Bangalore Rising

The drive to Turtuk was a good 70kms from Hunder. The sand dunes at Hunder were nice, but it somehow did not fascinate either Ratan or me. So we took a couple of pictures, skipped the camel rides and headed to TurTuk. The winding drive north east along the Siachen river was nice, very quiet, and calming. Large army facilities are seen almost for 50 Kms. But for fallen rocks on the road, and the company of two soldiers for a short distance, the trip was fairly uneventful. About 55 Kms into the drive, we signed into a military check post on a really narrow wooden cantilevered bridge. This point onwards belonged to Pakistan, which India captured and retained as part of its '71 victory. Siachen merged into Shyok river, and we followed its path up to a point; the river of course benefits by not having to deal with political boundaries and so enters Pakistan about 10 Kms after Turtuk village. Turkut is as different from the rest of Ladakh as it can possibly get. To begin with

I thought I would write about our trek that I thought would be the highlight of our trip. It was not, for a couple of reasons. One of course was that we did not complete the trek as planned, but still one section - the Likir-Yawnthang piece was quiet grueling, considering that we had never done high altitude treks, and in fairly cold conditions ever before. I am tempted to come back and do a bigger, tougher one, but I am sobered by my fitness to not want to brag about that possibility. Our guide of course was very encouraging - he wants me to come back for the 8-day Marka Valley trek next summer. Insha Allah! So here I am writing not about our trek but about two people who epitomize the spirit of India in general and of the Ladakhis specifically. Tashi has been our driver for this trip, ferrying us around Ladakh in his Xylo including to our trek drop off and pick up points. Probably 30, he is lean, tall, and with chiseled features. He is from Nubra Valley up north, hundred kilo

Since I must begin this narrative somewhere, I will start in no particular order, with this wonderful road trip from Leh to Lukong, a 140 km journey, where Pangong Lake is situated. And I write about this trip only because I am sitting inside a tent in Lukong, in freezing cold, with a light drizzle, and heavy winds, and the memory of the journey fresh in my mind. I have nothing better to do, dinner being a good hour away, and my partner in crime lying next to me nursing a slight altitude sickness. And while I write about this trip, let me leave the lake itself for later and instead talk about nature, and the mountains we encountered on our way here. To me, Himalayas was mostly about those trips to Nainital, Almora, Dharamsala, McLeodgunj, Dalhousie, Darjeeling, and a dozen other hill towns nestled in the mountains. Places where hardy men and brave soldiers took on nature to live a life, or protect a land. It was about long scary yet scenic drives, where I had a prayer on my l