Cycling Manali to Leh India Solo As a Female In The Himalayas
/The famed Manali to Leh cycling route — I had visited this place in 2018 for the first time when I initially wanted to bicycle tour the entire stretch.
But the rough roads, landslides, and traffic made me doubt my ability as a cyclist to even think of going up Rohtang Pass, a treacherous road with an elevation of 3,980m.
I settled for less demanding routes like a two-day stretch on the Leh to Srinagar highway instead and figured I’ll come another time and another day.
But that never happened, we were hit with the pandemic and I caught myself dreaming of carefree days of the Indian Himalayas, the freedom to go as I please and that sense of limitless exploration in India.
After years of dreaming of faraway places, there was no other place that had taken my breath away quite like the Indian mountains and deep down part of me wanted to revisit it and cycle these places alone.
I wanted to do this trip solo and go as slowly as possible. The idea of going out and seeing nature and sitting and pondering for hours in the forest instead of looking out at this convoluted jungle of concrete prisms in Malaysia sounded like a dream!
I am well aware that another companion would have been comforting but it didn’t teach me anything about planning my route, facing fears, and just learning to be alone. The strenuosity, the actual work of dealing with your own mind when you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, I wanted to deal with it on my own terms!
I enjoyed my own company and found that a solo trip opens up new pathways to friendships, learning and opportunities. Living in the city currently, I miss being the only person for miles — I was reaching the end of my rope with people, traffic, and congestion that I needed to break away and be in the mountains for what they’re.
Cycling Manali to Leh: The Logistics
hiking up to bhrigu lake and taking a breather after cycling manali to leh highway
I flew in from Malaysia to New Delhi and it took another 20-hour HRTC bus journey from Kashmere Isbt station to reach Manali. I was not excited about being in Manali — I had envisioned dirty bus stops, broken roads and bad weather as that was what I had experienced in 2018.
This was the early August season with the monsoons in full swing and social media had glimpses of broken mountains, roads and villages being swept away.
It would be naive of me to attempt to do something like that with climate change making weather seasons hardly predictable but I had consulted with a few cyclists who had done this route and they said it’s not too bad and once you reach Sissu, you’ll be in the rain shadow side of Lahaul valley.
I reached Manali after a long exhausting 20-hour journey and I was extremely beaten but seeing the sight of the mountains after 3 years of lockdown made me feel something different.
I felt like I was walking unpeeled. Everything was heightened and intense, I was a soft-shell young adult again and it reminded me of the same wonder and awe I had when I quit my job at 27 and came to India awed by these majestic massifs.
The season was different now - it was perfectly crisp, sunny weather at 12pm. I wasted no time and went to get my bicycle rental sorted. I had booked a mountain bike at the Two Wheels Himalaya in Mall Road, Manali.
Walking from Old Manali to Mall Road, I admired these tall deodar trees at the nature park. How did I miss this spot in 2018?
going to various lookout points in manali
Arrived at the bike rental place and their Polygon mountain bike size was a ‘M’ which was too big for me. I wondered if they assumed only men go for these long bicycle tour rides and not women. I went to another ‘plan b’ spot called Magic Mountains in Jagatsukh Manali, around 12km away from the town.
It was a Scott 940 mountain bike with a bike rack, a new model and ‘S’ size. It was perfect for me, although a bit heavy as I was not used to cycling on a MTB after having a road bike and hybrid back home. I placed the panniers I had brought along with me and rented the bike for 800 rupees a day.
Shoutout: If you want a pre-arranged cycling tour you could also join this Srinagar to Leh khardung la trip or this epic route like a 10 day bikepacking/backpacking in Spiti Valley (with support!)
Somewhere in manali on the first day that i arrived
The owner of the bike shop asked me “Are you sure you want to ride alone? Why don’t you take a support vehicle?” The mountain passes can be scary!” He was used to organising bike tours with a support vehicle for big groups.
On my end, I have been questioned more than once on whether this was a good idea. Although it comes with good intentions, it made me question my own ability to attempt routes like this.
I told him I’ll take his number and in case there was an emergency, he offered to come halfway to help me regardless.
I thought that was really thoughtful of them, and part of me knew that somewhere miles away there’s some kind of help available should anything drastic happen!
Exploring Old Manali
hiking the jogini falls
As soon as I rented a bicycle and was in Old Manali, I bumped into a local guy who was a local cyclist and asked me where I was going. It is that common thing where you see a cyclist and you sort of acknowledge their presence because it’s not exactly a cakewalk to manoeuvre this narrow strip from Mall road to Old Manali with speedy rickshaws.
