Tso Moriri is a beautiful lake some 220 Kms from Leh somewhere near the China border. The roads leading you there take you through one of the most breathtaking landscapes you will find in the country. One gets to see naked mountains of different colours, 3 to 4 Army / paramilitary camps, a few horses (less than 20) and fewer people in that 220 Km stretch. Actually the last 160 Km odd stretch but I exaggerate for effect.
Oh in case you are really lucky you might even see a spaceship with aliens. Trust me this whole stretch is too spooky and deserted and with whatever limited knowledge I have about alien likes and dislikes, I presume this is exactly the kind of place that aliens would come to wind off after a busy day.
So all in all a perfect ride from Leh and somewhere halfway through I spot an Army camp. Stop there for some snacks and refreshment. Have my fill and decide to resume, the perfectly normal bike suddenly refuses to start. Along with the Army men around we check for everything, change spark plugs, clean them, say a silent prayer, let out loud curse words, hope against hope - basically do everything but the bike doesn't start. No one has an idea what's wrong with the bike but I have this suspicion that aliens have something to do with it. Still I decide to keep it to myself for the time being.
Then suddenly out of the blue one of the Army guys has a brilliant idea. I am generally not very kind to ideas which does not involve getting drunk but this guy was a genius. God bless him. He said we can push start the bike and voila it starts. Now I had a choice - either head back to Leh and get the damn thing fixed or continue to Tso Moriri another 100 odd Kms. I guess intelligent choices have never been my forte and I head to Tso Moriri ensuring that my engine does not stop till I reach the place. 100 odd Kms ensuring that the engine does not go off is a piece of cake except for the fact that that in the last 20 Kms someone forgot to make a road. But somehow I reach the ITBP check post just outside Korzok village, Tso Moriri at 7 in the evening. I have to stop to enter my details and make them believe I am not a Chinese spy and as I guessed, the bike refused to start after that. With a practiced expression of disbelief and despair on my face, I pleaded with the ITBP men to keep my bike with the luggage at their camp for the night whereas I head to the Korzok village one Km uphill to find a room for the night. I guess I played the disbelief and despair card pretty well cause at the end of it my bike along with the luggage was parked in the ITBP camp and the ITBP men accompanied me to the village and got me a room at a cheaper rate.
The next morning I clicked some pictures around, had some food and headed back to the ITBP camp hoping the bike would start without any trouble and if not to figure out a way to continue the journey. The ITBP men gave me warm smiles and somewhere deep down I was rejoicing on the fact that how my people skills had improved manifolds on this road trip. I was all smiles when suddenly it struck me and my smile faded away. There are a lot of things that a road trip teaches you and one of those things is that every man at some intrinsic level believes he is a mechanic par excellence. There were some 8 to 10 men eagerly waiting for me and everyone somehow had a solution to get the bike to start. Of course none of them worked and we again resorted to push starting the bike. This time the terrain wasn't all that favorable for pushing the bike and at 14000 feet pushing the bike for more than 200 metres is physically exhausting. Two and a half hours have gone and we go back and forth figuring out more solutions to get the bike to start and when they don't work again pushing the bike. But if there is one thing about these ITBP guys -I must say they never gave up. This is the kind of spirit that makes me believe that the country is in safe hands. These guys just won't give up.
Thankfully for everyone at this point two riders who had headed out from this village in the morning are returning because one of them had a flat tyre and they were looking for an air pump.Suddenly one of the ITBP guys had a brilliant idea - again one which did not involve getting drunk. He said why don't we get one of these guys to tow your bike with a rope. And voila after some 500 meters of towing the engine springs to life. I thank the ITBP guys profusely, give my airpump to those french riders, decide to go back to Leh and get the bike fixed and then continue on my journey to Himachal. But then there is a twist to the tale. I never reach Leh again but I did manage to reach Himachal. It gets more interesting. There's an accident, carrying the bike in a truck and a brief interaction with a pretty woman on the way just to spice things up.
All that in part two of this post... :)
Oh in case you are really lucky you might even see a spaceship with aliens. Trust me this whole stretch is too spooky and deserted and with whatever limited knowledge I have about alien likes and dislikes, I presume this is exactly the kind of place that aliens would come to wind off after a busy day.
So all in all a perfect ride from Leh and somewhere halfway through I spot an Army camp. Stop there for some snacks and refreshment. Have my fill and decide to resume, the perfectly normal bike suddenly refuses to start. Along with the Army men around we check for everything, change spark plugs, clean them, say a silent prayer, let out loud curse words, hope against hope - basically do everything but the bike doesn't start. No one has an idea what's wrong with the bike but I have this suspicion that aliens have something to do with it. Still I decide to keep it to myself for the time being.
Then suddenly out of the blue one of the Army guys has a brilliant idea. I am generally not very kind to ideas which does not involve getting drunk but this guy was a genius. God bless him. He said we can push start the bike and voila it starts. Now I had a choice - either head back to Leh and get the damn thing fixed or continue to Tso Moriri another 100 odd Kms. I guess intelligent choices have never been my forte and I head to Tso Moriri ensuring that my engine does not stop till I reach the place. 100 odd Kms ensuring that the engine does not go off is a piece of cake except for the fact that that in the last 20 Kms someone forgot to make a road. But somehow I reach the ITBP check post just outside Korzok village, Tso Moriri at 7 in the evening. I have to stop to enter my details and make them believe I am not a Chinese spy and as I guessed, the bike refused to start after that. With a practiced expression of disbelief and despair on my face, I pleaded with the ITBP men to keep my bike with the luggage at their camp for the night whereas I head to the Korzok village one Km uphill to find a room for the night. I guess I played the disbelief and despair card pretty well cause at the end of it my bike along with the luggage was parked in the ITBP camp and the ITBP men accompanied me to the village and got me a room at a cheaper rate.
The next morning I clicked some pictures around, had some food and headed back to the ITBP camp hoping the bike would start without any trouble and if not to figure out a way to continue the journey. The ITBP men gave me warm smiles and somewhere deep down I was rejoicing on the fact that how my people skills had improved manifolds on this road trip. I was all smiles when suddenly it struck me and my smile faded away. There are a lot of things that a road trip teaches you and one of those things is that every man at some intrinsic level believes he is a mechanic par excellence. There were some 8 to 10 men eagerly waiting for me and everyone somehow had a solution to get the bike to start. Of course none of them worked and we again resorted to push starting the bike. This time the terrain wasn't all that favorable for pushing the bike and at 14000 feet pushing the bike for more than 200 metres is physically exhausting. Two and a half hours have gone and we go back and forth figuring out more solutions to get the bike to start and when they don't work again pushing the bike. But if there is one thing about these ITBP guys -I must say they never gave up. This is the kind of spirit that makes me believe that the country is in safe hands. These guys just won't give up.
Thankfully for everyone at this point two riders who had headed out from this village in the morning are returning because one of them had a flat tyre and they were looking for an air pump.Suddenly one of the ITBP guys had a brilliant idea - again one which did not involve getting drunk. He said why don't we get one of these guys to tow your bike with a rope. And voila after some 500 meters of towing the engine springs to life. I thank the ITBP guys profusely, give my airpump to those french riders, decide to go back to Leh and get the bike fixed and then continue on my journey to Himachal. But then there is a twist to the tale. I never reach Leh again but I did manage to reach Himachal. It gets more interesting. There's an accident, carrying the bike in a truck and a brief interaction with a pretty woman on the way just to spice things up.
All that in part two of this post... :)
About Me:
A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you
Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.
Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.
You can find more information on my Facebook page and Instagram account
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