RISING TO THE SUMMITS: TRAVEL JOURNAL IN THE HIMALAYAS

BY: DAVID MARVIER

July 2023

The Hungarian travel agency GoBeyond.Travel calls me and makes me an offer I can’t refuse.

Agent: “Are you free in August? Do you want to come and explore the  Himalayas  on a motorbike?”

Me: “Er... OK!”

For a photographer as passionate about mountains and bikes as I am, it’s the Holy Grail! 

So, I flew to Delhi on August 11th, 2 days early, to discover this mysterious world on my own. Ah, there! If you’re looking for a change of scenery, you’ve come to the right place! 

This city is literally embedded in a luxuriant forest, home to great apes, falling lianas from the canopy, and gnarled trees of unknown species providing life-saving shade. The forest revels in the ambient CO2 produced by vehicles traveling at breakneck speed, all honking their horns. The countless rickshaws, the famous yellow and green motorized three-wheelers, speed through the streets in the stifling heat and humidity approaching 70%. 

The scenery is so complex that it’s hard to get a shot, with a network of overhead electrical wires as wild as they are home-made, thousands of advertising boards scattered across the open spaces, and thousands of tiny shops follow one another in an infinite labyrinth. The street, apart from the furious vehicles, is occupied by millions of human beings. A motley mishmash. Drowsy beggars, schoolchildren on their way home, cops chilling out, women in impeccable saris, and men wearing improbable mustaches. 

Life is really intense here. With a population of 26 million, it’s easy to get dizzy. 

India is the land of superlatives. And as we’ll see later, I was not at the end of my surprises!

Despite everyone’s kindness towards me and the incredible diversity of temples, markets and other treasures that Delhi had to offer, I couldn’t wait to explore the wide-open spaces of the world’s highest mountains!

Sunday August 13th

No more riding solo. I join guides and clients. A good part of Eastern Europe rubs shoulders here: Hungarians, Germans, Romanians, Slovaks, Slovenes and Austrians. Nobody speaks French. Total immersion. It’s perfect! The agency’s two guides, Levente and Peter, are real enthusiasts with a quirky sense of humor.

And here we are, off for a 12-hour overnight bus ride to Manali, the starting point for our motorbike exploration of Ladakh, a steep, high-altitude region on the borders of China and Pakistan. Located in Himachal Pradesh, it’s only 500km away, but here distances count double. 12 hours quickly becomes 24 hours. 

The mountains collapse under the torrential rains of the monsoon. We slalom between the mud and rock flows. We made acrobatic night-time U-turns by bus, on cracked roads surrounded by precipices. The news was bad. The next day, we learn that many people from the region are missing and that we’ve had a close call. Entire villages were cut off, roads torn up, houses collapsing and everything sliding down the valley. At the very bottom, the raging brown waters swallow up everything. 

Safety first, we made a strategic retreat to Delhi to catch a flight to Leh, taking the first few stages of the trip away from us. In the end, that’s what traveling is all about: showing resilience and making the right decisions...and putting things into perspective, because all we lost was three days of motorbike travel. Others were much less lucky.

Leh is a small town perched at 3500m, with a colorful mix of Western hippies in search of spirituality, trekkers, Indians on the go, bikers, etc… Numerous military bases testify to the high strategic value of the area. But the atmosphere is very relaxed and the cuisine, with its strong Tibetan influence, excellent: tupka soup, thintuk, momo and other spicy rice dishes.

Thursday August 17th
 

At last! After all these adventures, we jump onto our Royal Enfields, ‘Himalayan’ and ‘Bullet 500’. In India, these are the queens of the road. 

With a PeliCase full of photo equipment fixed to my luggage rack, I hop on the little 411cc and hit the gas! We left the peaceful haven of the Charu Palace Hotel more excited than ever. But beware, we ride on the left-hand side of the road here, a legacy of British colonization. What’s more, the driving style is really random! 

We visited the age-old Hemis monasteries, followed by the Thiksey monastery, dating from 1450. Golden Buddhas, intricately carved sculptures, prayer flags, steep staircases, and shimmering colors dominated by red symbolizing accomplishment, wisdom, luck and dignity – you’d expect to see Chang and Tintin at any moment. In an incredible state of preservation, these holy places are open to the public, who wander among the monks dressed in red, praying, eating or conversing without a care in the world. It’s magical! 

