INTO THE VALLEY OF HUGE RODE THE TWO RIDERS

Srinagar to Leh. Big valley country.

Listening to ROCKY MOUNTAIN WAY Joe Walsh and Barnstorm 

1973. OK, off the coolest named album of all-time....

THE SMOKER YOU DRINK THE PLAYER YOU GET

Walsh uses a thingo called a Talk Box to get the weird vocal 

sound and apparently wrote the words while mowing his lawn!

Click and play and enjoy a truly "thick" guitar sound!

Hmm,, a couple of doors up from my cheapy first hotel in Srinagar

Hmm, think they're both still there... can't feel any scars.

 If they knocked one off they're good at it.

FEELING THE SERENITY IN SRINAGAR

I'm mashing my way through the now accustomed crazy traffic on the way to the Queens Palace House Boat in Srinagar where Brian is staying.  I've botched the GPS input and have managed to make a seven kilometre trip into thirty kilometre one. Oh dear, at least it's a balmy twenty eight degrees and quite pleasant.  A heavy shower of rain an hour before has turned the potholes into mini oceans of garbage and crap and I desperately duck and weave though markets and honking vehicles trying not to get showered in their contents. In his email to me Brian (a man meagre with his words on media) has described the place as "it's good" which converted to Deano speak should mean it's " !@#bloody awesome!"

And it is!

So it's not a boat... it kinda looks like a boat, it's next to a boat, when you look out the front you see water like a boat, but, it's not a boat. Its a house hostelly sort of  thing. You enter through some huge green iron gates, ride down a track past a row of houses, all owned by various members of the same family, park up next to a little canal thing, cross a rickety wooden gangplank, and step inside. To your left is a row of bedrooms, recently renovated, and to your right is a dining toom and a sitting room, both chock full with traditional carpets and hand carved wooden furniture, including the ceiling (!), all done by the family grandfather. The piece de resistance (at last! I've managed to slot that word in!) though, is the wooden front verandah. Just a simple wooden rickety structure with a couple of beaten up plastic chairs, looking out onto what must be one the loveliest scenes in the world. 

No really!

 Before you is a beautiful deeply layered vista.

 A beautiful painting where all the colours blend from one to another with no contrasts to disturb or distract the eye from the whole.

  Dark mystical mountains, providing promise of a hulking jagged framework, reach down to a screen of distant Poplars, towering over smoke veiled still backwaters. Fishermen silently glide on simple rafts, across an oily liquid mirror surface, spears raised, seeking complacent finned prey. A hazel green, giant lilly carpeted foreground buzzes with life. Seemingly weightless water hens tiptoe from leaf to leaf, past small kingfishers keeping silent sentinel on sunken posts, and busy honey eaters happily swing off  beautiful pink flower stalks, much too thin for their weight.

 After three days riding about in a choking 

lava filled

concrete mixer we are gobsmacked. 

Yes Brian you're right... "it's good"

Almost a boat but better!

Hmm, what's through there... paradise?

Yep that'll do!

Maybe lay on handcrafted couch and do 

your blog sir?

That's a real houseboat on he left

you know, bobs up and down and leaks.

Do be do be do... sitting this far forward

lets me se the fish right... an inch more and I can swim with them!

Out and about in Srinagar

We are looked after royally for four nights by Rafiq and his son Aamir with Rafiqs wife doing the cooking for us. I have contracted a monster cold and am a dripping sniffing mess. Brian zooms about the city like a fly in a bottle on foot (he truly has endless curiosity) while I bang out the last blog post despite constant power cuts which drive Rafiq crazy. I'm really struggling with no medication but we have to check out this jewel of Kashmir, so we hook up Aamirs taxi driving friend and do a tour of the city. The central attraction is of course the Dal Lake with it's hundreds of houseboats and smaller Shikara tourist boats. (Brian returns the next day and has a shot on a Shikara and even has a paddle.) It's a warm clear day as we do a lap of the lake and move onto some magnificent monasteries and city gardens overlooking the city. A great day. There is a huge Indian army presence here, some say a million troops, keeping an eye on neighbour Pakistan and maybe Kashmir independence stuff, who knows. They are everywhere on street corners and bridges etc, all heavily armed, but seemed helpful happy and friendly. What we saw was a friendly attractive city full of warm locals with attractions just begging for tourists. 

