Caress those curves... Rohtang Pass.

A short account of a biker’s discovery into the world of solo travel…

I had not planned anything. I had not given it much thought. I was alone for sometime at home. I saw a window. The itch was there. The itch became an irresistible scratch. I took the opportunity and jumped through the window. The roads never end. Nature beckoned. I obliged.

The preparation; not much really: ordered the Turtle from Cramster. Darkie said the Colt would not come good on the Comet. The Turtle got delivered, tried it on the tank, did a short trial round, seemed to hold fine. But a short trial round in South Delhi is hardly a measure of feasibility when we are looking at 500+ kms a day of riding through roads that even the engineers at Hyosung would never have imagined that the riders would put their vehicles on. I did not know what was in store for me.

Destination: Vashist. This would serve as my base as I would move around. I got myself ready. Packed some clothes into the turtle, rain protection gear, all bike papers, duplicate key, camera equipment in my Lowepro backpack, phone, chargers, oil check, chain tension, tires, topped up tank to the brim, and I was ready to rock and roll! I checked Yahoo weather, thunderstorm all the way for the next four days! It brought me back horror memories of my previous trip with Nats to Kasauli when it rained non-stop for 4 hours all the way till Chandigarh!

Before hitting the bed, I sent a PM to Akshay on xBhp, who wanted to meet me at Ambala, asking him to send me an sms if he was still game.

This was on Saturday, 20th May, 2006. I was done packing at 2200 hours. The excitement was more than palpable. My first solo. I was ready to hit the bed to leave early. But I was more ready to hit the road then and there. Set my alarm at 0410 hours for the next morning. I lay down on my bed and tossed and turned for a good hour. Adrenaline rushing through me, I could not get to sleep. Sat up and went to watch the match between India and West Indies. Watched for some time. Went and hit the bed again. Still could not sleep. Went back to television. I last checked the time around 2 in the morning. Next thing was the alarm waking me up. I jumped out of bed and rushed on to get over with the morning rituals.

While I was having my breakfast of curd, chirwa and bananas mixed together, I was wondering about my fears and apprehensions of a long solo. What if I fall, what if I crash, what if machine gives way, what if , what if… I pushed them back, finished my breakfast, did the dishes, quick shower and carried my stuff down and loaded my bike. If the mind continues with the “what ifs” of life, we will not be able to step out of our mindless existences. There are people doing solo, some make it, others don’t. I will see what comes of me.

I put the Turtle on the tank, packed my undies and light stuff in the space under the pillion seat, put my sleeping bag wrapped in rain gear on the pillion seat attached with the bungee net, my camera backpack on my back, swung my leg high over the sleeping bag, turned the key, squeezed on the ignition and the V came to life. I put on the low beam, engaged gear and gently eased her out through the colony.

(Ready to roll...)


The first three hours went as follows, I copy from my trip log:

21052006; Time: 0510 hours.
Odo: 7933.5
Trip: 01.2
Vasant Kunj, New Delhi.

TIME LOCATION TRIP

0603Hours Delhi Border 57.9

0708 Hours Karnal By-pass 155

0715 Hours Toll bridge 164

0721 Hours First stop (9 minutes) 173.6

0826 Hours Stop at Milk Time 258.3

(Note: In the first three hours, I had covered 238 kms.)

Getting out of Delhi at that time of the morning was a breeze. Though I realized that cornering was going to be more difficult than what I do normally. This is because of the Turtle that I was using in its expanded form, pretty much loaded, perched pretty high on the tank, coming nearly to my neck, clearly grazing against the chin of my lid every time I tried to bend her. I realized this while I was negotiating the curves at the AIIMS grade-changer. I started adjusting my riding, since curves is what was waiting for me 300 kilometers down the line.

The sun was barely up and due to the rains the previous night, which had put doubts about my departure, had brought down the temperature considerably and I felt riding much easier with all my protection gear that makes you sweat like labourers in a brick kiln. While I drove out of Delhi, the temperature was around 24°, quite pleasant for May.

