Bikers Anthem: My Story of the Himalayan Odyssey 2015

Publishing this collection of my memories this 5th-anniversary year :-)

21 min readMay 23, 2020

Bikers Anthem page — https://www.facebook.com/bikersanthem

Every year, I and the riders from all over India (we’re still in an active WhatsApp group) feel nostalgic — even as I ponder over the tough days and try to derive life lessons.

Here I’ve tried to recall the experiences but it fails miserably as compared to the actuals — it’s a long road…err…read for the interested 🙂

Route — 11 to 21, July 2015

Day 1, 11-July 2015

New Delhi to Parwanoo, Himachal Pradesh, All day rains — Day 1

Friends and families gather around the bikers as they prepare to start the epic journey

After the flag-off, riders covered 276km of wet highways from Delhi to Parwanoo
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Photos by Royal Enfield

Day 2, 12 July 2015

Parwanoo to Narkand, All day rains — Day 2

Day 3

Himalayan Odyssey 2015–13 July, Narkanda to Kalpa

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Day 4

Himalayan Odyssey 2015–14 July, Kalpa to Tabo Monastery

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#ThisDayLastYear #HimalayanOdyssey2015 #YetToRecoverFromNostalgia Kalpa to Tabo Monastery (Original destination: Kaza) Day 4 was the “jolly good day” of the expedition for me. I think this was the only day I rode mostly in a group, most were Kannadigas. The funny green posts from Border Roads Org (BRO). The landslide in the evening because of which we got to stay at Tabo (you beauty, will visit again), near the lovely monastery. Breathtaking views and the play of the sun during the Sunset. And getting down the road and relaxing with the gang under the trees near a checkpoint — with singing and all.

~ Biker’s Anthem

PS: I realize these sets of Odyssey pics from my phone were never shared before! And then the GoPro pics remain, don’t know when I’ll get to them.

Day 5

Himalayan Odyssey 2015–15 July, Tabo to Kaza (Off day)

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#ThisDayLastYear #HimalayanOdyssey2015 #NostalgiaContinues Tabo to Kaza, then half a day off through the awesome Spiti Valley Day 5 was supposed to be a rest day, but the plan changed previous night due to landslide and we had to return ~15 KMs back to stay at Tabo. Lo and behold the beauty of Tabo. Some of us were just thankful for the food and hit the sack right away. For others, there was an all-night party and grand masti (can’t share those videos I saw :-) ). In the morning I spoke to the manager of the lodge — they stay here for about 5 months of the tourism period and head back to their villages, for festivals and et al. It was a lazy ride to Kaza, we took our time with stopovers. I always had an urge to go to the banks of the River Sutlej that followed us all these days, so Ram Chandra and I stopped the bikes and walked up to the “brown river”. The landscape and the chilled water was out of the world experience — probably that’s where I posed with my hands up in the air, I truly felt liberated and free. Soon after reaching Kaza, we filled fuel at the Indian Oil station that called itself the “World’s Highest Retail Outlet” at 12,270 ft (3740m) above sea level. We had half a day, some still had the patience to go out to a festival in progress. Some even washed their clothes (I just bagged them all). I got my notebook out to note down the crazy last few days but didn’t get past the headlines. A fellow rider had been injured, so the doctor was busy getting him medical attention. My BSNL SIM card proved very handy for us to connect back to folks back home — there wasn’t any other network. In the evening we took turns for a session with Hyderabadi pandit Ravin Aarya who could read our palms and between the lines. It felt good he told me I was in the peak health condition and should just keep it up. Thanks to Badri Narayana for taking me out to the only shopping I did for my family. And it started raining on our way back — the views from our balcony room were poetic (a few captured at the end of this album).

