Yesterday. I packed some cold weather gear in the bike panniers along with bread,chocolate, biscuits, nuts, fruit juice, 3 litres of water and a small bottle of coke for my sugar hit. I ride along the pathway with high mud brick walls, navigating through a network of junctions. A small water course tumbles down over rocks next to the path. Women are washing their clothes, boys are having a bath and dogs, which don't seem to belong to anyone, sleep on the pathway. Out onto Fort Street, a narrow laneway that leads up to the Bazaar. Traders are setting up their displays outside stalls - they wave and smile. Through the bazaar where women in traditional Ladakh dress are selling vegetables on the footpath and men are pushing wooden carts holding large drums of water. No rain today and I'm too warm with three layers of clothes. Near the Leh Palace I can see a line of monks walking across the barren hillside above. Downhill now to the gates at the entrance to Leh. Crowds of people gathering near the markets, thousands of prayer flags across the blue sky. I avoid some cows lying in the middle of the road and turn left up a narrow road and start to climb. It meanders up past a school, workshops and mud houses. I settle into a comfortable low gear as it going to be ascending all the way for the next 7 hours. The road is narrow but it's bitumen up to the South Pullu checkpoint at 13, 500ft. I had to get a permit to go past that point (stamped by a magistrate!) The army presence is strong in all these regions close to Pakistan and China.
After about an hour, Leh sits on the plain down below and a convoy of 20 army trucks rumbles past me. I have to get off the road onto the rough dirt as it is too narrow for both of us. Care has to be taken as it would be very easy to go over the edge and tumble down the steep rocky mountainside. 30 minutes later I look up and see the army trucks - a line of ants crawling across the mountain high above me. A rock bounced down the slope above me and landed with other rocks on the road. The scenery is awe inspiring. The mountains are a pallette of soft earthy colour with splashes of red and blue. Rocky outcrops hang over the road as it snakes it's way upwards; streams are a torrent of water rushing down the mountainside from the snow above. I stop frequently to drink and have a snack, gazing at the huge snow covered mountains surrounding me. The Moulton is comfortable and the hub gear combined with derailleur works well. I'm not sure what will happen after South Pullu as the road becomes a track with washouts and stones - my narrow tyres are not made for rough terrain.
It takes 5 hours to reach South Pullu. I show my permit to an official in a canvas lean-to and buy a cup of chai (in an old tin can) for 10rp. I sit and rest for about 20 minutes, my lungs have been working hard and there's a hint of dizziness when I get up, but I'm feeling ok. Continuing up the switchbacks I'm expending more energy avoiding rocks and washouts than fighting gravity. It's twice as hard, both mentally and physically. I'm stopping more often now, watching eagles soaring above and conscious that the snow is not far away. After an hour or so the sun hides behind the mountains and it suddenly gets very cold. When I eventually reach the North Pullu checkpoint I'm at 5,100 metres and I stood gazing up at the pass. It's probably another hour but I just cannot do it. It was a huge decision for me as I dreamed of standing up there for a long time. I turned around with tears welling in my eyes.
The descent, which lasted nearly two hours is, without a doubt, the best experience I've ever had on a bicycle.
After about an hour, Leh sits on the plain down below and a convoy of 20 army trucks rumbles past me. I have to get off the road onto the rough dirt as it is too narrow for both of us. Care has to be taken as it would be very easy to go over the edge and tumble down the steep rocky mountainside. 30 minutes later I look up and see the army trucks - a line of ants crawling across the mountain high above me. A rock bounced down the slope above me and landed with other rocks on the road. The scenery is awe inspiring. The mountains are a pallette of soft earthy colour with splashes of red and blue. Rocky outcrops hang over the road as it snakes it's way upwards; streams are a torrent of water rushing down the mountainside from the snow above. I stop frequently to drink and have a snack, gazing at the huge snow covered mountains surrounding me. The Moulton is comfortable and the hub gear combined with derailleur works well. I'm not sure what will happen after South Pullu as the road becomes a track with washouts and stones - my narrow tyres are not made for rough terrain.
It takes 5 hours to reach South Pullu. I show my permit to an official in a canvas lean-to and buy a cup of chai (in an old tin can) for 10rp. I sit and rest for about 20 minutes, my lungs have been working hard and there's a hint of dizziness when I get up, but I'm feeling ok. Continuing up the switchbacks I'm expending more energy avoiding rocks and washouts than fighting gravity. It's twice as hard, both mentally and physically. I'm stopping more often now, watching eagles soaring above and conscious that the snow is not far away. After an hour or so the sun hides behind the mountains and it suddenly gets very cold. When I eventually reach the North Pullu checkpoint I'm at 5,100 metres and I stood gazing up at the pass. It's probably another hour but I just cannot do it. It was a huge decision for me as I dreamed of standing up there for a long time. I turned around with tears welling in my eyes.
The descent, which lasted nearly two hours is, without a doubt, the best experience I've ever had on a bicycle.
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