[ringoism]

Originally Posted by ringoism

Will put up just two pics here as a preview / teaser... And hopefully get to post others and a bit of text later, probably after arriving in MZ, as most were taken on a compact camera and I've not transferred them to the phone yet. c

Well, I expressed that intention over a year ago in our Scorpio Getaway 4x4 thread; But nevermind generating travelogues (which I've hardly been able to manage the past couple years), I really could not seem to find the time even to post more photos depicting that brief journey from Manali to Padum, Zanskar (Ladakh) and its environs and back. So will finally offer a limited selection of those here mixed in with whatever has emerged from our most recent travels, which in the first days covered much of the same ground, at almost precisely the same dates - albeit a year apart. Astute observers may note that some of the roads shown as dirt/mud/water here are now paved. Format I've used is to write text first and to leave photos mostly to the end of each post, which saves immense time. I hope nobody will find this too unappealing.

****

We are considering ever more seriously to make a permanent shift to my wife's native state of Mizoram - and as it's currently looking like that could happen sooner rather than later, it seems good to take full advantage of our proximity to this Western Himalayan region while we're still able to visit it without too much trouble / expense. That may be rarely if ever feasible later, particularly as a family.

If I didn't have enough motivation already, recently had gained a little inspiration from another bhpian who'd been out through these parts recently: https://www.team-bhp.com/forum/trave...ml#post5809010 (Vehicle hopping to Ladakh) , though I hoped we'd fare better in our Getaway than he had in his.

So the kids' summer break finally came in late July and once again we were off: This time it was roughly planned as: Manali – Jispa - Shinku La - Padum (/Pishu) - Suru Valley - Kargil - Dah - Hanu - Leh – Sarchu - Manali. Eight days in total. Had thought to return via the further reaches of Pangong Tso towards Hanle and Tso Moriri, but as readers patient enough to read all that follows will understand, a certain stressor and related delays had the effect of both slowing us down and wearying us enough that this would not be very feasible.


DAY ONE:

The last two times we went up over the passes we had made the mistake of not getting more gradually acclimated to the altitude change from Manali. Never again, we had promised ourselves. Though not immune, personally I am less affected - but wifey and the kids have often struggled, ending up quite unwell and missing some of the best scenery and basically all the pleasure in the initial day or two. So this time the choice was made to leave home in the afternoon and overnight at Jispa, Lahaul, a few thousand feet higher than here, and a few thousand lower than Padum. All in all a good midway point height-wise, and a little over three hours from here. So we left early afternoon and arrived Jispa around dark, managing to find a truly perfect room with one large bed and generously sized wooden bunk beds on the opposite wall – immaculate place and the ideal setup for our family. Food was satisfying and staff friendly. Gmaps hasn't been updated, but I believe this was the Anand Yul Guesthouse just after Hotel Ibex Jispa, on the left when heading towards Ladakh.


DAY TWO:

After a solid night's peaceful rest we headed out in the morning. Our Getaway, which has proved a kind of “ultimate traveler” for us and has been running perfectly all this past year, became unexpectedly moody, however, beginning to act up on our ascent towards Shinku-La around 45 minutes after embarking. I had just replaced the turbocharger a few days prior with a mildly upgraded K04 unit (OE was K03), so my first logical (and worrying) thought when it started misfiring / cutting out was that it was somehow related. It got pretty bad at one point on a steep incline, and after fiddling a bit with this and that to no effect, we sadly decided to turn back. I told the kids maybe we could go back home and jump in the ever-reliable Marshal (which in the moment I was wishing we'd taken) and start out again. They were not too thrilled with that idea! But after coming down a half km or so, our car started running fine again!

Could it be altitude-related? That had not been any issue on this same road a year ago. Idea struck me to drain the fuel filter bowl in case water had entered the system, something that had happened last year once. Drained it and it stumbled once or twice again, then cleared out. We turned back towards the pass and it ran perfectly all the way to the top, in fact overtaking and managing to stay ahead of a Land Rover Freelander and a Scorpio-N. Problem solved! Thank God!








Happy to have overcome the main topographical obstacle on this route and apparently a technical one besides, after a few clicks we proceeded down the other side, much of which has been nicely paved since the highly adventurous mud-fest we experienced last season, where rivers were running for some km's down the road. We got the kids' cycles out of the back a bit down from the top, and they had a lovely gravity-assisted run for maybe the next dozen km's down - quite exhilarating!

But somewhere along the way, with throttle lifted, I felt the venerable CRDe suddenly stumble/surge again. Oh, no! In most of my experience, cars with compromised mechanicals would have been doing their stumbling on the ascents, not the descents – so this seemed a little counter-intuitive. But decided to press on, as going back up over the pass might have posed a challenge if it acted up again as it had initially on the upside, and as I hoped to avail of some expertise onwards in Padum, knowing that Xylos are so ubiquitous in taxi-service out there, the majority of which utilize the same basic engine and components.

Other than the glitch, we fully enjoyed the ride, taking the narrower (and slightly scary) left-bank road further on, as the right side was closed for the same ongoing construction we'd got delayed at last journey.












