A journey that lasted less than ten days, in hindsight afforded me experiences of a life time that I will always cherish. The journey originated uninspiringly from the confines of a relatively comfortable recliner that I lay splayed on watching Television. Mindlessly flipping through YouTube videos, I accidentally came across a video of someone on a motorcycle exploring the Himalayas. It instantly piqued my interest and had me hooked to the prospect of visiting one of the few places that I had never been in India. Even more special was the prospect of motorcycling there and unsurprisingly turned it into a passion. With every passing year, the intensity grew, and the yearning turned into a “why not!”.
Though, initially I imagined myself doing this alone, I soon realised this being my first ride in Ladakh, I would be biting more than I could chew if I went solo. After much deliberation, I took the plunge and booked myself onto a group ride that was strongly recommended by several riders I knew of. Sceptical initially, I warmed to the idea of riding with others more experienced. Since seeking adventure and the unknown is not my forte, I felt that this was my first step of many more adventures that I would hopefully embark upon. It is difficult to articulate the nervousness of finally getting on with it, the genuine fear and the gnawing sense of discomfiture that I might not be physically up to the rigors of being able to ride long hours and most of it offroad. It did not help either that my social skills or the lack of them would be put to test too meeting new people over the period of the ride.
My motorcycle was dispatched by truck from Mumbai to Chandigarh. My official ride started off with an underwhelming run from Chandigarh to Manali. Riding alongside were a few newly minted friends from Mumbai and Goa. We checked into the hotel at Manali a day prior to the ride, ostensibly to acclimatize. The night before we started the formal ride, I experienced firsthand the challenges of High-Altitude. My Blood Pressure readings rocketed to numbers that I won’t want to even mention here. In hindsight seeing the BP readings had my head spinning more than the actual effect of BP. Frivolity aside, it did cross my mind if things didn’t improve it would make sense packing it in and going back to Mumbai. However, the silver lining was my Blood oxygen levels that were quite acceptable for the elevation. After reluctantly doing some deep breathing exercises, the next day the readings came down considerably though still much higher than everyone else on the trip which I promptly attributed to me being one of the oldest on the trip. Clearly lack of oxygen to the brain makes you believe things.
20 plus Motorcycles, overwhelmingly Tigers, a few BMW GS’s, set out on this the first day of the ride. A tarmac run was followed by nearly 50 kms of the rockiest off roads I had ever ridden. Getting to grips with my Tiger that had never been subjected to the kind of abuse was my first task. A lot of the theory and the nuances of offroad riding like engaging brakes at appropriate times, using engine braking, using the knees to guide the bike were practiced. What truly set me free was putting the Tiger onto its off-road mode and the surprising freedom it afforded me when I disengaged the ABS. Starting tentatively I quickly started to rev the engine, playing the gears and speeding on boulder strewn roads, till unsurprisingly I went sprawling off the bike on a hairpin bend. Pride wounded and cut to size; I thereon became more circumspect and respectful towards the motorcycle and the roads. This was the first of the many learnings that I had.
When I look back now, when I started the ride, I was tentative around corners and mildly put, my fundamentals of riding were quite misplaced in bravado and bluster. I firmly believe that in the next few days on the ride I harnessed a level of concentration, skill and exhibited physical fitness that I never believed I ever possessed. Though on the saddle for over 70 hours, I believe each hour was better that the previous constantly learning, practicing and implementing. Every hour I learnt more, respected my motorcycle more. I shamelessly picked the brains copied the riding styles of other riders who were more skilful than me. Seeing them handling their motorcycles taught me humility and great appreciation of the skills they amassed over the years.
The days passed and as I successfully quieted my mind and it is not a hyperbole when I say that there were times that I thought that the motorcycle was an extension of me. It spoke to me, as I cajoled it, respected the awesome power it possesses and we grew more intimate as only true lovers can be. I cannot even begin to explain the adrenaline that coursed through my veins every time I took on those magnificent and sometimes technical curves rehearsing lines and leaning as far as to scrape my foot pegs many times. The first time that happened, I almost recoiled in fear. The shoulders and neck muscles that were taut on the first day soon grew relaxed. Shifting gears and only essential brake usage, I believe I rode my Tiger sublimely, smooth yet fast. I was surprised by my own abilities, and it was easy to be carried away in the hype, but I constantly reminded myself that all it needed was for the mind to wander off and well! Falling off the motorcycle at that speed or depositing myself into the Zanskar river clearly wasn’t clearly what I envisaged the ride ending as.
The tarmac sections were outstanding but I wasn’t prepared for what came after that. The best came towards the last few days of the ride specially on the day when we set across the deserts of Hanle towards Umlingla situated at 19000 feet. A mix of loose gravel and sand greeted us, and this was the sight as far as the eye could see. Following in the wake of another motorcycle was not advisable as visibility was hampered by rising dust and hence one just made coursed a path for oneself. Standing high on the footpegs feeling the tyres spin furiously as they gained traction, all I could think was to gun the engine even more. Transfixed on the road, I did not dare glancing down at the speedometer though I knew I was doing speeds that were in three figures. Looking back today, I have never felt more alive than what I felt on that day. Calm and surprisingly sure of what I was doing, I left quite a few of the seasoned riders behind. It wasn’t as if I set myself up to racing, however I was oblivious to everything around me as I effortlessly sailed over bumps, gravel and small rocks, both wheels in the air landing expertly, knees braced for the impact that would invariably transmit upwards from the footpegs. Many of my fellow riders had their rides captured and immortalized on camera. Though the narcissistic me still regrets that there was no one who captured the true essence of my riding, I made peace that the experience of doing all of what I mentioned would stay in my mind rather than an Instagram worthy picture or reel. I never heard the deafening winds, the engine noise of the triple and crunching of wheels on the gravel. Instead, all I remember was the rhythmic exhaling of my breath, my eyes scouring the gravel, vibrations from the handlebar and all this a near out of body experience. If there has ever been a zen state of mind that I could ever claim I have experienced, then this would be it.
Over the trip I saw many beautiful and unforgettable sights, marvelled at the beauty of Ladakh, made friends, shivered in the numbing cold but never did I feel tired. My respect for my motorcycle, fellow riders and Ladakh grew every passing day. I was fortunate that some of the more accomplished riders genuinely complimented me on my riding skills. It meant the world to me and served as a testament that if I truly enjoy something, I would work hard to be good at it. Even the weather gods ensured that everything was perfect- we were always a day ahead of bad weather. Finally, when we thought that our luck ran out and the route back to Manali was closed due to snowfall, I was sanguine in accepting a change of route and a detour to Srinagar in J&K. This also allowed in a moment of serendipity for me as I made a run to the Kargil war memorial – an emotional moment for me. I mean could it get better than this?
Landing back in Mumbai from Srinagar having dropped off my motorcycle at the transporters was a bit anticlimactic. Unsurprisingly, it took me a week to shake off the tiredness of the riding
In absolute humility, Ladakh, I salute you. Your beauty, vastness and calm, I will always carry with me in my heart. I will be back, hopefully a better rider, humbler and yet looking for now looking for a solo adventure and who knows with someone riding pillion. Thank you for the memories.