~ Biker’s Anthem

Day 6

Himalayan Odyssey 2015–16 July, Kaza to Chhatru

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#LongStory #ThisDayLastYear #HimalayanOdyssey2015 #TroublesBegin PS: Includes some pictures from my fellow riders, thanks to them. Kaza to Chhatru Camp, ~119 KMs (Original destination: Jispa, ~210 KMs) Day 6 was the day hell started to break loose. We were simply no match for the elements and the terrain. I got physically and mentally weak from this day onward. I suspect AMS (Altitude Mountain Sickness, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Altitude_sickness) started to take a toll on me — the lack of appetite, fatigue, dizziness, increasingly numb fingers, and insomnia. At the daily briefing at Kaza (elevation 12410ft, 3780m), we were warned that this was going to be the toughest day of the expedition, and it was indeed. We could only cover half the distance we targeted. I don’t recall why, but I was riding mostly alone. I do remember the dryness in the air, the darkness in the sky, the exhaustion taking over that left me with no energy to stopover even at the landmark Kunzum Pass or Kunzum La (el. 4,590 m or 15,060 ft, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kunzum_Pass). It’s a holy spot where every passerby stops over, seeks the Almighty’s blessings at the temple before proceeding forward. I just rode around it, watching my fellow riders taking happy pictures, wishing I could do the same, their faces too wondered why. Even the breathtaking landscape with yellow flowers didn’t pull up my spirits. We stopped at Chandra Dhaba, Batal for lunch — it’s run by an old “Saviour couple of Spiti valley”. I think they call this “The Survivors Dhaba”. Rightly so, as the visitors would brave many odds and elements before reaching this tiny, barebones but life-saving outlet. I knew something was wrong with me, so I spoke to the doctor. He checked my Oxygen level — it must have been low, so he set up a mask supplying Oxygen for a few minutes inside the Bolero jeep. It felt like life. I forced myself to eat a little bit, for which there wasn’t any appetite at all. There were 5 river crossings, most of which we crossed with bravery, took them head-on, and a few falls didn’t deter us. Until the last one before Chhatru. Imagine an uphill with turns with boulders along the way. Add a freezing river flowing forcefully down the hill. That mother-of-all-river-crossings took over 5 hours to ride-push-pull all the Bullets and the bikers to the other side of the crossing. It demanded more than everything we got. I tried to ride my bike up the river but ended up with a broken exhaust. Thanks to Ram Chandra who realized my plight, came down the hill-river, and rode my bike to the other side, of course with help from others. It was a huge task for me to pull myself up and reach the other side. Soon it was getting dark. Temporary logistics were arranged a few KMs at the Chhatru camps for the really sick and a little further near the Chhatru Dhaba for the rest of us. I waited for my friends to ride along, but don’t know how I missed them — after half an hour or so, I left alone and sped to the camp in the pitch darkness around the Spiti Valley. I was glad to reach the camp spot and was trying to park my bike when a rider, Gaurav Verma, came riding behind me and chided me with anger and empathy to never ride alone again — felt warm inside. Why do it, why ride, why here, why now? You bet we all asked ourselves more than a few times. On your bike, and in your life, you are mostly on your own, except for the Kindness that comes in unexpected ways but at the right times. One can only be thankful. And thus the Humanity moves forward.

~ Biker’s Anthem

Day 7

Himalayan Odyssey 2015–17 July, Chhatru to Jispa

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#ThisDayLastYear #HimalayanOdyssey2015 #NoRiding #JeepDrive

