road to turn right and then turn back to left to flow under a bridge we were going to cross. Little ahead our voices resonated under a roof -like structure made of rocks. The road there was actually carved out of a stone mountain due to lack of any space around. Lord Voldemort from Harry Potter series would have easily preferred this spot over any other for hiding his horcrux. I was also reminded of Dumbledore’s dialogue “Magic always leaves traces” and boy! Didn’t this incredible place leave a permanent mark on my memory? I would have loved to stay there forever, but we were asked to move on. After crossing the aforesaid bridge the area opened up as if the binding magic of that place was wearing off. We came upon a desert characterised by long-stretched white salt pans. It was a prehistoric seabed which would have hosted teeming colourful life before the Indo-Eurasian tectonic crash. Lost in my deep thoughts of that world, my spirit was soaring and we were crossing many muddy streams like a strong race horse. But while crossing one particularly bumpier one, I stood on my pedals to give it all that I had and our bike started making some noise. Sandeep, our technician was surprised that I was able to bend a high-quality sprocket on the rear wheel. We were unable to use gear no. 2 and 3. Thankfully, there was no big climb left for the day, but I was worried that this breakdown shouldn’t force us to sit in the bus all together. As I was saluting an army convoy of about 50 odd trucks, we reached Pang- a small hamlet only active during summers out of its winter hibernation. As I learned at the lunch table, most part of Leh-Manali road closes down in winters due to heavy snowing. Each year, the Indian army and BRO needs to clear tons of snow and lay fresh roads all over again in some parts. In fact, one of LachungLa planks bore a name of a “Shaurya Chakra” (Bravery award) martyr who had died while clearing the roads. With reverence in our heart for these great men, we set off for Morey plains with an expectation of an easy ride of 45 kms, but we had 12 kms of climb in front of us. The sun was harsh and I again started feeling sick. Moreover, we couldn’t use the second and third gears, which made pedalling difficult. I decided to lie down on the warm road once we had tip topped the post-Pang climb. Trevor and crew offered me to sit in the bus, but nope! That wasn’t what I was here for. At the start of the windy Morey plains, our whole group had stopped to celebrate Namrata’s 21st birthday. The crew had decorated her bike with golden strips and her helmet was converted into a conical hat. I was unwell and couldn’t really join the celebrations. But I didn’t want to miss a rare opportunity to race on Morey plains, most unexpectedly located amidst the Himalayan high Mountains. We were for the first time allowed to race for 30 odd kms, on the pretty even tarmac road which looked majestic under the setting sun. Winding through the sandy expanse surrounded by radiant snow-capped mountains, the road looked like an approach to a palatial city. The plains also allowed me to pedal solo for some time to understand how much of a difference Trevor’s pedalling was making. But I wasn’t feeling well and wanted to finish the ride soon. Our windy, dusty camp site was located 7 kms away from the TsoKar diversion on Leh highway, interestingly surrounded by white expanse which we were not sure of it being ice or salt pans. The group in general looked much more vibrant today. Some decided to explore the whites around us and some the TsoKar lake. But I took a Paracetamol and decided to retire early. After all, my second personal challenge TanglangLa was to be overcome the next day. Day 8. TsoKar to Lato- via TanglangLa pass at 17,480 ft (62 kms) Thanks to the inventor of Paracetamol, I was feeling much better on the 8th day of TanglangLa. TanglangLa as the name sounds was enough to instill fear in cyclists’ hearts. After about three kms of plain road, the route just climbs incessantly for 21 kms. Many bloggers have written that they had to pack up and drive the cycles to the top, but I was determined to pedal and pedal all the way. I was tanking up myself with water for better hydration on a hot grinding day ahead. But it turned out to be much easier than I thought. I just had to pee about 15 times in these 24 kms and the rest went well. The road wasn’t as bad as it was written in the blogs. But the surroundings remained very dry and hot. The last 8 days’ labour had taken a toll on my body. I had lost a lot of weight, had sunburns all over my exposed skin, and my knee and bottom were still hurting. But what could set off all that, the taste of success. I was certain now of doing 100 per cent of pedalling from Manali to Leh as it was all going to be downhill for the next 100 kms until we reach the foot of KhardungLa. It felt possible now for my body’s capacity. No more tough climb, no more struggling for oxygen, no more knee pain, no more bottom pain, no more skin burn, no more freezing cold, no more weakening wind until we reach the final challenge- KhardungLa. We soon started our fabulous 37 kms of descend to Lato located at 13,170 ft from the height of 17,480 of TanglangLa. It felt like a merry-go-round steep downward slide. With each passing kilometre, the atmosphere was getting better. Oxygen level was rising, air was becoming warmer and we started seeing more vegetation. We hit a speed of 70-80 kmph and soon closed in on a Buddhist village surrounded by