He knew some back routes which had opened up views of the Manalsu river, and I thought this was a good way to test my gears and acclimatise to Manali despite having little to no sleep.
The adrenaline of being this close to the mountains seemed to have taken over! It was a lovely day and here I was an hour later in someone’s orchard admiring the rows of apples in Manali.
The next day I vowed to take a break, and hike up Jogini Falls, located in the beautiful valley of Vashisht. It was like a mini Israel/Russian and somewhat of a hippie place!
The three-hour trek to the falls was splendidly beautiful. To see Manali from high above, and soaring eagles surrounded by green mountains felt like the perfect opportunity to spend time in the laps of the Himalayas.
I wanted time to slow down and imagined that the coming days would involve a lot of bicycle breaks to soothe my senses and take me back to my free-spiritedness, the very thing which I seemed to have lost in the last few years.
Day 1: Manali to Kothi (14.2km)
cycling on a rainy day from manali towards leh
I started my ride expecting the same blue skies on the day I arrived but instead I got tossed into the August monsoon rains.
It was cold but I had no time to really think and let it set in. I found everything sort of fades away if I know today’s first ride is not a long one, but a short 14.1km ride.
It helps with the pre-ride nerves — and Google maps convincingly tells me that if I walk it’ll take me around 3 hours. In my mind, if it becomes too hard to cycle, I can always walk.
When I think of solo rides in manageable units, I don’t get caught up with numbers, passes and distances that seem harder to achieve.
I left my dark-looking hostel — Old Manali was rather quiet in the morning in off-season. I was the only guest at the hotel I picked closest to the road as opposed to the cozy stays hidden behind these valleys which seem like a dream, but on a bicycle it is somewhat harder to drag and reach.
I wrapped my backpack around my panniers with the two bungee cords I brought from home and nervously left the hostel behind me. People busy in their morning errands stared at the weighted baggage I was carrying. Within 5 minutes, three men were rather vocal about their thoughts and told me in Hindi “I won’t be able to do it, there are climbs after climbs ahead of me!”
An instinctive rebellion rose at the back of my mind, and with a blank white wall of refusal, I said “No, I can do it!”. But the sane and cautious side of my brain was telling me to forget it, you can’t do it, just turn around already, it’s no big deal! I am so glad I didn’t.
Near gulaba falls
Dark green mountains knuckled up in the distance. The clouds seem to be melting on the pan of blue sky somewhere far in the horizon but at that time, it was still pouring. I stopped quite a bit to take in these views knowing the sun is peaking somewhere behind these ominous clouds. The signs at the roadside by the Border Roads Organisation reminded me to slow down.
There were long trucks, some vehicles here and there but none of them came close to me — I was in a state of flat calm both mind and light of spirit. I took a quick chai break at the side of the stall at the 9km mark and met an Indian man and a Dutch lady who were on a road trip across these mountains.
They were surprised and both amazed that I was alone but my manic gleam in the eye made them think I knew what I was doing. Our conversations on the beauty of slowing down and how important it is to be connected to the landscape intimately felt like the perfect ‘chai chat’.
We skipped pleasantries and got right into the meat of things such as “I like being out here and people for the most part, are at their best — they are more open and alive with views like this!”
I may have talked for a lifetime because these people get it and were not warning me with thoughts such as “oh be careful!” or “it’s not safe!”
Just another 5km to go, and I knew in another 1.5 hour I should reach. It was the same road leading to Rohtang pass with breathtaking views of the deep gorge from where River Beas meanders its way here.
Knowing that I was alone on that stretch, the same Old Manali local guy showed up on my last 5km stretch towards Kothi — he wanted to check if I was Ok since it rained and I had left abruptly.
It was nice to have some company for a bit, but I knew that I would be OK without it as well.
There were waterfall cascades as I grew closer to Kothi town called Rahala falls. The waterfalls were set amidst dense thickets of deodar, birch and pine trees — the gentle rhythm, and empty roads were a dream!
The trees and flowers were strewing their cool odors and the waterfalls were never one or two, but in abundance. I stayed at the Apple Tree Lodge in Kothi for 1500 rupees a night with open views of the mountains. I just dumped my things and went out to eat at a local dhaba and walk towards the Gulaba waterfalls point.
lying down on a grass and some dog for a good company
happy but also dying inside!
There was this perfectly laid out green grass and out the sun came — the Himalayan dogs followed us and just basked in the sun after an entire day of being wet in the rain.
