At 8 AM, just as we’re packing up, an older Danish couple shows up at our dhaba. They’re traveling with nearly 90-year-old Nimbus motorbikes (!) on their way to Umling La, before continuing all the way to New Zealand. Respect!
By 9:30 we set off in brilliant sunshine toward the highest motorable pass in the world: 1,100 vertical meters over 25 km. Today we’re traveling light—just some snacks and warm clothes, with the rest of our gear staying back at the tent. Progress is easier this way, following long straight stretches over green valleys dotted with yurts, sheep, and goats. Hardly any traffic at all.
From 5,200 meters upward, the gradient bites harder and my legs turn to lead (Georg, naturally, is long gone up ahead). I switch back to the "hike-a-bike" mode - slow, meditative and energy-saving marches. Don’t look at the ground or the dizziness kicks in. Stop often. Drink. Repeat.
By 1:30 PM I finally crest the summit. Hot chai awaits in a small shop, along with a flurry of photos. Then comes the reward: a glorious descent, topped off with a quick dip in a mountain stream while the sun is still warm enough to make that seem like a good idea.
Georg agrees that instead of blasting another “quick” 40 km and 600 elevation meters up to Hanle - where only faceless bungalows would await - we’ll spend one more night in Chizumle. Tomorrow that ride should go smoother. And give us enough time to reach the taxi booked from Hanle back to Leh at 1 PM.
That evening, in the heated family tent, Stanzin patiently fields a thousand of our questions about life in Ladakh.
50 km, 1,100 vertical meters.
Acclimatization is finally kicking in—I can actually sleep well above 4,500 m now. Only once during the night do I sneak out to admire that ridiculously beautiful starry sky.
Breakfast at 8: once again bread omelet and a bit of watery rice pudding. By 8:30 I say goodbye to Stanzin’s family and roll off. Hanle is 40 km away: 15 km uphill to Nurbula Top, then 20 km unpaved downhill. Since Georg usually needs more time in the mornings (and is way faster on the climbs anyway), I set out alone.
The narrow road winds gently up a valley past yurts and goat herds—pure peace and quiet, almost dreamlike. Just now and then a motorcycle comes the other way, riders raising a hand in greeting.
My legs are back! Even with full gear I can keep spinning, no pushing needed. By 10:30 I’m nearly at the pass and, for once, it’s Georg who keeps me waiting - 15 minutes. In the distance, the 6,000-meter peaks of Tibet and Ladakh stand sharp against the horizon.
Then the descent: steep and technical at first, then the corrugated dirt track suddenly fans out to what feels like 100 m wide. We stick to the far left (correct in India) because it bumps less - which of course means we completely miss the actual track to Hanle. The detour around a swamp isn’t pretty, but at least I finally spot marmots!
Next comes a brutal stretch of washboard road. Honestly, what did I do to deserve this? The spirits of Khalo don’t seem overly friendly either - right at the prayer wheels, my Om mani padme hum flag garland gets tangled in the chainring. In the end, we are an hour late to meet our driver. Luckily, Tashi has waited.
And then the film runs in reverse: Rongo and its massive sand dunes, Loma Bridge, Nyoma, and the epic, never-ending Indus Gorge with its sheer cliffs all the way to Upshi.
Just after 8 p.m. we roll into Leh, completely shattered. Tashi did a stellar job. What a ride. Now I’m looking forward to a few days of good food, real hygiene, and honest-to-god vacation vibes. 🎸☀️🕉️
55 km, 650 vertical meters.