I realized that Vasant Kunj is 57 kilometers from the border and it took me nearly an hour to get there. Once I was out there I started to open the throttle. Traffic was normal, not too much, not too less, just normal. I was riding at a little under 8k revs, around 120 k/h mark. But I like to move through the rev range and not stick to one place for the engine’s sake. At times I would go to 140 k/h, and sometimes I would relax down to below 3-digit speeds. At higher speeds, with the Turtle sitting awkwardly high on the tank, the wind came and hit hard on the visor of my lid creating a loud turbulence around my head that remained for the rest of my high-speed ride. It was pretty annoying and I had a hard time getting used to it.

The ride was straight, relatively eventless, barring of course the occasional moron who would cross over on the dividing median in his broken, rusty, falling-to-pieces-held-together-by-shoe-laces-and-steel-grip scooter and cut across the road despite vehicles moving in 3-digit speeds, and a car driver doing a U-turn on the road as if this was the driveway in his garden and not the NH-1, the occasional dog that tried to cross the road and all the vehicles trying to avoid it and the dog wondering where the rest of the pack went.

One would wonder that this part of the ride would be monotonous. But I drove hard, remained focused and I wanted it to be over as quickly as possible; I was raring to hit the hills and hug those curves and some cooler climes.

When I took my first break, I checked my chain, oil level, tires, just in case, drank water, the temperature was rising, I was beginning to break into a sweat, took some pix, checked my mobile, no news from Akshay so far, it lasted me 9 minutes. And I was back in action.



(First break...)


Soon I was crossing Ambala and while riding, I shifted to neutral on the bridge, opened the left zip of my Turtle, took out my phone, no sms from Akshay still, I shifted back up and opened the throttle. But after Ambala, as some of you may know, the ride is different, less fast, more dangerous with the Haryana Roadways buses being the kings and bullies of the roads overtaking at times in three files, and the rest of the world are simply sent off to take a walk in the fields. And bikers, we end up eating dirt. When I drive/ride on this road, I usually stop at a place called Milk Time, a milk bar to the right of the highway just before Chandigarh. There is a trucker’s dhaba right next to it where I ordered Dal Makhani and Roti with lots of butter at 0830 in the morning. Having satisfied my hunger, I went to milk time and had a glass of milk. The break lasted me about an hour. And I was on my way. As I have said in one of my threads, I wanted to avoid Chandigarh at all costs, I did not want to find myself being followed and stopped by bribe-friendly corrupt Chandigarh cops asking me to explain why my bike did not have a sari guard or a mud guard or these modifications are not allowed whereas I was riding a stock bike. So I gave Chandigarh a pass and took the way to Nalagarh left from just before Kalka. The road turned out to be pretty manageable till Nalagarh, where, at an intersection, instead of following Ropar, I took Manali. From thereon, it was mostly dirt or potholes and very little tarmac. I stopped at a place where I found Extrapremium and topped my tank. And there I received a call from Akshay. I said that I had already crossed Ambala and well on my way ahead. And now that I had his number, I said that I would be telling him of my return to be able to meet on my way back. And the road turned out to be devilishly miserable. Someone has called it the NH-21A. It is supposed to be a National Highway. What a horrible road to be on with a bike that is not supposed to do off-roading. It is barely wide enough to accommodate a Maruti800 and you find yourself facing a charging truck coming straight to mow you down and you end up doing off-road with a street bike quite often. And at times there was no road, just dust, broken pieces of tarmac of what was part of the road, and that continued for 30-40 meters, and I was perched on my pegs during these stretches on 2nd, trying to negotiate the obstacles, keeping the bike straight, keeping myself balanced, the turtle in place and avoiding the vehicles coming at you, there were not too many thankfully. This is the place where I had to stop a couple of times just to get the Turtle back in place. And thus realized that a short ride in South Delhi is by no means a measure of how things are going to fare on some Indian roads where calling such a path a road is a gross misnomer. There is no road, just some dirt, dust, mud at places, pieces of rock, lots of them, and you need a 4-wheel traction with fly shift on an able SUV. This continued for over a painful half hour and I even started contemplating if I should turn back to change my route. I even stopped to ask a man on foot how much longer was this bumpy ride going to last. Just another kilometer or so. I thanked him skeptically and continued on with my jolts. This was beginning to become a saga. But in a kilometer or so the road actually got better. And I started feeling the wind on my body once more. Then the climb began, the first real climb, in the hills, moderate inclines, probably 6° or 7° gradients, on the NH-21A, direction Swarghat, still a pretty narrow road, but free of traffic, hence quick at the curves, I was beginning to enjoy myself again. The recent horror of the broken roads behind me simply faded off like some bad dream and I started to relish the ride. The first smells of the pines wafted to me. As I drove on, suddenly two enormous langurs jumped on to the road from my right about 25 meters ahead of me and broke into a chase with each other on the road as I followed them marginally slowing down realizing that they were very fast moving creatures on the road. It was scary seeing their sizes and I definitely did not want to overtake them. About 100 meters later they jumped off into the trees to the left and disappeared and I felt free to accelerate again. I reached Swarghat where I took right. This is the NH-21 coming from Kiratpur to Manali and beyond. Now I was on a real road, broad, accommodating, forgiving, fast, well laid out tarmac, smooth, all the adjectives that come to mind now after having gone through a torrid road earlier. I started stroking the turning road with carefree pleasure. My baby loved it too. I started tilting and swinging her around. The Comet really likes it. And in my canyon scratching endeavours I happened to grate the left peg and the outer sole of my boot just once. That quickly calmed me not to bend her as much though she was more than willing to bend both ways but I got cold feet.