The unexpected sunshine gave way for a slow-burn evening — I calculated it took me about six hours to reach because of the rain and random stops. Google maps may have been wrong at these mountain places but I didn’t mind the slow pace with views like this!
Day 2: Kothi to Marhi (23km)
the zig zag roads towards marhi
unbelievable views!
I woke up the next day to cloudy views of the valley. I dreaded thinking that it’ll be another day of cold and wet rainy weather!
After idling around with parathas and bread omelettes, the rain reduced to a slight drizzle and it was time to move on.
Mornings are always the hardest, I am full of doubt when the weather doesn’t swing my way but after 20 minutes, it becomes the greatest joy to just leave these places and pedal out under the sky.
green dreamy valley and open meadows — this doesn’t look like india
slowing down time appreciating these little wildflowers
The road to Marhi was the most glorious I have seen — zigzagged roads with gentle inclines — nothing crazy like 20% gradients but just gradual inclines.
It opened up to the views of the mountains and some minutes later, some guys from Kerala took a photo of me. They were dressed in snowsuits and aviator sunglasses, the classic Bolly look!
It brought some much-needed humor as I was getting pretty sentimental looking at these views!
The rain disappeared and I caught the first sunray as it slipped between the mountains. It was time to collect some wildflowers and just stare into nothingness. My musings led me in circles and it felt like I have experienced more happiness in these few days than I have in years.
the open road!
always had a dog for some company
you canwalk these entire stretches near marhi
It was just sorta magical to not worry about time and go as you please — this is somehow diminished when I am stuck indoors with four walls and a roof over my head.
All these things came flowing through when I looked out at these zigzagging lines. I continued until I reached Marhi — it was just a bunch of shacks put together with no hotels.
I stayed in a dhaba — the first of my experience where they converted tables into makeshift mattresses. My trusty sleeping bag was used for hygiene purposes!
Day 3: Marhi to Sissu via Rohtang Pass (50km)
Passes, the first of many — it was either the Atal Tunnel route or the Rohtang Pass route. On hindsight, the view was worth every ounce of effort and I got properly acclimatised to the altitude, but now I was dreading the uphill slog to the first pass.
It was a 16km uphill ride to reach Rohtang Pass which was close to 4,000 metres.
Much as I loved the solitude on the roads in between them, I occasionally craved a glass full of civilisation at some points where it got all foggy and I was feeling the effects of the altitude.
My head was throbbing and I took my time on the bike with wet roads and foggy terrain. I stopped to have a chat with the road builders who said that I should continue because he is building roads for people like us to have great journeys!
Eventhough my hardships were nowhere compared to theirs, I thought it was a privilege to ride a bike through somewhere like that. The landscape was out of this world — it was dripping with vegetation, though now covered in fog as I was high up somewhere.
The local guy named Arun who said he would join me till Sissu was way ahead at every turn.
After numerous pushing and self-talk, I finally reached Rohtang Pass. I was so dead from the push and the biting cold. There were fierce winds and countless tourists demanding to see snow during these monsoons.
I snucked in to some yellow tent to take a break and talk to these ladies who were manning the stalls — they stay in Kothi village, and often come up to set these stalls everyday. Winds like these are no big deal for them.
After 5 minutes of knee shaking and trying to find some warmth in these yellow tents, it was time to escape these winds. I rode to what became the most gorgeous downhill ride of my life.
It was a 20km downhill ride towards Koksar town. Oh, the relief! There was a deep sense of fulfilment to be able to free-wheel down these maze-like slopes covered in clouds.
These were the exact moments that I was craving during the lockdown period in the pandemic. In this very moment, I was not looking out on the landscape, I was in it.
I reached one of the villages in Koksar at the Lahaul-Spiti district. You could see the glacier lines and the chandra river flowing underneath the bridge. It was another 14km to Sissu and I was quite tired because by now the sun was out and I wanted to just lay flat and do nothing!
With a bit of hunt to find a decent place to stay, I managed to stay at Hotel Aliyas in Sissu and the uncle and aunty were the most friendliest souls that I met who took good care of me.
Day 4: Exploring Sissu and Hiking
Some days I wanted to curl up under a tree and lay flat for a good while and this was one of those days. I was in no rush after all and had about 45 days in India.
Sissu was also known for its glaciers and it was one of the finest places in the Himalayas. There’s quite a bit of tourism going on — I decided to take a break here for a bit and hike to the hanging glaciers of Sissu.
