The Suru valley, with its abundant greenery, is a delightful contrast to the brown, barren landscape elsewhere.
UNSEEN LADAKH IN 2013
Ladakh Beyond Leh High-altitude desert vistas, river valleys, salt dunes and Aryan villages make remote Ladakh a wondrous discovery. Words & Photography NEELIMA VALLANGI
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he vehicle came to a screeching halt as plumes of dust kicked up in the air. On either side of the vast desert expanse, dusty mountains rose high, one side extended towards China and the other lay in India. There wasn’t a sign of life around except for the pile of horns of dead animals by the side of the dirt track. I glanced through the window again to confirm that what I saw was indeed a pile of horns. Then, with some dread, I got down from the vehicle and ran towards the decorated stack of horns to take a picture. I was fearful that, any minute, a wild animal would pounce on me. The place was so deserted, it seemed a possibility! A few hours later, I saw a streak of blue, shining bright amidst the barren landscape. I was driving from Tso Moriri to Pangong lake via Chushul, along the Sino-Indian border in Ladakh, trying to take the road less travelled. On my first visit to Ladakh, like everyone who has been to this land of striking beauty, I was smitten and overwhelmed by what I saw. I did nothing out of the ordinary, though. We drove along the Srinagar-Leh highway, we were enchanted by the unbelievable colours of Pangong and had the adventure of our lives, driving back to Manali via the famed Leh-Manali highway. However, after my return, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that what I had seen was only the tip of the huge iceberg that is Ladakh. It was this thought that drove me back to Ladakh the second time, to discover more secrets of this enchanted land. Over a period of two weeks, I explored many of the lesser known places in Ladakh without another traveller in sight. Having enjoyed the road trip earlier, this time I flew into Leh. Excitement soared high as I spotted snow-clad peaks from the aircraft window. But the joy was short-lived
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(Left & above) The crumbling ruins of Chiktan Fort, steeped in history, located deep in the Chiktan valley; the verdure of the Suru valley can be attributed to the powerful Suru river, whose gentle side is seen here, in the shadow of the Nun massif
as I was informed the weather had deteriorated, blocking several of the major routes. Altering our plans accordingly to accommodate the uncertainty, we prepared ourselves with permits in hand. Since many of the places on my radar were through sensitive areas, permits were very important. After the weather settled in and my family adjusted to the high altitude, we set out on the first excursion to the green valley of Suru. This beautiful valley is located between Kargil and Zanskar, and is often ignored in favour of its more popular cousin, Zanskar. It is drained by the powerful tributary of the Indus, the Suru, which flows ravagingly between the mountains, crafting a path for itself. The
bumpy road in this region religiously follows the river, presenting grand views replete with lofty peaks, greenery and raging waters. The Suru valley, being one of the most agriculturally productive places in Ladakh, had green fields almost everywhere until we started ascending higher into the mountains. As the evening drew to a close, the last rays of light created dramatic shadows on the snow-clad peaks. The moon rose over the jagged edges while the orange light kissed the tips of the mountains. We spent the night in a Jammu and Kashmir Tourism guesthouse standing alone on a hillock above the village of Parkachik. As night fell, the sky filled with twin-
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PHOTOGRAPHY TRIBHUVAN KUMAR DEO
Pangong Tso and the surrounding landscape from the other side... which tourists normally don’t get to see
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The Drok-Pa people are believed to be the purest Aryan descendants and are said to have maintained their racial purity by marrying within their own community
kling stars but only until the moon began to shine brightly. Surrounded by the mighty Himalayan peaks and with a stream flowing far below, I could feel the magic that attracts people to the mountains like moths to a flame. The next morning, we were greeted by the shy giggles of little schoolgirls who had come to check out the outsiders. After a while, they warmed to us and started asking us a lot of questions. They told me they studied in the only school close to the guesthouse and that their teacher hadn’t showed up yet. Ibrahim, the caretaker of the guesthouse, cooked a delicious breakfast for us but not before giving us a tip – that the Parkachik Glacier was very close to where we were. And so, later that morning, Sonam, our driver, carefully negotiated the vehicle along the broken roads to take us to the glacier. His fear was valid – the precariously hanging block of ice by the roadside could break off any minute, blocking our 00
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path, as the sun grew warmer. The glacier drained melt water into the already raging Suru; the cacophony of the flowing water was enjoyable yet chilling. The mountain slopes that could yield greenery were dotted with yellow flowers. Given the many breathtaking views of the wilderness, if there was one thing that defined the magnificence of the Suru Valley it was the sight of the 7,000-m Nun-Kun massif looming large over the landscape. At Kargil, the morning weather was quite pleasant when we started towards Batalik. Near Bodh Kharbu, we took a diversion to enter yet another gorgeous rocky valley. The Indus flowed aggressively between jagged mountains on either side. There wasn’t much vegetation in the barren valley and the road cut across the mountain dangerously. En route, we stopped at the Chiktan Fort—drawn by the lofty ruins against the amazing backdrop of snowcapped mountains. The way it perched precariously
NAVIGATOR For Suru Valley Reach Located between Kargil and Zanskar, there are no direct flights or trains from major cities to reach the Suru valley. Arrive at Kargil or Leh and take a bus or taxi. Stay There are J&K Tourism guesthouses in Parkachik and Rangdum. For Dah Village Reach Located 160 km from Leh, there are no direct flights or trains to reach Dah. Kargil is the closest town. Arrive at Kargil and take a bus or taxi. Stay There is no tourist infrastructure in these villages. Accommodation is available in one of the several hotels in Kargil or Alchi. For reservations at Alchi, call 0198 2253 640; web uleresort.com
