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!