September 24, 2016

Not All Roads That Follow a River Are Flat. Remember this. The old bait and switch got me again. Today was supposed to begin with the continuation of the Khardung La descent for 20 km, then a 40 km flat and relaxing stretch along the river before arriving in Tangyar. My only memory of the descent was following 5 Indian military trucks down the single lane, snaking road. To miss a turn would be fatal. The one good thing about following military trucks is that it makes it nearly impossible to get hit head on by another driver rallying around a blind corner in the opposing direction, something I have learned is common in India. I have no recollection of the rest of the descent since the memory has since been soundly bludgeoned from my brain. Read on…

I was told that the road along the river may or may not exist due to flooding. Coming down from Khardung La and making the turn on this road, it is easy to understand how it could simply disappear. It is a perfectly paved, perfectly straight, and mostly flat single lane road paralleling the river. However, there is a full ½ km on either side of the road, filling the valley, that is completely consumed with smooth river rock, the exact height of the road. Any rise in the river will engulf the road. I can only imagine that in the spring, this entire valley is a 20km long, 1km wide, raging, impassable river. If you got to this point and the valley was flooded, your only option would be to retreat back up the Khardong La…which sounds dreadful. I think I’d rather swim. Fortunately, it is late September and the river is but a shadow of its raging, spring self.

The 20km stretch through the valley was indeed a relaxing, zoned out, mindless spin…as much as could be had at an altitude of over 14k feet above sea level. Then…it changed. There is a junction at Agham, a place that is sign posted every 1 km for 15 km as you approach it, however there literally is nothing there. No village. No homes. Not even a building. Nothing. Fortunately I have plenty of food and water. Stay to the right and continue to follow the river south to Tangyar. I was told that Tangyar was the only other place that I would find any sort of town before joining the main highway again at Karu, still 2 days journey away. Thirty kilometers along the same flat road should have effortlessly and serenely melted away in 2 hours. Except, the perfectly paved road turned to a broken, blown out cart path. Strike 1. No problem. The sun came out in full force and at 14k feet is, shall we say, intense…aside from the fact that I am indeed pedaling an 80lb bike at 14k feet, higher than any road in Colorado. Strike 2. Little more effort, but still ok. Then the road pitched up. Strike 3. This cannot be. I was told by 3 people that this road is flat. Looking at the map, it is indeed straight, and we all know that straight roads along rivers are FLAT. The first hour, I’m still ok. I’m motoring on. Then the sun, altitude, weight, road condition all gelled together and combined forces to soundly defeat me, 1 body blow at a time. I was in my granny gear for 2 hours, doing my best to not tip over due to my debilitated pace. The physics of cycling nearly broke down. (For non cyclists, the lowest / easiest gear is called the granny gear as this is the gear your granny would need to use to pedal the bicycle. I didn’t make this up.)

Three hours since the turnoff at Agham and 5 hours since I left Khardung, I dragged myself into the ghost town that is Tagyar. It looks as if it is the place that time forgot. It still is the only thing that I have passed that even remotely resembles civilization today. There are old white washed buildings cut dauntingly into the side of the mountain. The only way up to them is via a scree field of loose rocks with a suggestion of a path. I cross a makeshift bridge over the river, leave my bike, and scramble up the loose rock path to a building with “Homestay” painted on it. There is nobody there, and looks like there hasn’t been in years. I walk around the hill side, peeking in windows (which are mostly holes with no glass). The buildings have dirt floors and thatch roofs. The only inhabitants I can see are the cows that roam freely. I come across a gentleman in his late 50’s, wearing a North Face fleece jacket. “Home stay?” I ask, as I have learned that most people at least know that expression if nothing else in English. “Four o’clock”, he replies as he points at the seemingly abandoned building with “Home stay” painted on it. It is barely noon, and I’m shattered. There is however, nobody else around. I do my best to convey that I just want to lay down, and hopefully have some food. He points off in the direction across the river on the other side of the valley. “Four o’clock”. “Ok” I say in a dejected way, while trying to smile and show my appreciation, unsure why he pointed across the valley.