fragrant mustard fields, tall poplar trees, manmade canals and distant snowy mountains. It just felt good to be able to see life around us, interact with civilisation and breathe stomachful. The icing on the cake was the teleservice network. Few members made calls to their homes and we saddled up to reach our camp in Lato village just a few kms ahead. Lato welcomed us in with a grand Gompa gate and a lovely water stream. It was the last and the most beautiful camp sites of all. It was perched onto a green bank of the burbling Indus tributary, offering a majestic view of green woods across, with unusual red snow-capped mountains as a backdrop. While I was changing, many members gathered to see something exciting across the river. It was a herd of the illusive Ibex goats that are known to have mastered the art of balancing on slippery Himalayan cliffs. Keerthi and I could venture out of the camp today, given the warm temperature and irresistible beauty of Lato village. We spent our evening on a beautiful riverlet bridge decorated with colourful wild flowers, reminding us of our time in a Swiss hamlet called Lauterbrunnen. Being the last Soup Stories session around the campfire, many members opened up the secrets of their lives. However fit one was, however “normal” they tried to be in their lives, each one of us had experienced exclusion. Those stories brought us closer. We became true and pure to each other, like one particular hill in the distance which Commodore Shrinivas observed, over the course of our discussions had become brighter due to changing angle of the setting sun. Day 9. Lato to Leh- All downhill (52 kms) Sufficient oxygen and warmer weather had instilled life in all of us. But I was feeling bad that our adventure was going to end soon. We had left behind the most unique landscape on earth and were soon going to return to our hideous cities. Bidding farewell to lovely Lato wasn’t easy, but we had a sumptuous lunch waiting for us at Cafe Cloud in Leh. Today, we had the company of Gobind. Gobind was one of the most spirited riders with only one crippled hand with three fingers. It was nice to ride with his music, but Trevor stopped to observe many inscribed river stones on short walls beyond Lato. What I could gather from a passing village lady was that they were prayers to their ancestors. Research on the internet suggested that these stones are called ‘Mani stones’ which bear Buddhist mantras carved out by traditional artists on religious occasions. Contrary to barren high passes the route looked pleasant with the same Lato tributary constantly keeping us company to our right. Trevor was confident that this river will soon merge with the great Indus. My faith in his judgment had cemented manifold. After all, the wise man had gotten wiser with each passing phase of his life. He, at the age of 23 in 1976 had undertaken a 3-year motorbike expedition from Singapore to Europe via Kashmir, staking all his savings. And now at the age of 65, he wanted to help someone else enjoy the adventure. He had another gift to offer to all of us and that is the NVC- non-violent communication. A stocky powerhouse, he also exhibited excellent fitness figures with heart rate rarely rising beyond 60 even after rigorous pedalling. Trevor who believes that growing old is a privilege, can be an inspiration to anyone who wants to take charge of their health at any stage of life. Soon we came upon the mighty Indus. It was a touching moment for me. After all, people living in India who are traditionally known as Hindus, owe their identity to this ancient watercourse called ‘Sindhu’. I may not be a very religious person, but I feel connected to natural surroundings and especially to rivers which are essential for development of any civilisation. I believe in touching and tasting waters of rivers that I come across while travelling. Thus, we started looking for a suitable spot to get done with my spiritual ritual. But the 60 ft wide river was speeding with powerful currents in the deep valley. We got our opportunity only at the Tupshi Bridge under which the river flips sides and flows along the left side of the road. I got onto the narrow river beach and tasted its water after a shy Namaskaram as other riders watched me bewildered. We had a long moderate climb and a steep downhill, bound by tall trees to reach the Karu army camp. A town in itself, but disappointedly polluted and dirty. The only good thing was that the pedestrians and tourists were more often than not cheering for us now. As soon as we left Karu behind, a tidy wall of piled up Mani stones kept us company for more than couple of kms. These were more impressive than the Lato ones and thus, we decided to take pictures. As soon as Trevor put his foot on the stones, we were reprimanded by a driver in the passing car to not step onto the stones. Later, I had a free run literally. It was made possible by a smooth desert expanse where I could run without any restraint, and not trip over or bump into anything. I enjoyed my solo sprint which for a sighted person is not a big deal. I picked up a cookie-shaped smooth stone from that site as my memento. Soon the horizon dotted with beautiful Thiksey monastery and Shanti Stupa came into Trevor’s view. I, after many days, indulged in over-eating as riding was done for the day and we were going to be ferried in the bus. Ladakh’s ancient capital Shey and Buddhist educational institutions had conserved the calm of the city. But its roads were in disarray