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Zanskar This route doens't look very plausible on a map, but is an excellent overland alternative to riding back down the Leh-Manali Highway once you've made it to Ladakh. From Kargil, the stunning Suru Valley opens up to the southeast. We had to bus it as we'd spent too much time hanging out in Kargil thanks to some dodgy paneer, but even on the bus it's awesome. The fish-tailed Nun Kun Massif towered over us at 7,000m, the pristine snow glaring against a deep-blue sky. Glaciers swept down from the peaks, their snouts only inches from the road. However, this valley has something of a reputation, particularly among cyclists, for being unfriendly and a gauntlet of stone-throwing kids. It's also India's only region with a Shi'ah Muslim minority, a people whose culture is closer to Baltistan, and who look to Iran and Lucknow for religious counsel. By bus the 235km journey to Padum takes about 15hrs, due to the rough road, munchkin local hitch-hikers and frequent check points. The Pensi La pass (4450m) lies about halfway between Kargil and Padum, just south of Rangdum monastery which surveys the valley from its rocky outcrop. Beyond the pass is Buddhist Ladakh. The scruffy town of Padum is at the head of the Suru Valley and halfway along the remote Zanskar Valley. Horsemen are plentiful here, and providing that it's not harvest time (September), cheap. We hired Stanzin and his 3 horses (called Nakpo, Mukpo and Marpo, or Black, Brown and Red) for 250rs per day - about £3 each. An unexpected surprise was that Stanzin also took charge of our Eagle stove, magicking up great noodle soups, peanut butter and honey muffins and belly-filling hot pots from our random shopping spree in Padum. The trek takes between 8-10 days. The first and last day can be ridden as there's a jeep track which is slowly being built through Zanskar. It will be 2010 or so before the valley will be prised open to jeeps and trucks, which will change this region forever. Zanskaris are keen on the road - it will bring the region money - as is the Indian government, which sees it as a year-round alternative to the Manali-Leh Highway, which costs them a fortune to maintain and is only open for 4 months each year. These ambitions in tarmac seem a world away from Zanskar now, where yellow-hatted monks plod along the scree trail from Phugtal, yaks graze in the fields and tiny villages nestle below ice-clad mountains. Sunflowers grow in old tin cans and children, muffled up in layers of burgundy, wear orange felt hats which make them look like rampaging smurfs. Holed up in Stanzin's family home for a day, his family fed us every yak product known to mankind (yak yoghurt, fresh yak cheese, dried yak cheese, yak cheese soup, yak butter tea...), sprinkled with tsampa (roasted barley flour) and washed down with chang (barley beer). Lying in our sleeping bags, we wondered how a house that has none of the comforts we associate with modern living - electricity, running water - could be so clean and pleasant to live in. A few days later, we descended from the turqouise lake and bitterly cold wind at Shingo La pass (5080m). Bridges in mid-construction and the re-emergence of a jeep track reminded us of Zanskar's future. From Darcha it's an afternoon's ride to Keylong, then a long day (120km) back over Rohtang Jot to Manali.
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![]() Zanskar Valley |
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