Getting Leh-ed: Day 5 – Baralacha-ed!

So, we were a day behind schedule now, but we were well rested and so far no signs of altitude sickness. It’s a beautiful, clear day. The air is cool and crisp, the sun is warm and its perfect day to head out and do some distance before breakfast. So we do.

It would have been a waste to have headed out the day before and miss the scenery in all the rain. This is seriously beautiful country. The mountains in the distance look like they’re painted gray-green. We’re above the tree line now….looks like we pretty much left it back on the other side of Rohtang La. Also, from here on, there are no telephones till Leh, 350 hard kilometers away. No landlines, no cell phones, nothing.

The only way for civilians to get any news about the weather and the road is when traffic starts moving and someone from the other side of the range gets through the pass. We’ll just have to keep going to figure out if we can get through Baralacha La today. Looks like the beemer and the Himalayan Odyssey riders just about made it yesterday before it started snowing.

We cross over from Jispa to Darcha on the bridge across the Bhaga. Darcha is a bunch of chai dhabas catering to truckers and other travelers. There’s a police post operating out of a 4 X 4 tent where you need to register yourself before going on further. Darius, as always, has gone on ahead. Nitin and I, have breakfast. The options are eggs and for vegetarians, there’s hot thupka.

From here on, it’s a steady climb. There’s a surreal quality about the mountains, devoid of vegetation except for some moss and the occasional hardy shrub. There’s hardly any civilization. No telephone or electricity poles, no shops, no huts, no retaining walls…just the road and the odd army camp at periodic intervals. There is a barren, rugged beauty in the craggy landscape. We’re finally, really getting away from it all, as it were. The O2 levels start dropping and the bike engines start missing if throttled beyond a point. It’s difficult to engage the 3rd and impossible to engage the 4th gear.

We cross Zinzingbar and reach the base before the climb to Baralacha. There are about 4 to 5 tents here. The Zingzingbar equivalent of bed and breakfast joints here. Large circular tents which serve as dhabas in the day and sleeping quarters at night for the 6 months that the Manali-Leh road is open. The Nepalese folks who run these are hardy and enterprising.

There’s quite a few cars and bikes parked here. Baralacha top has been snowed over for the last 30 hours or so and no one has made it through from the other side yet. Everyone here is waiting patiently, either spending time snapping pictures or getting a bite to eat. Business is brisk for the tent-wallahs.

After much waiting, some cars and vans start coming through around early evening. Everyone is eager for the news and we hail the drivers to stop and give us some information. While some drivers are obliging, many seem to be making out of here like bats outta hell. This is an indication of what things are like up there. One driver assures us that it’s all fine and dandy now and we can head up. Another, doesn’t stop and merely slows down to tell us, we can go up there to die if we want to. This is all very confusing. And kind of, well….uncomfortable.

Finally, we see two enfield bullet riders heading down. Perfect. Bikers, like us, who can give us the down low we need, so we flag them down. No good news here. These guys look like they’ve been to hell and back; bewilderment that you can see, and fatigue that you can almost smell. They were stranded up there, in the snow, for pretty much the whole night. “Don’t ask…only we know how we got through that”, is all they say and take off.

Here, we were faced with the same dilemma. To carry on, or stay. That’s when three South African tourists, also on Enfields decided, they would make a break for it. They had made two aborted attempts already and were keen to get going. After some debate, we decide to follow them. The climb starts.

While we had been waiting for the road to clear up, the weather seemed to have been holding up and was clear. As we started ascending, the snow starts to fall. And not just a nice Christmas eve sort of snow fall, with flakes caressing the tips of your nose and cheeks. More of a raging blizzard determined to kick our asses. So far, the only good news is, the road seems to be much better than Rohtang La. It’s a winding little black top number.

But the going is not getting any easier. Visibility is at an all time low, helmet visor up or down. I can’t feel my nose anymore and have icicles in my beard. Literally. This is getting hairier and hairier. After about 8 kms, I can see the South Africans heading back, faster than when they were heading up. At times like this, in a group, someone has to finally bite the bullet and take a decision for everyone. Nitin is riding lead and thankfully, he decides to turn back as well, right behind the firangs. Heigh ho, then! Back down we go.

Darius had seemed keen to press on. But by now we had established that enthusiasm had to be curbed a bit in these parts. The Border Roads Organization had put up signs all through urging us all “Not to be a Gama, in the Land of the Lama”. Gama, presumably, refers to ‘The Great Gama’, a Punjabi wrestler who gained fame in the early 1900s. Being a tough guy, a ‘Gama’ didn’t do much for you, except get you killed or at least very seriously injured. And hence, Darius or The Darius had proved himself as a bit of a Gama, and keeping the faith any longer at this point was, well, suicidal.

We reach the base again, park the bikes, un-lash the baggage and rush into the tent, that we’d patronized all day. Possibly the quickest time we’ve done so far, going downhill. Nitin dashes inside the tent, and the first thing he does is to grab a cooker on a kerosene stove, with both hands. “Can’t feel my fingers”, he says. Well, at least he can grab the cooker. My nose seems ready to fall off and I can’t stick it anywhere warm. Well, not in this joint anyway.

Our friends from South Africa are James, about forty, Derek/Derrick and his girlfriend Nikki, both in their twenties. They’re a nice sort. James seems to be a patient sort, who would rather get on with the journey but understands that there will be delays. Derek and Nikki, on the other hand, are young and simply excited about travelling together. The whole thing’s an adventure, which it should be. That probably helps the three of us also to relax, knowing that we’re now two days behind schedule.

It continues to snow as it gets colder and darker. Chitin, the kindly, energetic young lady running this establishment, keeps us supplied with enough chai and food to get us through the evening. James and gang are interesting conversationalists and Darius pulls out the remaining rum from yesterday. Before long, the evening starts looking pretty good, actually. This wasn't an evening at the pub. This was better. Sure, some music would've helped (which, in all fairness, thanks to Nikki we had), but we were here. On our bikes, doing a really tough gig here.

We’d already booked the sort of, well, annexe to the main tent, where Chitin has mattresses and quilts for travelers like us. Yes, we were keen to reach Leh…but at least the journey hadn’t been an uneventful blip so far.