PS: If you find these stories interesting, please follow my page Biker’s Anthem. It is an upcoming book with more stories and insights into what does it take to succeed in the face of impossible challenges and why some make it, some don’t (like me!). Day 7, Chhatru Camp to Jispa in the Bolero Jeep, ~90 KMs The previous night, after the river crossing saga had drained us, I was ready to call it a day in the tent. I think the doctor and a few other riders were just getting started with a fun party in the other tents. I wasn’t expecting it, but the caretaker got me a hot cup of tea and said he’ll get the dinner soon. One learns the meaning of “pleasant surprise” all over again. As the camps were few, they were meant only for the sick. The doctor made his rounds from tent to tent. Unfortunately, the coughing didn’t stop most of the night. Conrad Titus sir, the oldest rider of the expedition (I guess over 60 years young), an inspiration and the favorite of all, moved into the tent with me, saying the gang next-tent were having a loud party (the sounds of laughter and singing brought me to cheer, I so longed to join them). For him, age is just a number, he rode the peppy, red Cafe Racer, and always had a smile on him. I told him, “I’m sorry about the coughs, your sleep is going to be disturbed.” He said, “Ahh, don’t worry I sleep like a child,” and dozed off. Even if I had annoyed him, he never showed it a single time. When I got out of the tent, “pitch dark” had a new definition. As I stood there for a few minutes, I was startled when someone stroked my back gently. It was a horse or something like that. There were a lot of tents. It moved away as I turned in a reflex action, terrified. On the other hand, I later heard tragic tales of poor conditions at the Chhatru Dhaba where most of the remaining riders halted that night. I was glad the dawn was here, had been waiting for it for a while. In any other circumstances, that would’ve been — it still was — an amazing adventure. I had spent the tent in the middle of the valley, unplanned, and a first in my life. I soaked in the tranquility and the mind-boggling views in the distance as I walked around the greenery, but have almost no photos to show for it. I’m still kicking myself for not taking pictures that morning (and at lots of other spots), it would’ve been worth any kind of struggle. The caretaker was up in his tent, had a chat with him. He warmed a couple of bottles of driving water — even as I write this, it sounds silly to mention it, but it was a big deal at that time at that place. I was thankful to him for every little gesture because at that spot they were all luxuries. Conrad Titus sir became aware of my state, he sent breakfast to the tent to which I became relegated to. I was glad he was there with me at that time, and again the next day he would be beside me as I get into some serious trouble. As the bikers started the ride to Jispa, I considered joining them and got my gear on, which was a huge effort. Every step was tedious, slow, and exhaustive — and oh the head, the head was rock-heavy. I had a chat with the doctor and we decided it’s best not to ride, get a little better. All but a handful of us waited for the support vehicles that were still stuck near the river crossing. At noon, my bike got on the support truck and I drove with the doctor in the Bolero jeep along the Chenab River, touching the regular Leh-Manali highway (not to be mistaken for good roads) at Gramphu, 14 KMs away from Rohtang Pass (Rohtang La in Tibetan). Though I felt enormous shame and guilt for not riding and taking refuge in the jeep, a part of me was enjoying the journey and the sight-seeing of the mountains (not much possible while riding) from the comforts of the jeep. And I continued with my diet of a glass of milk for lunch — that day served to me inside the jeep. At that point, it was drizzling. We saw another group of Bullet riders who had started from the other direction and were headed towards Kaza. They didn’t seem happy about the terrain and the riding conditions. At the popular Tandi fuel station, I managed to buy a can and fill it with petrol for my ride the next day — the board said the next filling station was over 360 KMs away. I didn’t realize that would be futile. At Jispa, we celebrated a couple of birthdays with cake and drinks. Next to our hotel, there were green slopes of cultivated lands and a river flowing right ahead. One can’t simply not fall in love with these places.

~ Biker’s Anthem

GoPro video of small water crossing on Day 7 of the #REHimalayanOdyssey on our way from Kaza to Jispa. During the early morning’s briefing, that day was supposed to be the toughest due to river crossings. And it was thanks to the mother-of-all-river-crossings later that day, which took over 7 hard hours to get all bikes on the other side.

