"Whatever it is you're seeking won't come in the form you're expecting." - Haruki Murakami
Day 6/ Kaza to Batal/ 140
kms
It was an experience,
filling our tanks from the only petrol pump in Kaza, which by the way is the
worlds highest petrol pump at 12,270 feet. And strangely, the fuel dispenser is
out dated, with one having to manually calculate the price of fuel dispensed. With
the attendant taking his own sweet time to calculate the fuel price rounding
off to the nearest zero, you could only stand, wonder and show some
displeasure. There was nowhere else to go. The next petrol pump is 250 kms away
beyond Rothang.
The day’s plan was to cross
Kunzum Pass, visit the Chandratal lake and stay at the famous Chacha
Chachi’s at Batal.
After crossing the
boundaries of Kaza, we continued to be on the right side of the Spiti river by
not crossing the enticing bridge. Rode 14 scenic kms uphill till we reached the famous monastery of the Spiti region. With my motorcycle head lamp dangling with the glass broken, I was damn cautious of my ride.
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| The majestic Key Monastery |
Key is one of the oldest
and largest Tibetan Buddhist monastery. Located at an altitude of 13,600 ft, it
offers the serenest view overlooking the valley and the Spiti River. The main
difference between Key and other monasteries of Spiti is the higher number of
monk population present here.
One interesting fact about Spiti, is that the 2nd
boy child of every family becomes a monk. They are mostly sent to the coveted
Key monastery where the lamas get their schooling. At the age of 14, when most
of us would be grappling with the nuances of newly found puberty, they would be
getting ready to swear celibacy throughout their lives. One of the reasons for
the low population of this place besides the harsh living conditions.
The monks had just finished
their breakfast when we entered the monastery. Spent some serene time inside the precincts. After that, we descended from the backside of the monastery along the huge steps
through the lanes that housed the non distinctive lama quarters. It took us to a spot where you
could get the best view of the majestic monastery and the valley.
7 kms from Key, was the
moderately commercialised village of Kibber at a height of 14,200 ft. With a
population of 366, it is the most populated village that we visited in Spiti. A
budget Homestay here is a good option for travellers to explore the local
culture. A definite miss at our end.
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| Kibber Village with the identical houses |
Crossed right through the Kibber village on our motorcycles. The village with
identical houses looked so beautiful and inviting that I had already started missing Spiti and its exotic villages.
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| The dried up spiti river |
After the scenic
Losar village on the way, we started our steep ascent to Kunzum pass. This pass, that
connects the Lahul and Spiti valley, remains open only for 4 months of the year
from mid June to mid October. The place was mainly dominated with fluttering
colorful prayer flags and the Kunzum devi temple. Every passing vehicle would drive around the temple which they believe would protect
them in the rest of the journey
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| Kunzum pass at 15,060 feet |
Although, mountain passes
look scenic with the view of white snow capped nearby mountains and the stunning valleys
and river down below, but they are not like any other spaces. To begin with,
they are windy, there is a genuine lack of oxygen because of the high altitude
and they are prone to landslides. And this was undoubtedly the windiest place
that I have ever been. After spending a good half an hour trying to help a
fellow biker with some extra engine oil, I started feeling cold, dizzy and
weak.
Just after descending the
Kunzum pass, a narrow road at the right turn takes you to Chandrataal at a
distance of 14 kms. A further descend of 2 kms would take you to Batal.
At this point, we got divided. Ravi, Jogi, Jaat and Sachin would be venturing across Rothang and would be staying at Manali. Crossing this stretch at night was definitely a risky affair. Apart from the dangerous roads, the freezing temperatures at night doesn't leave you with any scope of error. Myself, Rahul and Yogesh had decided to take it easy. We would visit Chandratal and stay at Batal.
The roads to Chandrataal
are non existent. One has to pray hard not to fall. We had to travel over big
boulders most of the time and then cross a couple of big naalas to reach the
base from where there is another 3 kms trek to the lake.
The calm water that
reflected the bluest sky with different shades and hues is a delight to the
sore eyes. Surrounded by mountains, the
place was as close to heaven. The best part is that the place has been
maintained as it is. There were no vendors, no camping no littering and no
signboards.
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| The heavenly Chandratal Lake |
We travelled back the 14
kms and descended the 2 kms to reach Batal. This place was mainly dominated by the famous
Chacha Chachi Dhaba run by a very humble couple who were in their late 50s.
The sun had already set at
6 pm. It became freezing cold. Stay
was in one of the 7 feet wide huts.The long bed with tattered and hard
mattress occupied 90% of the room. With our saddle bags occupying the remaining
10 % space, we were left with no space to stand.
