Shivank gets Leh'd with a Ducati. And now he won't stop talking about it...
It’s common knowledge that if you’re a biker who doesn’t want to be the biggest blot in the motorcycle community, then you must get Leh’d. It’s one of those unspoken truths in the biking circles across India. All your travels across the world wouldn’t matter if you haven’t ridden to Leh. Why? Well, I really don’t have an answer to that, but what I can tell you is that, in the Indian motorcycle community, Leh has somehow become synonymous with motorcycles and adventure.
For over a decade, I’ve had many conversations on the topic. So, naturally, in the course of time, my desire to visit Ladakh on two-wheels intensified. I made several plans to ride to Leh in the last few years, but, for some reason, I couldn’t see them through. But, I never lost hope and thought may be one fine day I’d finally dug-dug-dug my way to Leh on a Royal Enfield or something like that. But then, I wasn’t exactly prepared when Ducati invited us for their first ever DRE (Ducati Riding Experience) official ride to Leh, and beyond. It was an opportunity of a lifetime. So, naturally, I pounced upon it.
Officially, the Ducati Dream Tour to Leh was to begin from Chandigarh on July 3rd. However, in my overenthusiasm, I decided to reach Chandigarh a day before – riding the motorcycle that I was supposed to use on the trip. I picked a spanking new Scrambler Mach 2.0 from the dealership and cruised effortlessly to the ‘city beautiful’. Once in Chandigarh, I met Janak, the owner of a moto-expedition firm called Jack & Jill, which was responsible for organising the tour. Being a motorcycle enthusiast and an owner of a Scrambler Ducati, he too was a part the trip as a Ducati rider. There were five other riders – Barrie, Dev, Kevin, Senthil and Umang – who, like me, had never ever been to Leh on a motorcycle. Dev and Umang had their own motorcycles – a Scrambler and a Hypermotard, respectively – while the rest of us got our rides from Ducati India.
Getting on a high horse
I was happy straddling my Mach 2.0, while Senthil was on a regular Scrambler. Barrie and Kevin were allotted a Multistrada 1200 S and Multistrada 950. Kevin didn’t have any qualms about the 950, but Barrie wasn’t very keen to ride Ducati’s heavyweight ADV on one of the toughest roads in the world, with road-biased Pirelli tyres on a journey made even more difficult by heavy rains – at least on the first two days. So, an offer was made to swap bikes, and, unsurprisingly, no one wanted to touch the 1200 S. The next day, however, I woke up feeling over ambitious and decided to take up the challenge. As soon as I stepped down though, I felt my ambition vanish, for the rain gods were still hard at work. And Barrie’s words didn’t help either. ‘That thing is too fast, and those tyres will cake up and spin in the mud. Good luck, mate!’ he said.
We left Chandigarh at 7am, and planned to make it to Manali that very day. Anxious and afraid, I climbed astride. But, to my surprise, I felt at home – safe and comfortable. The Multistrada just looks intimidating, but it’s exactly the opposite – it’s friendly and comfortable when you ride it.
The journey from Chandigarh to Manali can only be described as long and uneventful. And, at this time of the year, it’s also slower as a result of landslides and traffic jams. The journey wasn’t memorable by any means, but it did allow me enough time to bond with my motorcycle. And from what I could figure, the 1200 S loves the tarmac, even more when the going gets twisty. With so many electronics, great balance and brute power, it feels like a sports bike on stilts.
On the second day, we met Saurav, Janak’s business partner, who does Manali to Leh around 8 times a season! Now, he claims that the real ride to Leh actually starts from Manali. It was his way of suggesting that it’s from Manali that the going gets tough. To reach our destination, we’d have to cross five mountain passes, ride on roads that would go from slushy to rocky to racetrack smooth, cross multiple streams and then climb up to altitudes as high as the pearly gates – in fact, a momentarily lapse in attention, and we’d be entering said gates. It was dramatically scary but, at the same time, oh-so adventurous.
Manali to Leh is roughly 461 kilometres, and regular riders do it in a day. However, us amateurs were advised to take it easy unless we wanted to die of altitude sickness. So, we stopped twice before reaching Leh – first at Keylong, and the next day at Sarchu. The distance between Keylong and Manali is only 110 kilometres. Despite a light drizzle and fairly moderate traffic, we briskly got out of Manali and started scaling the mighty Rohtang Pass. The roads, while narrow, were in fairly good condition, but it was the mesmerising view of snow-capped peaks and lush green mountains that made the ride memorable. Soon, we were in Rohtang. After a brief stop, we were on the road once again, which was now descending. I had now begun to feel quite comfortable with the motorcycle and thought that the rest of the way to Keylong would be a cakewalk. And it was – well, figuratively at least.
Moments after crossing Rohtang, the tarmac transformed into a bed of boulders and sharp rocks. Again, it was a little inconvenient, but not frightening – at least not on the Multistrada. However, within a few minutes the rocky terrain turned into a muddy track with knee-deep slush. The Scramblers and the Hypermotard, with their meaty tyres and relatively lighter weight, were able to glide through, albeit they did look out of shape occasionally. The Multistradas, on the other hand, were certainly not in their comfort zone. Consequently, Kevin and I were the last to cross the slippery slope. I was following Kevin’s track, but I could see him struggling to maintain balance. Behind him, I was in even worse condition. Too much power, and the rear would start spinning. Close the throttle, and the front wheel would immediately wash out. All I could do was slip the clutch and dig my legs into the mud to keep the momentum. I damn nearly crashed every second of the way, but somehow managed to keep the bike upright. This lasted for a kilometre or two, but it felt more like a lifetime. I mean, I wouldn’t call myself a religious person, but God only knows how hard I prayed for those 20 minutes.
