Manali is reached by a million (err or maybe a huge number of) people round the year. The place is always teeming with newly weds (first attempt), families with one kid (fo
r the second attempt), families with two kids (for the third attempt), families with a few kids (don’t know why) and a lot of grass. Grass grows freely around Manali. And here we begin our real ascent.
The bikes raced along well on very good roads (compared to the subsequent phases of our journey) always leading upstairs until Rohtang. On a bright sunny day, with temperatures around 5-10 degrees C, something strikes you instantly as you reach Rohtang – the invisible but obvious message from everything around you, “good bye and good luck for the next god-knows-how-many days”. Rohtang –> Chandra Valley –> Koksar –> Tandi all covered in a day quite uneventfully except when Nestor overrode the rest of us and waited 100 kms and 4 hours away, when we stocked 40 litres of petrol from the last station before Leh (365 kms apart), drank a lot of tea, and remained mesmerized by the indescribable beauty and enormity of the strange terrain. We stayed over at Keylong and started
afresh for the next leg of the journey which to me was when the program shifted from being an ambitious bike trip to raw extreme adventure. So much so that for the next few days until we reached Leh, my mouth remained closed only when I slept at night, unlike when I am at sea level (where the reverse is true). Hurdles unseen – Snow, melted snow streams taking away parts of the road, landslides, diversions – military clearing landslide deposits, freezing water, chill winds, lack of oxygen, unfathomable elevations (tops three highest motorable roads), lack of greenery – an eerie monotonous brown terrain, broken-down vehicles, blinding & burning sun, drizzles that drill through your skin, unmotorable roads, bikes & bodies misbehaving and sheer exhaustion – all accompanied us through Darcha -> ZingZing Bar -> Baralacha La –> Sarchu –> Lachlang La –> Pang –> Tanglang La until Rumtse and prepared us to expect the worst. And the worst was awaiting us.
Rumtse was an
uncomfortable stop, all of us drenched, shivering and staring down at the only kerosene stove available to warm us, leaking. We all agreed to the idea of pushing on for another 15 kms to Upshi, the gateway to Ladakh. Let me take you with me and look back at we got into. I was the first in line, wading through slippery but thin layers of slush, concentrating on every meter ahead and just about aware of my friends behind. It was past dusk and was getting dark when we realized the slush was from a huge landslide ahead and saw two trucks stuck in it while there was just enough space for one. I moved with constant jerks, pushing the bike with the luggage behind to move inch by inch and avoiding slipping over / sinking into the dirt. I thought I heard Dixie and Nestor encouraging me to accelerate and push. I tilted, firmed my feet on the ground and slowly but steadily pushed my bike between the truck and solid earth (the mountain on my left). It felt like a trap, being taken
through a funnel that finally got me into a spot where I couldn’t move forward or return, and all along I could only hear, and hear just the bike and the Indus roar. As I got past the truck and into the open road, I pushed harder at the bike, made it across the vast dirt pool that felt like jelly. As I parked my bike, hung my helmet and removed the footwear from my dirt covered legs, I turned around and saw none behind me. It was dark and I was stranded. Should I proceed to Upshi and wait there or trace back the worst part of the whole journey all over again searching for my friends? I started walking back, calling out loud at my friends. My first guess was that they might be stranded near the truck, but in any case I should hear back from them, and I didn’t. I moved on slowly, very scared and glancing every now and then at the faint picture of the roaring Indus on my left when suddenly I saw a light flashing. The same LED flashlight we had bought at Manali. I was relieved, and not by any small proportion. I gathered pace and met with my “long lost” friends at the spot where the trucks were stranded. Was it because the truck skidded or the earth itself, suddenly there was no space for the bikes to move through the gap that I had just about 15 minutes ago. But all that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that we are together and the rest can be “engineered”. We managed to get past the obstacles albeit with a lot of trouble and lot more obstacles,
“wet all over with temperatures a little over freezing, more than eager to see another local human, riding 
on a bike on a three meter wide road with huge boulders ready to roll down the hill slopes on your left and Indus river flowing unlike anything you’ve ever seen before on your right, shadows of huge stones floating in it’s currents and the threat of another crippling landslide awaiting you around the next curve” reminded me of all the forgotten prayers which I repeated over and over till we slept in a makeshift “guest room” at Upshi.
Next few days we were at Leh and several places around it, this time on bikes without the luggage.
Khardung La, the highest motorable road, Mahesh ventured to Pangong Lake and the rest of us to a rave organized by a local restaurant, location-undisclosed-follow-our-bus party (call me for detailsJ) as we thoroughly soaked-in Leh. We decided to be spectators than actors with predicted tough weather on our return back to Manali, and we hired a jeep. Heavy snowfall couldn’t stop us from reaching Manali in about 15 hours, since we were helped by significantly lesser number of “surprise” rivers across the roads. We reached Delhi from Manali overnight, and were among the daring countable few venturing to fly out of Delhi on Independence day amidst all the threats (well, either we didn’t care or it was too weak a threat
than what we have been encountering in the last few days, damn it!). On the plane, someone exclaimed about the “romance” about a trip over the Himalayas. Romance? On Himalayas? The only sign of it on the Himalayas I can recall is this signboard on the road near Keylong that read, “Dear traveler, please be gentle on my curves”!
God, I was so happily enjoying the lovely green Bangalore as we circled above the Hindustan International Airport.
Which of these would get you hooked - The rawness of Muthodi sanctuary with its only human inmates: the forest officials or the vastness of Bhadra with the classic and 
expensive treatment of Jungle Lodges? If you are still looking for an answer, reading what I’ve got to say will surely not help. And if you bother to go there, I can promise it won’t help you either!
and Muthodi are neighbours in stark contrast. They share borders, they are just a couple of hours drive apart, but possess very different personalities. Muthodi doesn’t welcome you; you have to find your way in, while Bhadra 
spreads the carpet for its guests. Deep in the jungle at Muthodi, scorpions & creepy insects give you company around your bed in the single room guest house; in 
Bhadra, you stretch out with a chilled bottled drink to the sight of sun setting into the vast Bhadra reservoir. Take your four wheel power into the forest in Muthodi, while in Bhadra you are driven around in safari jeeps. At night in Muthodi, you might find yourself tuning your ears for that distant roar and other unfamiliar noises of the jungle; 
while nights in Bhadra cannot be christened anything but romantic. At Muthodi, insects around you and that slight chill in your spine demands more vigil at nights; whereas in Bhadra you pass out quickly and for long. Muthodi is raw energy and solitary solace, Bhadra is made for a natur
e lover’s honeymoon.
