The Road over Kunzum La Riding the Indian Himalayas with my father Story by Tore Groenne • Photos by Tore & Poul Groenne leeing clouds sped over ward, Poul was getting higher than he had later, two days after he turned 60, we left sitting cross-legged and lazily gazing as a deep blue sky as if ever been on a bicycle before. After all, this for India and the foothills of the Himalayas. the hours of the day passed by. they sought to travel was his first long-distance bike ride. The plan was to start in the old British The next day, after following the river

faster to see more of the hill station of Shimla, cross into the lush nathan taylor farther up the scorching valley, we set out white peaks, flowing It’s not too late Hindu valley of Kinnaur, and slowly ride on an 11-mile switchback side trip to get to glaciers, and deep val- In some ways, my mother started it all. up until we reached the barren, dry, and the ancient wooden Hindu temple in tiny leys before vanishing When I visited my parents, we talked about desolate Spiti Valley with its 1,000-year-old Sarahan. We zigzagged past apple orchards into thin mountain air. traveling to remote corners of the globe. Buddhist monasteries. Finally, before fin- as little kids ran along the bikes smiling They seemed to be in too much of a hurry, And we talked about bicycling. Over the ishing in Manali, we would cross over the and cheering, and we got a room in the Fbut had they peeped way down below, last 12 years, traveling by bicycle had in main Himalayan range — twice. temple complex. We were getting farther they would have seen two little dots mov- many ways been a path I followed in life. into the Himalayas. The ride up had been ing at a snail’s pace up a valley with rocks It started when I was 20 years old with a A few worries warm but good, and it was a tremendous painted in reds, oranges, yellows, browns, four-month solo ride through the Andes, On the southern edges of the Himalayas, treat to take off our shoes and wander and blacks. If they had come down far the same year my parents spent eight the monsoon was upon us. It was drizzling, through the temple as the sun turned red enough, they would have heard the labored months backpacking around the world. and clouds obscured the green Himalayan above the mountains. breathing of two bicyclists pedaling up and The following year, I bicycled from China foothills above Shimla when we packed the The wish of the goddess up and up on an empty road where asphalt to Denmark and the next from Mexico to bikes on an early, chill, July morning. We After Sarahan we climbed the road that had long given way to gravel. They would Argentina. Many trips followed — in the were thrilled to start cycling and chatted was cut into vertical cliffs a thousand feet have heard my father Poul gasping, “This Middle East, North America, and Central away until the road soon became too steep over the roaring river below. Sometimes is killing me! Phew, this is tough!” before Asia, in the Himalayas, Hindu Kush, Pamirs, and our breathing became heavier. The air we were overtaken by a truck with Hindu a wide smile covered his face and lit up his and Andes. Every time, my father followed was fresh, and the road was narrow and gods dangling in the front window, and eyes, and he added, “But how truly amaz- the route on maps in his study back home. winding. All day we pushed uphill. I knew other times cows had taken over the road ing this is!” My parents had traveled all over the world my father had a few worries about the ride and were lounging in the blistering sun. Of course, I was the only one to hear him too, but by bus, train, car, and rickshaws. ahead, but I also knew he would be just We had enough time to explore the little in this brilliant corner of the Himalayas. I One evening during this visit, my father fine. I’ve always thought that the most side valleys along our loop, and one of couldn’t help but think how many times said that he wished he had seen some of the important thing when it comes to cycling And it wasn’t like Poul hadn’t prepared. The first switchbacks those was the alpine Sangla Valley with during the last six months we had talked world from the seat of a bicycle. He wished isn’t your physique but your enthusiasm. If In the three-and-one-half months leading On Day Two, after a phenomenal its gushing streams, green, tree-covered about this particular moment. Ahead of us, that he had done it when he was young. you love being out there and you have the up to our departure, he had been cycling 25-mile, 6,500-foot descent, we were slopes, and snow-capped peaks. Our shad- up there somewhere, was the highest point “It’s not too late. Why don’t you go on a time, most things will work out fine. And for at least an hour a day. Some days he had riding in dry, dusty heat on the old ows were long and narrow when we got to of the trip, Kunzum La, at almost 15,000 trip together?” my mother exclaimed. one of the many things we share is the love gone on longer rides. Hindustan-Tibet route. Marijuana was the end of the road in Chitkul village. A bit feet, and for every meter we moved for- And that was pretty much it. Six months of being in mountains. “It’s probably not enough, but that’s growing tall and wild next to cacti and ahead, India would become Tibet, and the the time I could squeeze in with work banana trees on the roadside, and the road would be closed to curious cyclists. and everything,” he said and talked about cloudy waters of the Sutlej River came Old wooden houses were connected by how he had mentally prepared himself for rushing down from Shipki La and the little trails and dotted the green slopes some grueling physical exercise that would Tibetan border not too far ahead of us. where water streamed down everywhere. probably surpass what would be pleasant. We ended the day by rolling through the Up here people had different facial features But he wasn’t going out there to break narrow, bustling bazaar streets of Rampur than those farther down the valley. Men any records; either it would work out or full of colorful spice racks, women in and little boys wore grayish homespun it wouldn’t. There was nothing more to beautiful, flowing saris, and shop keepers woolen suits and traditional green and red be done but to pedal away and see what happened. I asked him what his biggest worries were. “The thin air combined with steep ascents, a loaded bicycle, and the physi- cal ailments of a 60-year-old — some back problems and chronic knee pain cause a bit of concern,” he said, but somehow that all seemed to be over- shadowed by our excitement at getting out there on the bikes, experiencing the freedom, being in the rough mountains, and taking it all in. I had little doubt we would be just fine. I could see it in the smile that was to become more or less permanent on his face as the days went by. That he would per- manently bicycle away knee pains that had been there for years did, however, surpass my expectations. Through the bazaar. Poul riding into Rampur, the first town the travelers visited in Kinnaur. Quiet days on the road. In Spiti, Tore and Poul often had the road to themselves.