There is a huge red "do not travel" on our Australian Smart Traveller site for Jammu and Kashmir which for us anyway, just doesn't add up,

I've certainly visited hairier places!

Jama Masjid Mosque

These uprights are solid pine.

My knees have a similar effect the world over.

These guys know how to handle them.

Put it on Deano!

Lovely. (Code for I can't remember where this is)

The front of the Mosque.

Real house boats that float and bob...

 and leak and creak!

Sign says it all.

The lake is surrounded by mountains in 

a totally idyllic setting.

Worse places for wedding shots huh.

Brian smashing out the photos.

Shankaracharya Hindu Temple.

The sights from the top were to die for 

and the stairs up to it to die on!

Listening to 

"THE GOOD THE BAD AND THE UGLY  MAIN THEME"

Written by Ennio Moricone for the spaghetti western

The Good the Bad and the Ugly 

in 1966 with none other than Clint Eastwood. 

This is what I'm playing in my head when I hit the mountains... oh yeah

 DA NA NA DAAA... DA NA DA

 DA NA NA DAAA... DA NA NA DAAA

Arrr them were the days...

shootin 'n riding 'n spitting 'n fighting 

'n sweating 'n cussing 'n farting... 

oops no sorry, that last one was from Blazing Saddles!

BIG MOUNTAIN TIME

It's time to hit the mountains. Why we came really. Brian, a keen fisherman, has found some kindred spirits in Aamir and Rafiq. Hours are spent in deep discussion over this three piece rod or that fly thingo blah blah... 

...right, time to go!

We're heading to Kargil first, about two hundred kilometres away, and plan is to stay there a day or two to help acclimatize for high altitude bit by bit. The day promises a great ride in perfect weather although the traffic from Srinagar towards Sonamarg is still heavy. There's a lot of Indian army presence everywhere along the way and the road is infested with groups of fellow motorcyclists, lumbering fuel tankers, and crazy horn blaring mental cases in mega colourful trucks. I swear that if you fail your driving test by a large enough percentage in India, you instantly win the keys to one of these death machines.  There's a pass about halfway along called  Zoji La which rises to about 3500 metres. The altitude doesn't bother us so much as the ultra sharp edged pavers set into the road (maybe for snow conditions) which pummel the crap out of us as we negotiate crazy dust, rocks, hairpins and traffic.

 The scenery is our first taste of the truly huge, but the pummeling for the first two thirds of the trip keeps our concentration glued to perilous road conditions. 

There is new roadworks and tunnels going on everywhere along maybe for military purposes. Every glance down into the steep valleys below would see some sort of mysterious major works going on in the most inhospitable environments. Finally the last fifty kilometres into Kargil the traffic thins out, the road improves, and we cruise in to town to the Hotel Zojila Residency which looks erm, a little above our pay scale. Hmm 2200 Rupees is a bargain, and it is.... buuuut third floor with no lifts. Aaaargh.Six flights of stairs at 2800 metres and with my cold I'm a wheezing mess. Brian of course, quite the athlete, bounds on up and I'm left trailing along behind a young porter who zooms up carry all our luggage at once!

Kargil...a top little spot.

Marianne and I were addicted to You Tube videos about caravanning for a while. There was one travelling mob that always finished up with something like "Yeh, top little spot that one". We would waste a whole fifteen minutes of our lives just waiting for them to drop it and to crack up laughing. 

Everywhere on earth seemed to be a "top little spot". 

Maybe it is... but some are topper than others!

Kargil is a top little spot. A curious blend of old culture mixing in with just enough modern technology to seemingly keep everyone happy. With a couple of days to spare we wandered abut the crazy illogical street layout, poked our noses into ancient shops, ate at dodgy tiny restaurants with the best food (the hotel restaurant was average and expensive) and marvelled at the way life rolled out every day. Take away the modern clothing and motorised vehicles and we might be back a hundred years. Whilst back at the houseboat in Srinagar, we'd met a couple of Czech travellers who described an ancient village they'd visited. 

