Keylong, Himachal Pradesh, India
Day 3: Keylong towards Leh
Part of the Ladakh 2017 Trip series
2017-09-08, 17:19, JASON
BUDGET, STAY: Tsetan Guest House
2017-09-08, 17:19, JASON
BUDGET, STAY: Tsetan Guest House
The roads seem endless. We start at 03:30. We wake up, they give us a small, dry breakfast. Nothing that will be too puke-inducing. And then, we're off. In the Himalayas, the darkness of night is interrupted only by headlights. Everyone gets on the bus and immediately sleeps.
We wake up. Stop. This happens a few times on the journey. The first time we wake up, dawn has broken and it's light out. A thin layer of fog is settling across the mountain, and it's chilly given the altitude. I'm in awe of the vastness.
Pitstop, drive, pitstop, drive.
But, by the end, it feels like ages. Each getting on and off of the bus gets more difficult as the high altitude sickness sets in. The girl in front of me pulls open the window and pukes out the window several times. Her overbearing boyfriend keeps telling her to switch with someone at the front but she refuses to move -- incapacitated. He's insistent, but she is also insistent. For god's sake, I think, leave her alone, she just puked. He was also from Mumbai. The Border Roads Organization (BRO) -- the company responsible for maintaining and developing roads in this region -- have signs posted along the way that serve as small forms of amusement. They're usually regarding drunk-driving, or driving slowly as the mountain roads are dangerous. Meanwhile, the people in the bus get progressively sicker: "One must drive on horsepower, not on rum."
There are people who feel like their heads are about to explode due to the altitude. The girl in front of me keeps throwing up.
"Please be gentle with my curves." -- this one's a particularly funny one.
The boyfriend continues to nag her occasionally when she has a 'movement' but she is clearly too incapacitated to move. The guy sitting next to the naggy boyfriend has probably had a headcold for over half of the trip. I put on my face mask.
"Darling, I like you, but not so fast!" -- more humor from the BRO.
We reach the highest point in our journey: about 5,000 meters above sea level. By this time, I'm starting to feel the effects of high altitude. Not shallow breathing, but the headaches. My head pounds.
"Don't worry, be happy." -- The BRO is just mocking us now.
By the time we get to the Indus Valley, we are about 30 kilometers from Leh. There's a sigh of relief as the highest altitude of the trip is over and there seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel. A very physical 'light at the end of the tunnel', in fact. The light is scattered perfectly over the valley, green with brush, contrasted against the stark dryness of the surrounding mountains. There is civilization here, as well. It's a small enclave within the valley of the Himalayas. There are Tibetan-looking folks as well as Indian-looking folks within the city. Signs of Tibetan culture appear, notably the "prayer wheel" that people spin and then circle around. The clothing's a bit different up here, too.
The girl gets off the bus and continues to vomit -- poor thing, by now there's nothing more to see. And, since we're at the main entry point for Leh, as a foreigner, we have to register with the police. I go up with my passport and log in the information. It's a physical manifestation that we're near our destination. The destination is near.
"Every mountain's a pleasure if you drive with ease."
Between the Indus Valley stopover and Leh, we see military presence, and a lot of it. There are military training camps that are spread for about 10 km following the stopver in the Indus Valley en route to Leh. It's a strange site, to see so much military in a place that seems physically sheltered from any military threat (especially from China). Surrounding the valley are tall mountains that seem to span for miles and be endless. It took us nearly 16 hours on this bus just to traverse a distance of about 200 km since we were winding through the mountain roads. But, nevertheless, this place is militarized. Ladakh isn't a particularly vulnerable place, but it does share a border with China, with which, at recent of writing, diplomatic relations are not that good with. And so, we get to drive by on a big Himachal Pradesh Tourism Board bus, and peer out the window to see all the military that is training. Training for what, I don't know, but they're training for something.
By the time we actually reach Leh, everyone is relieved. It's about 19:00. We departed at 04:00. In the bus terminal, everyone says their goodbyes while also arranging their rides to their accommodations. We say goodbye to the friends we've made along the way: The lovely Tamil boys that we shared a hotel room with, and the drugged out Bombay boys that we shared a bonfire with. Everyone seems to scatter off to their own places. The Koreans end up going to a Korean-owned hostel in Leh (There's such a thing here!).
If there's anything that's worth it, it's having spent three days on a bus and having finally reached your destination. It was worth the journey, just, we probably wouldn't do it again. Leh seems especially beautiful considering what we'd just been through. There's a small town quietness to it even though it's bustling with car horns like any other Indian city. Thorin and I navigate our way to the hostl by asking if people know where the street is, and the locals have surprisingly great English comprehension, and they eventually guide us in the right direction. Sometimes, not having a map is a blessing, it forces you to talk to other people, and this is one of the joys of traveling -- being able to hear others, and to see others, and to share a brief moment of contact.
Our hostel is located in the further end of Leh, far away from the bus stop; far away from the hubbub. A small river runs by the connecting road to the city and you can hear the distant flow from our room. We rest our head in a bit of a relief.
"Smile please."
