Driving – from Leh to Padum

19. September 2024

 

 

The shared taxi was supposed to pick me up at 4.00 am. Somehow I couldn’t sleep well and had a very short night. It actually arrived almost on time. I had booked the front seat – always a good decision. But the back seat wouldn’t have been so bad either, as it was only shared by a father and daughter. We sped off and after a short while we waited for 2 other shared taxis and then we set off together. Stop for a first tea in Khaltse. On the way to the loo, I couldn’t resist taking a photo of this sleeping place:

 

 

The road is really great and the journey to the junction in Wanla is smooth and dust-free.

 

 

But even after that it didn’t necessarily get any worse, there was a lot of tarmac. One section, i.e. about 7 km, is part of a trek that I think is quite nice on the whole and I was already worried that you would have to go all tarmac here, but saw that there was a gravel track on the other side of the river. Fine.

 

 

The section to Lingshed was completed in 2019. Before the road was built, this was a pure trekking route that I hiked in 1996 and 2007. I was very curious to see what I remembered and what it would be like to drive on the road now. The Hanupatta Gorge started directly after Fanjilla. It was so narrow and the path so narrow that it was feared that loaded animals would fall into the water (which is probably what happened). In 1996, all the luggage was carried over the trickiest part by hand and the animals went empty. I don’t remember 2007. And now a road went through here! They had to blast away a lot of rock! It was still narrow:

 

 

 

 

Then it widened out a little. Pretty smart tarmac. But those overhanging rocks – somehow they always make me feel queasy.

 

 

And then it was round the corner and up a valley to Sirsir-la, 4,800 metres. The slightly daft thing about the shared taxi is that it doesn’t stop to take photos and doesn’t stop on the passes to enjoy. Therefore: unfortunately no pass photos. But of the ascent:

 

 

 

As you can see, it was mostly cloudy. That was a bit daft for great envy pictures or something, but not too bad for driving. After the pass, we descended to Photoksar, a beautifully situated village. The road leads past it and there was a tea and food tent there. However, it was closed and the faces of my fellow travellers were long: no breakfast. My stomach thought of having bought a pastry the day before and so I was quite happy to have a full belly. But one of them had chapatis and pickles, which were shared.

 

 

Here was a little sunshine and I took some photos:

 

 

 

 

 

 

As we drove on, we had a beautiful view of Photoksar, but it was not so easy to take a photo.

 

 

 

Last year I was at the Great Himalayan National Park, where a busy Belgian had moved with his Indian wife and was putting his hands into various projects. I didn’t particularly like him. His latest project would be to create ‘sustainable tourism’ in Photoksar so that they could not only look at the road with travellers but also earn money from the tourists. I actually wanted to spend a night here and have a look, but I was warned that it would be difficult to travel on, as there tend to be only full cars (and no buses). Funnily enough, we met a hitchhiker shortly afterwards and she was happy to get a lift. A local from Zangla/Zanskar.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was here that I started to feel strange. I used to love the valley and, in a strange twist, even thought that I would find it a beautiful place for eternal rest. Luckily, firstly I haven’t found it yet anyway and secondly not here – the road had ‘damaged’ the place for me. It used to be just overwhelming nature with that special feeling of nature. There was nothing left of that, too much ‘civilisation’ and hustle and bustle.

 

I was a little amused some time ago about Nepal when someone said that he no longer wanted to visit the route to the left of Annapurna to Kagbeni because of the road (he only knew it from before as a pure trekking route), that it would break his heart. I thought it was almost a bit silly – and now I felt the same way! Not that I would refuse to ride through here again, but the nice feeling from before is simply gone and those who don’t know it probably find the scenery quite beautiful.

 

In any case, it was an interesting experience. And how do you think cyclists feel on this tour? I saw some and thought that I wouldn’t like it with the road dust from the vehicles. Apart from that, it’s also a mystery to me why people like to pedal all those metres uphill – but others probably don’t understand my hiking uphill either.

 

 

 

It went higher and higher over the 5,000 metre Singge-la pass and then you could look down on the other side. Funnily enough, the road was more tarmac further up than further down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here you can see the road at the bottom, which runs directly along the Zanskar River and was opened with much fanfare in April. And then immediately closed again because so much work still needs to be done on it. But this is the most important road, which has been under construction for what feels like 20 years. It doesn’t cross a pass, which means that Zanskar would be accessible all year round. A lifesaver in winter.

 

 

So we drove back down about 1,500 metres in altitude and there was finally an open restaurant and a toilet.

 

 

This is where the two roads met and now led together for the last stretch to Padum. The trekking route back then was a little different: via the village of Lingshed, which we didn’t pass directly, over a pass and then high above a narrow gorge. I couldn’t orientate myself 100% and am unsure whether the road was carved into this gorge or whether there was another one.

 

 

 

 

 

The route from Lingshed to Karsha can still be done quite well on foot, a not so long trekking tour with two passes below 5,000 metres.

 

Then the landscape opens up towards the large Zanskar valley and you’re in Padum in no time.

 

 

 

My passport was noted down twice – I found it funny the second time, when the driver dictated my details to the lady at the top of the window:

 

 

In Padum I was greeted by rain, lots of hustle and bustle and Rigchok. It’s nice to have someone there straight away. Even though he’s grown up and has a beard, I could still recognise his childlike features. Who else I met and what my impressions are will be in the next blog post.

 

It took us 9.5 hours to cover the 200 kilometres, including the breaks. The route is quite beautiful and spectacular. As Zanskar now has 3.5 road entrances/exits (the one to Kargil has been upgraded and is now considered the best road in the entire Himalayas – and the one over the Shingo-la is soon to be tunnelled) and is still rather new territory on the tourist map, I thought it would be teeming with particularly adventurous motorcyclists. There were – but fewer than I had expected.

 

 

 

Why all this road construction? And what about the future of tourism? Firstly, I had a conversation in the evening with someone who was of the opinion that the Indian government only builds roads if they are for the military. There are borders with Pakistan and China here and there are also roads closer to the borders, but they need something for the retreat, for which Zanskar would be very well suited in terms of its location, and for supplies. The fact that you first build a road over the Shingo-la, which you then want to tunnel under, makes sense insofar as you also have to get all the tunnelling materials there – and for that it was easier to build the road over the top. In any case, the route Manali – Altai Tunnel (see Himachal Pradesh 2023 blog) – Shingo la Tunnel – pass-free road on the Zanskar River will provide year-round road access to the borders in the north. Why not use the access via Srinagar? There is only one pass in between, which is covered in snow in winter. But Srinagar/Kashmir is also a bit tricky – and they have other plans: train connections. But you have to build a line to Srinagar first.

 

After decades of only plans and little happening, road construction is now moving along quite quickly (by the way, the Himalaya-best route was built by a private company on behalf of the government in a very short time – so you can see how it can be done). It’s always interesting and I have to admit that I’m now grateful for less dust and bumps on Indian mountain roads. And of course I don’t begrudge any village a road connection. But what exactly all this means for everyone involved: I endeavour to observe and understand it.

 

A closer look at Padum in the next blog post will start with that.