Grassy slopes and shepherds with their flock everywhere — there were easily 500 or more of them. I enjoyed the glacial water, the warm sunlight after trekking for 3 hours here.
It is such a beautiful experience to witness these animals in their environment, and I felt so grateful. We walked back and got invited for tea with a local farmer who was planning on building a homestay for Winters and the other months.
It was humbling to be invited to places and have open views like these. I took a sip of the hot chai and laidback amongst these open fields — I could easily tell myself why it would be so hard to go back to regular programming as this “no plan” solo cycling mission was turning out greater than expected.
The day involved meandering in these valleys with different shades of green— the sky was unbelievably blue and it seemed like the perfect time to make that trek towards Sissu falls.
I stopped momentarily on my way back and these bunch of muddy kids were asking for water as they had a pretty awesome day just slinging mud at each other.
The day pretty much went like this — stopping, admiring, reflecting and having a long chai conversation with the owner of Aliyaa hotel. He gave me some sagely advice that if you’re not feeling comfortable in staying in some dhabas over the next few days — don’t hesitate to move on to the next stop.
I made a mental note of this as I didn’t want to be the only lone female in dhabas sharing long beds with other bikers or men.
Day 5: Sissu to Keylong (30.2km)
When looking at a lot of cycling itineraries, a lot of people make a stop at Jispa for the night but I wanted to slow down and explore Keylong. The cherry on the cake was probably staying in Zomsa cultural village, a beautiful mud house showcasing Lahauli traditions and cuisine.
Clear blue skies and rain clouds gathering at the horizon — I know at any point while cycling in the mountains, the weather can change drastically.
After some days of resting, cycling again feels like I was restarting but the views in Lahaul kept changing. On my left, I spotted a mini avalanche at the horizon and everyone stopped to look at it — I had 7km left towards Tandi, and is downhill from here but suddenly the parched romanticism of being in the mountains look sinister.
I stopped at the side of the road perhaps another dhaba where I leaned my bicycle again and just paused to take in the view, drink some water. I listened to the wind rustling through the mountains and the sky high mountains rising to the skyline.
Pinch me, I said, I loved how I could stop anywhere and just have a private contemplation of the beauty and difficulty in being here. It was easy to slow down, but super hard to get on the bike and keep going because the afternoon heat was getting all too much after I reached Tandi.
Eventhough it is just 9.5km, the passing vehicles, super hot sun and dusty roads as well as construction along the way made me want to speed down as fast as I want, call an end to the day at whatever medieval village I choose.
There was a sharp bend before heading towards Keylong — a biker from Bhopal stopped to ask why I am cycling alone and if I needed any help with my luggage. Times like this, I am really thankful for the smallest conversations — I no longer think of excuses to end the trip and remind myself the random conversations are really what I dig!
We stopped to chat and they said once they reach Keylong, if I am there we could meet up but sometimes that never happens ofcourse because I am not giving my number to a random person (no matter how nice the offer is!)
I try to ask people where is Zomsa and most said oh it's up there. Right, I didn’t know there was Upper Keylong and Lower Keylong. When I reached the front, there’s no way I could haul my bike and luggage up by myself. I called Tanzin the owner and he gladly sends someone to help me which I was so very thankful!
I spend the next few hours admiring this beautiful village, having conversations with the owner and exploring lower Keylong while having the best Tibetan Tingmo and chicken shapta (Tibetan style chicken curry) and a glass of honey lemon ginger tea at this quaint little place called Climber’s Cafe. The owner was wonderful to talk to and there was a little bit of digital nomadism at the cafe where some people who had dual jobs were chilling there.
Guess after the pandemic, most people tried to combine the two things they love like snowboarding during winters and trekking during the morning with the rest of the afternoon catching up on work!
Day 6: Exploring Keylong
I spent the morning waking up super early to climb the Sha-shur monastery behind Zomsa. There were two Ladakhi people I met at the homestay who were students in one of Chandigarh university and we decided to explore the monastery the next morning.
Sha-shur means "blue pines" in the local dialect, as patches of blue pine can be seen around the monastery.
Famous for housing large Thangka paintings, with a few being taller than fifteen feet, alongside wall paintings displaying all 84 deities of Buddhism.
I love how strikingly red it was with a view of a praying Lady Keylong on the mountains. Fun fact: No matter how much snow falls on the mountain, apparently the figure of a woman remains in it all the time. This name was given to this hill by the Germans in 1856.