12 ADVENTURE CYCLIST APRIL 2013 ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG ADVENTURE CYCLIST APRIL 2013 ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG 13 Kinnauri caps, and women wore golden saddle. We constantly stopped to take pic- jewelry in their noses and ears. tures of each other rolling along the peace- Nuts & Bolts: Indian Himalaya That night we stumbled upon the year- ful road. Otherworldly villages surrounded ly flower festival. By the ancient-looking by green fields were tucked in between When to go: The summer in Lonely Planet’s Biking the all along the route. It does multi-storied wooden temple in the center high mountains casting shadows over the months when the passes Himalayas. get a bit primitive between of the village, people were dancing and valleys. A few weeks into the trip, we were are open. Be prepared Kunzum La and Manali, singing in the dust. We chatted with Babu, now in the rhythm of being on the road. for rain on the southern Road conditions: The but places to stay do exist. who in a low whisper explained what was We got up, ate, pedaled, snacked, chatted slopes of the Himalayas majority of the roads are At Chandra Taal, you can going on. In the darkness, all I could see with people we met, ate some more, and near Shimla and Manali, for fairly decent with asphalt typically stay in a tea house were his warm eyes and his mustache danc- slept. We talked about good memories that scorching sun in Kinnaur, or some decent gravel, but tent. ing up and down as he talked. came back to us from when my father was and for endless blue skies there are a couple of places “We are about 630 people living here in my age and from when I was a little boy, in Spiti, where nights do get where it can become truly Food & water: It’s easy Chitkul. We have a language that we only and sometimes we just disappeared into our cold. terrible. The road between to find food the entire way share with the next village down the valley. own thoughts. We had so much time, and Kunzum La and Gramphoo and in many places it’s quite Until 15 years ago, you could only walk up yet the days flew by. Maps & routes: Our route gets very rocky; expect to good. Even on stretches here, and even today we are completely One day we climbed yet another series was 550 miles, took us be walking through water with very little when it comes cut off from the outside world by snowfall of steep switchbacks away from the main three weeks including rest in quite a few places. The to villages, there are little for two or three months. So we stock up road and up to Dhankar. More than 1,000 days, and was very easy upper parts of the southern truck stops, dhabas, where for winter,” he said and nodded toward feet above the valley floor, in a little curve to follow. It took us from side of Rohtang La can get you can fill up on food. the wooden houses that were silhouetted on the mountain, neat fields in green rows Shimla to Reckong Peo, extremely muddy. against the night sky. Pass with no view. The road down from the Rohtang La was a muddy mess. spread themselves among a few dozen large Tabo, over the Kunzum La Transportation: If you fly He explained that the dancing was in white houses. Prayer flags were hanging to Gramphoo, and over the Equipment: Bring a sturdy into New Delhi, it’s easy to honor of Lakshmi, the Hindu goddess We left the Sutlej River and climbed a Buddhist mantra “Om mani padme hum” from lines hundreds of feet long, stretched Rohtang La to Manali. You touring or mountain bike. find a comfortable bus to of wealth and prosperity, called Mati in dramatic road blown into the sheer rock lined footpaths. By now, we had gotten out like bows in the wind. Above it all, can ride on to Shimla and You don’t actually need a Shimla. Busses leave from Chitkul. The villagers had been roaming face before turning into long switchbacks. used to ending each cycling day in an Dhankar Gompa, a Buddhist temple, was make it a loop. There are tent or a stove but a good Kashmiri Gate and they’ll the mountains to pick flowers to bring Often it seemed as if we were alone on the amazing place. practically built into the craggy cliff and several detours that should sleeping bag is a must put your bike on the roof. back to her in the temple. road, and sometimes we rolled through For the first time, we climbed