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Motorcycle Pilgrimage I

Overland from Mumbai to Leh : Part I of the cross country solo road trip from Mumbai to Leh and back that I went on in August 2018

As I prepare my bags for the mammoth solo ride from Mumbai to Leh, I think about the good stuff that might happen on the ride but then my mind stops mid way and I think about stuff that could go wrong, stuff that might happen on the way there, stuff that I might forget to take along with me. I push off those thoughts and continue with packing my bags. No plans, I remind myself, just pack my bags, pick the route and leave home. From within, I still had a slight fear of going solo for this ride. I had done Karnataka solo road trip the previous year, which was far easier than this. I had this fear inside. This fear transforms into excitement for sure. Fear of the unknown. Expecting the unexpected, is what drives me. I had to sleep early that night, as I knew I had a long ride the next day. All I prayed was that there would be no problems in the motorcycle and no rains. But then, where is the fun to ride if there are no rains. I started at 5 in the morning, one hour later than what I had planned. I came out of the building entrance, it was warm, humid and still dark, but it did feel it was going to rain soon, and heavy. I quickly started packing my saddle bags, and one duffel bag, which had my camera bag and a jerrycan, graciously fumbling with the elastic tie ropes, as this was the first time when I was carrying so much luggage, as it was a long trip and I had to carry more stuff. It was a bit pain in the ass to tie all this luggage around a plastic rain cover that I had bought the day before, a bright orange coloured plastic sheet of 6x9 ft, I had thought it will act like a reflector owing to its colour. It did catch every one’s eye on the way, I can surely say. Finally, tying everything firmly on the rear end of the motorcycle, albeit shabbily, I said a small prayer and took off. I got the petrol tank full, and hit the tarmac. 800 kilometres was the day’s target, to reach Udaipur, with a quick pit-stop at Baroda to meet Shreya. It started on a good note. The wind being normal, weather being good, moist air hitting my face whilst the helmet visor open. All I thought in that moment was to leave this area as soon as possible, to avoid rains. But how can that be done, with all this traffic, comprising mostly of trucks, at 5.30 in the morning! And then came the rains. Drizzling still, made the road wet and also formed shallow puddles on the road. This is the rain I don’t like, it wont make you completely wet, but will tease you and what affects you more, as a biker, is when the trucks overtake you, they spray you with the same mud water all over you and your motorcycle. Mud spray, I call it.

This decreases visibility due to helmet visor being sprayed on, makes you rethink your decision to ride your motorcycle in such conditions. But then you think again about your ultimate goal, and stop giving importance to such petty things. Swipe the visor, continue to ride, repeat. Its all part of the ride, I tell myself. I go on. It clears up after sometime, good enough to take a small break for chai and breakfast. Somewhere after crossing Virar, it was already two hours since I left home. I started riding again, the rains wouldn’t stop and followed me for a better part of the early morning. The roads are well developed, with some bad patches on the way as usual, but good for the better part. Soon, I crossed the Maharashtra-Gujarat border, and the weather had started to clear up. With the road still wet and the mud spray still continuing relentlessly, both my shoes were drenched completely, but I was starting to dry up. Finally came the sun, shining in all it’s bright glory. I prayed for it to stay sunny from now. But then the clouds played mischief and wouldn’t want to make it that easy for me. I ignored and continued to ride along. With small breaks in between for chai and keeping a good speed of 80–90 kmph, I was keeping up with good time. Soon I crossed into Surat, and took a break for some food. I had dried up by now, except for my shoes, which were still wet. I resumed riding again, and thankfully, the sun was harsh enough to dry me up. Riding uneventfully till Baroda, I met her for a coffee and left quickly, as this was just halfway done. I was still running on time to reach Udaipur, I thought, not so late at night. Riding on, with the weather and motorcycle giving me no such hard time, I crossed the Gujarat-Rajasthan border and soon I saw these beer shops which confirmed that I did cross Gujarat. It was dusk by then and I still had around 150 kilometers to reach the destination of the day. Good roads but dim headlight of my motorcycle, which was due to the mud spray that I realised the next day morning when I was cleaning up before starting for the day, I was still able to maintain a constant speed of 80kmph in order to make it to Udaipur. Finally I reached the city and turned on the GPS on the phone to take me to Zostel where I had the booking for the night. Once you go near to Lake Pichola the streets start becoming narrower and then a rush of locals, tourists, cars and motorcycles, and cows of course, coming from all directions in addition to the heat and sweat that is increased due to all the safety gear that I wear on my rides. I could feel a single bead of sweat rolling down the back side of my head and neck and then being soaked up by the bandana that I had tied to cover the lower part of my face. I did manage to reach Zostel amidst all this hustle, checked in, carried all the luggage up to the dorm, freshened up and went for dinner. Eight hundred kilometres and fourteen hours of riding later, I did not even remember when my eyes shut.