Since we didn't have breakfast, along the way we munched on fresh apples and peas! The weather was perfectly hot with a nice cool crisp wind!
By the time we reached Zomsa, it was time for hot aloo parathas and a steaming cup of chai. I was obviously tired but sleeping in felt like a waste of time — the rest of the day I read at the rooftop, played with the local kids and looked out at the prayer flags lapping in the wind.
In the evening, Tanzin the owner took me for a drive to explore all the different monasteries in Keylong. As we chilled at night along with the other guest owners, there was a lot happening. I was surprised when Tanzin decided to gifted me a traditional ceremonial scarf in Tibetan Buddhism called Katak, which carries eight Buddhist auspicious symbols woven into the fabric for protection. This scarf may just be what I needed for the other passes in the coming days!
Plans were also on the way to hike Drilbu Ri mountain. Each year thousands of pilgrims coming from all over the Himalayan regions perform Kora of this Drilbu Ri. A type of pilgrimage made through repeatedly walking and meditating around a sacred site or temple.
It was already late at night and mixing up hiking with cycling was going to be too tiring for me. As tempting as it sounded, I decided to just proceed with cycling the next day and thought if I had time after this I’ll come back and explore more trails like the Ghepan lake trek.
Day 7: Keylong to Darcha (31.7km)
Some days are pouring with sunshine and some days are just a messy rainy affair. At 7am I was ready and about to leave when it just poured heavily — I got stuck in a cute little dhaba in Keylong.
Perhaps, I’ll just grab some chai and breakfast, chat with the owners of the dhaba and wait for the weather to change as it always does. But it didn’t — by 9am, I was growing impatient and by 10am, I was like no way I’ll be able to reach. Got up again and went back to Zomsa to rest — well at least, I didn’t go for the hike because it would have been a miserable affair.
But things changed again, at 11am — it was blazing hot with a nice cool wind. I couldn’t miss this and thought maybe I could stop in Jispa for the day — the key thing is to just keep moving.
I came across these glorious paintings on the highway and azure blue skies. It was also eerily quiet on the road, not a lot of vehicles and traffic until I reached Kawaring or Stingri where there were more vehicles and tourist traffic.
Jispa looked like a beautiful place to stopped after with loads of campsites but I had more energy in my reserves and I thought if I head towards Darcha, maybe it’ll be easier to do the climbs over the next few days.
I reached this incredibly long 360 metre bridge which was built over the confluence of the Bhaga river that took 10 years to build. At the checkpoint, I saw another foreign cyclist who looked like he was coming from Spiti Valley — there was just a pleasant nod but we couldn’t really talk as he seem dead focused on reaching his destination.
At the police check point, my details were taken down and I cycled further towards Darcha and the many home-stays that dotted the hill. The valley looked tucked in and some of the places I had saved looked like I had to cycle quite a bit to reach it.
I am not sure if it was the altitude but I was physically exhausted and it was getting chilly considering it was already around 5pm. I met a teacher along the way and he told me to go his homestay called ‘Darcha Baralacha’ homestay — his son-in-law Tenzin will wait for me.
I arrived at the homestay and I was just so happy to be in the presence of Tenzin’s large family and his homely stay. The valley opened up to views of the Bhaga river which flows through the Jammu and Kashmir into the plains of Punjab, Pakistan.
A cup of chai was in order and took many moments to savour it as I sat there for a conversation with Tenzin. Tenzin told me about the changing seasons, the pandemic and how they pretty much had to change gears and focus farming instead of tourism — he showed me his organic produce as we drove and walked up these open fields.
From afar, I could see that there was some uphill battles that I would need to climb the next day — and with the weather being slightly overcast, everything looked ominous. I decided to not overthink the route and try to enjoy these moments with Tenzin’s family which involved warm dinner in their mudhouse, exploring their backyards and playing with his little daughter.
Day 8: Darcha to Upper Zing Zing Bar (31.7km)
The sky was overcast with every grey stone in the mountains felt like it was going to pave the route with a heavy menace.
It was quiet and I didn’t have that much confidence in my reserves that Tenzin willingly joined me on his own jeep until Deepak Taal lake at the very least until I could spot another human or a cyclist.
I no longer thought of explanations and conclusions of what could terribly happen. The weather turned crisp and sunny; it was nice to stop every now and then — look at these sharp peaks in the distance and pause to take it all in.
Some 16km after I reach Deepak Taal, I finally met another cyclist. His journey was far more impressive. He had been on the road for 8 months and cycled all the way from Singapore, stopped in Mizoram to volunteer and teach English and Maths for 2 months.