I drink some more water, saving the bottle of Coke I have for when I really need it, eat an energy bar, scramble down the loose rock path and cross the river over to the other side of the valley. The buildings over here are newer construction, some with actual windows. I didn’t look on this side because I was immediately drawn to the only building with “Home stay” painted on it…and none of the buildings on this side have any such designation or signage. I begin walking around the cluster of 5 homes, attempting to find anyone that knows about a potential homestay in Tangyar. After an hour of unsuccessfully knocking on doors and peeking in windows (with actual glass), I see the same man from the other side walking the prayer wheel and heading my way. “You need homestay? Food?”, holding his hands up to his mouth in an eating motion. By this time it is 1pm and the check engine lights are flashing. “Yes” I reply enthusiastically anticipating that something might have changed. “Two o’clock” as he points at the home he is walking toward. Two o’clock is better than four o’clock so I resign myself to sitting on a rock and waiting the next hour, still unsure what that option is or where. Seeing me slump down on the rock, the gentleman motions me up the path that he is traveling on, up to his home. “You stay with me”, he says in a kind and welcoming way. I leapt from the rock I was perched on, dragged my bike up a loose gravel path to his home and joined him inside. It is a simple home yet nicer than others in Tagyar, and is of solid concrete construction.  He shows me a room full of ornate rugs on the floor covering the concrete, some with cushions underneath in the corner. “This your room. Sit and rest.” He asks where I began today. “Khardung”, I reply. “Very long journey. You are very strong. You alone?” I nod yes with a smile but definitely do not feel strong.  Everyone that I meet seems surprised that I am traveling through this beautiful yet isolated area alone. To be honest, I’m not sure I would have it any other way.

I collapse onto the cushions. He proceeds to bring me traditional Ladakhi tea made with butter and salt. I don’t think there is actual tea in it, but rather hot water, yak butter, and salt. It tastes like, well, hot buttery salt water. It is something that I would never choose, if given the choice, however, now is not the time to be unappreciative so I knock it back. Besides, I could use the calories, salt, and hydration. Along with this tea, he uses it as a base, combined with barley, more butter, cheese, and sugar to form a soup. It is ironically the same potion that my Llama friend made me back in Leh, however in a soup form. It tastes a little like rich dirt (butter and barley), however, sugar helps, and I’m starving. “Do you like maggi?”, he asks? “YES!” (Maggi is essentially ramen.) He brings out a steaming bowl of maggi and a large thermos of chai. The lights are coming back on. Following my snack, he asks if I need to wash from my cycle. “Warm or cold water?” With a huge smile I reply, “Cold. It’s no problem,” I say because I don’t want to be a burden. I’m already so grateful for his kindness. He goes to the back yard where he has a solar hot water system and fills a 5 gallon container with hot water and shows me the wash room. “After long journey, warm water is better.” “Oh, 1 more thing”, I ask, “Where can I get water to drink?” He points to a hose in the back yard, the same area where he got my bathing water. “It’s ok to drink?” I inquire cautiously. “From glacier. Very good water. No sick”, as he points up the mountain to the snow capped peak and the stream flowing down from it. “I must work now. You stay and rest. Be back 4 o’clock and make you dinner.” Turns out he is a teacher and was going back to the school. Shortly after he left, his wife, daughter, and her son came home, warmly greeted the stranger seated in their home, and brought me more tea and biscuits. By 7pm, we were all sitting around a table on the floor, sharing a family dinner of rice, dahl, potatoes, and curd (yogurt). He apologizes for making me go without a proper lunch and waiting this long for real food. All I can do is smile.

Living in this area is hard. The winters are fierce. The nearest store of any kind is back in Khardung or maybe Karu…either way is several hours drive over a big mountain pass. There is a river running through town and cows everywhere. I’m not sure what crops they harvest but farming at this altitude definitely has its challenges. This man and his family have very little but opened up their home to a complete stranger, with nothing expected in return. They don’t run an actual homestay, but rather are just a genuinely kind family who wanted to help. They opened up their home to me to stay. India just keeps showing me kindness and inspiration around every corner and over every hill.