Cycling in Ladakh

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In case anyone is interested in venturing beyond the usual cycling stomping grounds, Ladakh in Northwest India is a fascinating place for a bit of cycle exploring. The majority of my trip has been for trekking and cultural, but I thought I would share my experiences of cycling.



The first, and arguably the most important, point to note is that if you fly into Leh, after a brief stop over in Delhi, then you are probably going from sea level to 3500m in less than 24hrs. Your body is not designed for this so you have to give it time to adjust to the altitude, so for the first two days do take it pretty easy. Having said that I did rent a perfectly decent mountain bike (circa £10 per days from Himalayan Bikers) for the afternoon of day two.



My afternoon’s ride involved a gentle freewheel down the valley past the airport then a short 600m switchbacks to get up to Spituk gompa and the neighbouring monastery on the opposite side of the valley from Leh. The monasteries and gompas are always positioned in the most stunning locations so even though I am most definitely not a religious nut, most my rides were structured around visiting these. Next I headed to Stok Palace and gompa, about 10miles away, initially meandering along the Indus River, before climbing up towards Stok, at the base of a couple of 6000+ metre peaks, all part of the Karakoram range.



Ascending, even on a mild gradient, was absolutely knackering. I was very mindful of the perils of altitude sickness (although not quite mindful enough to be reading a book on the hotel balcony), so I went ultra slowly up the 5-6km climb, past the palace to the enormous Buddha perched on the mountain side overlooking the valley to the snow capped peaks opposite. I locked up the bike, and found a steep narrow pathway that led up to the Buddha. It was pretty impressive, and you could climb up into its bottom, which I found rather more amusing than I should have done. Playing it slightly cautiously, I then headed back to the hotel, via a slightly different route. The very slow slog up into Leh, punctuated periodically by being engulfed in a cloud of black diesel fumes from the trucks and buses (ULEZ has yet to reach these parts), wasn’t so pleasant. I am sure there are better route options available.



One very popular trip that Himalayan Bikers offer is a lift up to the top of Khardung La pass which leads over to the Nubra Valley, followed by a 40km descent to Leh. At 5600m it is allegedly the highest paved (albeit barely) road. Lots of fun but definitely not something to sign up to unless you’re adequately acclimatised. Nubra valley, which I visited without the bike also offers great mountain biking opportunities, with quiet backroads and various places to visit including sand dunes and Bactarian (two humped) camels which you can ride if you want a break from peddling, and traditional Balti villages. You need a special pass for this (easily procured in Leh) as it is still a contested border with Pakistan, so there is a strong army presence. Nearly all the army chaps I came across seemed pretty friendly, with the exception of one rotund pip-squeak who I failed to notice at his checkpoint - lots of blowing of the whistle and flailing arms ensued….



After I got back from my trekking/ travelling in Nubra I rented another bike, and got a lift from the bike shop to Sakti, about 40kms from Leh, including about 12kms up a reasonable climb. I was aiming to attend a Buddhist festival there the following day. After settling in I hopped on my bike and explored the village. It is at 3900m altitude which is a complete sap on the energy, so I made it all of about 2kms up the steep road - just far enough to see the monastery set up for the festivities - before freewheeling back to base. It was also starting to get dark, so it wasn’t just a matter of laziness!



While the altitude is really not great for cyclists, one major positive in my experience so far (I might regret saying this later) is the quality of the loose mutts. Last year when doing a little cycling around the Caucuses I was routinely attacked by packs of blood thirsty hounds who gnashed at my flailing ankles with savage intensity, to the point where I hardly wanted to climb on the bike for fear of getting rabies. So far in Ladakh the dogs have seemed wonderfully benign. There is often a chorus of barking in the night as they vie for the top dog accolade among themselves, but as long as they don’t gang up on me I couldn’t care less. Apparently it is a different matter in winter when the ownerless dogs are very hungry and they might see you as slow moving dinner.



The following day I cycled up to the monastery for the festival which involved lots of bright outfits and choreographed dances. But after a few hours I got bored of a bunch of monks prancing around in funny outfits, so I relinquished my seat and then hopped on my mountain bike and carried on up the hill. The road wound its way up through the valley past the well irrigated, lush fields surrounding the village and then to the increasingly desolate rock strewn mountain side. Eventually the road reaches Wari La pass at circa. 5300m, whereas I most certainly didn’t. I meandered very slowly up about 10km from the village when the weather turned. It started to rain and the temperature plummeted. I had made a complete rookie error in not bringing a water proof jacket. I quickly u-turned and descended as rapidly as possible when not being able to see properly, and without even a helmet, steadily losing feeling in my hands as I did so.