Our guides from the Indian agency, run by two solid Tibetan brothers, Dorge and Vijay, welcomed us with open arms and told us all about their country with passion. Always considerate, they give us sound advice on how to combat the altitude sickness that is already making itself felt at 3500m. 

Friday August 18th

This is the famous day of the “High Passes”, used by camel caravans hundreds of years ago, often exceeding 5000m in altitude. We leave Leh. Far away, vertical peaks bar the horizon, covered in domes of ice and, clinging to their slopes, impressive glaciers seem to defy gravity. 

Living in rudimentary tents by the roadside, the “Bihari” (inhabitants of the state of Bihar, north-east India) tirelessly build the roadway in precarious conditions for miserable pay. Hooded at all times to protect them from the dust, they live and work for BRO, the notorious Border Road Organization. Their working techniques sometimes seem improbable, but then, the notion of time can vary radically from one latitude of the planet to another. 

Yellow bollards regularly dot our route, bearing unconsciously comical messages to drivers: “If you are married, divorce speed” or “Speed and Safety never meet”.

Police station. ID check. Tea. 

We’re approaching 5,000m. Some of us are suffering from the lack of oxygen, but the preparation we’ve done in the days leading up to my departure is paying off. I’m in great shape! I galloped over some rocks to take a photo and then stopped very quickly, cut off in my tracks, gasping for breath and with my legs all limp. OK, maybe I’m not as acclimatized as a Sherpa yet! 

We arrive at the Khardung La pass, culminating at 5602m (according to the road map). That’s 800m higher than the summit of Mont Blanc! The highest passable road in the world! Vertiginous. The traveler becomes aware of the relationship between scales. The mythical site is overrun with tourists looking for selfies. A rusting military antenna, a few dilapidated huts and religious buildings are all linked together in an inextricable aerial network of giant garlands of prayer flags, so typical of Himalayan summits.

And the ride continues. The view from the other side is splendid. The valley before us is scarified by a small, delightfully winding road. What a thrill! After all our misadventures and the endless bus journeys, it’s so good to find ourselves winding around curves on the other side of the world! You feel so free but so tiny in this limitless landscape. In the distance, the peaks remain, a gigantic natural barrier of mineral and ice. Editing the photos in the evening, Masala Chaï in hand (a traditional Indian drink made from black tea, spices and milk), you realize just how vast the landscape is when you spot a motorbike, like an ant, crabbing along the endless slopes. 

Saturday August 19th

This morning, we set off through the Nubra Valley towards the China-Pakistan border, part of the ancient Silk Road to Central Asia. The motorbikes pass by a gigantic military base. The broom of steaming green convoys is incessant. At the end of the road, the “enemy”. It’s time to show some muscle! 

But the valley itself couldn’t care less. Majestic, a grey, opaque, raging river flows through it. The current is so strong that it causes whirlpools and huge waves. The road overhangs and winds along the left bank. A crystalline blue torrent rushes down from the glaciers, fortifying the raging waves. A rapid change of colors. Grey wins out in a matter of moments.

It’s hard to describe in words or images the immensity, the grandeur, the force of nature in this place! It makes you feel so small. 

Our team stumbles into a traffic jam, here in the middle of nothing, at the bend in the road. A line of stopped vehicles. It looks like the guys have been here for a while. We climb over the stones as the soldiers snooze under their lorries, sheltered from the heat. I park my bike and go for a closer look. Hooded men are repairing the deck of a rattling suspension bridge. An alarming sign: “One vehicle at a time” sends a chill down the spine. Thirty meters down, the same frightening river. The sight, I have to say, is not very engaging.

Anyway, we wait an hour and a half before finally turning back and setting off to explore more welcoming lands. Nothing ever goes according to plan. We visit a superb monastery clinging to the side of a cliff and the giant golden statue of “Maitreya Buddha” overlooking the Nubra. 

Sunday August 20th

We get up at the crack of dawn and climb on our bikes at 7am for a long stretch of off-road riding on a broken and poorly maintained track. The morning light is magical, revealing shapes and contrasts. It was beautiful. 