above behind it, snow was drizzled on top if the not be missed — especially since it gets cold at night, Tie it down yourself to be Babu told us that he no longer lived in tiny villages that seemed like high-altitude 13,000 feet. A glacial river had partly mountains. Inside the temple, which has those into Chitkul in the especially in the Spiti Valley. sure it won’t bounce around. Chitkul. He was studying in Shimla but oases amid all the dryness. We sipped tea washed away the road, and we pushed the been there for more than a thousand years, Sangla Valley, to Dhankar You might want to consider From Manali there are daily was home helping his parents prepare for and munched on biscuits surrounded by bikes through freezing water, trying not it was dark and damp. A 16-year-old monk with its amazing monastery, a water filter, too, since you busses back to Delhi. Both winter. When he has finished studying, he sunflowers and strong-smelling herbs. We to cut our bare feet on the stones beneath. named Karjeet showed us into rooms where Key Gompa near Kaza, will have to buy an awful lot journeys take the entire day. will return. were now leaving Hindu India behind as I have cycled thousands of miles in the wall paintings with blue and red demons and the jeep-track trip to of bottled water otherwise. Tickets are about $15 for “It is the wish of the goddess,” he said. we entered the Spiti Valley, a land where Himalayas and am lucky that my body had faded over the centuries and candles Chandra Taal. Sarahan, with a very comfortable Volvo Tibetan Buddhism has been prevalent for copes well with the thin air, but it was were flickering next to little golden Buddha the old Hindu temple and Accommodation: There sleeper seat. Above 13,000 feet numerous centuries. We climbed a series Poul’s first time cycling at these altitudes. statues. The air smelled of incense and Kalpa, above Reckong Peo, are decent accommoda- On the following days, everything of punishingly-steep switchbacks to idyllic “I feel it, but it’s perfectly fine,” he said wood. Karjeet confirmed our suspicion that are also highly recommend- tions in little hotels, temples, seemed to change. Trees disappeared Nako. There, prayer flags on long wooden as we rolled along the magnificent moun- sleeping on the dirt floor in the unheated able. The route is described or monastery guesthouses entirely as alpine valleys and orchards poles flickered in the breeze and long mani tainside. building got pretty cold in the winter. After turned into deep gorges and barren rock. walls full of stones inscribed with the One of the advantages of this route was all, we were at 13,000 feet. that we got higher and higher. There was As darkness descended over the moun- time to slowly acclimatize, and it seemed tains, we retreated to the temple’s guest as if it was paying off. In the afternoon, house and saw the moon rise behind the the road undulated along the banks of the mountains from the rooftop terrace. Soon Spiti River, passing through quiet villages. the night sky was covered in stars. It was near-perfect cycling, and it was now obvious that we were in an area cultur- Over Kunzum La ally more connected to Tibet than to India. Kunzum La, the highest pass on the trip, Large square houses were painted white marked the end of the Spiti Valley. On the with chalk, prayer flags fluttered from the way up, Poul told me “This is killing me,” flat roofs, and barely-green barley fields then gave me a big smile. We had set out in lit up the landscape. We spent a night in the morning from tiny Losar where they still Tabo and hung out in the courtyard of the had a telegraph at a little police checkpoint. 1,044-year-old monastery where monks in In a few places, the road had been washed red robes turned large prayer wheels. This away, and once again we were pushing the is where the Dalai Lama has expressed his bikes barefoot through the icy water. When intentions to retire one day. we were a couple of miles away from the pass, I asked Poul how he was doing. To a 1,000-year-old monastery “I definitely feel the altitude. But I let my The biggest challenge of cycling this lungs decide the pace instead of my legs, Key Gompa. One of the many stunning Buddhist monasteries in Spiti. part of the Spiti Valley was to keep in the and then I’m perfectly fine,” he said.