He said Spiti valley was a tough ordeal — it was 90% bike pushing and no cycling. I asked him if it was OK for me to join him up to Upper zing zing bar and he replied: of course!
I thanked Tenzin and told him I’ll be ok. I stocked up on some ‘hide and seek’ chocolate sugar biscuits, and copious amounts of water and continued this slow uphill slog towards Zing Zing bar.
The views were incredible and I didn’t want to lose the freedom of cycling at my own rhythm rather than the other guy’s speed. He would usually stop at every bend and we would take a biscuit break and catch up on life.
He took a year off as a tuition teacher and told me about his crazy episodes cycling in Myanmar and living with various hunter-gatherers in the far mountains. I was awed and wondered if I was able to do such a thing someday or if I would be too paranoid to cycle alone.
We reached lower zing zing bar and took a lunch break — the stretch between lower zing zing bar and upper zing zing bar had a lot of switchbacks.
We needed all the energy but I couldn’t eat rice or thali meals so I settled for aloo paranthas and some chai. After one hour we quickly left to continue cycling. In slow measured paces, the uphill bends didn’t feel too much. The gradients were gradual and gentle, nothing crazy and the weather was cloudy making it slightly windy but not hot.
It was just 6.5km of cycling after all but that felt like hours to reach. We picked ‘snow view dhaba’ as our place to stay and the lady owner knew my name. A swiss girl who had done this route alone few weeks ago told her I was coming and she mentioned to look out for me.
Little gestures like this goes a long way and creates that sense of familiarity especially when you’re in the middle of nowhere. It was my second stay in a dhaba and since it was off season, there was hardly anyone.
Just me, the cyclist and later a biker couple. After an hour, the same families that I had met in Aliya hotel recognised me and we chatted for a bit with lots of chai and conversations as a small treat from them.
It was humbling and heartwarming to have moments like these and at that time, I felt richer than all the riches in the world.
Night time was spent huddling around the campfire and eating boiled eggs, rajma daal and rice, while unpacking all the big life changes and travel memories one has created on different kinds of two-wheelers.
Day 9: Upper Zing Zing Bar to Sarchu (46.7km)
The hardest part of every morning is just starting. Trying to leave before the light hits and getting the hardest parts out of the way is what I would tell myself.
The road towards Baralacha pass was difficult, but more than the terrain, it was the road building works and a noticeable change in the dryness of the weather. A stark reminder that we are heading towards the desert, and shrubs of green was no where to be seen.
There was a lot of truckers and tankers making their trips multiple times a day and some of them recognised me. At this point, I decided I won’t be following the pace of the other Singaporean cyclist and will take my time no matter how long to reach.
Once I reached Sarchu, I was too exhausted to think let alone take any pictures of the day. I remembered covering up my face from all the dust and desert and it made for quite a miserable ride!
Day 10: Sarchu to Whiskey Nala via Gata Loops and Nakee La pass (48.6km)
Everyone I met or knew had already warned me about Gata Loops — the 21 hairpin bends. I honestly didn’t think too much of it and just wanted to focus on the scenery and whatever I could control.
But the sun, dust and desert had really messed up my mind. I wanted to leave early to avoid the harsh sunlight but there were so many vehicles, each leaving an enormous plume of dust followed by hot dry winds.
I started the Gata Loops climb and I saw other cyclists — all with a support vehicle and one French cyclist with heavy loaded panniers both front and back. He was obviously struggling and I could feel his misery because I too had a heavy bike.
Halfway through the loops at the ninth bend, I was feeling the effects of the altitude and absolutely hated the dust trail and this long military convoys. It was searingly hot in the afternoon and I know type 2 of funs are glorified in the cycling world, but it was important to me to also have type 1 funs.
Feeling faint and dehydrated, I hitched a ride until Whiskey Nala. Stopped for lunch to gather some strength but I still felt ill and pretty dizzy from the heat.
To make matters worst, I never wanted to stay in Whiskey Nala. If it’s too busy, a lot of bikers do tend to stop there and I didn’t want to sleep or spend a night in a dhaba sharing long beds with others. A friend who cycled a month ago told me there were often drunk bikers and as a solo female it would be better not to stop if I am not too comfortable.
Hitching a ride with a trucker, I ensured I looked for the HP number plate ones and most of them were really nice and friendly — other than the usual marital status questions like am I married, and what am I doing here. It is best to tell a white lie and never the truth.