On getting back to the house, I couldn’t get access as everyone was at the festival. So I called the son, who had thoughtfully given me his number, while shivering on the doorstep. Luckily he was only a couple of minutes away, so it wasn’t long before I was defrosting under my thick woolly blanket. Once I had warmed up and the rain had subsided I jumped back on my bike, spinning down the valley to see the impressive Chemrey gompa which is perched steeply on the side of the mountain overlooking the valley. The Buddhists seem to have snagged all the prime real estate round here.



The next day I was heading down to the Indus Valley to stay at a luxury camp set up by the daughter of someone I know from back home and her husband. It was about 40kms away so I had the challenge of getting all my baggage, myself and the bike there. Ideally with me cycling as it would be a shame not to enjoy the lovely 15kms descent, and my baggage in a vehicle. I mentioned my plan to the son of the homestay owners and he volunteered to drive my kit down for me. After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing we landed on the plan that I would set off and do a bit of sightseeing en route and then when I was at my last stop off I would send him a message and he would bring my stuff. What a result!



En route there were a couple of very impressive monasteries, including the famous Thiksey, so I checked those out. In Thiksey there were lots of monks chanting prayers, with ages ranging from about 8 to 80+. The youngsters didn’t seem particularly focused on all that spiritually uplifting stuff and were rather more engaged in making funny faces and poking each other in the ribs and trying not to crack up. Kids being kids.



I found the Indus River Camp (highly recommended) without too much trouble. It was so far removed from my usual definition of camping (which involves a £20 pop up tent from Argos). After settling into my room, as it was starting to cool off a little, I decided to do a bit more exploring on my bike, initially along a quiet unpaved backroad along the west bank of the Indus and then when that lettered out I headed up towards Matho in the foothills to see, yes you guessed it, another bloody gompa. No I am not turning into a religious freak, they just happen to be, without fail, in beautiful spots. As usual it was hard labour peddling my heavy mountain bike up the few kilometres to the gompa, but sheer joy freewheeling back down with the evening sun transforming the mountains opposite to a warm russet hue. A minor unintended detour caused me to stumble upon an archery contest for monks combined with a feast and some pumping music.



The next morning I decided to go for a pre-brekkie spin, on the basis that it was still relatively cool. I decided to head up towards Stok which is a 5km climb from the main(ish) road. I had been up there before in my first couple of days in Leh, but I hadn’t taken a look at the palace that time, only the Buddha. On leaving town there seemed to be quite a lot of roadside flags and “Welcome” banners across the road, then as I turned off onto the climbing section every hundred meters or so there were army people and/or people in the traditional Buddhist garb. I waved and greeted them with “Julee!”, which elicited cheery smiles and either “Julee” or “Good Morning” in response. There were also many pots of burning incense, charcoal or cow dung, the fumes of which were not exactly performance enhancing for my oxygen starved lungs. Very nice of them to pull out all the stops for my morning ride, but definitely a bit more fanfare than was strictly necessary.



As I drew closer to the Buddha, perched high on the mountain side, I could hear melodious chanting and a deep lowing sound from a pair of enormous horns. There were huge crowds of people surrounding the statue. However, after the last couple of days of cultural overload I elected not to go and check it out. Instead I continued up the valley to the trailhead for the Stok La pass, then did a u-turn to whizz back down, briefly stopping at the palace en route. Just as I set off from there I got stopped by a policeman, which got me slightly worried as I had come out without any ID. He asked where I was going, so I pointed down the hill and told him where I was staying. He told me to be quick as the Dalai Lama was about to pass through. It being down hill rather than up hill, I was able to adhere to his instructions, but about halfway down an army person started shouting at me waving me to pull over which I duly did. About 30 seconds later a large convoy of SUVs came barrelling up the road, and I spotted the Dalai Lama in the car in the middle of the cavalcade. Quite an unexpected bonus for my early morning spin.



In the afternoon, once I finally got moving, I decided to head to Hemis. Yup. Yet another darn monastery, this time at the gateway to the Hemis National Park, home to the illusive snow leopard. The first twelve miles or so were fairly flat with a few gentle undulations, and then the road climbed very steeply through multiple switchbacks initially through barren terrain and then through a patchwork of terraced field. In the monastery there was an old bicycle on display which had been used by the head monk to cycle from Kathmandu in Nepal to Leh, which is around 2000kms. After my feeble attempts to cycle round here, hats off to him and rather him than me! The reverse route was lovely for the initial downhill section, but then I turned into the evening mistral wind which was a bit grating on morale, but before too long I got back to base where the Himalayan Riders chap was waiting to pick up the bike.

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