Day 8

Himalayan Odyssey 2015–18 July

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~ Biker’s Anthem

#YetAnotherLongStory #ThisDayLastYear #HimalayanOdyssey2015 #MyUniqueRouteToLeh My unique route, ~335 KMs: Jispa (elevation 3,200 m or 10,500 ft; population 332 as of 2001 census!) > Baralacha La (16,500 ft) > Sarchu (14,100 ft) — Pang (15,100 ft) > Taglang La (17,480 ft) > Rumtse (13,451 ft) > Leh (~1 AM midnight, 11,483 ft) Map: https://goo.gl/maps/fz57nvxzLA52 Fantastic Wiki article of this route, Let-Manali Highway: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leh%E2%80%93Manali_Highway That day. Day 8. I think this time last year (~9 to 10 PM), I was at Rumtse in the “doctor’s jeep” parked on the highway, near the camp with tents and pre-arranged food. I would’ve bet we were going to rest there that night. Conrad Titus sir came back and said I have headed to Leh right away, I really thought it was a joke, and continued to sip the hot soup (God bless the doctor D.v. Yadav for bringing it) in my hands. That morning, when everyone began the ride to Rumtse (to make up for the lost day at the river crossing, it was decided to pass Sarchu and reach Rumtse instead), I didn’t join them. My roommate for the previous night, Anand Krishnan (a media pro, also an accomplished Bullet rider), had advised me to not ride as he expected terrible terrain and weather conditions. To ride or not. The dilemma was unbearable. Somehow I decided to skip riding. I think it was a life-saving decision to travel with the doctor in the jeep. The dizziness in my head never made it comfortable for me to step out of the jeep during that drive. I had to make an exception at the gorgeous Baralacha la (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bara-lacha_la). Also known as Bara-lacha Pass, Bārā Lācha La (el. 4,890 m or 16,040 ft) is a high mountain pass in the Zanskar range, connecting Lahaul district in Himachal Pradesh to Ladakh in Jammu and Kashmir, situated along the Leh–Manali Highway. It started raining hard at Pang where we stopped for lunch (for me, a glass of milk). Conrad sir joined us in the jeep. We continued our journey towards Rumtse. It was about 3 PM. Over the next few hours, until we reached Rumtse at about 9 PM, I mumbled, passed out on occasions, only to wake up to the valiant efforts of Conrad sir on my left and the doctor on my right, trying (so hard I think now) to keep me awake and alive. A few tablets, 2 or 3 injections, and Oxygen mask all the way. Constant checks of O2 levels. AMS (Altitude Mountain Sickness,https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Altitude_sickness). The storm never subsided, the riders were stuck at Pang, only a handful of them braved the chilled and rough storm to reach Rumtse that night. I remember commenting about the snow on either side, the images are still blurry, as though my short-sight spectacles had been removed. Kindness continued. At Rumtse, after hearing Conrad sir’s statement again that we were headed to the Leh hospital, things felt serious. Something was indeed wrong with me, I accepted. Mustafa Gandhi ji joined our jeep. He had hurt his leg in a freak accident that day. Except for the disappointment that I wasn’t reaching Leh on my bike, soon I was excited like a kid going to Disneyland. I followed every milestone, the increasing presence of Army artifacts and boards. At a check-post, the soldiers saw me with the O2 mask and let us continue towards Leh. The doctor was worried sick for Mustafa ji and me, but my memory serves up fond memories. WE WERE GOING TO LEH/LADAKH TONIGHT. YEAH! It was about 1 to 2 AM when we reached Leh hospital. The lady doctor was shocked at my SaO2 % at 37% (at 55% and less, loss of consciousness is expected, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oxygen_saturation_(medicine)). When I came back from the restroom, the doctor was rhetorical, “you went to the…you’re OK”, as though my walking around was astounding. They put me on the Oxygen cylinder for the rest of the night. Mustafa ji got his leg plastered and left the hospital with the doctor and the-now-very-tired-plus-rightfully-complaining driver to the hotel. The young and beautiful women giggled in the nearby room, there were a bunch of them. Obviously they were doctors and interns. THEY SPOKE LADAKHI. I WAS IN LEH. I thoroughly enjoyed my stay there, the warmth, and the care. After many nights of insomnia, I slept like at home. HOME. My journey turned out to be different from others. I tried to find out, but even to this day, I don’t really know what the other riders endured. At the outset, there’s a lot common between us. Yet, deep down, everyone’s journey, path, story — and Life — can be unique, even if we plan and prepare for the same things. There’s a separate, beautiful, sometimes not so wonderful track laid out for you — they’re there for a reason if you can carve it that way. There’s no point in even trying to be someone else or to get something others have. Don’t. Be Happy. Be Healthy. Be Helpful. Be the Best You Can Be. Be You.