The next day, I didn’t have to ride hard as my first, it was just till Jaipur. Being a quite sunny day, I felt like starting around 10 in the morning after having some good chai and breakfast with a view of Lake Pichola from the rooftop cafe of Zostel.

I checked for the tyre pressure, manually, and the motorcycle for anything wrong that I could understand, lubed the chain and the shockers, tied the luggage, didn’t fumble now though, had found a pretty good way to tie it firmly en-route here the last day and was ready to leave. I knew I could make it to Jaipur by evening and had to stay at my friend’s place and meet other friends as well. That’s one of the best things of a road trip, that you can stop anywhere and meet people on the way. Travel for me is an important part of my trips. Just taking a flight or a train and reaching the destination and being there seems a bit odd for me, I don’t feel like I have traveled at all. A bit of struggle gives you the happiness and a sense of achievement when you finally reach your goal. A bit away from Udaipur, with the road and my motorcycle still being nice to me, but the weather decided to be bad and rained all of a sudden without any prior alarms. Luckily I could find a shed and took shelter with my motorcycle left out to take a bath from her previous day’s endeavors of becoming muddy. As refreshing as it was, the air now a bit cooler than before, I started again. The roads in Rajasthan are good and well maintained is all I can say after riding on the highways or state highways and in-roads. I stopped to have lunch at some nondescript dhaba. I started again, towards Jaipur, where I was to meet Sahil and stay at his house. Listening to my favourite tracks, cruising along the highway, not caring about anything in the world, I thought this is the life I yearned for. That’s another reason why road trips are fun and interesting. You take a moment at a time and not just reach destination quickly and get done with it. Travelling is never about “getting done” with the destination. I reached Jaipur and as if the clouds had colluded against me to come together and greet me with a welcome shower, I was drenched before I could even find a spot for shelter. All within 5 minutes and done, I reached his place all drenched. With him being amused looking at me all drenched and muddy trying to take off the ropes and luggage, he asked why would I even do such things? Why don’t I take it easy and take a flight or train and go to wherever I want to? I just smiled. We met Priyanka and Jeet later that night and ended up going to Nahargarh fort, which is absolutely quiet and kind of eerie at night but has a brilliant view of Jaipur from up top. We left soon enough as I had to leave early the next day and he had to go to office.

Day three was Jaipur to Amritsar, more of the plain boring highways, fortunately with no rains. It was uneventful mostly, with me just meeting some other random biker on his Benelli on his way to Delhi from Pune. A little chit chat along with chai at a small roadside tea stall, he recalled his trip to Ladakh he had been on, 6 years back. Asking me if I had sufficient things in case of an emergency and all I could do was reply in the negative. I thought the luggage that I had carried was too much, he on the other hand was a bit skeptical.

“Thats all you are carrying for three weeks solo ride?”

“Umm, yeah, I like to travel light”.