due to narrow lanes and dense traffic. Leh had expanded rapidly post-2009 cloud burst, but like many other Indian cities, its growth was chaotic. Day 10. Leh to KhardungLa at 18,379 ft- via South Pullu (40 kms) Today was the “D-Day” for us. What if a team reaches the final stage of a competition and does not win it? Our route briefing in the hotel in Leh started on the most serious note. Nobody was joking, nobody was laughing. All of us had toiled hard for nine consecutive days and every one of us wanted to summit KhardungLa the next day. Experienced riders’ anecdotes were anything but encouraging. Everybody advised us to moderate our expectations. We after TanglangLa had rolled downward for about 110 kms to undo what heights we’d achieved from Manali. We were back to 11,482 ft from 17,480 ft. Today, we were going to climb 6,896 ft in mere 40 kms to reach KhardungLa, the pinnacle of our expectations, the pinnacle of our tenacity, to test the limits of our physical limitations, to compete with our own self and to try our own triumph. The tougher the competitor, sweeter is the win. KhardungLa was going to try us on all fronts. The road was known to be fairly good 5 kms beyond South Pullu which was located at 26 kms. But 6 kms of the last bit had never seen tarmac. And that was the steepest motorable climb anybody of us had ever seen. To add to our challenges, a time limit was imposed. By 3.30 pm, the whole group had to be ferried to the hotel in Leh. Our group leader at no cost wanted us to do the downhill as he had lost his dear friend and one of the best professional downhill riders last year while riding down to Leh. We were going to start at 6 a.m, two hours prior to our daily start. The last 8 hours of the expedition was going to determine if I was going to live up to my own expectations. To be honest, I was nervous. I once again went through all the basics of cycling- the right posture, the right way of pedalling, hydration, nutrition and most importantly breathing through my nose. All the best riders we knew had given up about six kms before the pinnacle. I wanted to complete the expedition all throughout on the wheel. Anyhow. And it wasn’t a great start. Perhaps because of the burden of the day or the presence of BBC, against my concern of not having the official lead, one of our riders started the ride. Almost everybody followed. It cost us just an extra 1.5 kms of riding, so I thought, but we hadn’t paid our full dues yet for the error. Trevor and I found our way back to the charted route and did pretty well to soon get out of the city to reach the foot of the climb. But the rest of the 34 kms we were not going to get any plain or downhill. We took a good look at Leh city on the left and a continuous rise on our right and saddled up to pedal out of our skin. We were going to keep it simple and steady with time in mind. And then a good omen occurred. A really handsome Russian Huskie joined us and started trotting along. This was on a lighter note, the height of inclusion. The leashed dog had one brown and one blue eye. Perhaps, it was also partially blind. Trevor and I started talking to it. It kept us company for more than 7 kms and I declared that if it comes with us till the top, I will name it KhardungLa and take it home if its owner permits. In about 12 kms we stopped at a switchback with the rest of the group for letting an army convoy pass by. I wanted KhardungLa, the dog to continue with us as I was excited by its company, but it had vanished. As we rode further the incline started getting tougher and the sun became harsher. We were again forced to wait for about 20 minutes by the aforesaid convoy which had stopped ahead for some reason. All the way to Leh we were also troubled by fume emitting trucks and motorbikes, but that smell was worse at the KhardungLa climb. At such heights combustion in the engine too was not getting enough oxygen, thus making it inefficient and very polluting. Trevor and I kept a steady speed, but 7 kms to South-Pullu, the temperature dipped and breaths became shallower. We were joined by Czech cyclists and their presence helped my morale. Each milestone was an achievement. And we started counting each one of them. 4km to South Pullu, 3km, 2km and then 1km to South Pullu. We reached the post and submitted our permits. I was surprised and annoyed that KhardungLa the dog was chained in the bus by the driver. I warned him against taking it away from its real owner. But we couldn’t leave the dog there so some biscuits and eggs were fed to it and unfortunately, driven to the top. In my opinion, Trevor and I spent more than necessary time there and we lost our momentum in coffee and Maggie. I noticed that other experienced riders had set off long ago and pressed Trevor to saddle up. I was pleasantly surprised that the road was pretty good, but only about 5 kms from South Pullu the bumps started. Breathing was getting tougher with every 100 metres as the incline was pretty steep and we were quickly gaining altitude. Our WheeledBeast was doing a great job by remaining stable and not breaking down or slipping on that gravel-laden, slippery road. Trevor’s good work continued even in such challenging conditions. He showed a few foreign riders how to best use shock absorbers on the downhill. We thought we had reached the “red zone” within 6 kms of the pass where rocks bigger than the size of a football dotted the path and slushy water was flowing right through the middle of the road. I will never forget