Section 3: The Journey > Chapter 32: Road to Chang La (part II)

June 10, 2010

Our options lay bare, our glasses half full. For one path to Nubra goes via Khardung La - a path we dare not re-scale. The other lies disconnected from our destination - uncertain in its resolve to re-establish ties. We devour an unending stream of golden omlettes, guzzle coke and tea, discuss options - of which there seem to be none at the present moment. But the hangover of the bravado from the night prior propels us to create alternatives. It would appear that the logical choice is to inject a healthy dose of certainty into our plans and the only certainty we know off now is that Khardung La lies open for scaling. To do so, we must leave swiftly and begin the climb early, for we have already experienced its wrath as the sun sets. We will have to undo our progress for the day and redo that which came close to wiping us out a few days prior. Spiderweb seems ill at ease with the option, but given the lack of choices in our present situation, yields to its demands.

We begin winding up. Drifter heads out for a stroll intending to scour our options one last time. He will return in all of five minutes to the clock, impassively proclaiming that the bridge has been fixed, the road to Chang La lies open. His callous demeanor throws me off; I do not believe him. But as we exit the eatery, we witness vehicles kicking up dust, huddling towards the check post. Drifter's words ring true. Chang La lies open to scaling.

We remount our steeds throttle up and melt into the madness. The first four of our steeds blaze on through. We, RomeoMike and I, are waved down by an jawan who needs to see our permission slips. As RomeoMike begins to slow down, I notice the jawan is distracted by larger vehicles. I gesture "Keep riding". RomeoMike nods. We blaze on through and catch up with the others.

The road glistens, it's alloyed content reflecting sun beams like tiny diamond studs. It's a bizarre sight. I take a closer look at the tar. All I see is my ignorance for I do not understand its contents.

I'm tempted to panic today. For we have been warned of Chang La, purported to be the third highest motorable vehicle pass in the world, Khardung La, being the highest. We've heard tales of its notoriety. We've been assured of spills and then some. The Khardung La chapter has further exacerbated my prophecy of doom. We ride huddled together as a gigantic mass of men and metal. Our fear is palpable. We don't have to ride long before we begin the ascend to Chang La. 

As we begin our ascend, I wait for Chang La's wrath. At every twist, I fear the worst. But the worst never comes. The puddles seem disinterested, the potholes, indifferent, the snow, uninspired, all beautiful and serene.

I notice one other band of boys yielding two wheelers approaching us from the twists below; a medley of Pulsars, lead by a Comet. They gain on us and ride alongside. Spiderweb is notoriously competitive in all matters biking. He will not let them gain on him. I see the throttle levels rise. Motorbreath follows close. It would appear that Vishal's progress has dwindled down to a drizzle. There's little chance of our matching strides with Spiderweb and Motorbreath. Romeo Mike signals me to move on ahead; he will tail he gestures. Relieved of my responsibilities, I throttle up and blend in with Motorbreath and Spiderweb. As throttles run high, we struggle to keep our steeds in balance. In the moments to follow, we put a lot of distance between ourselves and the three, with Comet & Co. close on our heels. Occasionally the Comet will pass us, only to drop back to rejoin its troupe.

And without event, Spiderweb, Motorbreath, I, alongwith Comet & Co arrive at what we presume is our destination. A gate of rock and stone, Lung Ta prayer flags strewn across. We question the absence of boards announcing our arrival at Chang La, but Comet & Co inform us of their belief that no such board exists. We are skeptical of this claim, but take a few photographs just to be safe. With introductions made and cameras reinstated into their protective jackets, we resume our ride. Chang La was easy - and lackluster, I think to myself.

We don't ride long before we realize our folly. A large board announces our arrival into Chang La, the real Chang La - not the "smaller pass we assumed incorrectly to be Chang La" Chang La. The view is stupefying. Tents, bathrooms, signboards, prayer flags, a slew of jawans and tourist vehicles - this place was buzzing with activity. Spiderweb and Motorbreath get down to business, pixellating every nook and crany.

I will spend only moments with them before heading in the direction of the lavatory. The omlettes did not sit well with me. I reek and must relieve myself of the unmentionables. I search wildly for my stock of toilet paper but to no avail. Somewhere, in the twisties of Chang La, a lone stream of toilet paper awaits its destiny. The door marked "Gents" is soldered shut by snow. From the "Ladies" arrives my angel in disguise for she will gladly lend me toilet paper. After much trepidation, I relieve myself. Trepidation for I have forgotten to take off my knee guards. Sitting there, with my jeans pulled half way down, squatting over an Indian style shit pot, my bionic knee guards shoved deep into my chin, I can't help but laugh at the state of affairs.

I exit the lavatory much to the amusement of others waiting in line. It would appear that the Universe still fuc ks with me from time to time,  for as descend into the snow to readjust my knee guards, a micro avalanche behind me pushes snow deep into my posterior crevices. The snow melts on impact and I'm left with a soaking wet underwear. I don't have spares no more. I'll need to get new ones before my hind skin peels off.

I've returned just in time it would seem, for the trailing three have joined us several moments ago and reunited, they prepare to begin the descend. An information board educates us on the do's and dont's on high altitude. One of them suggests No Smoking. RomeoMike and Motorbreath will light up cigarettes just a few feet away from it, read it and laugh their heads off. As they put out their buts and mount their steeds, I run in for a shot of herbal tea provided free of cost to all patrons, courtesy, the Indian Army. I thank them with all my heart and rush out to join the others.

The descend is as uneventful as the ascend. Except for a few scares from a dense doze of mist, we suffer no harm. Motorbreath, Spiderweb and I that is. For as always, the three trail at a significant distance and unknown to us, Romeo Mike hits black ice resulting in his steed losing precious ground. Vishal and Drifter will rush to his rescue and they will continue the journey without any further event. Romeo Mike will escape unhurt; his steed will bruise around the foot peg as it dangles for relevance.

We halt at an army outpost at the foot of Chang La looking for warmth and tea. They do one better, a tent to ourselves and chicken clear soup. I down two bowl fulls. Our host is an army canteen boy in his late 50's. A keen listener, he chimes in with helpful advice every now and then. It is he who suggests we spend the night at Tangtse and head to Pangong Tso on the day next. He warns us; the freeze in Tangtse will be more brutal than anything we've experienced so far. I laugh at the thought. If only he knew what Khardung La did to us.

With bellies full and some semblance of sanity, we hasten to make our exit. We thank our host for his hospitality - he thanks us for our company. As we begin to remount the machines, little pellets of snow come hailing down. The clank of their impact with the machine makes me nervous. Engines begin to roar all around me. We're en route once more...