Getting Leh-ed: The longest day - Mandi to Keylong Part 3

Our spirits bolstered by the meal and the dhaba owner’s affirmation that the rest of the road till Keylong is fine and dandy, we head off. Sure enough, the road is wide and metalled. For about 5 kilometers. And then, it disappears like a mysterious rash. It’s back to bumpyville and as if on cue, it starts to rain. Hard. And cold. The going is very slow and we are still not near Keylong. Distance takes on a new meaning on the untamed Himalayan roads and the words of the Antrak official at Manali come back to haunt me. It seems like that was ages ago. We could have been kicking back with a whiskey and chilly chicken at the guest house in Manali right now.

So much for avoiding riding in the dark just a day ago. I feel like a city slicker up shit creek without a paddle. It feels like I am going to do something stupid and really hurt myself out here in the middle of nowhere. Nitin had neglected to put on his rain pants so is wet and cold. As I pull up to him, he tells me he’s in his private world of misery right now. Doesn’t help my spirits and I feel like a damp sock right now.

We chug along and the ride is unending as is the rain and the bumpy road. There are points where we have to stop to figure out what part of the roughly hewn mountainside is road and what will lead us to what would most definitely be a rather unpleasant dip in the stream below. The gravely dirt track is making me sick and impatient.

Mid night and we’re finally getting almost at Keylong. We cross the Tandi bridge. Tandi is 8 kms short of Keylong, situated at the confluence of Chandra & Bhaga Rivers. Who, as per legend, (http://himachaltourism.gov.in/post/Tandi.aspx) were lovers and after a fairly loopy, insane story, much like road trips in this area, had their happy-ending celestial marriage right here. No such happy endings for us yet. Well, not for me in any case. Somewhere along the way, my reflexes finally buckle as the front tyre hits a stone on the stupid road. The jerk makes my thick gloved right hand twist the accelerator grip as I try to pull on the brakes.

Like it is always the case in such circumstances, it all happened very fast and yet it seemed like so much happened in that instant. Dhanno, almost out of rage at the punishment meted out so far on this road, roars out of control and goes careening on to what could be described as the berm. A rightward careening would have meant me plunging into eternal union with Chandra and Bhaga, disrupting their love life with an unwelcome ménage; the unhappy, bummed out third vertex in a love triangle.

Nitin, riding behind me sees all this happen and the stunned look on his face is pretty apparent when he comes to help me. Darius, riding ahead hasn’t heard or seen this commotion because of the helmet, the sound of the rain and the Enfield engine.

The adrenaline helps me to hoist the fully laden bike to an upright position, but I’m pretty shaken up. A fall like that is never pretty. I am unhurt, but all is not well. The electricals seem messed up. The CB points for sure. You can count on these bitches to abandon you at moments like this. The impact has also pulled some wires and even though I get the bike started, I know it’s not gonna last.

Nitin slowly leads the way since I am running blind now. Some distance later, the bike dies. Nitin cannot hear this and goes on. I’m left behind. I shout and wail but the sound doesn’t carry. It’s still raining.

Now I know that rationally, Nitin would go some distance and realize I am not behind him and turn back. But a there are multiple emotions running through my head and I feel them even now, as I type this, exactly a year later. And by exact, I mean, almost to the minute, today. Everything I had been afraid of, before this trip, had happened today. Was happening. Right now.

I’m wet and tired and upset. There’s no way to tell how badly the bike’s damaged. This could be the end of my much awaited vacation. Before it really started. And, I’m standing in pitch dark, in the rain, in the middle of a remote, desolate place I haven’t even seen in daylight, with no civilization and no hope of seeing a warm bed tonight. The mountains around me are dark and unforgiving. The sky above me is dark and unforgiving. Just bleedin' gorgeous.

I wonder if I was stupid to consider myself a true biker all these years. Maybe, I’ve been a bloody poseur all this while. I know now that I’m no longer meant to do this. That’s it. My biking days are over. I am now worthy only of a daily local commute in a sensible car, working in a mind-numbing job and spending my weekends shopping for groceries. Not cut out for this butch, badass adventure stuff anymore. This is the sad and painful demise of my youth. I look around, with my hands on my sides, unsure of what to do with myself or my bike as I stand in the middle of the road to nowhere. After some debate, I decide, I should maybe, cry for a bit. I definitely friggin’ feel like it.

And then two headlights come bobbing toward me. Nitin and the Darius have come back looking for me. They seem relieved that I haven’t gone into the river yet. I’m relieved that I hadn’t turned on the waterworks yet. And just like that, things start looking a bit better and fall into place. A Tata Sumo cab shows up from somewhere and after 20 minutes of debating on the best way to tow a bike, I realize most websites post crap on the subject. And even though it seemed impossible, we manage to tow my bike. Granted, it’s no walk in the park trying to control a bike that’s being towed, but we did it. The cabbie gets me to the circuit house at Keylong. We were just about 3 kms short of the place when I took my dive. Close but no cigar.

Today, all the planning had gone for a toss and still, despite an unexpected turn of events, we got where we had wanted to. I’d never been happier to see a plain old circuit house building before. Finally, a roof, dry ground, a room heater and a bed. I used to say, on the road you don’t choose your luxuries, you count your blessings. We had been on the road all day. The last 130 kms had taken us 9 hours to cover, half of it in the rain and dark. And man, I felt blessed.

Nitin shakes his head, looks at me and says, “kya bola tha….raat main nahin chalaane ka”.

No shit, Sherlock.