Day 11: Pang to Debring via Morey Plains (51km)
My stay at a dhaba in Pang and my interactions with the owner were really wholesome. There was a private room and with rudimentary bedding — more than enough for me to rest and gather my strength.
I was told that this was the highest military camp — true enough roads leaving out of Pang was rough and dusty. But as soon as I got away from it all, there was hardly any vehicles. I loved the open plateaus and took a lot of breaks to do nothing.
As I continued cycling, a group from Bangalore stopped and was pleasantly surprised to see me cycling alone. They were driving all the way from Bangalore and invited me to Shey village near Leh town once I was done with cycling as a group of artists are currently residing there and one of them have also decided to refurbish a mud house.
I thought how nice of them and this time I gave my number so we could keep in touch. Brimming with positivity, I continued cycling towards the morey plains.
The flat and plain bed of soil was gorgeous and it felt like true freedom but on that day it was so windy that cycling on this terrain proved to be harder than I thought.
Motorbikers on their Royal Enfields waved as I passed by and I continued staring at the open road and realised that I was almost near Leh. The terrain, everything that I knew about Ladakh looked familiar but still vastly different. Maybe it was climate change, but I definitely felt a raindrop which was weird. I always thought it could never rain in Ladakh.
As I reached further and cycled towards Debring, I thought of going to Tso Kar and the many turn offs to the lake but I wasn’t sure if there were any settlements along the way should anything happen.
So I settled down for the night in some shack at Debring and decided to call it a day — there were a lot of gusty winds and tons of army vehicles. A lot of them were there to catch a break. I didn’t even take much pictures as I was too tired to think.
Day 12: Debring to Rumste via Tanglang La Pass (45.5km)
From shades of brown, it slowly turned to white as I left that morning to cycle towards Tanglang la pass. To make matters worst, it was raining and I was freezing.
My journey was far more heavier than other days — I slowed down more often, to survey my surroundings, and catch my breath. I noticed truckers and heavy vehicles were super slow going up these roads and I wondered if I was faster than them.
It was also closer to India independence day with lot more motorbikes making their way to Tanglang pass,
Road workers around the bends kept giving me thumbs up and part of me wanted to sit with them and chat but I knew that I would be cold and it would be way harder to pick up momentum if I stopped too long.
As I reached Tanglang La, there were so many of these selfie-struck bikers that it was honestly hard to get any space for myself. I imagined an empty spot but obviously there were quite a number of vehicles.
I didn’t stay up too long because of how cold it was and brazenly took some shots and decided to head downhill. It was freezing with a lot of puddles here and there — but the views were unimaginable.
Snow-capped peaks, zig-zagged roads and the encouraging road signs from BRO, I sped ahead effortlessly and felt like I really earned these views. The contrasting deodar cedar trees in Manali and snow-desert landscapes of Ladakh are different in every sense. Their stark variation to size, shape and character are given as I stare out in the distance.
At another bend, a group of Mumbai bikers in their 60s stop to chat with me and are once again surprised I am here alone. It seemed like a common theme, everytime I stopped, people are shocked.
I don’t blame them since you don’t really see any female cyclists on the road and sometimes I am reminded of the brutalities women face in the cities when I read the horrid headlines, but when I meet nice people on the road, everything sorts of escapes me. I am reminded time and again with movement comes risk of exposure and violence. It’s a risk, just like pain, that I must somehow learn to coexist with.
All these thoughts ran through my mind and before I knew it I reached Rumste — I spotted a lot of abandoned homestays or buildings and there was one homestay with a large field and a woman tending to her crops.
Called Nordan homestay, I decided to stay with this old grandmother and her grandchildren. The beds were clean and homely and they had a large yard. At the homestay, there was a Japanese mountaineer with his guide who were climbing one of the mountains in Ladakh.
I spent the evening resting, enjoying the odd comforts of a proper bed and a bathroom after the days spent on the road.
There’s just one last final ride tomorrow till Leh and I can’t believe the end is near for the first leg of the trip.
Day 13: Rumste to Leh (78.3km)
I woke up early in the morning as I knew I have quite a bit of distance to cycle today. Initially, I had thought of staying in Shey village but with no internet, I couldn't really call or find the right address.
So perhaps I’ll just cycle to Leh or unless I am hit with serendipity and meet other cyclists. Along the way I pass by this community museum in Gya which was a reflection of sustainable and rural life in Ladakh. Since it was too early in the morning, it was not open at all.