“Well then, good luck for your trip”

“Thanks, ride safe”

“You too”

We left our ways, with him out of sight in a jiffy, speeding on his Benelli, and me gradually increasing to 80–90 kmph with so much effort. With the bland, boring highways still continuing, but some music helping me to kill the boredom, I crossed through Churu which actually felt like Rajasthan that is shown in the pictures and movies and whatnot, with the desert and dunes on both sides of the road. I got some good pictures and left from the place.

I crossed into Haryana eventually and the landscaped changed all of a sudden. From the brown and ochre coloured desert sands on both sides of the road to lush green farms skirting along the side of the road, I don’t remember if that was a state or a national highway, but I was pretty excited to ride along, pleasing my eyes with the cool blue and green combination being offered in the otherwise heated climate. Following on, I crossed over to Punjab, by the time it was dusk. But the roads were good, so that didn’t slow me down and I kept going on with a small break for chai in Bathinda and continuing thereafter. Amritsar welcomed me with a grand Golden temple-esque entry gate.

I entered Amritsar, little did I know about the traffic of the city and they way they drive, it was tough to navigate with the luggage bearing motorcycle and looking at the map for navigation simultaneously. Although I managed to reach Jugaadu’s Hostel, for which I had made a booking en-route here.

A nice cozy hostel, and situated 10 minutes walking from Golden Temple, it was a nice option to stay for the night. I freshened up and went to the Golden Temple and what a sight it was. I was enthralled. Chaos and peace existed in concert with each other in that place. There are at least a million people inside and yet you can sit in one place and be at peace. The place has a different vibe to it altogether. I found an empty place on the stairs leading to the man-made lake and sat there looking at the temple building shining in all its glory, with the light beaming off its golden dome in all directions. There were so many people, tourists, travelers, religious people and the like. Just silently observing the chaos going on around me, I felt like sitting there all night long. But then owing to the rumbling in the stomach and thinking of the ride ahead, I decided it was time to move on and have some food at the langar. With the stomach filled and grateful for the food, I retired for the night.

After three days of riding the insipid highways, I was finally excited to go up the mountains. Patnitop was the destination for the day. I left Amritsar after breakfast and Google maps took me via a detour towards my destination, away from the highway, through the rough roads, close to Pathankot. The road was narrow, not maintained, army presence at every little distance, with army trucks and goods carriers taking up most of the road space. It was quiet a long time I was riding, and thought I should take a small break, found a small dhaba by the road side. I laid down on the charpai after removing my jacket, helmet and gloves and the owner came over with a pillow asking me if there was something more I needed. I ordered from paratha and chai. That was one of the best parathas I have had till now. It was a good decision to stop over before moving on I thought. We got into a little conversation after he saw the Maharashtra plates on my motorcycle, asking me where I was coming from and where I was going and giving me tips about riding in Jammu and Kashmir and how to avoid trouble. Grateful for his hospitality, I moved on. Still riding along the village road, I crossed into Jammu and Kashmir without even having any knowledge about it until I saw a board claiming it at some small random bridge across a river stream and the Himalayan mountains staring down on me. I stopped, to take in the view, the might, the grandeur of the mountains. Excited like a small child on seeing a new toy, I was so happy to have reached here. I was still on time, but had quite a distance to cover until Patnitop, with realising that my speed will gradually decrease owing to the mountain ghats and the twisties but now I was finally thrilled to ride. It was hard to concentrate on the winding road ahead with such riveting views all around me. Music was no longer needed to keep me engrossed in the ride, the views were more than enough.

Passing by the trucks and other passenger and tourist vehicles, I made my way gradually to the top just to find the road was all muddy because of the drizzling that had been there just a while back and now it had cleared up, but the road hadn’t. Splashing mud all around and being splashed over, I continued to ride, finally stopping over for some chai at some dhaba. Patnitop was another good two hours away, given the traffic and road conditions.

