Desserts in the desert

At last, after we had our fill of dessert and petrol, we set out from Manali. With only one set of spare clothes in our bags (we can both wear all our clothes at once), a lightened library consisting of Arabian Nights, Joseph Campbell, Vipassana Meditation, and an herb book, the food stuff, mentioned previously, 2 5-litre gasolene cans and a toolbox. The toolbox has a spare chain, two tire levers and wrenches, spare cables, bulbs, spare plugs and points. Not everyone was carrying tools and certainly no Indians. They believe in the gods, mostly Ganesha for luck. Out bags covered in blue tarp and ourselves clad in blue mistry(mechanic) outfits, we left Manali after fresh bread arrived in the bakery. This only proved to be an annoying mistake. As we got out of Manali on the road to Rohtang Pass, there were innumberable shops renting old ski outfits and funky snow capes. We passed numberable cars at first and were glad to see them pull in at the outfit shops. In the 52 kms to Rohtang La, we ended up passing jeeps, cars, and trucks by the hundreds. When we came to the last mile of the climax of the pass, thinking still "one more truck and that will be it," we found ourselves upside down in a traffic jam. As the roads in Himachal are only one lane wide, one time as we were passing a stopped truck that we were stuck behind, we toppled over at barely moving speed. We had no injury and the bike was fine, except the headlamp's glass broke. Once we got up, with the help of the plenty of Sikh tourists looking like old-school pimps in their furry capes playing in the over-touristed snow, we continued to try to maneuouver around. It was unbelievable, there were more cars and jeeps and trucks at the top than we had passes along the way. WIth jeeps and cars of tourists and taxis parked on both sides, trucks and motorcycles trying to get through and many more cars and jeeps trying to turn around. At times, we just waited and walked around one at a time, neither seeing the entire clog at once. The passing wherever we could, we made it out after a few hours. The pass that we had crossed in September last year had completely changed, with walls of snow up to nine feet marking the road. The road was terrible with a massive amount of water on it. But being on a motorcycle, we got out before the cars and trucks could make it so we were alone on the raod. First day's driving was rough as we had to pass so many vehicles, then sit up at 4000 meters in exhaust fumes, then descend the pass half in rivers of melting snow, half in road. The scenery over the pass was immediately compelling though and got ever greater as we drove. We filled our tank and the two five-liter cans at the last gas station we would see until Leh. With 26 liters of petrol and all of us, the bike got heavy but pulled us through to the first night's camping place. alp!

We found an idyllic camping spot in Darcha, unloaded the bike, and ate tuna fish sandwiches with our morning bread. The full moon rose over the grand icy mountains and lit the big sky like daylight. The next morning we approached the second pass, Baralacha La, and it was an unnervingly snowy, puddly mess. After slipping a few times in the sloppy rivers of water on the road, we made it to the top and immediately wanted to come down. Our experience on these high passes reminds me of John Krakauer's explainations of how it feels to be on the tallest mountains of the world- when at the top, all you want to do is come down. Our feet were soaked from the splashing and the incessant bumps ached our bodies, so we arrived in Sarchu for lunch a bit discouraged. The lady who made our food vouched that the road onwards to Pang was better though and that gave the necessary impetus to continue. After climbing switchback roads galore, we made it to the top of Lachlung La, but not before it began to snow and became chillingly cold. The bike slipped on some black ice but we all bounced, nothing hurt, and gritted our teeth to make it over the top. We pulled into Pang, a tiny tent\food stop to see our American acquaintances Bobcat and Daisy waving their welcome to us. Instead of opting for a mattress in the back of one of the food tents, we rolled out our tomb of a tent above the army chechpoint and below a beautiful vista of ochre fairy-chimney-like outgrowths and snowy peaks. Unfortunately, it was was also the bathroom and beer bottle-smashing area of the tent colony and all its animals.
Day Three began with us in wary states of mind as to what surprises would await us on the final, and tallest, pass of the journey. We rode through a vast plain surrounded by glistening mountains and even stopped to meet a nomad woman and give her some water. Unexpectedly, the trip up to Tanglang La was markedly less treacherous than the lower three passes and we stopped for a moment to photo-document our conquering of the second-highest motorable pass in the world, at the breathless altitude of 5300 meters. Once descending, we encountered more marvellous scenery and a road paved enough to enjoy it, for once. Approximately 60 kms outside of Leh, there is a green valley hugged by the most miraculous dusky pink stone mountains and it truly must be seen to be believed. Closer to Leh, we began to see the famous gompas and monastaries for which Ladakh is renowned, as well as incongruous fileds of vivid green crops across the road from sand dunes. As with any true adventure, this epic ride was approaching not fun at times but is amazing to think back on in hindsight!
ingrid

I can now tell a bit about what I may have benefitted from Vipassana Meditation. Physically my posture has been better and no backache after 8-12 hour days on the bike. For the buttocks, when you don't react to your soreness, it is not so bad. The mental concentration one has to have on Indian roads! Mostly because of road conditions, not the drivers. Although we have practiced only a few hours of sitting meditation since the course, the road has been our meditation.
alp

Himalayan Scrolls

dear friends~
we have been entertaining ourselves with a number of games but one of our favourites and certainly the most productive is the scroll game (aka the poetry game). we trade lines back and forth, revealing only the second line of the two we write each turn. here are two recent ones; perhaps they will do the best job of showing you all our state of minds.