Once the nightmare was over, the road to Keylong was well paved, and we made it to our overnight camp in virtually no time. Our next stop was Sarchu. And to reach there, we had to cross a couple of streams, including the infamous Zing Zing Bar and the famous Baralacha Pass (16,000ft). For the most part, the roads are wide and smooth between Keylong and Sarchu, with spellbinding scenery all around. However, just before Sarchu the going gets a bit bumpy again. But that didn’t slow us down, and we made it to Sarchu in just over five hours. We were told to give our bodies some rest, because this was supposed to be the first place to highlight the lack of oxygen. And that’s exactly what happened, albeit later at night when the adrenaline had worn off. The next morning, I realised that everyone had a similar experience. The general consensus was that Sarchu – despite being at 14,000 feet above sea level – was the lowest point in our otherwise amazing journey. If you plan to ride to Leh from Manali, I suggest you skip the camps at Sarchu.
Thankfully, the ride to Leh post Sarchu – the last town in Himachal – is one of the fastest and most enjoyable. It starts with a head-spinning ride through the Gata Loops – 21 hairpin bends climbing up to an altitude of 15,500ft to reach Nakee La. From there on, the roads become straighter and wider till Lachulung La, but soon they become non-existent and dusty till Pang. Progress from Pang to Leh is swift, thanks to astonishing road network that stretches from the Morey Plains to Tanglang La (17,500ft), and beyond. The roads were so good that we were constantly riding at high triple-digit speeds. The problematic aspect of this part of the journey was a steep change in temperature, and, of course, the lack of oxygen. One moment you’re getting sunburnt in Pang, and then, an hour later, the temperature drops to such an extent in Tanglang La that you find your teeth chattering. The temperature difference is as much as 30 to 35 degrees at times!
As you reach closer to Leh, it becomes a little crowded, but the ever-changing landscape that goes from green to barren, and then green again is simply jaw dropping. The sky here is so blue and clear that it actually hurts to compare it with the sky we see in Delhi. Yes, the place has become a little crowded, thanks to tourists flocking here from all over the world, but the magic is still intact. And I can’t overstate how preposterously beautiful and calming Ladakh is!
Heaven within heaven
While Leh has its charm, there was one really special place in Ducati Dream Tour’s travel itinerary – Turtuk. For those who don’t know, Turtuk is a small village in the Nubra valley of Ladakh province, and is about 250 kilometres north of Leh. More importantly, it’s the last village in Indian Territory, and is only a few kilometres from the Line of Control between India and Pakistan. The history of this place is a bit fascinating too. You see, it was a part of Pakistan occupied Kashmir’s Baltistan region, but during the Indo-Pakistani war of 1971, the Indian military gained control of it, and Turtuk, along with three other small villages – Tyakshi, Chalunkha and Thang – became a part of India. According to local anecdotes, the villagers slept on December 13, 1971 as Pakistani citizens and woke up the next morning as Indians. For some, it was amusing, but for others not quite so – for they were separated from their families and loved ones overnight.
Turtuk was opened for tourists only in 2010, which has helped the locals immensely. Mind you, they don’t actually need much help as the village is self-sufficient – they grow virtually everything here, with apricots being the main attraction. Sure, there’s no Wi-Fi or 4G connectivity, and the electricity supply lasts only for about four hours a day, but still the place is simply a paradise. It only takes a casual stroll through the narrow streets of the village to realise how it feels to be at peace with one’s surroundings. In fact, the loudest thing that you’d hear is the Shyok river – which has earned itself the name of ‘Death River’ because of its frequent turbulence.
We stayed in Turtuk for two days, which allowed us enough time to interact with the locals and visit the schools of the area. Janak, who’s a regular here, has started a campaign to strengthen and improve education in the area. In fact, you could too – just send books or stationary items, or whatever little help you can think of at the postal address in the post it note below. Once that was done, it was time to say hello to the enemy – visit Thang and catch a glimpse of PoK.
Crashing back to reality
We returned to Leh via the famous Khardung La – the highest ‘all-season’ motorable road, in case you haven’t heard that a million times already. The next morning, we headed to Pangong Tso, which is quite literally the most beautiful and picturesque place in Ladakh. I mean, you could point your camera anywhere, in any direction, and the frame always remains perfect. The lake in itself is so clean that you can see shades of blue that you never thought existed. Pangong Tso was also the last destination in the itinerary – it was the end of the Dream Tour. All that we needed to do now was to go back to Chandigarh and park our bikes safely. The journey back was equally long, but the entire group was gunning their Ducatis, irrespective of the road conditions. We did Leh to Keylong in half a day, and reached Manali the very next day. The rain gods got the news and decided to escort us from Manali to Chandigarh. From there, I rode solo to Delhi, and thankfully, got myself and the Multistrada back in one piece.
After this journey, that was both my dream and ambition, I only have one thing to say – getting Leh’d is no child’s play. It’s both an ultimate test of bonding between man and machine, and a testimony to that bonding. Fortunately, for me, I had the support and guidance of experts and was surrounded by great and friendly people. So, I’d like to think that I did pass the test, and did so while riding one of the most sought after ADVs in the world. Right, now, the thought of going back on a lesser bike is enough to make me shudder. In fact, I don’t think any other motorcycle will ever come close to matching the might of the Multistrada 1200 S in my eyes. Unless, of course, Ducati decides to send me back to that dreamy land on the newly launched Multistrada 1260 S. If that opportunity ever knocks on my door, I’m game!
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