I finally reached the home stay/hotel I was staying in for the night, for which again I had done the booking en-route here. It was a nice, quaint two storey building overlooking the valley below, but alas a good amount of view was blocked by the other such buildings in the vicinity. The owner/care taker/chef was kind enough to help me with my bags upstairs to my room. A simple room with small balcony would obviously do for the night. After freshening up, I wondered about wandering to the actual Patnitop hill station. Almost touristy, with families et al, I decided to head back to the cozy room of mine, sit in the balcony and read a book instead.

I would be seeing better views ahead, I told myself and turned back to the hotel. The owner gave me a delicious home cooked food, which was the most I needed at that point, and with the stomach full and eyes droopy, I went to bed.

After four days on the road a lot had changed, the scenery, the food, the people, the weather. I was now riding in the mountains, the Himalayas, mighty as they are. Going up and down the slopes, the twisted roads, savouring every scene of the green slopes of grass covered mounds of rocks, the snake like winding river that flows between almost every two such slopes, and the stark blue sky above.

I confess that it is a bit hard to ride in the mountains owing to such pleasure to the eyes for the views they have been offered, especially to someone who lives in a city by the sea. I stopped every now and then to take in the view, take some photos, keeping in mind the time to reach Srinagar by late afternoon. It wasn’t too far, just around 4–5 hours of riding, so I was at ease. After riding some distance, I met up with a long serpentine line of tourist vehicles, waiting for something. Ignoring the line, I went up ahead only to be stopped by a bunch of army officers who started asking questions as to where I am coming from and where I am going to. After some discussion with other officers on his radio comm, he allowed me through. Now I was riding all alone, not a vehicle in sight, all I could see was army officers and soldiers standing alert with guns, by the side of the road, in order to avert any kind of mishap. And soon I caught up with an army convoy escorting some other tourist vehicles en-route Srinagar or some other place, I am not sure. But it was a different experience, riding along with the olive greens. The officer in the end of line jeep, who was standing in the vehicle with the gun mounted asked me where and why I was going. He then let me through to reach the starting vehicle, riding at no more than 30–40 kmph. Then, the area was passed and I took a right turn onto NH1, parted ways with the convoy. NH1, as well maintained as it is, there is no stopping on it, with army personnel standing guard at every kilometer, on the outlook for intruders. I halted for a couple of seconds, to rest my ass and to take in the view that NH1 had to offer, of lush green fields by the side and mountains on the far end, and there came the whistle. I looked around to see this soldier whistling at me and telling me to buzz off, no stopping at all ! Riding at a steady 80kmph, with the occasional glance sideways over the fields to the mountains, I reached the famed city of Srinagar. Finally took a halt to open the map in my phone and check how I had to go further to the houseboat I had booked for the night stay, at Dal lake. A short ride later, navigating through the city traffic listening to the instructions the lady over at Google maps has to offer, I reached Dal lake. I wasn’t very much impressed by what I saw at the beginning, it was like a usual lake or a pond. Then I rode further and saw the sight I have seen in the photographs earlier, the alluring one. Against the backdrop of the Himalayas, the water of the lake stood still, creating a mirror for the mountains to see how pretty they look in their own reflection. A few ripples here and there created by the passing by boats and shikaras, some filled with tourists, some with locals selling stuff to the tourists, and then a barrage of houseboats lined up on the other end of the lake. It was hard to find where I was supposed to put up. I asked around and got to know the exact place where I had to go. Found a place for parking my motorcycle on the other side of the road, in the parking area of another hotel, took my luggage and walked over to the bank of Dal lake to take a shikara that would take me to the other side.