Bit of people watching on the main drag.

Cop the banner!

The advantage of lots of staff is there's always someone

to talk to when it's quiet! Everywhere has lots of hangers on.

This humungous river runs right through town and the 

noise sounds like an air conditioner going all night...

placebo heating and cooling?

This tour group rolled up all on the model bike that I was supposed 

to have hired. Hmmm.... just saying.

Arty door shot.

On a whim we grab a local taxi, probably pay 

him too much, and zoom off to see the village for ourselves.

What followed was the hairiest ride in a car I've had since Ron and I got a ride to hospital with a totally stoned driver in Russia. We pile in a tiny Suzuki van, resplendent with bright green fake grass as a dash mat, and comfy red crocheted mats on the seats in the back, and zoom off. Hmm, the driver has put his seat belt on... a rare thing in these parts... aaaand we don't have any. Oh oh. We fly upwards onto what looks like a brand new road, but is super super narrow. Think a tiny strip of bitumen, a  gocart sized tiny strip maybe. For the next eleven kilometres we are treated to one of the greatest taxi rides ever. The road rises and rises, hairpin after hairpin, as the little Suzuki strains its guts out and the driver gives us a fine lesson in car control. The road runs a metre in from cliffs thousands of metres down, with barriers a rarity. Some of the hairier places are marked by a pile of rocks running along the edge... jeez that's gonna help. Peering out the side window I can see nothing but a river and village waaaaay below. My mind clicks through scenarios of what might happen if a wheel goes over the side or if we get tapped over by a truck on a corner... arrrm naah best not think about it!

Hunderman Village 

So Hunderman village was in India, or Kargil. Then the Poms divided up India in 1947 and it became Pakistani. Then in 1971 the Indian and Pakistanis have a stoush and the village becomes Indian. By now the villagers had legged it both ways and the village is left virtually uninhabited. Another stoush happened nearby in 1999 between Pakistan and India and that's about it... for now. On the way up the driver pointed out military posts way way up on the ridges watching the entire area. The ancient village remains pretty much untouched since 1971 and is now a museum run by one old guy who lives out there. I found it fascinating. There's the usual collection of old pots and crap but also a bunch of unspent mortar shells (!), 303 bullets, and even an old muzzle loading rifle found lying around. Anyway, check the pics. 

When was the last time you got a show 

ride on the way to a museum!

So you insert yourself into one of these!

Zoom onto the local staircase gocart track!

Stop halfway to see how far down you're gonna roll if it... 

...erm goes wrong!

Don't look out the side window...

Maybe just admire the fake lawn dash cover!

Arrive in Hunderman and head inside bumping 

your head at every possible occasion.

Admire the unspent mortar bombs inside.... hmmm

Brian showing how to get the pasta just right.

And back down the mountain frying the tiny brake drums as we go!

ONE FOR THE GREAT RIDE LIST

Kargil to Leh

Ok, you'll often hear me get excited and here we go again. Brian and I spend a couple of pleasant days in Kargil acclimatising a little at 2800 metres, and now it's time to head to Leh. Leh is kinda the destination we were hoping for if all went well, and, it's going well... in an Indian kind of way. So far, despite some of the most memorable moments of my travels, the actual rides have been a bit of a grind. 

Trucks, animals, roadworks etc you name it.

 You cannot get a minute to relax without some new obstacle flying straight at you requiring dodging, braking, ducking, weaving, skidding or unscheduled off road riding. Sigh.

Till now!

We rise and pack early and zoom out into perfect crisp cool conditions. We follow the valley along to the left of the river between towering mountains, sweeping through small villages, past gleaming Buddha statues and monasteries, with very little traffic to impede our progress. The villages are quite green with ever present poplars everywhere and seem a little more affluent than what we've passed through so far in this trip. Many small restaurants tempt but the riding is so easy and fun we relax and enjoy the scenery. The road could have been designed by a motorcyclist as the road surface is pretty much perfect and the curves are to die for.  All trucks are easily dispatched anywhere anytime as they crawl along almost at walking pace on the steeper parts.  There are two passes along the way Namika La, at 3700 metres and Fotu La, at 4108 metres. Both climb up and up and up revealing a panorama  of gigantic naked mountains of different shapes and textures. I'm sorry, but I do not have the skill to photograph such grandeur.