TIME LOCATION TRIP

1200 Hours, break. Bilaspur 387.8 Kms

1310 hours, break. Sundarnagar --

1410 hours, break between Mandi and Aut --

1548 hours, break Raisan 569 kms.




Initially while driving in the mountains, the sun was far more unbearable than in the plains. And with all my protective gear, I was close to being a nice stew. But it did not matter, the ride was beautiful, the mountains welcoming and soon the temperature would drop.

I did not take any more long breaks. Each break above lasted between 8 and 12 minutes. I got off to drink water, stretch and take photographs. By the third break above, I was out of water. But I did not want to stop. It was only getting better. The ride along the gorge of the Beas between Pandoh till after Aut is one of the most beautiful with good roads and great landscape. You ride under jagged overhangs, and to the right is the fall of the Beas gorge, it is the kind of ride that gives butterflies in your stomach.

At Kullu, there was the Police. They were stopping each and every out-of-state vehicle and checking each and every document of the vehicle. A big policeman with a pleasant countenance belying his burliness stopped me on my Comet. Normally I attract the authorities in uniform like fish do flies. He asked me do you have all your papers. I smiled and answered, “All my papers are in perfect order.” “Sure?” “Sure.” I was emphatic, pleasant and easy.

Are you in a group?
No. I am alone.
Okay, go and have a nice trip.
Thanks.

And I was on my way!




At Manali, I was stopped to pay 100/- for a two-wheeler for a week’s stay in Manali (200 for cars).

At 1635 hours I arrived in Vashist. Trip: 587.0 kms. Odo: 8519.3 kms. Altitude: 2200mts.

I parked my bike and walked into CAFÉ HALFWAY, a café run by Pavel, a friend of mine since sixteen years. He was expecting me. We were glad to see each other. We were meeting after two years, the last time was in Leh. We sat down in his café and ordered for a drink.

21st May; evening at the Café Halfway: I met An, a Belgian woman traveling alone in India. Got talking to her. She is a biker in her country, driving a F650 BMW to work. Always good to meet a fellow biker. She was a TV reporter. So we talked some cinema, some memories came rushing back, the days of Fellini, Antonioni, Truffaut, Kurosawa; okay, I will stop here. Wont show off. Just saying that the mind started working the way it was used to for ten odd years as a student. So when I was suggested to go for a movie that evening, I jumped at the idea; watched The Last Hippie Standing.

22052006: Local rides. Went for a ride with Pavel to the neighboring Southern areas, the village of Jagatsukh, the thickly wooded pines of Sajla, the fair of Nagar, and from there, bad dirt tracks up to a small village called Rumsu. It was a very satisfying ride till Nagar; nice curves, through woods, no traffic, beautiful undulating green valleys to the right, lovely flowered rose gardens.

About a kilometer from Rumsu, I left my bike on the dirt track, as I was getting fatigued, the bike too, as well as the pillion what with the mono-shock throwing him all over the place.