An old man, almost in his late fifties, I guessed, welcomed me aboard his houseboat, with an orange juice. It was getting quite warm now, and the juice was really helpful. He showed me to my room inside the houseboat. I guess I was the only one staying there that time, as this was not the tourist time, so it was easy to get a place even at booking at the last moment and at a cheap price. The houseboat was beautified with intricately carved woodwork in the porch area and the first room inside. After that was it was like a normal house, made of wood, but it was well maintained and neat and clean. The room was spacious with a queen sized bed. The wooden floor creaked every time I took a step, making me think it will break and I will surely fall in the water below. But the owner was chilled out about any such thing whatsoever. “Nothing’s gonna happen, relax”, he said. He asked if I will have dinner and breakfast the next day here itself, I said that would be a better idea than going to a restaurant to eat. I would surely like me some home cooked food. I freshened up, and came back on the mainland, and wandered around to look for motorcycle accessory shops. Tying the luggage on the motorcycle and maintaining it was a hassle, even on the straight highways, it would surely be a bad idea in the mountains and the off road. I was looking for a carrier to attach on the back of my motorcycle so that I could keep my luggage properly and keep it from falling off. Owing to the day being Sunday, many shops were closed, but luckily found a couple of them open and got the carrier and found someone to attach it on the motorcycle. By the time I left the place, it was nearing sundown. I did not want to miss that part stuck in the traffic. I came back as soon as possible, parked my motorcycle back where it was done before, walked towards the lake, and sat on the boundary wall, with the temperature having been decreased to one that can be called pleasant, and with a gentle breeze blowing, I gazed into the sun that was slowly going home for the day, creating a field of blue and orange in the erstwhile blue, lined with white puffs, and making some great silhouettes of the mountains and the houseboats and everything else that was in the way of the rays. I sat there thinking about how I was at home just four days back, in the Mumbai heat and humidity, and how I was now here, in front of the splendid lake. Although filled with noise by the tourists who were now busy taking selfies and chit chatting loudly, I tried to negate all that and focus on the sun instead. Nonchalantly, the sun went down, and the lights from the houseboats came up, and the Dal lake looked prettier than before. A mirror like effect on the calm waters of the lake was now of the lights of the boats, the mountains were nowhere to be seen.

“Agar firdaus bar roo-e zameen ast,
Hameen ast-o hameen ast-o hameen ast”

I sat for some more, and then decided to go back to my place for the night, where the owner had prepared my dinner and was sitting out on the porch, all by himself, smoking his cigarette, enjoying his usual scene, waving to the people in the shikaras passing by, talking to them in Kashmiri, something I could obviously not understand. After a scrumptious meal and conversations about Srinagar and Kashmir in general with him, I sat for some time on the porch reading a book, listening to the occasional paddle sound created by the passing by boats on the water.

The following morning, he gave me a decent breakfast and chai after which I said my good bye and went over to my motorcycle and got ready for the long road ahead to Kargil. Riding alongside Dal lake on the road winding up next to it, in the morning, with the sun just about coming up from behind the mountains, breaking into the cool weather with its warm rays, it gave me better and the final views of the lake as I left the city traffic behind, I started climbing the slopes, with the scenery gradually changing, less houses, more nature. Less vehicles, more mountains. The road, as good as it was, slithering through the mountains of Kashmir, taking me up to Sonamarg. Welcome to Sonamarg, said the big green coloured gate just before the bridge that would take me to the other side of the river that flowed beneath it, separating the two landmasses.

Sonamarg, or the golden path, holds it truly to its name. A small sleepy village on the way to Heaven itself, is really good, especially in winter. I did not stay there, although that would have been better, but I wanted to try the houseboat experience and chose to be in Srinagar. I did stop for the quick break for some chai and locally made biscuits. I continued eastward towards Kargil, leaving behind Sonamarg, eventually going up the zig-zag roads which were still in the process of being made, by the ever toiling workers of BRO.

Dodging some stones here and some boulders there, I made it up the top, which gave me an out of the world view of the Himalayas, from the top, how small the trucks looked, how small Sonamarg was, how small everything is as compared to these elevated beings. I took off my helmet and sat there for a while, listening to the sound of silence, only to be broken by the incoming truck and its loud exhaust. I came back to reality and started riding again. It was just me then, riding by myself. Steadily, I reached Zojila, with another green coloured metal post put up declaring the same, welcoming me at 11649 feet above sea level. I was now officially in Ladakh region. The photos that I had seen earlier of the infamous Zojila were nothing as compared to what I was witnessing now. May be because it was dry, for which I was grateful. It would have been a totally different scene, had it been raining.

