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Spent a month with my S-Presso in Zanskar: Why I chose it over my Jimny

19th December 2024, 11:26 by Deepankar Sadekar

Despite the dust, fumes, and complete lack of respect from the big boys, the S-Presso emerged on the other side of Zoji-La unscathed and unbothered.

BHPian antihero recently shared this with other enthusiasts:

May end to July - Over a month in Zanskar

June saw the little S-Presso doing what most small cars would have nightmares about—spending an entire month in Zanskar. "But wait!" you exclaim, “Isn’t there a Jimny in the garage?” Yes, there is, and yes, the Jimny would’ve been excellent. But here’s the thing: the Jimny is like a heavyweight boxer, perfect for off-roading—rocks, rivers, and places where roads are mythical creatures. Zanskar, on the other hand, is more about bad roading: potholes that moonlight as swimming pools, cracked tarmac reminiscent of shattered dreams, and stretches of dust that would make Mars jealous.

For such roads, the S-Presso is perfect. Lightweight, nimble, and with enough ground clearance to glide over potholes like an overconfident goat. Plus, let’s be honest, I wasn’t here to set off-road records—just to survive the roads, crawl into my car-bed at night, and enjoy the view.

Prep Work: Making a Mobile Studio Apartment:

Step 1: Take out the rear seat back - its just 2 clips.
Step 2: Insert plastic crates between the front & the rear seats to create a flat bed as a makeshift IKEA storage solution.
Step 3: Lay out a flat bed using a folding mattress, inflatable pillow and my trusty -10C down sleeping bag

You see, I’m 5’8”—not tall enough to dunk a basketball, but perfectly sized to fit lengthwise in the S-Presso. I had pre-measured the car before buying it because I’m one of those people who buys cars with the same approach others use for buying tents. Practicality, my friends.

Nights were spent curled up in the back, counting stars and listening to the lullaby of distant mountain winds (and the occasional truck). The view out of my windshield every morning? Priceless.

Photo of the back setup: (cue proof that it’s not just madness but genius).

Vehicle Prep: The Spa Day Before the Sludge Bath:

Before subjecting the S-Presso to a month of Himalayan grime, it deserved a proper spa day. The prep included a complete vehicle detailing session using my trusted trifecta: Turtle Shampoo, Wax, and the all-important Trim Restorer for those black plastics that tend to fade faster than my hopes of finding smooth tarmac. After all, the S-Presso wasn’t going to see a car wash anytime soon, and I wanted it to start the trip looking its Sunday best—even if it would end up looking like a dust-coated nomad by day two.

To Zanskar:

Starting from Patnitop meant I had three iconic passes to conquer: Sinthan, Zoji-La, and finally the ever-stunning Pensi-La—each one a story in itself. Pensi-La, with its rolling snow covered meadows and dramatic landscapes, felt like a reward for braving the previous two. The plan was ambitious: head back via Shingo-La and Manali, with plenty of detours. I had my sights set on exploring sleepy village roads, the hidden nooks of Zanskar, and that new road to Leh via Alchi—a road so fresh it probably still smells like tar. Zanskar wasn't about ticking destinations; it’s about discovering how far a little car and a lot of stubbornness can take you.

Sinthan:

Deciding to stay overnight at Sinthan Pass turned out to be a stroke of luck—it had started drizzling, the snow was setting in, and with road cut-off timings in effect, I had the place all to myself. There’s something surreal about being the only vehicle at the top, surrounded by quiet mountains and moody skies. Of course, having friends in the Army does have its perks—the S-Presso’s details had been circulated earlier, and I was waved along with a friendly nod.

Now, let’s talk car camping. After almost a decade of spending nights in a leaky Gypsy, I’m thrilled to report that the S-Presso had zero leaks—not a drop, not a trickle. The rain guards were worth the niggles, letting me crack the windows open just enough to avoid condensation. No fogged-up windows, no damp sleeping bag, just me, the car, and the patter of rain outside. Pure bliss.

Weather, thankfully the wipers are new but i sure do miss those fog lamps

Overnight spot

The next morning

Zozi_La:

The road to Zoji-La was exactly as I’d feared: a chaotic stew of stop-start traffic, overzealous cabs trying to out-hustle one another, and trucks belching out enough fumes to set climate goals back a decade. It was the dreaded Cluster** Pass**, and I spent the entire stretch muttering under my breath, telling myself not to lose it.

Through all the chaos, the S-Presso soldiered on. Truckers, however, weren’t impressed. A couple of them rolled down their windows just to comment that my car looked like a frog. Excuse me? Beauty, my friends, lies in the eyes of the beer-holder. And if my S-Presso’s a frog, it’s the kind that hops over potholes and kisses adventure in the face.

Despite the dust, fumes, and complete lack of respect from the big boys, the S-Presso emerged on the other side of Zoji-La unscathed and unbothered.

A breather after escaping the crazy traffic on the Srinagar_Leh axis

Zanskar:

Zanskar is, and always has been, stunning.

Only now, it comes with a fresh complication—hordes of tourists. Thankfully, I timed my visit well. The roads had just opened, which meant fewer crowds but also roads that resembled obstacle courses for brave souls and slightly confused cars. I won’t turn this into a point-by-point travelogue (you’re welcome), but here’s the synopsis: it was a mix of breathtaking views, questionable roads, and a car that somehow managed to keep up with my whims.

Good roads

Usual roads

Starting bad roads

My perspective for most part

Lessons from Zanskar: The S-Presso’s Report Card:

The S-Presso excels at bad roading, thanks to its short overhangs, narrow width, and decent ground clearance.
I scraped the car bottom a few times, but all were controlled and deliberate—no damage done. You can never have enough ground clearance.
Being FWD meant that steep gravel climbs from a full stop often led to wheel spins. It’s part of the deal.
No breakdowns along the way. Though in Padum I did leave my door ajar for a week causing the battery to run out. Had to do a no battery start 1. remove own battery 2. ask another car to donate its battery, connect leads to it and start S-Presso 3. Remove borrowed battery, yes the car keeps running even without the battery 4. Replace with own depleted battery - drive for 20-30 kms to recharge it. Thank youy to the kind car owner who had no qualms about lending his battery
Sleeping in the back for 15-20 days was surprisingly comfortable. But then I'm not a comfortphile.
I carried essential tools: tyre-changing kit, manual foot pump, tow strap with hooks, screwdrivers, pliers, wrenches, wire bits, duct tape, and zip ties.
The narrow width was a blessing—numerous times when two full-sized cars couldn't pass, the S-Presso squeezed through with the mirrors folded.
The 1L engine never felt underpowered, even at 5000m+ elevation.
It can fit 5 people for short rides, though comfort is limited. With 5 onboard, ground clearance took a hit, limiting it to light gravel trails. The independent front suspension needs care, especially on U-shaped bumps.

In the end, I don’t buy cars as an end in themselves, but as a means to an end—exploring and having fun while driving. And yes, I had an amazing time in the S-Presso this summer, driving through the high mountains. It was the perfect size for me, handling everything I reasonably expected and more, while returning ~23 kmpl over the course of ~2000 km.

Food for thought:

Quality and reliable cars have certainly made accessing the outdoors easier and more fun. But sometimes, deliberately choosing a less capable car can make things more challenging and enjoyable. It's the extra effort that often makes the adventure feel more rewarding.