As a free electron, I roam around the group as I like, stopping every 100 meters. I often ride alone, as I love to do after all, or in pairs with the guide Tenzing, a young Tibetan and excellent rider with whom I have an excellent friendship. The only requirement is that we have to cross three major rivers before noon. With the snow melting during the day, the water level sometimes rises too high.

Nothing impassable, but you have to trust the locals. They know the region like the back of their hand, and we’re still in the high mountains, although we tend to forget that. One look at the landscape and the domes of ice capping the surrounding peaks is enough to remind us that we’re a long way from home and that everything can change so quickly.

I feel acclimatized now. No more evening headaches and shortness of breath. Living at around 4000m, your body gets used to it little by little. Despite everything, the slightest effort is multiplied tenfold and I fall asleep early every day. That’s what high-altitude is all about, this nagging fatigue and this radical lifestyle change.

Today’s lunch consists of an improved Maggy soup from a roadside tavern and some “momos”, the famous boiled or fried ravioli, sometimes filled with meat, but usually with vegetables. We continue along the track when suddenly the horizon opens up onto a body of water that turns out to be an immense lake. 

In the background, the 6000-plus peaks. One plan follows another. The color shifts seamlessly from cyan to magenta. What depth! It’s sumptuous! I’ve never seen anything like it! The highlight of the whole trip! A lost site high up at 4500m. 

Live to admire the landscape of Pangong Lake. Its surface is absolutely glassy, without a ripple, and deep blue. The water is salty and contains soda. There is little or no life in it. The lake is just a few hundred meters wide, 138km long and 328m deep! It’s a real rift, probably a remnant of the ancient ocean that was the Himalayas 600 million years ago. It divides its banks between China and India. The sides of its mountains seem so perfectly cut with a knife. The palette of colors is infinite.

We set up camp in large, comfortable canvas tents overlooking the splendid scenery. We take our time and it’s the moment to open the bottle of Ricard that I had slipped into my luggage to introduce my traveling companions to this very French beverage. I explain its popularity and its sacred link to the game of “petanque”. 

The sun declines, offering an infinite variation of warm and cold hues, constantly shaping the landscape as the hour progresses. I head off to bed. 

The next day is going to be tough and I need the energy to take pictures. I need the strength to stop, jump off the bike, grab my camera and start shooting. Then put everything away and sometimes start again 100m further on. 

Monday August 21st

The lake is as impressive as ever when I wake up in the morning, and after breakfast I’m back on the trail. I get on my Himalayan and ride along the banks for a few more kilometers. I come across some “kiangs”, those big wild Tibetan donkeys, then a few cows along the rare green pastures. Then the road plunges into the arid mountains, passing through a pair of sleepy villages similar to those you might see in Morocco; the main road in the center, shops and restaurants with covered terraces scattered on either side. And then, as so often, heavy boulders have collapsed onto the track and cut it off. We waited patiently for a digger to clear a path. 

We climb higher and higher. The landscape is completely desolate, as mineral as you could wish for. One mountain even seems to be covered in a layer of metal. The geology is really quite surprising. The long climb up a winding road takes us back to one of the highest roads on the planet: “Kaksang La” 5436m. From here, you can see everything. A small cairn 14 meters higher up in the rocky outcrop indicates the 5450m mark. I climbed it, of course, but not without difficulty! There’s a very special atmosphere up here. 

We make our way back down the loops on the opposite side, towards Lake Tomo Riri, which we reach at the end of the day. Less spectacular than Pangong, it is nonetheless a must-see. On the shores of this nature reserve lies Karzok, one of the villages closest to the stars on earth. The three peaks of Mentok Krangri tower 6250m above it.

I took advantage of the opportunity to try out hiking at high altitude and took the time to chat at length with the friendly, smiling locals. 

We spend the next few days heading down to Leh to drop off the bikes and fly back to Delhi, visiting more of Ladakh’s wonders along the way. The return to this huge, teeming city was a shock, and I have to admit that this time I found it hard to leave the hotel swimming pool. You have to digest a trip like that. As I work on my images and write these lines, I realize how lucky I’ve been to see this fabulous place with my own eyes, unlike any other place on earth. Populated by people of extraordinary patience and kindness. A fine example of humanity. 

Thank you to them and to GoBeyond.Travel for this experience of a lifetime.