We hiked the rest of the way to Rumsu village. Small village with a school with the children looking at us with curious eyes and giggling amongst themselves, an old small temple just next to two huge and obviously very very old pines dating back to over 700 years as we were told. We sat at a makeshift eatery, had a drink, relaxed for a while, before beginning our quest for quality petrol.

(Jagatsukh...)

(Sajla...)


We left Rumsu village, drove all the way to Kullu. Several Indianoil petrol pumps had boards saying Extrapremium. No one stocked it. Finally, I filled my tank with Speed. There is no better petrol available anywhere in the hills on NH-21. On my way out of Kullu, the same cop stopped me again to check my papers. I smiled at him and said, “We already did this exercise yesterday!” He smiled back and let us go.

We reached Manali, crossed it, and climbed up the back to an Italian restaurant Il Forno. It is run by an Italian lady for the past 20 years. There was a buffet laid out, rather expensive, but we indulged. Good Italian food.

I headed back to Vashist. 107Kms for the day.

In the evening I went to meet Amit, also an xBhp-ian. Talked to him about his exploits on a RD till Ladakh from Delhi.

Went back to Café Halfway, dinner, music, bed. The next day, we had decided to do a short trip to Solang Nala.

(Chilling at Café Halfway...)



23052006. Short trip to Solang Nala, 13 kms from Vashist. Ride along the Beas, then cross the Beas to the beginning of the ski slopes. Was here a couple of years ago with Nats in winter with the car and Maël.

My ride to Solang started to make me think about my Comet. She was having problems climbing at low revs with a pillion worth 60 kilos. On steep gradients, like 11° or thereabouts, and on short stretches especially, since in the hills one does not have long stretches, one does not really have the opportunity to cross the 4k or 5k revs as one has to slow down either for a curve or some oncoming traffic or broken roads or a herd of animals or ‘n’ reasons. And with her, I don’t have the power kicking in at that band. In fact she is quite sluggish and reluctant on 3rd at 3k or 4k with the throttle opened wide and a payload of 130 kilos. I began to have grave misgivings about my proposed trip to Rohtang pass.

(Crossing the Beas en route to Solang Nala...)


23052006. My misgivings notwithstanding, I undertook the last leg of my journey that I had come for; the climb to Rohtang Pass and I was back to riding solo.

Departure: 0540 hours. Trip: 728 kms.

There was surprisingly heavy traffic even at that early hour. And it was a very godly hour. Leaving Vashist, the northern snow covered fringes were topped with golden light from the rising sun. I rode towards it. A really awe-inspiring moment. And more was to come.

(The Golden Fringes...)


After 10 kms came the bifurcation of Solang to the left and the steep climb to Rohtang to the right. I took right. It was almost a non-stop climb. The first twenty kilometers had relatively tolerable roads. Then it started getting progressively broken, surely because of ice and snow, which had thawed out in the last few weeks. It also started becoming progressively colder. Wooded pine areas gave way to lush green meadows and then the meadows disappeared into the more arid rocky faces with the receding snowline. I rode on in paradise. The views were simply magnificent. Temperatures had dropped to zero. There were swirling winds at corners and tunnel effects at some narrow valleys. My fingers were frozen despite the biking gloves and my fingers ached while grabbing on the clutch and the brake. I was missing my silk inner gloves that I was loath to take and were languishing in some vague drawer of my wardrobe in Delhi. It became increasingly difficult to overtake. There were places where the roads were completely broken and I had to ride on my pegs with the bike going on stones larger than canon balls, eroded and rounded by grinding glaciers, and I made the most of these places to go ahead of the Qualises and trucks and other such ineluctable nuisances. At other places I would cross stretches where the snow was cut and cleared and what remained were high walls of snow on the sides of the road where there was not much sun and the verglas had barely melted and the rear 150 would aquaplane on slush or wet rocks at corners. Finally reached Rohtang Pass. It was worth every inch of that cold and jerky ride. A fulfilling sight after the grueling yet immensely satisfying ride. At 20 meters short of 4000 meters, surrounded by towering mountains, the sun falling on the vast expanses of snow all around, in the midst of indomitable glorious nature, all is well.

