18-Jan: Nathu La (SK)
A lot has been written about this pass. I will only describe my ride to the top. Before the ride we needed passes etc. All that was taken care off by an agent.
We got the passes in the morning for our 2 bikes and the thar.
Crossed the first gate and realized that our bikes both had around half a tank of petrol. The distance was just 40+40, so we were not really worried about it.
Having been riding in cold weather for the past few days, it did not even register just how different things are going to get.
The weather forecast that Nathula will be having about -5C or so.
We started the climb. The fuel gauge started its descent. I estimate my mileage on this climb was in single digits. Slowly panic started to set in. We were lucky that we managed to find a petrol bunk on our descent with hardly any fuel left in the tanks.
There are 3 levels of cold.
When the temperature is around 10C, it feels cold.
In single digits, it no longer feels cold, it feels like a lethargic burn.
Once it crosses the 0C, there is pain. Pain like someone is smashing your fingers with a sledge hammer.
My helmet started fogging up, so the visor goes up.
I have a choice, either ride completely blind or getting punched by the cold winds in my nose. I had to keep the visor up.
I had worn multiple layers of clothing. But the cold January winds were easily able to penintrate all the layers and grip me tight. The funniest was when I needed a bathroom break. There are a couple of pay and use toilets. It needed all my imaginary yoga skills to work around all the layers of clothing and get things done.
The Thar was not permitted to drive up the last 4 kilometers. So I had my friend as a pillion. In second gear at full throttle my bike was hardly able to go faster than 20kmph. There is very little air at that height.
The highest point of the pass brings us within inches of China. Here photography is strictly forbidden. One stupid middle aged joker took out his camera and was immediately reprimanded by the Army Jawan. Instead of just following such clearly laid out rules, the dumb idiot quipped, "Ask your superior officer, who I am! ".
He did delete the pics he had taken but it was such a stupid display of arrogance directed at a soldier, who is literally there to save our lives. I hope that idiot suffered the worst case of diarrhoea for the rest of his trip.
There is a small shop manned by the Army, which sells tea, samosa, jalebi and wadas.
We had all of them.
The tea was remarkable. The first sip it was hot tea, second sip its ice tea.
By the time our descent started it was late and the fog had started rising. If the ascent was cold, this was unbelievably colder. The wind chill in the fog must have been at least a couple of degrees colder than at standstill. My bike has a thermometer that shows the engine temperature. It was showing between 2C and 3C while running.
Later in the evening we went to a local restaurant for dinner. The cold had opened up all my old blisters on my worn out palms. But every scar has its own story and for me each is memorable.