With a day delay for Georg to recover from a cold, we have to adopt our plans. So we hire a Taxi that brings us 160 km up the fantastic Indus valley to Mahe Bridge (which costed us about 70 Euro). From the we cycle to Nyoma, and on the following day with quite some headwind on the high altitude plains to Hanle.
The home stay we booked here turns out to be loveless rooms in a brand-new makeshift bungalow. As it turns out, most accommodations here are like that, just been erected recently to accommodate the motorbike tourist that only stay for a night on their visit to Umling La. Prices seem rather high and non-negotiable, and many of them are already booked. As we keep searching, hordes of motorcyclists arrive.
I convince Georg to try below the big monastery a few kilometers back, and luckily we get one room with a double bed for a reasonable price. Plus, it is pool position for our ascent to Photi La on the following day. Motorcyclists arrive till late at night and are served diner in the attic. Hard to get some sleep. But luckily, they tell us for sure there is accommodation in Chizumle, which is the missing piece of information for our ascent to Umling La.
about 100km...
During my morning exercise routine, a hoopoe lands barely two meters away, looks startled—as if I’m the intruder—and flutters off again.
After some breakfast confusion (wrong dhaba, wrong dhaba, finally the right dhaba), we fuel up on bread omlett and tackle the 30 km climb to Photi La. The sun is shining, luckily, and rather burning again in the high altitude. Along the whole way we'll see maybe five motorbikes and four jeeps - the road is basically traffic-free and nicely paved, winding in switchbacks up the scree slopes… mostly.
But here’s the kicker: about every second switchback gifts away the hard-earned vertical meters, only for the next curve to crank the gradient up even steeper. Nothing like the steady 4–5% climbs back on the Manali–Leh Highway. By 4,800 meters, every pedal stroke feels like a wrestling match. My head is getting dizzy, my heart rate drops dramatically. Give up? Nope - I can still walk. At least through the (many) brutally steep bits. With no traffic around, it’s wonderfully quiet up here.
Just before 2 PM I roll up to the pass sign, where Georg has been waiting. 5,500 meters above sea level. Wow.
Two bikers snap some photos with us, then the icy wind urges us down the other side. The descent mirrors the climb—occasional uphill stretches sneak in and steal my last scraps of energy. At the foot of the pass we’re both toast. We devour the last chapatis with dates and peanut butter, plus yesterday’s leftover rice. Still 13 kilometers gently uphill to Chizumle. With headwind. 🫣
We take turns slipstreaming. At one military zone, a pack of dogs decides Georg looks chase-worthy. Around 5 PM we reach Chizumle Bridge, where a roadside dhaba lets us crash in a fixed tent. No real washing facilities, sadly. Luckily, one of the family’s daughters, Stanzin, speaks fluent English. Turns out she works as a flight attendant and is home on vacation.
At 4,700 meters, the air is thin and exhaustion runs deep - it’s well past midnight before real rest finally kicks in. Tomorrow: the climb to the highest motorable pass in the world 🤗
80 km, 1800 vertical meters.