what ensued after that. To keep up to our target of 100 per cent pedalling, we would burst through some stones giving our best, and in few metres itself, we would lose our complete strength. I would bend down gasping for air and saddle up again with Trevor to press the pedals. We did that for about 40 times but couldn’t even cover a kilometre. Time was 02.50 pm and I dreaded to be forced into the bus without reaching KhardungLa at 3.30 pm. Trevor suggested to the next best thing- to drag the bike to the top. But what about my record of 100 per cent of pedalling? The writing was on the wall- I was not going to be able to do it 100 per cent. We decided to do our best- to carry our trusted WheeledBeast to the top. We found walking more laborious than pedalling, but there was no way we could pedal through those boulders. Every 20 odd steps we would wait, catch our breath and start the drag. There was no oxygen in the air. It was freezing cold and very windy. I had removed all warm clothes few kms back due to the hot sun, but now the cold wind was numbing my body. I was feeling cold right inside my head and was unable to balance myself. It felt as if we were on the moon. There was no gravity. On the way, we found riders of the leading tandem struggling to drag their bike too. They looked much more exhausted as they had started dragging the bike way before us. Trevor and I were getting worried that the pass was still not in sight. He checked his Strava, which showed that close to 39 kms distance was covered, but it clicked to him that we’d unnecessarily ridden about 1.5 kms in the morning. It meant we had about 2.5 kms to cover and the time was almost 3.30. We were now worried that the crew bus would catch up with us and we would be packed up inside. I was pretty demoralised as we were going to fall short of completing the expedition. I heard the jubilant crew in the SUV following us, who to my surprise encouraged us to keep going. We were given 30 more minutes to live our dream. Trevor and I till the previous day managed to summit all the passes only by giving our synchronised 100%, but today even the 200% from both of us wasn’t working. But I realised one’s 100% is just a mental block. One’s abilities cannot be restricted to one’s mental limits. We are much more capable as a species. Other animals are limited to their physical abilities because their mental abilities are limited. But humans are gifted; we can achieve anything that we can dream of. Dreams enable us to think beyond the limitation of practicalities. Thus, I’d decided to give beyond what I thought I could in those remaining minutes. Only two kms to be covered in 30 minutes. It was okay if I’d fallen there. It was okay if I was carried there on the vehicle. But I wanted to push myself, struggle till I fell, live till I died. There came the moment. As if to don our crown, we were asked to saddle up again to ride the last 100 metres. No, it came too soon. Let me live my struggle. Let me live KhardungLa. Because you don’t scale KhardungLa, you don’t summit KhardungLa, you live KhardungLa when you are trudging along on the cycle by transferring your muscular power into that beautiful iron frame, rolling upward. You feel every inch through the rolling wheels. You live KhardungLa. The magnificent dream, the magnificent life of KhardungLa, where you value each breath of yours, value each moment, value each drop of water, value every bit of strength, you value life itself and you struggle to reach the height of accomplishment. It was over. I don’t like it when things reach an end. But mad celebrations ensued and the chant of “Na Jhukenge, na rukenge, M2K M2K!!!” reverberated all around the Himalayas from the top of KhardungLa. KhardungLa for me now is a symbol of human drive and tenacity. It is of course a living memory of a great experience, but also a life lesson, that one cannot rightly estimate his or her own complete abilities, let alone someone else’s. Thus, just keep cheering to others while we pedal on our own paths because we never know that person also might be struggling to reach his or her own KhardungLa. I got poetic too before the trip so pushing it for your reference ☺ Wheels of will! SO what if I can’t fly, I have the wings of wheels; Every pedal I strike, Takes me higher into hills. What better it is, that I don’t have just a single will, But pair of wills riding on the tandem wheels; In the form of my captain, Who shares my dream and have bonding built. In tandem we pedal, in tandem we breathe, In tandem we roll and climb leaving mountains beneath. I can hear pumping adrenaline rush, As the mountains too are seeing in hush! And thinking... That so what if he can’t fly, He has wings of wheels, And he will reach Khardung La for sure, So the king of mountains, the great Himalaya feels. Thank you. You can write to me at [email protected] -- With best regards, Ekinath Khedekar. Search for old postings at: http://www.mail-archive.com/[email protected]/ To unsubscribe send a message to [email protected] with the subject unsubscribe. To change your subscription to digest mode or make any other changes, please visit the list home page at http://accessindia.org.in/mailman/listinfo/accessindia_accessindia.org.in Disclaimer: 1. Contents of the mails, factual, or otherwise, reflect the thinking of the person sending the mail and AI in no way relates itself to its veracity; 2. AI cannot be held liable for any commission/omission based on the mails sent through this mailing list..
