2017 Mahindra Monastery Escape Part 2: Manali To Jispa

Link to Part 1: Delhi to Manali

Day 3

The morning in Manali was fortunately off to a slow start. Exhausted from the 14-hour journey the previous day, we were welcomed by a chilly morning, accompanied by a sight that defines the word tranquil. Breakfast by the river Beas while surrounded by mountains draped in thick green cover. You could feel the collective blood pressures drop as we stared at what surrounded us and let our minds go blank in appreciation.

The day’s drive was a short one of just 138km. But in these parts, a short distance doesn’t equal a low travel time. Especially in this case, the biggest time consumer to reach Jispa would be getting past Rohtang La (Rohtang Pass). This conjunction between the Kullu and Spiti Valleys is a sensitive environmental area, which means there’s a cap on how many cars can pass through each day: 1200 vehicles as per the National Green Tribunal (NGT) orders.

Cars loaded up, we started our drive through the narrow roads of Manali and commenced our upward climb. In the distance appeared a few snowcapped mountains that were gradually melting into streams below. As we moved up, the roads kept getting narrower and our 26-car convoy did annoy some of the locals, who primarily use the service of trusty old Altos. The size of our SUVs did prove to be a handful at one narrow junction where oncoming traffic included a few fuel truck drivers who aren’t particularly bothered if they whack your mirror or scratch your bodywork. The onus of caution was on us. Somehow, we made it past the narrow streets and finally joined the long line that waits to cross Rohtang. The destination was the tourism council’s check post that analyses your vehicle permit before letting you through. The documentation is quite straightforward but getting to the point involves a wait of anywhere between 3-6 hours.

The wait was fine but the biggest challenge was man vs bladder. The weather was cool and everyone was constantly reminded to stay hydrated, which didn’t help matters. The convoy had to be kept tight so as to pass the check post in unison but a few bio-breaks in between led to local traffic squeezing in from time to time. Soon enough, we were past the security screen and drove our way up, enjoying the depleting civilization. The mountains got whiter and the roads got slicker but the traffic was consistent.

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We then got a message on the intercom, relaying strict instructions not to run or move fast in Rohtang. “Snow leopard?” I wondered to myself. But the real reason is exactly what made me have that stupid thought. At nearly 4km above sea level, the oxygen levels in Rohtang are a lot lower than what we’re used to. Take two steps too quickly and even the fittest among us will be out of breath. While this realization amazed me, what disappointed me was the sight of the pass.

Humans. Everywhere. So many of us. As a Mumbaikar, I thought I arrived at a post-apocalyptic Lonavala. The weather was lovely and there was a hefty snow cover but it was noisy and had too many hawkers for me to find acceptable. A hilarious moment was when one of the traffic policemen, looking at the ‘MH’ registration on my Thar, walked up to me and said “Tumhi ikde thamba, pudhe khoop traffic aahe!” Evidently, a lot of cars from the Shivaji state had been here and I laughed heartily as I shook hands with the man who hailed from Leh.

We stopped about a kilometre ahead of the main traffic zone and got a few clicks in before moving towards Sissu, our lunch spot for the day. Driving our way down, the road turned into nothing short of what you’d see at a quarry. The Thar continued crashing through every inch of lunar surface, solid rear axle skiing through the muck. While our SUVs made their way through the tough terrain, we came across several bikers on the same route and even a man in a Nano who drove there in his humble conveyance all the way from Bangalore (respect!). Suddenly, I didn’t feel so uncomfortable. Along the way, you also come across some fragile bridges where only one car can pass at a time and it’s a gentle reminder of the infrastructural limitations in these parts.

Come noon, we reached our lunch stop at Sissu, Lahaul Valley. A small tent was our dining hall and everyone wolfed down the simple soup, roti, daal and kheer, while relishing each chomp of the unadulterated flavour. Stomachs full, most of the banter and chat stopped as we quietly sat by the river Chenab and appreciated the sheer size of what surrounded us. Small waterfalls from the skyscraping mountains populated the river below as the summer “heat” melted the snowcaps above. Almost poetically, my neurosurgeon comrade had an epiphany. “This really makes you realize how insignificant we are.” he said. And I had to agree.

The sheer might of nature can never be defeated by man, and if we’re to survive, the compromises will have to be made by us and us alone. I assure you, such thoughts cannot be had in our choked and overly privileged city lives. Woodstock experience done with, we moved to our final challenge of the day – fueling up. The only fuel station was at Tandi and as run down and small as this Indian Oil pump is, it’s one of arterial importance.

It’s the last fuel stop before Leh and there’s another 400km before the next fuel stop. Here too, the logistical challenge of tanking up a big convoy bore its ugly face. There was a fair amount of coordination involved but somehow we made it through and drove to our encampment for the night at Jispa.