I passed through many villages in Ladakh and huge military outposts in Karu. A officer on duty wanted to invite me for chai and said that he doesn’t think Ladakh is all that great. I imagined him bored with routine checks and living in a desolate landscape where he probably craved for family time, or more people than mountains.
The sky felt different when I was cycling towards Upshi. The breeze on my face and the smell of the land made me desirous of life. There were shades of red, brown and purple with the Indus river flowing rapidly through these mountains — the vivid colours of these mountains reminded me of the rainbow mountains in Peru.
Not a single vehicle was passing through here, I took a break to drink some water and just stare out for a bit. A group of young Indians in a car stopped and asked if I was Ok and needed help. “No, I am all good, thank you!” was all I said.
It was thoughtful of them but maybe I wanted more conversations rather than help. I was sure I didn’t look helpless or out of breath since the ride was quite pleasant to begin with.
I passed through many monasteries from Thiksey to Stakna — instead of stopping to explore, I made a mental note I’ll take some time off in Leh and come back to explore these.
Before that I took a break near Hemis monastery and met a backpacker who was going to stay for two days at the monastery. His first question “How are your legs even alive after all this?” I led out a chuckle and wondered the same.
It was at Choglamsar at around 4pm that I was starting to feel weary of all these vehicular traffic, and evening markets that were clogging the streets. I took a lot of ice cream breaks but no one prepared me for this kind of traffic.
Leh was starting to feel very city like and I got nervous riding alongside these speeding vehicles and long military convoys. The dry heat and vehicles was getting on my nerves.
I saw a shared taxi and asked if he could drop me to Leh as I honestly did not enjoy dealing with traffic. The Leh I knew was different from now with more hotels, fancy cafes and restaurants.
What happens next has already been decided, as I dumped everything on the jeep and reached the same guest house I stayed in 2018. The end of my cycling journey was a bit anticlimatic — I spent the next few days watching sunsets from Shanti stupa, catching up with long lost friends, eating a lot of chocolates and putting on weight.
I dropped off my bike at a homestay as shared by the contact which was great since I didn’t need to deal with the logistics of sending it back to Manali. I sold my panniers as well as I knew I’ll take a break from cycling and switch to hiking for now.
The remaining days
capturing the stars in the changthang region during the nomadic festival
The group who invited me to shey village and the nomadic festival!
I still had about 4 weeks in India and spent the next few days heading to Shey village, staying in Dokpa guest house (a lovely homestay away from the hustle and bustle of Leh!)
I got invited with the group of artists to join them for a road trip at the Nomadic festival in Changthang region. There were days spent at Pangong lake and I made new friends with some local Ladakhis which turned out to be great.
The best part were the organic friendships and serendipitous moments — something which only a bike ride can offer, when you’re on your own and discovering your own path. I stargazed and paused a bit to read and have long conversations with interesting people that I met. A lot of them were at the crossroads of their lives and wanted something more but the mountains and terrain of Ladakh offered a lot of downtimes to figure out their own journey.
The logistics
Bike rental: If you want good quality Polygon bikes do reach out to Manish from Two Wheel Himalayas. However, you’d need to ship back the bike from Leh. I went with Raju from Magic Mountains based in Jagathsukh in Manali. Here’s his number: +91 98160 56934. I could drop off the bike at one of his homestay in Leh which proved to be convenient. It was a Scott 940 ‘S’ size for 800 rupees per day.
Accommodation: You’ll stay in Dhabas or homestays along the way, mostly homestays and only dhabas in high mountain passes. It was safe and you could look out for the ones I recommended but if you go during peak season from May to July, you may end up sharing these beds with bikers who are not necessary in their best behaviour.
Best time to cycle: The best time to cycle on the Manali to Leh highway is in August to early September. The next best time is probably April to May. You may still catch early bits of the monsoons in Manali and with weather getting so unpredictable here, it might be hard to gauge.
Is it safe for a female to cycle alone? Honestly, I can say it is safe since nothing happened to me but I have heard of road rage on these highways and places like Marhi where only men were present and unpleasant stays in Whiskey Nalla. It is not truly safe everywhere and that’s a risk you need to go with. I read two-three accounts of women who have cycled along here and it was OK, but ofcourse there’s not too many of them. It is easy to be consumed by your thoughts in remote places and think anything can happen in places where there would be no witnesses. Do whatever you can to help yourself — which means keep your parents/friends informed, carry a knife or pepper spray and try to stay with family-run dhabas and homestays only.
Also read: Cycling in Kyrgyzstan: Bicycle Touring The Silk Road in Central Asia