The mighty shapes and colours are just mind boggling. 

For once we get time to take it all in and it's breathtaking.

 

Namika Pass at 3700 metres.

Parked up at the pass.

You just can't photograph it... 

The different colour Indus and Zanskar rivers where they join.

Lovely place for a chai and an omelette.

The view from the Hotel Swastika... 

...which was actually a cafe, no drinking or sleeping here!

I know it means something different here, but...

Brian has a flash camera and knows how to use it...

two up on me!

Along the valley floor it's quite cool and green. 

We stop at both passes and also at the confluence of Indus and Zanskar rivers. At all these stops we join many holidaying Indians, many on motorcycles enjoying the view. The Indus and Zanskar rivers both flow out of the Himalayas, one river blue and one green. The join together in the Nimmu area and the view from the road high above is wonderful. For lunch we stop at the Swastika (good luck in Hindu apparently) restaurant high above an ancient village (Ok I can't remember where it was!) . We sit outside on crappy plastic furniture, knocking over yummy omelettes, ancient village with Disney like monastery in the distance, watching trucks negotiate a super tight downhill hairpin before smoking their brakes on the run downhill all the way to the village. For days I have been abusing trucks for hogging the road on curves, often forcing us off into the dirt. Bastards. Here I learn that on the trucks with six rear wheels, the leading two are the only ones that steer, and therefore, they cannot actually get round the tighter curves without blocking both lanes... 

Mongrels

Sooo... 

these guys, drive these roads daily, in vehicles that cannot possibly get round a lot of the corners, without crossing over to the wrong side and blocking the road.... Yikes!

SMALL

Here I ride, an insignificant spec.,

humbled and enthralled.

Mountains river valleys,

distant ridges that rise and fall.

Epically stupendous larger than huge,

majestically serene and grandiose.

Just a grain of sand a tiny bug,

in a panoramic masterpiece.

Indescribable calls the rules here,

verbal explanation has no call.

I ride my motorcycle through immensity,

joyfully powerless and glad to be small.

Dean

REALITY CHECK

I'm writing this from a two star hotel in Leh in my last stinky tshirt and socks. It's been unseasonably hot everywhere here... and it's a grind. We've brought bags full of cold weather clothes basically for nothing as the hot weather here just runs on and on. Aaand to be honest, the food up here in the north is pretty ordinary, and although our hotel includes free dinner and breakfast, we've been skipping the dinner and going into town in search of flavour, any flavour! Brian has had the first dose of the shits which he got over pretty quick and I'm waiting my turn sometime soon I guess. He's a bit more of a culture curiosity type than me and is in overload in these parts. As I write this it's been two weeks already (!) and we've done and seen soooo much. India is tiring though... dam tiring, particularly in the heat and high altitude. You have to watch and see one hundred percent of the time. At the hotel here they constantly turn the power off, so I have to ask to have it turned back on, or the internet's turned off, so I have to ask to have it turned back on, and the hot water is total hit or miss so I have to fiddle with it... etc etc. The people are polite and curious but it's a weird culture... pushing in when in line waiting (which I despise) to be served is almost revered... huh?  No worries, just cruise on in, politely say excuse me, and then stand right in front... nooo sorry!

Anyways it is what it is. So, two weeks to go to do some stuff round Leh, and then begin to head back down to Delhi and hopefully the Taj Mahal... 

it's actually going to plan... sorta!

NEXT BLOG PANGONG LAKE AND HIGH PASSES AROUND LEH BEFORE HEADING SOUTH!

Heaps of thanks for the comments from the last Blog.

Keep em coming as we truly appreciate hearing from you!

Just click on the post a comment bit below and you're off.