~ Biker’s Anthem

Rest of the Story — Days 9, 10, 11

Himalayan Odyssey 2015–19, 20, 21 July

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~ Biker’s Anthem

#ThisDayLastYear #HimalayanOdyssey2015 #LehLadakh

Did you think I was done with the stories? #AbhiPictureBakiHai mere dost! PS: Pictures of Khardung La and a few others belong to my dear fellow riders.

Day 9, 19-July

It was a good sleep after many days at the Leh hospital. That morning, I spoke to my wife and revealed nothing (still get attacked for it). My Oxygen level (SPO2) was tested twice. It was between 110–120% (from 37% previous night!). It wasn’t a surprise I got discharged soon. I was feeling great since we reached Leh. The dear doctor D.v. Yadav came to pick up and drop me to the hotel, after which he left to Rumtse to tend to the other riders who were still there. And I felt hungry. Happy. Mustafa Gandhi ji and I roamed as if the previous day didn’t really happen. A feast for lunch with drinks. Sight-seeing in Leh/Ladakh. Shopping. When we returned to the hotel close to dinner time, the doctor was shocked to hear about our day. “Drinks? Roaming? You don’t know what you went through, how bad it was. It has become a joke.” Or something like that. Well, every day starts a brand new for the bikers, what can we say. He insisted we both book flight tickets and get out of Leh ASAP. And no more riding for me, ‘for the sake of my family.’

Day 10, 20-July

Most of the day I spent with Mustafa ji at the hospital for his checkup and re-plastering I think. When I called my friend Shashidhara Ganganna to book tickets for us as the Internet was down in town, he was worried, but I didn’t tell him much. Finally, somehow the tickets were booked — one for me on 22nd and one for Mustafa ji on 23rd. And we paid 5x the normal price to Delhi (~25k) and from there at a normal price to Bengaluru. There we met another injured rider Praveen Dahiya, the ex-Army Major. Thanks to him, we got to move around the town in an Army jeep briefly. It was special. By evening, all the remaining riders had arrived from Rumtse. It was drizzling and cold. A few of us had booked a 4-wheeler to visit Pangong Lake, Hunder, and a few other places I think — but it was canceled by the driver late night due to major landslides and rain. In fact, a dozen or so of our riders had been there that day and were stuck in those landslides. The Army had deployed rescue vehicles for the stranded locals and the riders pitched in to help and they came back after about 3 AM, I heard. Proud of them.

Day 11, 21-July

Last Day in Leh and Last Day of the Himalayan Odyssey For Me That morning, the riders had planned for a ride to Khardung La (elevation of 5,602 m or 18,379 ft), the world’s highest motorable road (it seems not, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khardung_La). My excitement was short-lived. I argued, almost fought, pleaded, reasoned — but the doctor didn’t relent, didn’t let me ride or even travel with him in the jeep. And just like that, the Himalayan Odyssey was over for me. In fact, it was over 3 days ago, I just realized it that day. My insides churned with rage, sorrow, pain, shame, and devastation. Khardung La, the world’s highest motorable road, my ultimate destination, the Mecca of bikers — was just 40 KMs away, yet out of bounds for I-don’t-know-how-many-years. I understand how it feels for climbers to return without summiting Mount Everest, sometimes from a few hundred meters close to the summit. Now, after a year, it was probably the right decision, I’m thankful and indebted for the doctor, I am. But, a part of me was pissed off, angry, and felt the Himalayan Odyssey meant a grand failure, I had failed and damned. Everything such an epic expedition demands. The dreams of it. For 2 years. The planning. The sacrifices. The cost, not just monetary. All ended up for nothing. And probably, for this reason, these photos and stories hadn’t been opened or shared before last week. I think it seems, I probably might have made peace with myself…Damn, not happening. To see the great pictures of my fellow riders at Khardung La, it still breaks my heart. What is denied, what remains, what is lost — those are the stuff we have nothing to do with. We just ride along.

