Exploring Kargil - Leh to Kargil with valleys and mountain passes

The beauty of Leh and its surrounding areas has always been a topic of discussion among travelers from April to August. As fascinating as they are in front of our eyes, the debate often tones down when we bring Kargil into the picture. Apart from the Kargil War, there are hardly any places one can name in the beautiful district of Kargil. Honestly, maybe I could have said the same thing a couple years back. I don't remember when I encountered a photo from Zanskar, but I do remember that I never forgot about it since. It was a major influence in deciding the destination and for all the right reasons, we decided to turn our handles towards a different side this time. A side that has not got the attention it deserves. A side we wish we could have explored before.

Back to Leh - Once Again

All the dreams of Ladakh exploration start from the capital city of Leh. Well, maybe not for those who have unlimited time and can afford a bike ride from Manali or Srinagar. But we are not so lucky. Each day in both of our lives is counted by two people - God and our companies. This reminds me of taking a pause and introducing Sudhanshu who was the lucky winner of the draw to go with me to Kargil. By the way, the draw, again, had only two people - God and Sudhanshu and it was a tough competition.

We both have been to this barren land before and Leh had served the base earlier as well. Stay here a couple of days, acclimatize, and leave on the third day. On the last trip, none of us had any headaches due to the altitude. Therefore, we skipped the acclimatization day this time and thought to add an extra day for a new place in Kargil. Remember, our hands are tied, every day is counted in our lives!!

Arrival at Leh - a cold desert 3500 meters above

The flight to Leh presents picturesque scenery all along on both sides. My seat was in the middle with one girl on my right and one on my left. They did not know each other. But before you think I was happy about this, you should also know about the kid just behind my seat. A 4-year-old who resisted the lap of his parents and kept standing in his seat. The resistance was real. Sometimes he would jump on the aisle and start running and sometimes he would shout when his parents would get hold of him. A real revolutionary with liberal thoughts, he would often hold my hair and throw my head against the back of my seat. I had traveled all night from my hometown and caught this early morning flight. I could have slept outside at 50 degrees at that time but I did not know that the kid had other plans for me.

"Julley!!", the girl on my right would curl up her finger to hold the kid's finger and greet him. The kid did not understand this word. She smiled at him because that's the universal language of comforting someone. But how could a revolutionary be hypnotized by someone's greetings or someone's smiles? That just rips apart his braveness and turns it into dust. He did raise his hand in response to the lady's curled fingers. She saw his hand getting up at an angle and she smiled some more as if her greeting was accepted and she had controlled the kid. But the kid quickly hit his hand on my head, caught some hairs, and pulled them back. I wished that day to ban kids from taking flights. Let them come by bus or bullock cart if that matters. Let them taste the sun. They are not habitual of comfort and they are certainly not civil. But hey! They are kids. Lord resides in them. Who am I to judge? 

When we walked out of the plane, the cold breeze pierced our T-shirts as if showing its power and letting us know the rules of Ladakh. This was the time we should have worn our jackets but for unknown reasons, we didn't for the next hour. Till the time we reached the hotel, we were too cold. We tried some sunbathing but with a mix of sleep, tired and cold bodies, it was not giving the same effect as it would give on a cold afternoon in North India. It's better to just find a place where we can lie down and the common room was the most welcoming area until our rooms get ready. I lied there. Thinking about the journey ahead and unlimited Thukpa I am going to eat. There was no sunlight in the common room. My body temperature dropped even more but there is nothing we both can do. I took a turn by my side, wore the cap, curled my hands inside each other, and closed my eyes.

Leh to Kargil - 250 Kms of barren lands

The first stop in this journey was Kargil - a district well known for the war India fought but less known for the beauty it served. Generally, anyone would be skeptical before deciding to go to Kargil. Why would you want to go to Kargil when famous places like Pangong-Tso and Nubra Valley already exist in the same place? Well, as much as this confusion fights in our heads, so do the people of Kargil and Leh (which I will recount later).

The road from Leh to Kargil is well-built and quite broad. The air was thin and cold, like it always is, and the faraway mountains barren and stony like they always are. This bike ride to Kargil I had already imagined hundreds of times and it does feel like Deja-Vu. Not because my imagination is heavenly but because I have been here before. This place has not changed. When you need to go from point A to point B, there is nothing in between. A road, a mountain, and a ditch on one side until point B arrives. I never get bored of this geography and I think neither does Sudhanshu. I mean, that's why he is here 20 meters ahead of me on a Himalayan, isn't it? The mountains that come in between Leh and Kargil feel like a work of art to me. Can they be natural? There are so many places in India and abroad where a stone rested at some angle becomes a tourist attraction. Can you imagine what would happen if I kept multiple such stones with each other in no pattern at all? They become the mountains of Ladakh and they hold their unique taste. My eyes get a dopamine shot and I know every biker's does.

I say this with confidence because of one incident that occurred on the way from Leh to Kargil. The road had a ditch on the left side and a mountain on the right. It was turning right a few meters ahead, a blind turn. From my opposite side (from beyond that right turn), came a biker with his sunglasses on. His helmet did not have any visor, khaki in color, and reminded me of old-school helmets that people wore on their scooters. He was mesmerized by the mountains and the spell they cast on you. He forgot it was a left turn for him to stay on the road. He kept driving in a straight line, crossing his lane, then the white dividing marks, and arrived in my lane just in front of me. I was riding the bike at 70-80 KMPH and putting it to rest in 5 seconds could have landed me into the ditch. While it was a fraction of a second, I decided to apply brakes as much as they were safe and let it collide. But at the last moment, he woke up from the spell and turned his handle. I stopped a few meters ahead and turned towards him. He already had a few sorrys lined up on his tongue which started shooting out as my head turned. Ah!  How much I wish I could blame him for this. I wish I could say "dikhai nhn deta kya?" but that was just unnecessary. I knew the exact reply he would have given me, "dikhai deta hai esly hi hua ye." Ah! I know he would have been right!

Finally, crossing Lamayuru with a small Maggi break, Sudhanshu and I arrived in Kargil, a place filled with mosques, crowds of people, congested roads, and a different smell altogether. But more on that, in the next chapter!