The mountain spirits have remained silent.
We expected all kinds of dark dreams.
We would not have been surprised if they had taken revenge on the impertinent intruders. With nightmares of deep abysses, of smashed cars, of near collisions, of falling and dying.
Nothing like that. They remained silent.
But it's not over yet. There are more abysses, more nightmare trails.
The Rohtang La
The Rohtang La, just 4000 meters high, is - as we will find out later - just as frightening as yesterday's passes. It is the first destination after the departure at eight o'clock sharp. We expect a comfortable ride, because after yesterday nightmares nothing can frighten us anymore. Well, you can be wrong …
We are no longer in the region Jammu/Kashmir, which also includes Ladakh, but in the state Himachal Pradesh. But that doesn't mean that everything is better now, on the contrary! The weather divide is also located at the top of the Rohtang La pass, which means that the monsoon can let off steam here as it pleases.
On the way up, in endless hairpin bends as usual, the surroundings change from kilometre to kilometre. The hostile desert has disappeared, suddenly trees are growing again, large, vigorous trees, and bushes and grass on the slopes. One believes to have landed in another world, a world suddenly making life possible again.
Everything seems better than yesterday. Now the road is paved again, square concrete boulders are blocking the abyss. The pace is fast. If it keeps going like this we will be in Manali by noon.
We're so wrong ...
More chasms
Of course the beautiful secured road does finish soon. After half an hour we are back where we left off yesterday – on narrow, unpaved, dusty roads with lots of oncoming traffic. At dinner we talked about everything except yesterday's route. Probably we instinctively try to repress the numerous moments of shock on the edge of the abyss.
In any case, we are facing further abysses, as the driver announces with a broad grin. As we have heard and read several times before, the track is being worked on heavily. Construction machines further complicate the already difficult passages, the dust is getting denser, the noise louder. But then we recognize a valley, a small village, very small from above, still lying in the shade.
And then the first break is announced.
Break in nowhere
Amazing how a tiny kind of village can be built in the most inhospitable places. All you need is a few huts, a kiosk (or would it be fair to call it a restaurant?), a few cheap plastic chairs and some tables, and the settlement is ready. In fact, most of the vehicles stopping here are trucks, in more or less run-down condition. You shouldn't look at them too closely, because in view of the rusting components you might get scared. These are the traffic participants coming towards us. You better not think about it …
Gone with the wind
A brew of dark clouds is gathering in the sky. As already mentioned, the monsoon is the omnipresent weather master in this region. It may well be that in half an hour it will rain like from buckets. That would be the supergau for our trip, the not at all welcome cherry on the cake.
Because the rain nearly makes the pass impassable. Heavy rainfall turns the creeks into torrential mudflows, thus destroying the laborious restoration of the road. There were some really bad sections yesterday where driving becomes a witchcraft, but today this is the normal situation. We struggle up the road, which is not a road but a washed out river bed, we drive around deep holes so that we are catapulted to the roof, we follow trucks that stir up so much dust that the world goes blind.
And in between a couple of yaks
And then out of nowhere - a green meadow with a few yaks grazing peacefully on it. White-haired, black or both at the same time. They don't seem to mind the weather or anything. Their thick fur protects them from all unpleasant surprises of the climate in these latitudes.
But we're not through yet
The oncoming traffic is still vicious. Every few meters we meet a vehicle coming towards us. Be it a completely overloaded truck driving at walking speed, whose driver bent over the steering wheel can only be recognized as a shadowy creature. Or be it a convoy of Indian motorbike drivers on their Royal Enfields (by the way, all Indians drive exclusively Royal Enfields; this is the motorbike brand originally from England, that was taken over by an Indian company). Or be it a nervous car driver who is about to have a heart attack. Today is Sunday, when the daring Indians set out to show their family members what excellent drivers they are. Ouch! That can be the reason for a nervous breakdown ...
Anyway, we reach the top of the pass, recognize thousands of (Indian) tourists who stop here and - what a surprise - shoot thousand of selfies.
Also the ride down is no real pleasure. Dust and dangerous sections stay with us. Sometimes you can hardly see one' s hand in front of the eyes. But there is construction work going on, workers are widening the road along the river (which is more than appropriate considering the topography).
Manali in sight
But the valley unexpectedly opens up, in the distance you can see the foothills of the mountains. Manali is not far away. The drive down into the valley takes longer than expected, but we approach our destination, Manali, meter by meter, and finally, embracing each other in thought, we have survived the adventure. A little battered, but otherwise in good spirits and although we have only been passengers, we are a little proud of what we have achieved.
And another half an hour later the first houses come into view, the roofs are red and green and blue.
We involuntarily breathe in and thank heaven or the gods or whoever for the journey we have survived. The driver seems to have noticed the audible sigh of relief, in any case his notorious grin is once again creeping around the corners of his mouth.
Manali
Manali, Old Manali to be exact, turns out to be an unexpected traveller mecca of first order, reminding us a bit of other drop out places like Pai in Thailand. One guesthouse next to the other, a thousand restaurants and cafes, agencies, exchange offices, souvenir shops ... TukTuks roar up and down the steep and narrow streets, a deafening noise lasting until long after midnight. Always the same: at the beginning surprising and gladly accepted, after a short time annoying and boring.
But the hotel room is magnificent, the boss quickly organizes a bus ticket for tomorrow evening for me, and so nothing stands in the way of a well-deserved, relaxed evening in perfect company called Anja. Drinking coffee, watching the hustle and bustle on the street, having dinner, drinking beer for the first time (not very popular in the heights of Ladakh) and talking, talking, talking ... until the light goes out and a whole city is lost in absolute darkness.
Time to sleep.
P.S. Matching Song: Emily Browning - Sweet Dreams are made of this
And here goes the journey continues - in the night bus to Delhi