14 ADVENTURE CYCLIST APRIL 2013 ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG ADVENTURE CYCLIST APRIL 2013 ADVENTURECYCLING.ORG 15 In the morning, clouds had obscured the view, but the weather cleared up and we to time, it was, of course, tough, but it was saw the clouds hurry over the 21,000-foot One man’s preparation never so hard that the experience wasn’t peaks. Soon, we saw the prayer flags that overshadowed by the sheer joy of the amaz- signaled we had reached the pass. We gave ing scenery and everything we’ve accom- each other a short hug and started run- egarding my father’s practical prepara- need. Besides his bike, he bought some plished. Every day, I have been looking ning around the pass to take in the views. Rtion for the trip, there are a few things Ortlieb panniers and a handlebar bag, and forward to getting in the saddle,“ Poul said. Glaciers disappeared into clouds, and we of note. For a few years, Poul had been he borrowed my old cycling jacket. “And what about the concerns you had ran into Markus from Austria. We had met struggling with pain in his lower back that Generally, we made sure that our bikes before we left?” I asked him a few days earlier, and he had seen us intensified when he leaned over his handle- were in excellent shape before leaving. A “I guess they were unnecessary. My coming up the road and cooked noodles for bars. After discussing how to deal with this cracked rim, a worn out gear, or a ruined body did just fine. The biggest challenge all of us. The next couple of days, the three in relation to spending prolonged hours chain might prove disastrous in the remote was the thin air above 13,000 feet com- of us cycled together. pedaling, we came up with the solution of areas where we would be traveling — you bined with the steepness, but with plenty Almost down from the pass, we turned an adjustable handlebar. We set it up quite will not find any spare parts and a cracked of time it wasn’t a big problem at all. I away from the main road and followed a high which allowed him to ride with an rim means the end of the trip. As always, I actually think the trip was harder than I jeep track towards Chandra Taal — the almost straight back, and he didn’t experi- brought tools to repair just about anything, had expected. On the other hand, I think Moon Lake. In several places, the road ence any problems. Furthermore he needed extra gear and brake cables, spokes, nuts it went better than I would ever have had been washed away, and time after a new bike for the trip and, after a lot of and bolts, a foldable tire, and a couple of dreamed possible.” time we hauled the bikes through water. back and forth, we settled on a Merida extra tubes. I always bring super glue and Neither of us had to say that we would Clouds kept caressing the peaks that were Speeder (merida-bikes.com), a bike we felt some heavy duty string as well, which can never forget this trip. Instead we started all around us, and the road deteriorated he could get a lot of use from after our trip serve a number of purposes, for example, talking about when we would go on our into a steep dirt path that was impossible — with a skinnier set of tires — as his future I have used it to tie down snapped racks next bike tour. to ride — so we pushed our bikes. It was road bike. The bike performed really well on in the past. Even though I sometimes think almost dark when we pitched our tents by the trip and now he’s using it several times that I have had just about everything hap- Tore Groenne is a Danish writer and journalist with the lake. a week riding on little country roads around pen to my bike, there can always be sur- a weakness for bicycling the back roads of the world’s highest mountain ranges. He has pedaled from China to his home town. prise breakdowns, so it’s all about trying to Denmark, through Central and South America (a few Bouncing on boulders In the case of this trip, he didn’t need prepare for the unforeseen. That, combined times), around North America, the Middle East, and Back on track, the main road was in a to buy a lot of stuff because I had all of the with a bit of creativity and patience, will fix Central Asia but keeps returning to the Himalayas. For dreadful state. Big boulders were every- camping gear, spare parts, and tools we’d most problems. more information about Groenne, visit toregroenne.com. where, and we bounced along the valley floor surrounded by glaciers and peaks. Sometimes the road was covered in water “Unbelievable!” more and more spectacular. In front of us for hundreds of yards, and progress was “Look at that!” was only one more challenge: the crossing very, very slow, but we both loved it. We “Wow! of the Rohtang La – the 13,000-foot pass became aware that we were getting close to Often, we just exchanged smiles. that would once again see us crossing the the end of the trip and stopped constantly As we lay down to sleep in a tiny stone main Himalayan range and bring us to to take it all in. Our conversations were house, we once again agreed that this route Manali, the end point of the ride. reduced to simple statements as we tried to had been ideal. There hadn’t been a boring express how wonderful it was to be among day. We had time to acclimatize. We had The last pass such stunning mountains. seen Hindu temples and Buddhist monas- The switch backs up to the Rohtang La ”This is so wild!” teries. The landscapes had slowly become were easy. As we closed in on the pass, clouds blew in from the south where the monsoon was still raging. When we reached the prayer flags at the top of the pass, we were engulfed in clouds and mist. Miles of canopy roads and countless trails provide cyclists with the Soon the road became a terrible, muddy opportunity to traverse Tallahassee’s diverse landscape on or o the mess. For 10 miles, we couldn’t see a thing pavement. Clip in, pedal or paddle on and make Florida’s Capital City as we trudged through 10 inches of mud. We were back on the main road between your choice for your complete outdoor adventure. Visit Tallahassee Manali and Leh and no longer alone. Cars in 2013 and join us in celebrating 500 years of continued adventure and trucks were stuck. Drivers were fight- and exploring during Viva Florida 500. ing. Nobody was moving. As we finally broke free of the clouds, lush mountain- sides started to appear, and as we rolled the final 20 miles downhill, we talked about what was behind us. “How has it been cycling the Himalayas?” I asked my father. VisitTallahassee.com | 800.628.2866 “Most of the time, I felt like I was on Stuck in traffic. Shepherds and their livestock clog the road in Spiti. top of it and had extra energy. From time

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