Amritsar and over the border

The dusty drive to Amritsar seemed to take forever. Initially it was a pretty road, smaller mountains at a lower altitude, cool air still as we stopped for a traditional breakfast of a mixture of beans and rice. After chatting to some locals and getting some advice for a short cut, we were diverted onto a windy, dusty and very hot road. The scenery changed quite quickly and we were soon driving amongst hills which featured small fires intermittently.

Our shortcut was indeed a more direct route, but the drive still took many hours. By the time we reached Amritsar, it was late afternoon. The GPS way-point we had for the guest-house led us to the military cantonment area, and into a wide leafy street. With a warm welcome we were directed to park the landcruiser under some trees, in a huge yard, about 15 meters from a swimming pool, clean toilet and shower and a fridge with cold (unfortunately expensive) beer. Perfect.


There were also some resident water buffalos, gorgeous creatures with lovely eyes!
Mrs Bandari's Guesthouse is not cheap, costing us as much as a room in some places, just to sleep in our tent, but it was worth it. A favourite of overlanders heading to or from Pakistan, the guesthouse is only 30 minutes from the border. We met a couple of other travellers there, some German's and Henke, a Dutch bloke travelling solo in Landrover. We also had the pleasure of hanging out with Tam and her daughter Sahara who were staying for a few days.

With all our Iranian visa stress it was good to be able to chat with someone who has already driven through the country, and was on his way to Delhi to pick up his new Iranian visa for the trip home. British nationals are having trouble getting Iranian visas at present, causing us concern as alternative routes are expensive and time consuming.

We had planned to use Mrs Bandari's as a base to get some car jobs done - greasing on the handy car ramp and trips into the car market area of the city to find the elusive v-belt to fit the aux alternator. One handy thing about the lay-out of a lot of Indian and Pakistani cities is that they seem to be set up in very definite areas. Car market, fresh food market (further divided into meat, fruit & veg and then lentils etc), clothing market and the list goes on.

So it is always fairly easy for us to find the correct area of a city to get car jobs done, but then we have to negotiate the many small lanes, stalls and then shelves to find what we are after. Amritsar did not produce the right v-belt.

A couple of med students from Oxford University, who were spending time at a Delhi hospital turned up for the weekend and we attended the 'closing of the gates/lowering of the flags ceremony' at the Pakistan border

Lots of shouting, singing and general flag-waving before soldiers did their best Fawlty Towers impressions (John Clease with a Nazi walk).

It certainly was a patriotic display and there is no love lost between the two countries during the 2 hour ceremony.

We spent 7 nights at Mrs Bandari's, mostly because we were waiting to hear back from the visa agency, and partly becaue we didn't want to leave the luxury of cold drinks, clean facilities and some relief from the oppressive heat. We did consider leaving earlier when we heard that a 'tourist bus' was about to turn up.
However when the massive 6 wheel drive 26 tonne Mercedes truck conversion pulled up a really nice, eclectic bunch of people climbed down from the huge truck, including Heather and Russ Carlin from Terang, my home town! The truck was overlanding from London to Sydney.

Amritsar is famous for its Sikh Golden Temple. We visited it in the pleasantly cool evening along with Henke, Tam and Sahara.

The men donned head scarves as well, and we wandered around amongst the hundreds of Sikh worshippers.

The day the truck left for the cooler north we also left and headed to the Pakistan border. Expecting some grief in the form of a car search (we have so much stuff it would take hours), we passed through easily and quickly. Both the Indian and Pakistani officials were helpful and friendly, a nice change from other borders we've experienced. A perfect condition empty motorway led from Lahore up to Islamabad and we were there by 6pm that evening. Our first impressions of this new country are that the driving seems more calm and orderly, and there are Toyotas everywhere...

Leh to Amritsar

A gompa is a Tibetan Buddhist Monastery, and a very spiritual place. We camped nearby one in Hemis, and made the short journey up a hill and into a gorge to find a colourful, quiet and very pretty gompa. A walk through the museum soon unearthed human skulls, massive old conch shells which had been made into trumpets and brilliant gold painted offering plates and jugs. From there we drove the final 45kms to Leh. Set in a valley where snow capped mountains were juxtaposed with barren, dusty ones, we were not sure really what to expect of Leh.
It was quite touristy, with every second shop selling carpets. Silk or wool, that is the question. The owners of the "Silver Cloud" guest house were lovely and they had good parking. We bought a few more gifts and caught up with some locals who we'd met working in Goa 3 months ago. There is a road just north of Leh, at the entrance of the Nubra Valley, which claims to be the 'Highest motorable Pass in the world'. Obviously we had to drive up this road too, but first we needed to get a permit from the Deputy Commissioner. Entering the DP's office we were confidently told 'You'll get a permit, no problem'. All we needed to do was write a short letter requesting permission. Andrew dictated, I scribbled and we handed it to a man behind a desk who immediately said 'No'. Apparently you need to be in a group of four and apply through a tourist agency. Back in to town we approached an agent who gladly added us to a permit with a couple of Israelis who were heading in a completely different direction. The road out of Leh wound higher and higher as the temperature dropped lower, bringing us to rocky mountain slopes housing rather large 'rats' as the locals called them. These amusing animals were quite different to anything we'd seen before - like furry beavers with flat tails they'd thump on the ground.