A small break for a quick photo and chai later I continued to be stuck in the traffic in the mountains. Not vehicles, but sheep. I stopped, let them pass through. They went by me, inspecting me and my motorcycle, in their own ways, trying to smell some food on it, or just inspecting it, who would ever know. It was a small break for me from riding for sure.

I continued on further. The roads were just exceptional and so was the decor of the mountains. With Pink Flyod’s Coming back to life playing in my ears, it was just prodigious to ride here, twisting and turning on the roads that wound up the mountains, hugging them to the sides, even at 80kmph, there was no need to slow down on the turnings. Some neat foot-peg scrapping that was for sure. With the exquisite brown, naked mountains for company, I tread on and crossed Drass and reached the Kargil war memorial, where I saw a big group of bikers with their backup van, some other tourists getting out of their cars, readying their cameras and going inside the memorial. I entered the big black gate with a red roof and a pink wall by the side saying “All gave some, some gave all, gone but never forgotten” and straight ahead the road the tricolour was fluttering majestically in the mountain wind, although has half mast now. To the left side of the road was the grandiose IAF fighter plane displayed and to the right the Howitzer, used by the Indian army in the ’99 war. I just stood there, in awe of the tricolour, taking in the brown rugged landscape surrounding the memorial and the flag standing tall for all to witness its grandeur. I left the place after walking around some more, wandering into the museum by the side, looking at the rich history that was showcased in there.

Next stop was Kargil, where again I had found a place to stay, nothing fancy about it though. A small town on the banks of the Shyok river, with a predominantly Muslim population, the prayer calls from the mosque welcomed me into the town. I found myself stuck in a barrage of vehicles and humans, owing to its narrow streets, but it was good once in a while to see so many people together after riding alone all day long. Slowly but steadily I rode on and reached the hotel I was staying for the night. I had some maintenance to do for my motorcycle, after all the distance she had help me cover without even an ounce of complain. I had to pamper her in some way, before she would get mad and start throwing tantrums in the middle of nowhere. I went around town looking for a garage where I could change her oil for some smooth running of her heart. Out came the black gold when the cover was opened, it just felt like it was crude oil coming out from earth, all black and sluggish.

Renewed the engine with some fresh oil from the can and roared the engine back to life. I knew she was happy by the way she sounded now. After that, I took her for a quick shower, becoming all muddy and dirty from being on the road for the last seven days. I found a really cool place for the wash, just next to the river, out in the open.

Something that you wouldn’t see in a city, obviously. The sun rays coming from behind, were making quite a rainbow in the water that was being sprayed over her. After taking care of her, I put her to rest for the day in the parking area of the hotel, and wandered off on foot, exploring the main road in the town, watching people move on with their not-so-busy lives in this sleepy little town. The sunset created even more magical scene with a pinkish hue in the sky, engulfing the whole town in its aura, and cool breeze blowing by. I stayed for some more time outside, till it got dark enough to return to the hotel for dinner.

The final leg for reaching Leh was today. Finally, my perseverance, my grit was going to pay off, I thought. Kargil to Leh, with the breathtakingly stunning roads and the views along with it, was going to be a phenomenal ride, I told myself, as I was packing my luggage onto my motorcycle. As beautiful as she would get, after the pampering she got the previous day, she was ready to roar. I left Kargil, with the morning already bright enough, and the weather pleasant. A short uphill climb took me to the final petrol pump before Leh where I filled her up and left. I was riding easy, taking in the views, one kilometre at a time. As I went uphill more and more, the air started to become colder and I was wearing nothing but my riding jacket that is made of mesh and doesn’t provide any protection against wind and cold if not worn along with the inner liner. As lazy as I could get, I ignored the cold and rode ahead, as to who would stop and take out several layers of warm clothing. Riding ahead I saw a bunch of bikers along with their backup van, a couple of cars by the side of the road, at the highest point on the Srinagar — Leh highway, the Fotu La Pass. After taking a couple of photos, I left the place as it was too windy and I was feeling cold in my mesh jacket. The road was downhill from now, and the cold disappearing gradually with the decreasing altitude.