Out of my lips flow
a bird of truth, striving towards the sea
beating the air with its wings
alters the destiny of us all
by showing us just how and when
we are all allowed to drop and fall
some get up some stay down
lucky are the ones who get a call
and answer it with a strength
like a hurricane and full of gall
the soul will soar
until it shan't fall
and we all, and I mean we all,
shan't allow for anymore all.

~~~~~ *~~~~~

Inebriate yourself and
sink to the bottom
and let hair tangle
and feet trail, the sea knotted them
drowning and crushing
before coming out of the fathom
you must reach down into the deep
and untie them, unknot them
when there are no more of them
you will see one line piercing hell and heaven
and you keep swimming until you see
the rise of that glory of the land of seven
shall make the righteous cry
hallejulia HEAVEN

Manali Ani Kaza

Turkish readers need not get alarmed!
Last week we set out backwards from Spiti valley passing the Jelori pass into the Kullu valley in Himachal Pradesh. Kaza is the last big town in Spiti valley before passing the Kunzum pass into Lahaul and Ladakh. Kaza in turkish means accident. We were driving thru the eastern valleys of Himachal, at one point being very close to Tibet, where we needed permits to go on the road. From Spiti we were goint to drive north to Leh in Ladakh, accilimitizing as we go. In Kaza we learned that the Kunzum pass was not going to open for at least another 10 days so after staying there one night we decided to drive some way back and take the Jelori pass to cross from Rohtang pass into Ladakh. While we were driving thru Jelori we passed a town called Ani which means sudden in turkish. Jelori pass was amazingly beautiful, we could only describe it by magical. It was also the steepest that we will pass, but at 3300m it doesn't rival the two 5000+m passes that we will cross in Ladakh before we get to Leh. Right now we are having a grand time with plum wine, falafal lafas, desert and our old room from September in Manali. Manali means meaningful in turkish; thus the title Meaningful Sudden Accident the names of towns we left, passes and arrived at. We have had no mishap, no accident or no mechanical problems, maasallah. Ingrid is our navigator, native language expert as well as the beautifunk girl in the mechanic outfit; with her directional intuition, being able to decipher signs and her charm we haven't even gone the wrong way once. On our outfits we have the evil eye, Nazar. And now we have all our bags covered in tarp. All the bags have names because after 9 months of travelling and living in one room your bags become the shelfs, the tables and all the surfaces we normally occupy become bags. We have very good coffee from Coorg that we make turkish style and have it with powdered milk. As well as: apple blossom honey, drinkably pure himalayan rose water, apricot oil, bee pollen, mangoesm cherries, apricots, plums, cashews, almonds and herbs of every kind. So don't feel bad for us we are enjoying life like kings and queens. Ingrid also startes sewing though she doesn't do it while we are driving (the roads are a bit rough). But still in three days she has knitted me the worlds most beatiful scarf and earmuffs for herself from yarn of goat wool. All of you take care,
alp

While Alp uses all his third eye energy focusing on the ever-changing road conditions, I bounce along merrily in the back, enjoying the ride because remember- why hike when you can bike? Though technically we haven't covered such huge distances (the MOST we can manage is about 300 kilometers a day; our average speed is 25 km/h), the terrain has been spectacular and everchanging as well. We've seen nearly all the valleys of Himachal Pradesh and each has its own particular gorgeousness. The region of Kinnaur has the fabulous Kinner Kailash mountains staring snowy and gleaming over the high village of Kalpa, where we stayed for six days, relishing the nip in the air and our John Irving mountain readaloud tradition. We were welcomed along the checkpoints of the Indo-Tibetan highway thanks entirely to Alp's moustache. Having that furry upper lip simply erases all the mistrust and lack of understanding between cultures. It seems a moustache is not just fashion~ it is a lifestyle choice, it is a universal symbol of good manliness, it is humanity grown on a face. Spiti was flanked by bleak, sandy mountain banks and occasional snowy peaks. I wanted to take a picture of each moment riding through that epic country and its unearthy beauty. The roads were very deserted, save for the ladies and gents who troll along the road everyday sweeping up the rocky debris that tumbles down from on high, and i felt like we were in a galaxy far away and a time unknown. The small town of Tabo is Spiti looked like a true oasis in the midst of this landscape, with irrigated fields of green and an ancient monastary that looked moulded out of clay by children. The current Dalai Lama plans to retire to this tiny town and so I hope it doesn't exchange its peacefulness for the scene of Dharamshala in the future. After learning that the Kunzum La would require us to wait, Alp managed record levels of endurance to speed us up to Manali. Despite the variable road conditions, the only major obstacles we encountered (both coming and going) was a landslide area that washed away some of the the road between Tabo and Recong Peo. Going we managed up the steep embankment with six extra sets of hands and Alp's steely determination. Now, we are enjoying our honeymoon suite again and resting our bums for the next mountain voyage! with love~
ingrid

10 Days, 100 Hours Later

Some people go to jail because they are bad, and some go because they are good. Ten days of solitude, silence, and 10 hours of meditation a day; this was the hardest thing we did in a long time. But having said all that if you want to practice meditation this is the course to take, because of its intensity, it allows you to break through a barrier that might take years get through if at all. The experience was intensely personal and requires nothing but the good intentions and effort of the meditator. Perhaps that is one of the hardest aspects of the whole course: one learns that one is entirely responsible for one's experience and his/her reaction to it. No guru helps you achieve peace of mind, no outsider magically alleviates all one's unhappinesses, no thing soothes your aching muscles. The experience is wholly your own... like your life. Perhaps after more time has past and we are able to sit and talk with you all in person, it will be easier to explain our complex experiences with Vipassana.

May all beings be happy