The highest point of the drive was a little unremarkable at 5380m, so we bought a souvenir shirt, took some photos and headed down the north side, and into the very impressive Nubra Valley.
Small villages have managed to make a living where the snow melt allows streams to flow, and the green grass and trees look fluid as they appear to seep down from the mountain sides. It was surprising just how much land could be used for farming, even when around us it appeared infertile. Even the steep sides of the mountains served a purpose, being cut into and flattened out.

After a bit of mucking around, trying to follow local directions and getting to know the area, we found a suitable and lovely camp site by a running, silt filled river. We spent the night there before heading back towards Leh.
Many nomadic farmers herd their yaks and other cattle into the greener areas as the snow melts.
Apparently there are not so many yaks around these days, even though their wool makes good carpets and shawls.
Back up through the snowy pass, we drove straight to Leh and prepared ourselves for the drive to Srinagar. The Manali-Leh road had been such a talked-about route that we were not expecting so much from the next section of our drive. Heading away from Leh, we looked our over the mountains ahead and sighed - the landcruiser was not going to be breaking any speed records up hill - this could take some time.
The road led us into luscious green villages, and then up over barren, dusty hills. Cattle were herded, prayer drums were spun and we found a bush camp that was not so much bush as a dry river bed. Goats were being herded home for the evening across the valley sides in the distance.
The military presence increased as we neared Kargil, including road signs and many army camps. The locals are relatively oblivious to this and carry on with life despite the guns, trucks and road barricades. The road follows the 'line of control' or 'ceasefire line' delineating Indian and Pakistan controlled Kashmir. It wasn't that long ago in 1999 that the Pakistanis briefly took the mountains above Kargil, under the leadership of the then military chief Musharraf.
As the road headed south we found ourselves in a wide valley, and although the sun shone brightly, there was not quite enough heat to completely melt the frozen river or waterfalls.
Trucks slowly negotiated the narrow washed-out roads and we had to stop a various checkpoints to fill out forms.
Eventually the road rounded a corner in a narrow gorge and before us was the magnificent, green Kashmir Valley - a spectacular contrast from bare cliffs to verdant, alpine slopes.
The narrow road wound its way down to the valley below, round a number of impressive hairpin turns on the cliff edge. Fortunately the landcruiser's brakes were actually working quite well.
Driving along the forested valley, we entered Sonnomarg. The town is home to a military base, but is not unlike a Swiss Village with its wooden windows and surrounding snow capped mountains, and is home to the 'Bradley bear' bins.Horses grazed on the steep slopes, some ready for tourists (Indian mostly) who would ride along the icy river.
A full day driving, after aloo paratha for breakfast, was only broken up by stops for photos, saffron and the toilet. Droves of Horses are often seen, accompanied by the families who run them to transport goods across the mountains.
As we travelled we noticed the obvious change from Buddhism to Muslim and then to Hindu, which in turn changed to Sikh. People's faces changed, clothes and head dress changed and as we approached Srinagar the land changed again too. We saw rice paddy fields again and temperature rose accordingly.
There were a lot of goats, everywhere.
The military presence over the past few days had been phenomenal. Trucks with mounted heavy machine-guns, armed checkpoints, police buses moving hundreds of troops, and soldiers patrolling the road side looking for bombs were all becoming to seem normal.
We were forced to stop for the night in one of the worst hotels we've stayed in yet, however this was more than made up for by the lovely Sikh couple staying in the room next door. Up early, 8 hours in the car (though not boring ones as the Indian decoration on trucks still kept us amused), temperatures over 45 degrees, and we had reached our final Indian destination - Amritsar.

Mrs Bandari's guest house, with a swimming pool, excellent (if expensive) food and loads of great people to chat with, including some Terangian's from Amelia's home town!

Manali Leh Highway

Shortly before we set off from Delhi to drive the famous Manali - Leh highway into the Ladakh mountains of the Himalayas, I was a bit disturbed to read a warning on another overlander's website about operating diesel engines at high altitudes. Unlike petrol, when diesel combusts without enough oxygen the combustion temperature is proportionally higher. This means the thinner air at high altitudes can cause exhaust gas temperatures high enough to damage and even melt the aluminum pistons. Many landcruisers have a compensator on the fuel pump governor to account for this, except of course our crappy UK spec one which was a bit of a problem. After good advice from other landcruiser enthusiasts via a great forum on the web, we decided go anyway, keep a close eye on black smoke from the exhaust, and probably drive 1000km in first and second gear. The road had better be pretty bloody good...

In case you are interested, the discussion on exhaust gas temperatures is here on ih8mud, a goldmine of information and advice.

After saying goodbye to Jodi in Gurgaon, it took 2 days to reach Kullu valley in the foothills of the mountains, where we spent an evening wandering around the busy narrow street markets. The next day we drove to Manali. On the way we had chai sitting in an icy river. The water was painfully cold and the day was chilly anyway, i am not really sure why it is so popular?

