Getting Leh-ed: The longest day - Mandi to Keylong Part 1

Woke up feeling like the holiday was upon us and there wasn’t much running away from it. Not that we’d want to. Now ideally, we should have packed and left….we were planning on making up for the premature halt at Mandi so we could cover more ground and hit Keylong by the evening.

Instead, we dawdled…heck this was a holiday, right. So I spent (I’d hate to say wasted) a good part of the morning trying to shave my own head with a safety razor. No reason…just something I did before a long journey once and it seemed fitting to do it again. Well, it secretly made me feel like Richard Peter John friggin’ Fairbrass singing “I’m too sexy”.

Of course, about 40 minutes into the job, it required Nitin’s intervention, because a) I looked nothing like Fairbrass; I now looked like a chubbier Tenali Rama with a strip of hair at the back of my otherwise bald head b) safety razors are a bitch to tonsure yourself with and c) we were getting late and it was silly to waste (yes, waste) any more time.

Well that got done, and I walked out of the guest house, the brilliant sun bouncing of my happy, naked head, only to realize the damned rear tyre on Dhanno was flat, once again. Well, out came the spiffy, new foot pump, once again and I could re-inflate the tyre to acceptable….tumescence. Because it’s nice to say that, instead of plain old ‘firmness’. Obviously I should have changed my tubes before the trip. This is not a puncture, merely an old tube that’s gone brittle and started cracking and leaking air. It’s become a flatulent old bastard, is what it is. It needs to be replaced in Kullu. Pronto, tonto.

Mandi to Kullu and from there to Manali, was a brilliant ride. Nice bright day, but not hot. Smooth, black asphalt on a winding road, and a sparkling, cold river Beas gushing below. And we’re riding light because Lanky is carrying our baggage in the boot of his car. Days like this, are what makes biking what it is. Despite the perils, and occasional discomfort of braving the less forgiving elements astride two wheels, a biker never wants to give it up riding. At this point, I am very happy with myself, my trusty bike, me mates and my bald head.

We get to Kullu and head off to Lanky’s house for lunch. While a definitely stoned mechanic, known to Lanky (but of course) fixes my tube, we gorge on eggs, buttered toast , paranthas, juice and finally sweet chai. Man, I love being on the road and the appetite it gives me. Lanky’s mum is like all our moms. Warm, caring and with a maternal instinct that drives them to feed us to bursting point. Kinda like the petrol station attendants who find ways to fill in another 5 litres even after the auto-cut mechanism of the hose shuts of further dispensation of petrol. But I digress....this meal is going to be the best part of our day.

This is really turning out to be a fine day. I’ve always liked this valley. Ever since I was a kid and came here on almost annual excursions with my family. Coming to Kullu and Manali in the white government ambassador was always a grand holiday. I’ve always associated this valley with happy memories of unbridled fun when life was uncomplicated and the only decisions one had to make involved whether or not to eat another slice of cake.

We vegetate while my tyre and Nitin’s brakes get fixed and The Darius wanders off to click photographs of a rabbit farm. More so because the owner happens to be an attractive single woman, as we find out and definitely because he’s wearing his tight camouflage t-shirt. Oh, and the new SLR slung about his person.

So by the time we get our act together and head off to Manali to collect our passes for the camp at Sarchu, it’s getting late. Manali is crowded as hell. I am beginning to get a feeling that this is not such a bright idea after all, but we must press on. Hell, we’re young and strong and full of beans, aren’t we?

The nice fella handing out the passes for the Sarchu Camp at the Antrak office in Manali advises me against carrying on to Keylong tonight. Says it’s at least 6 to 8 hours even though the distance is a mere 130 kms given the condition of the roads. Not a good idea to cross Rohtang after dark. It seemed like a sensible suggestion. Lanky doesn’t seem comfortable about letting us go. He looks worried so we decide to have quick pow wow. After an intense 3 minute discussion, we kick off. Lanky wishes us luck, and tells us to get going.

It’s already 4:30 pm, the air is starting to get chilly. We start the ascent to Rohtang La.