resembled a pile of stones stacked up without any fortification. It seemed as if a strong gust of wind could knock it down. Once known for its magnificent architecture and as a seat of cultural history, human neglect and natural elements have left nothing to see but crumbling ruins today. As the day progressed, dark storm clouds gathered high up in the mountains as we proceeded towards Batalik, which had been at the centre of many wars. Sonam was visibly anxious when the storm suddenly picked up and the howling wind made rocks fall from the mountain slopes. But the gusts quickly died down, allowing us to reach the checkpost near Dah. At a distance of about 160 km from Leh, close to Batalik, are the Aryan villages of Dah and Hanu. Significantly different in appearance and culture from other Ladakhis, the Drok-Pa people are believed to be the purest Aryan descen-
dants and are said to have maintained their racial purity by marrying within their own community. They have distinctive Indo-European features as opposed to the Mongoloid features found in the rest of Ladakh. Of the five villages of this community, tourists are permitted to visit only two—Dah and Hanu. Fortunately and quite by accident, I reached the hilltop village of Dah on the day of a festival. The entire village had gathered in the ground, dressed in traditional attire with prominent floral and beaded embellishments. They were preparing to transfer sacred scrolls to a nearby Drok-Pa village, Biama. I sat there, enjoying the performances and observing the people’s features. The girls were fair-skinned with blue-green eyes and their hair was brown. Marvelling over the ethnic secrets they hold and wondering if they were related to the Kalash of Chitral valley or Alexander’s army from Macedonia, I left the colourful
(Clockwise from extreme left) A young schoolgirl from the village of Parkachik in the Suru valley; wildflowers dot the green slopes in summer; the women of Dah village dressed in their traditional attire with floral decorations to celebrate a festival on Budh Purnima; an old Ladakhi woman in her finery
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(Left & below) Wild asses near Pangong Tso; evenings in the Suru valley are dramatic with high peaks and narrow valleys creating a play of light and shadows
NAVIGATOR
PHOTOGRAPHY TRIBHUVAN KUMAR DEO
village without finding answers to my questions. A few days later, I found myself nervously biting my nails at the military checkpost near Mahe. Sonam went inside the tiny room to show our permit so that they would allow us to proceed towards Chushul and beyond to Pangong Tso. Being a sensitive region and dangerously close to the Sino-Indian border, strict checks were in place. A few minutes later, we were allowed to proceed. The landscape was surreal as we drove towards the first big settlement, Nyoma, where the earth was coloured a strange purple and the salt deposits lined white along the blue river. An old signboard stood by the roadside proclaiming the area a notified firing range – a remnant of the Sino-Indian conflict. The colourful mountains gave way to white sand dunes covered with a layer of short green grass. The very agile kiangs (Tibetan wild asses) ran across the plains when they noticed our vehicle. In the dry vegetation, we also spotted startled wild hares. It was here that we first noticed the stacked horns of dead animals, later it was a common feature till we reached Pangong. Amidst the thirsty landscape, seeing the Rezang La war memorial was a chilling reminder of the loss of 114 brave soldiers who sacrificed their lives in the 1962 war with China. The desolate surroundings of the memorial were disturbing as I pondered the horrors of having to fight a battle here. It was hard not to be overcome strongly by sadness and reverence while thinking of the martyrs of the battle. As we approached Chushul village, the only major settlement on this route, the salt marshes made an appearance. The entire valley was located at a daunting height of more than 4,500 m. Seeing the desert landscape at such an altitude was a different experience altogether. Among the marshes were endangered migratory birds, black-necked cranes. I could spot bunkers on the hills rising next to the marshes. The tarmac was long
For Chushul Reach Located in the remote Changthang region, there are no major towns and no direct flights or trains to reach this area. Arrive at Leh and hire a taxi to reach Chushul in two days with a halt at Karzok. Stay There is no tourist infrastructure available anywhere near Chushul. Accommodation is available in one of the several camps near Tso Moriri at Karzok or Pangong Tso. For reservations, call 011 4058 0334; web campsofladakh.com
gone, we drove along dirt tracks, taking cues from cairns or stones stacked to serve as pointers. Then we arrived at the bank of the famous Pangong Tso, a shimmering blue lake which lies in both India and China. I stood on the white sandy shore, gazing at the unbelievable colours in awe. To my immediate right, the lake extended into China. To my left was the 40 km of water that was under the control of India. Feral horses welcomed us and we breathed a sigh of relief after spotting a village with a Hindi signboard which confirmed that we were on the right track after all. The next two hours were spent driving along the mud tracks lining the shore of the lake. Known for its changing colours, Pangong showed us every possible shade of blue in those few hours that we traced the entire length of the lake in
India. Passing by the little-visited villages of Khakste, Merak and Man, we finally arrived at Spangmik. The advent of tourism had touched Spangmik – we could see several homestays and tents on the shore. The next seven kilometres were filled with banners, camps, all sorts of construction, and people. That was the end of my journey along the road less travelled. Over the past few days, we hadn’t come across another traveller. We had ventured into the gorgeous yet desolate corners of Ladakh and discovered the most awe-inspiring scenery. Though I do have a feeling that Sonam was happiest when we wrapped up our journey in Leh the next morning because he no longer faced the prospect of the vehicle getting stuck in streams or sand or battered by a storm anymore.
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