I rise to Pink Floyd. Spiderweb is drenched in high spirits this morning and decided to share his musical extravagance with us. We aren't complaining.
We hope to battle and survive Chang La today. The false bravado accompanying drunken stupor the night before revitalized our broken spirits and convinced us to attempt to violate the serenity of Nubra, an attempt we had chosen not to attempt when Khardung la mercilessly beat us down. The decision would add a few days to our schedule, upset a few employers and business clients and delay our return by a fraction - but it worried none for we resolved to finish what we set out to achieve.
What's left of the Puneris are due to arrive in Leh today from whence they will head to Pune. They will not attempt the route via Baralacha La, which, on the present day, remains closed due to the plenitude of snow and the multitude of avalanches. Instead, they will retrace their steps via Srinagar part of the way, preferring to load their steeds on to rails for the remainder. I hand over a pen drive to Inder, requesting him to make a replica of the Cybershot photographs offloaded on to Aman's netbook in the days prior so we may reclaim some much needed pixellation space. He gives us his word, I beg the Universe to make him keep it. The Universe says nothing. It hasn't in the days since yesterday. If only I could eavesdrop on its utterances to the plenty. I cannot. I remember what it told me:
"All I am, is a figment of your imagination."
Am I to believe that in ridding myself of my past, I have rid myself of my imagination? Am I to believe that in my desperation to regain sanity, I have laid to rest my insanity? The family three break my reverie and remind us that we must head on out.
We leave later than we expect. Then again, why do we expect to be no later? It is a pattern we have followed for many moons; it is a pattern we will follow in the ensuing sunrise and beyond.
We fill our tanks to the brim at the brink of Leh city. There's not a fuel stop for miles we are told. We would be wise to carry additional canisters to be safe, but wisdom gives in to a reckless sense of adventure and we give the canisters a go. Throttling up once more, we begin our journey to Chang La.
The addition of the three has brought sanity into the formation. I notice that the three follow a different ideology. The slowest rides at the head. Since the pathways are linear and fork no more, the lead need not know the pathways, nor protect the remains from oncoming traffic. The three therefore ride at the least common denominator of momentum. Spiderweb, though, is incapable of riding second or later. He will continue riding at the head even though he adopts a comfortable pace for now. Motorbreath moves up the ranks, from being the underdog, from being the one being protected in between a faster two, to being the one that tails the leader. I, I do what I do best, I tail them all.
As is customary, often times I will trail behind to pixellate. RomeoMike will accompany me with an equivalent fervor. In time, we will get it down to an art. Stop steed, dismount steed, pull out camera, get in position, click, put back camera, mount steed, rip, catch up with Drifter and Vishal. Motorbreath and Spiderweb are already showing signs of disengagement for they are usually beyond our view port. We often find them waiting for us to catch up.
"Catch up". Two words that I will hear often, sometimes in humour, sometimes in disdain.
For in jest, Motorbreath will often say:
"Q. What did one tomato say to the other?
A. You go ahead, I'll ketchup."
For in disdain, I often said to myself: "All we ever do is try and catch up. Why can't we just ride together."
Riding the tail of a group has an unusual benefit. There will come a time in the ride of each of those I follow, where they will no longer be able to sustain their momentum. It could be a simple breather, a pee break, a photo opportunity or something more sinister like a complete readjustment of the luggage load to improve steed stability. In passing, they will share stories and concerns. With each story, each concern, I know them one better - a pleasure followed by a guiltily fast catch-up ride.
The three now ride ahead, for Spiderweb, Motorbreath and I have stopped for poses and pictures. The two will be done and resume the ride. I will wait to get a clear shot of my steed with the emptiness of the road ahead.
As I am about to get my desired shot, I see a trail of sand and dust rising through the dunes ahead. A large dune blocks my view of the source. The visual aberration sets off alarms within the local canine community who now growl into the distance. A few more seconds out and the trail ends abruptly in a gigantic flash of sand and smoke. The canines lose their temperament, raise the decibels and rush towards the site. I get my shot, mount onto my steed and ride towards the commotion.
What I find cracks me up good. The trail, it would seem, was one raised by Motorbreath who decided to off-road into the dunes. The gigantic puff was Motorbreath making in-roads into the off-road ie being thrown off his steed and into the wide open arms of the sandy dune. The canines have since calmed their nerves and look equally amused as they circle the spot. Spiderweb though prevents Motorbreath from getting back on track. He want's to pixellate this moment. Motorbreath complies.
With shots taken, we remount our steeds and rev up to catch up with the others. We find them waiting not far from where they left us. LNMB...
We don't get far, for at an army outpost, we are told that a broken bridge on the road ahead prevents us from going further. We aren't alone. There's a multitude of four wheelers awaiting the army's nod to proceed. As far as I can tell, we are the only two wheeler, helmet yielding tribe in the vicinity. We are told it will be a while before we are allowed to proceed. Some say, we may not be given the nod for days to come. And just like that, it would seem, our journey has come to an unceremonious end...
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