Constructed with loosely stacked stones as walls and
plastic sheets for the roof and door, the hut looked incapable of blocking out
the freezing wind at night. My only hope was in the smelly, soggy blankets that
were dumped in abundance. With no light in the room, you could only guess, how
dirty and stained they would be.
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| The Chacha Chachi dhaba |
After dumping the saddle bags, we parked ourselves for
the evening at the relatively warm Dhaba. Although the place resembled to that
of any traditional dhaba, but at heart it was more of a biker’s café. The
steady influx and efflux of bikers kept the place vibrant. The cold, sloppy and
dusty bikers came with their fresh stories while we cozied, sipping on the hot
tea.
Menu for dinner is fixed. You can just order the poor
looking thali with rice, daal and an aloo ki sabzi. However, the endless array
of chips and biscuit packets in the shelves did provide ample snacking option.
After our early dinner at 8, we started discussing about
the dreaded 65 kms between Batal and Gramphu. Everyone, we have
met till this point of time, had sworn about this dreaded road that I had started
wondering, how bad it could be.
Three guys from our biker
group, who had earlier visited Chandratal through Manali had some really bad
experience to share. They were stranded in this road due to a clutch failure,
only to be rescued later by a cement truck at night. The worst nightmare of every biker.
Gaurav, an experienced biker from Mumbai, who had a blue honda CBR, who had done
Leh-Manali circuit 4 times, seemed terrified after hearing the stories.
Srinivasan, a biker from Bangalore, claimed to have encountered
waist high water while coming from Manali, the same evening. Yeah, that was a bit of an exaggeration on his part. But crossing at night is the most stupidest thing one could do. The melting snow
creates flooded roads as the day progresses. The key is to start early in the
morning.
In the midst of all these happening, entered a group of
college students. With the absence of any riding gear, just the jacket pocket
to keep their hands warm and a mere layer of denim to protect them from the
deadliest falls against the rocks, they seemed more than confident. The 14 odd
people made themselves comfortable without caring much about anybody in the
café. One of them started rolling joints at a table while Chachi kept a steady glance on him.
“You people are staying here tonight?”
“No, we will be going back to Manali” replied the guy,
who seemed troubled fixing the broken visor of his helmet.
“We had a clutch failure while coming from Kaza. That’s why
we are this late,” another guy added
“Do you have any idea about the road ahead? There is
waist high water at this time!“
“We have experience, it doesn’t matter,” he replied and
looked at us with an expression that demanded staggered admiration.
There are dumbasses, there are cool people and then there
is everyone in between. So, if you ever find both of the extremes at the same
place, that’s a Eureka moment, enough to run around naked at the sub zero
temperature and freeze your balls off. Or, you can just call it a day and head
off to your cold and soggy hut.
Day 7/ Batal to Mandi/ 240 kms
I woke stiff, unrested with the signature mild headache in
the gloomy morning with a dispiriting prospect of a tough day ahead on the
road.
The temperature had a real dip at night.
"Hey Bhole Shankar! aaj raat paar karwa de. Kal ka toh main dekh lunga," I heard Rahul praying hard last night.
The temperature had a real dip at night.
"Hey Bhole Shankar! aaj raat paar karwa de. Kal ka toh main dekh lunga," I heard Rahul praying hard last night.
We left at 7 30 am after our breakfast.
This is the worst patch of road
probably in any part of the world. There were rocks; sharp ones which could easily
puncture the tires; the unforgiving slippery kind; the gigantic kind, smack in
the middle of the road; and the smaller ones which were comparatively easier to
navigate on. But there were rocks everywhere. And yes, there were naalas; some
were ankle deep and some were knee deep.
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| Courtesy devil on wheels |
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| Pagal Naala (courtesy internet) |
Deadly as it might be, this road that connects Manali and Kaza is the lifeline of Spiti. You could see a lot of trucks carrying goods to Kaza. But this route would close down within a week after the first snowfall at Kunzum pass. Spiti would become less accessible. It would look more beautiful though, glistening in the winter snow, reflecting the winter sun.
Finally, at the end of 4 hrs of non stop
vibration, and a couple of falls in the naalas, we finally saw the tarmac. The Gramphu sign
board at the junction of the Leh-Manali Highway was a sight to behold. This signalled that our owes were all over and also marked an end to the incredible Spiti adventure.
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| The Gramphu Junction |
We took a left towards Rothang pass. A right would have taken towards Keylong and Leh. The engine started knocking as I climbed towards Rohtang. I revved up my throttle while I down shifted to 3rd gear. I pulled up the visor and let the chilly wind in.
For part 1 click here and for part 2 click here
For part 1 click here and for part 2 click here