With an almost similar landscape all the way to keep me company and some fine tunes being played in the ear, I rode further on to reach Lamayuru, across the “moonland” which is called it due to its landscape resemblance with the moon surface. I quickly went around the monastery and made my way out as there was this biker group I had seen enroute, which had now made its way here and were swarming the whole place. I was about to leave the place after having a cup of chai and make my way towards Leh, when I met this another solo biker from Bangalore, Vignesh. We chatted a bit and said we might meet up in Leh later on. I carried on, kilometre after kilometre, passing one brown mountain after the next, with minimum amount of human existence in sight. If not utopia, then what is it ?

What if my motorcycle breaks down here ? I tried to put the thought off, concentrating on the road ahead. That’s how the mind plays it’s sick games, I guess, like it derives some sadistic pleasure out of this or is it just human nature to think about the negative things first. Not giving it much thought, I carried on. Music had ceased to play, as I had broken my earphones while at Lamayuru, as the wire got stuck in between the handlebar and me and got pulled more than it’s tensile strength. I was just listening to the engine roar, muffled further by my full faced helmet and the wind that was seeping in through the small gaps that were now prevalent on my 4 year, thirty thousand something kilometre old helmet. I told myself it was time for me to upgrade after I go back home from this trip. Keeping my thoughts away and trying to make my mind concentrate on the road, I saw myself reach a vast empty land. The mountains were far away, a single smooth wide, long stretch of road existed, going to the far end, until I my eyes could travel. I stopped, took off my helmet and my arafat scarf and took in the view.

I turned off the motorcycle and the only sound that I heard was of the winds passing by. A lone army truck passed by creating a some noise and black smoke out of its exhaust pipe. I was again alone there. In a random place, nothing to be seen anywhere, nobody along, just barren mountains and barren land, and a road that runs through it, a barren landscape. The sky changed a bit with some dark clouds now engulfing the region and I took it as my signal to move on further. I did not want to get drenched. I was in no mood for another welcome shower. After riding some more, I saw a small room kind of a structure by the side of the road and some people around it. I ignored and went ahead where I saw the board saying “Magnetic Hill”. I stopped, should I go back I thought. Na, not interested. I moved on. I reached Gurudwara Sri Pathhar Sahib.

A lot of army trucks were parked there, with soldiers covering most of the area and some bikers of course. I halted, took a photo, offered my prayers and moved on. It felt like was going to rain, with the sky overcast now. I thought it would be better if I move forward and reach Leh. I kept going, on the road that led to the famed town of Leh. As I was nearing the gate that welcomed me to the town, I heard the distinct notes of the after market exhaust for Royal Enfields. I thought it was some biker group, but I saw in the right rear view mirror, which was still intact, as the left one had loosened up and was not staying upright for me to see in it. I saw a lone rider coming up from behind and when he did reach next to me I saw it was Vignesh. Acknowledging each other with a slight nod, the both of us rode together and entered Leh. I looked up the way to Zostel on Google maps on my phone and Vignesh followed me. I had my booking already done enroute here and he was lucky enough to find a bed there for the next two days. We unloaded our motorcycles, freshened up, went up to the rooftop cafe, met some other people, had some refreshing chai and I went ahead to look at the sun going down behind mountains right in front of me, colouring the sky with vividly.

Leh, you beauty, you enigma. The country roads finally brought me home, I guess.

(to be contd.)

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