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The Spiti Valley Tour 2009
A long haul to the cool of the hills of Parwanoo brought us to our first night stop of the tour. Room balconies overlooking steep jungle clad valleys of the Shivaliks, foot hills of the Himalayan ranges we aimed to explore. The road crosses the narrow gauge railway that climbs from Kalka to Shimla in several places. We were lucky enough to watch the train pass by on its 85km 5 hour journey down from the capital. Pressing on to Shimla once the summer capital of the British Raj, now the capital of the state we were touring, Himachal Pradesh. Atop the ridge in Shimla, with its smart shops and restaurants, tourists from all over India sauntered up and down enjoying the complete absence of traffic. To the south narrow sprawling markets clung to the hillside covering every inch of land. Slipping into the groove and with Delhi bellies improving daily we were now off the main highway and riding through thickly forested hills direction Thanedar. In the heart of the Shivaliks, our night stop a retreat in the apple orchards that covered the hills as far as the eye could see.
With traffic thinning with each kilometre heading north, we cut off highway 22 to the east to visit the dramatic castle-like BhikmaKali temple at Sarahan. Where Mark, still tender from the ravages of Delhi’s heat and rich marsala dishes, took the opportunity to cook his own noodle soup after he caught the elderly Tibetan shopkeeper stirring them with his finger. On the global scale of scary roads, this has to rank fairly highly. Following the Satluj river to its source tales times but more than that it takes a degree of cool calm courage. This 18 wheeler crawled past us hauling 30 tons of steel to hydro-projects higher up in the mountains. The message is clear. Blow your horn approaching every corner. Failure to do so could lead to premature ride termination. Blow your horn on every corner! Construction of the numerous hydro-projects up the Satluj river and its tributaries, requires strong, well built wide roads. This was one of several road widening sites. The chance of employment attracts road workers from the poorer states of north India.
Our destination was a camp near the end of the Sangla valley road at a place called Mastraang. But first we would have to pass through the gargantuan works of the Karchham Wangtoo dam complex. A hydro-electric project planned being built to deliver 1000 Mega-Watts of power to the vastly populated metropolitan cities of north India. Another road that easily sits in the scary class. Riding up the Baspa river. Mark commented on several occasions that the roads were nothing short of sphincter puckering. Often opting to ride at the rear and take his time negotiating these narrow parapet-free roads whose sides fell away vertically into raging rivers hundreds of feet below. Our camp at Mastraang brought us all a much needed rest and with two nights in camp we were all able to explore the forests and flower covered meadows surrounding the banks of the roaring Baspa river. The fields surrounding the camp thick with green peas and pink flowered buckwheat. The road to Chitkul passes above the camp in the distance.
From a distance the sound of the river shifting huge boulders resembled heavy gunfire. Undisturbed by tourists and large villages, the forests on the far side of the river are home to black bears and snow leopards. Karan Chand 46 - Shepherd, sits on the step of his 100 year old solid wooden house. One room on top for him and his wife and one room beneath for his cows and goat. In a single fall of snow the Sangla valley can be cut off from the outside world for months in winter time. Local Kinnauri and Nepali girls wait for the bus to Spello. We took the opportunity to eat mutton momo at the dhaba on opposite side of the road. This spectacular bridge – a gift to bungy jumpers, hopped-us across the Satluj where we stopped for a swift cup of tea.
A smaller tributary of the Satluj river mixes muddy water with blue water, before the road carves its way through solid rock. The Bailey bridges on these sections –assembled by the Border Roads Organisation are amongst the longest anywhere in India and can carry little more than 10 tons. Emerging from the deep and narrow gorge the road opening up into a wider valley before the climb drew to a close towards Nako Lake. The peaceful camp at Nako enabled us to rest-up for a day, ready for the final stage to enter the Spiti Valley. Sitting above the small and largely unspoilt village of Nako we took the chance to stroll through the narrow village paths and explore the 1000 year old gumpas, around the village. Leaving Nako we knew the next hurdle would be the nala at Maling. We arrived quite early but it had already risen to a depth of about 18 inches. Mark rode through removing his camera bag and then had to walk back through the stream to recover his bag. Choose you line and keep the engine running. Stalled engines get you nowhere!
The run to Spiti includes these spectacular zig-zags followed by a run through a valley of fruit trees. We were hailed by a local boy who wanted to give us all a large bag of ripe apricots. We later shared them with the policemen at the Check Post. We’d finally reached the Spiti valley. The confluence of the Spiti river and the Pare chu from Tibet create the source of the Satluj river. Not far from the checkpost we turned right and headed closer to the Tibet border to find the mummified corpse of a lama who was reported to have meditated to death for the benefit of his family. A story which seemed to have gained ground even since last year! The next 50kms follow the Spiti River all the way to Kaza, passing through Tabo, home to some of India’s oldest Buddhist temples. Made of mud these ancient gumpas are still largely intact. The Spiti River 20kms from Kaza. Sherap’s bike had behaved badly and we’d decided quickly to put it on a jeep that happened to be stopped where his bike refused to start! It’s not a busy road and without a support jeep the decision to load it onto that jeep had to be made quickly. ...the bike later started first kick!
Relaxing for a few minutes beside the Spiti River, Kaza well within our sights as we rode two-up to retrieve the white bike. Spectacular mountain scenery all around us the road to Kaza. Mud spines line many of the road sides along the valley. Snow melt in the spring slowly erodes these mud walls producing these weird and wonderful shapes. A day ride from Kaza took us back down the river and higher into the mountains to the Dhankar Monastery, clinging desperately to two pinnacles of rock. The upper reaches of this ancient gumpa were badly eroded and now lie in disuse.
To finish the day we rode across the Spiti River and back up the Pin Valley, whose pass leads into the Parvati Valley one the other side of the range. With one road in and out, this sparsely populated valley sported only a few small villages, crowned with spectacular folded rock formations. After two days in Kaza we were on the road again. I rode ahead to secure tents at the high altitude camp beside Chandra Tal. At 4,500m it would be our highest night stop. The ride was tough and crossed three large nalas, each busy with heavy snow and glacier melt Camping at the source of the Chandra River. We’d left Spiti and had entered District Lahaul. The dhaba (or fast food restaurant) is in the large tent to the left. We’d all slept well, and risen early to take pictures of the lake, its rich deep blue colour hardly captured in this picture.
Having lugged all my bags up the first time, I was quite happy to pay the horseman who had camped across the stream from us, and have his ponies carry the bags back down to our waiting bikes. It had been a tough tour, sickness had brought us down on a couple of occasions, but getting to beautiful places is not always easy. Mark faced the challenges thrown at him with a mixture of grim determination and bounding enthusiasm. Amongst his closing comments he praised Sherap and myself for taking good care of him and returning him safely to civilisation. He’s certainly returned to Australia with some lasting memories. Sherap worked hard as back and front marker and his secondary duty as team cameraman will soon reap some interesting movie footage. And me Peter. Organise, cajole, encourage, fix and push on. It was an excellent tour, we all enjoyed different parts of the ride for our own personal reasons. Above all, we were all reminded that sometimes the most beautiful places are the hardest to reach.
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Photos

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