(The First walls of snow...)


Rohtang Pass: arrival 0725 hours. 3980 meters.

I parked to soak some sun, warm myself, and make a few notes. Two Gujarati couples came in a car, right next to me, got out and went and sat on my Comet. Just like that! As if that was their tricycle back home that they were trying in their backyard. The guy nearly toppled over with his girlfriend with my bike. I walked up and said, “Hey, do you mind? You know, this belongs to me.” They made a long face and reluctantly walked away casting unpleasant glances as if I had taken away their candy.

I walked around soaking the wonderful ambience of the snow covered mighty Himalayas. One thing was clear; I have never been to such a magnificent place in a motorcycle or any motorized vehicle. I walked around a bit, rode a bit, took some pix. I could not have enough of it.









But since all good things must come to an end, I reluctantly started the long and winding descent back to base at Vashist.

On my way back I started sorely missing the pack of biscuits that I had bought the previous evening for the express purpose of going to Rohtang and that I had unfortunately forgotten to take with me in the morning; another important oversight, and I had also forgotten the rolls of film in my hotel room. So I had to make do with the frames that remained in my camera.

I stopped to warm myself at 3150 meters (10336 feet), at a place called Marhi, with some bread-omelet while a couple of guys came and had a conversation with me which went something like this:

“Sir, where did you modify your Pulsar?”
I replied, “You see, I asked Bajaj that I needed more power. So they asked Kinetic who asked Hyosung in South Korea who worked out a deal and gave two engines mounted on a chassis and called it Comet. That is how I modified my bike.”

“Yes sir, I noticed that it has the same instrument cluster as the Pulsar.”
“You noticed absolutely right.”
“And the fat tires?”
“Oh that? That was part of the deal.”
“And how much was the whole package?”
“Oh not much, less than two lacs. If you have a Pulsar, ask Bajaj to do it for you!”

They had the gall to ask me to try it out at 3000 meters altitude. I am not too sure that you will be able to handle it here. They looked disappointed and walked away.

Vashist arrival: 1040 hours. Trip 836 kms.

(Return to Vashist...)

Exactly 5 hours and 108 kilometers later I was back at Café Halfway with Pavel, astonished to see me already back while he still had his toothbrush stuck in his mouth. The previous evening we had decided that I would do it solo. I sat down with him having my second breakfast while I explained him my matinal exploits.

I am scared of heights, terrified of sheer drops, ledges, precipices and overhangs, I move/ride as far away from them as possible even when I walk. On my way back from Rohtang Pass I would often be teetering towards the edge, leaning over a 1000 foot drop, with no protection on the sides of the road, I rode with my heart nearly popping out of my mouth. For me it has been an exploit, and I have made it back. Mission accomplished. I sent a thank you message to all who stood by me for this solo.

The bike, on the way to Rohtang, performed beautifully. The steep gradient was wonderfully negotiated by the twin-Vs. Though at times to accelerate I had to downshift to first and rev to 8ks to overtake and get ahead. And it worked. No overheating at those temperatures. Though more air intake would certainly have helped.
I took a day’s rest the next day. And the following day, the 25th of May, I started my way back. I reached home in 11 hours. At the end of the road, when I stood in front of my door, my readings were thus:


TRIP: 1465.3 Kms.
ODO: 9397 = 1464 Kms.
PETROL = 51.55 Litres.

The way back is almost always an indifferent feeling. Tried to liven it up by meeting up with Akshay. But once I was out of the hills, I just rode hard to reach home and start dreaming about the next ride, the next dream, feeling the next itch coming on, giving in to the urge of the throb of machine, the call of the unending roads, the adventure, wind rushing through man and machine, as adrenaline accelerating the heartbeat… the wheels have been set in motion.


ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS


Thanks: xBhp and the guys there who inspire me to tour and to write. Special thanks to Dr. Arn, I kept thinking of him often during my tour, an ideal of endurance and holder of the iron butt record.

Special mention to the people who stood by me during my difficult times; Aruna, Ravi, Sakya, Heyna, Raju, Saurabh, Rajarshi, Ritu and my son Maël, who is often my riding companion, but not this time.