There was no-where cheap to stay so we camped outside town in a rock quarry by the river at the bottom of the Rotang Pass. Up early at 5.30 the next day and up the pass, 3985m and the beginning of the Leh highway.

The road wound through beautiful alpine scenery but soon turned into traffic jams as cars tried to pass each other Indian style on the narrow mountain roads. Alarmingly the horn on the car had stopped working, which is no joke in India.
At the top, hundreds of Indians enjoyed the snow, many dressed in rented fur coats, some being pushed across the slopes on wooden sledges.

Luckily very few cars continued past Rotang as the road to Leh was rumored to be blocked and impassable. Over the pass the road dropped below the snow line into impressive windswept glacial valleys where isolated villages grow potatoes and peas in the inhospitable looking land.
That night we camped amongst boulders by a river swollen to a deafening, brown torrent by melt water from the peaks above. After chai the next morning we called in at the last fuel stop before Leh in a village called Tandi.

The high altitude and using four-wheel drive was consuming more diesel than usual so we used the second tank and filled up to 140 litres. We had some repairs to do - extracting a bolt mounting the second 12v alternator (to charge the auxilliary battery) that had sheared off in the engine block. Interestingly it had actually broken in two places, into three pieces. The belt was also ruined so we used an old spare one, fingers crossed it will last.

In need of a shower, we stayed in a hotel in a small muddy village called Jispa on the valley floor, about 80km from the Baralacha La pass that was apparently not yet open. Although it was freezing we were the first people that year so at least it was remarkably clean.

Vehicles had been trying to get over the 4890m Bara-lacha pass on the Manali-Leh highway for the past week - apparently four were stuck up there in the snow.- unlucky. However we were in a Landcruiser, not an Indian Tata so would have no problems of course, and we set off to have a go the next day. The police eventually allowed us through the checkpost and we set off with about 10 other vehicles into the snow.

Snow-cutters and bulldozers had cleared the deep snow from the route.

One hadn't been so lucky and had gone over the edge.

The locals, clearly not concerned by high exhaust gas temperatures, would thrash past on the clear sections in clouds of black smoke. Annoyingly, around the next corner there they'd be - stuck in deep ruts of muddy snow and ice which we could have breezed through.

Incredibly no-one else had a spade, luckily for them we had two, although digging at 4700m soon gets you out of breath. We met four Indian friends who had hired a small Ford Indigo (bit like an Escort) for the trip. After getting them unstuck a couple times we eventually left them waiting to be towed by a snowplough. (We had to give them their dues however - we met again in Leh. Their car was looking much the worse for the journey, body panels were dented in, and apparently they had a scary moment with wheel over the edge of a cliff on a hairpin bend. I would like to have been there when they handed the car back to the rental company in Delhi!)

A group of Kashmiri 4wd's came from the north, causing a major traffic jam, but told us the roads were passable through to Leh.

Six hours later we were through and driving slowly and alone in huge glaciated valleys,

We passed many frozen waterfalls, but did not have any real problems with the ice on the road.

Then over another 5065m pass, through a blizzard that formed a solid layer of ice over the front of the car. Just before dark that evening we got to the halfway stopover camp Pang - some tents selling dahl and a military encampment - where we spent the night at 4630m. Amelia was suffering a severe headache from the altitude and we had to drain the water pump and filter system to prevent damage from freezing. It was very cold that night in the roof tent.

The next day the sun was out and we followed a flat, wide desert plain, in places dotted with nomadic tents.

Herdsmen had moved in at the start of summer to graze their and sheep and yaks.

It looks like a harsh place to live and their red, weathered Tibetan faces certainly don't indicate otherwise. The route then took us over it's highest pass Taglang La at 5370m, and apparently the second highest road in the world.

Even though we had acclimatised over the past few days, the altitude worsened Amelia's headache and I felt oddly spaced-out, constantly seeing things out of the corner of my eye. In hindsight probably not the best when negotiating narrow washed-out roads over sheer drops.

At the summit the blinding snow and brightly coloured prayer flags look strikingly vivid in the crystal-clear, thin air. Just walking around starts your head throbbing and gets you out of breath but the views over the snowy Himalayan peaks in the distance are spectacular.

Over the pass we descended 1000m into the beautiful purple and green Indus valley that graduated into a towering gorge for a number of kilometers.

Folding and faulting of the different rock strata has created spectacular scenery along the whole valley.

Following the river, the road wound through small Tibetan villages of square white houses, roofs covered in thick layers of drying grass for animal feed in preparation for the next winter.

The Tibetan culture is clear to see with big, red drum-like Prayer wheels ringing bells as they turn, and old men and women spinning smaller versions in their hands, inside which folded prayers written on paper are tucked.

Puzzling Buddhist shrines - painted white chortens and seemingly random stone Mani walls - can be seen everywhere.

However, underlying all is a heavy military presence in Ladakh stemming from past conflict with China over the region.

As evening drew near we camped 45km before Leh outside the village of Hemis, hidden away up in a tributary gorge. The plan the next day is to visit it's famous Drukpa monastry and then continue on to Leh.