~ Biker’s Anthem

Day 12

Himalayan Odyssey 2015–22 July “Epilogue”

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#ThisDayLastYear #HimalayanOdyssey2015 #EscapeFromLehLadakh

~ BikersAnthem

When I was told I couldn’t ride any longer or even visit Khardung La, it was before noon. And I was pretty much alone as everyone else went ahead. A few hours in the hotel room seemed to have lent some perspective, moved me to ‘you-are-on-your-own’ mode. In the evening, I went out for a walk around the town. The first stop was for local special tea with ginger and all with finger chips. It was time to indulge. Then a visit to a bookshop was in order, can’t resist that one any day. It took some effort to keep going and reach the Leh market, realized the doctor might have been right. At the book shop, I no longer felt alone, and a couple of hours went by. Picked up a few books (including “Everest — The First Ascent: The untold story of Griffith Pugh, the man who made it possible” and “The Tibetan Book of the Dead”) and souvenirs. On my way back to the hotel, I met a few of our riders but carried on. I joined what I thought was an apt ending to the expedition for me — a dinner with all riders, it was a perfect setting to say goodbye to friends who knew I was departing early next morning. On 22nd, we were scheduled to leave the hotel at 4 AM though the flight to New Delhi was at 10 AM. The local cab union had called for a strike and no vehicles dared ply on the roads, so we had to sneak out of town before people woke up. With me in an Omni van was Sachin Chavan (RE Manager) and a Forbes magazine writer (7 AM flight). Thankful to RE for accommodating me, ensuring I was in that van. The van driver was understandably anxious and terrified as he hurried past unknown roads that looked like small gullies, obviously not the main route to Leh airport. We heard rumors of some people getting beaten up by the strikers, which made the other riders cancel their plans to ride out of Leh soon after us. I guess they were stranded in Leh for a day or two. At the gates of the Defense-controlled Leh airport, a few travelers were already waiting. We were not allowed past the entrance gate (guarded by several Army personnel) until about an hour later, during which time we all spent scary moments beside the main road, uncertain if the flights would take off or if we would get on board. And the chilled air didn’t help much. Getting past those gates was a huge relief. Sachin sir was aware of my AMS and managed my luggage right up to check-in, though I insisted I was capable of handling them. We had a lot of time to chat and he told me stories of previous editions of Himalayan Odyssey. How it was common for riders to get sick of riding, of Bullets — by the time they reached Leh. In one instance, a rider even sold off his Bullet right there! An incident I recall was the security came looking for me while waited to board the flight, and they showed a Swiss army knife in my cabin bag — which was an honest mistake, I told them. It was removed and dumped, my name, address, and phone numbers noted in their registry. But I was happy they allowed extra kilos of luggage without charges, something Sachin sir didn’t think was possible but asked me to give it a shot. As the flight took off, I realized why Sachin sir insisted on we both taking the window seats in separate rows. The aerial views of the landscape were breathtaking, continued till the hearts quenched their thirst for the mountains. That’s when it felt the expedition was complete. After a few days went by, I heard that about 23 of 65+ riders completed the Odyssey and reached Chandigarh. Kudos to them all, and for the rest of the gang. We all shared memories of these extraordinary times, created bonds that will last our lifetimes, and spans across all regions of our nation. The fact that our WhatsApp group is still going strong after over a year is a testimony to our friendships and is truly an honor and privilege to be connected to many parts and cultures of India, which wouldn’t have been possible except in the Army I guess. That, my friends, I count as a great blessing in this LIFE.

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~ Biker’s Anthem