Attachment 2643590







Arrived at Padum in good time...







...and after finding a room at the same guesthouse we stayed earlier through the agency of our friends at the excellent Korean Cafe (on the road to the helipad), I headed directly to the mechanic's shop. The first one I went to was filthy everywhere, a young (non-Ladakhi) mechanic covered head to toe in slimy lubricants in attendance. There was a more senior (and cleaner) guy there, too, and two spares suppliers side-by-side, with friendly proprietors. After a test-drive wherein the car behaved perfectly well for them (of course!), they went after all the usual stuff: fuel and air filters (former had just been changed, and these are expensive at 800+ each time), filter pump head (only Rs1000 in comparison), etc. I wondered about the crank sensor, but they were pretty confident it couldn't be that, as there were no codes coming up. Sounded sensible, though I still had some doubts.

They sent me off, but within a couple km's of me being back behind the wheel, it was evident that the problem wasn't fixed. It was too late to do any more. Went to bed in a state of tension, sleeping little and running a few rather bad scenarios through my mind repeatedly.

And once again I started thinking of our perfectly good old Marshal, which requires only a single wire on the engine (even that and the battery could be done away with in a pinch), and a leak-free fuel line from the tank to run fine pretty much forever. Questioned again the wisdom of delving back into the world of electronically-dependent cars after a couple decades living happily enough without them. Though I was also cognizant of the reality that my stalling problem a year ago, despite my fears and the reality of a code setting, actually ended up having nothing to do with those feared electronics, being borne of adulterated / contaminated fuel and a clogged main fuel line and tank filter – very mechanical and tangible things indeed, which I was well-qualified to have some understanding of and capability towards resolving. Perhaps it would all work out in the morning.

[ringoism]

DAY 3:

Next morning I told the family to go hang out in the cafe and relax, and headed down to a Ladakhi mechanic one of the parts guys had told me about (admirably against his personal interests, I might add) near the Padum petrol pump. Much cleaner place and personage, and a genuinely nice guy with his own little parts room. He got under the hood first, and then under the car, wiggling sensor wires here and there to no real effect. I told him I'd drained the fuel bowl suspecting water. He looked at it and immediately saw a few bared wires on that sensor's pigtail harness that were clearly shorting on each other - Aha!!! Removed that pigtail entirely, took it out for a longer test drive, and found that all was well!
Mechanic himself owns a Xylo which he'd recently bought as an NCR disposal unit. He assured me that the CRDe’s were proven quite reliable under all conditions. I met another Getaway driver there getting his tyre fixed, he loved his - a 2016 model 2wd which he uses in his own tourism work - and I felt reassured. What a stupid problem / oversight! I am pretty sure I'd taped up those wires once earlier. The guys here in Manali who'd serviced the car before going had probably disturbed them in the process. I've no idea why they feel they need to remove the entire filter head and lines each time and like to clamp the thing from the sealing surfaces in a bench-vise (good way to introduce permanent air leaks!) instead of simply spinning off the old filter / spinning on the new one from the wheel-well, where it is easily accessed - a one-minute job instead of 20 min.


Anyway. Was grateful to once again have a well-running car.
I was back to the room before the family had even managed to move out. We happily loaded a few items and drove down to some grassy areas along the Zanskar riverbank that we had enjoyed on our last visit, this time setting up a tent, having a little picnic, and swimming in a pristine little pool we found down there. Just wonderful.

Last year, in traveling down towards Zangla, we had looked across that river and seen a dirt track running roughly parallel for many km's. Had asked a friend about this who highly recommended taking it to the village at the end, so after our picnic, car running perfectly, we headed for Pishu - and had a truly great afternoon of it.

Car didn't miss a beat in those few hours on a fairly desolate unimproved track, and I could breathe a great sigh of relief, anticipating smooth sailing from there on out.

And I slept a LOT better that night!

Am including pics here from both Pishu (this daytrip), and Zangla / Karsha / & Sheela waterfall (last year this time), since I think the area surrounding Padum is absolutely beautiful, and deserves to be seen:

[ringoism]

Day 4:

Next morning we packed up and headed towards Suru Valley - I hadn't been out that way since biking it back in 2007, and a friend who runs tours had more recently regarded it as “the best place in Ladakh”. My wife and kids had never seen it, so it would be new and fun for them. Left in good spirits, reveling in the pristine natural beauty of the place and the fresh morning air. Got into some road construction about a half-hour out, slowed down over some rough patches, and to my complete shock and dismay, felt the car begin to lurch again!!! Dear Lord, was it really possible???!!!
Having no hope that people behind us would know how to resolve the issue, we again decided to press on the 200+ km's to Kargil, where I'd heard there was a Mahindra ASC. A little further ahead, we pulled off the road beside an absolutely idyllic little stream running amidst wildflowers, shaded by willows, in which tocook a tasty brunch. A more perfect spot would have been hard to imagine. My better half was enthralled.

Having finished and moved along, the car eventually cleared out and started running okay again at highway speeds, leaving us free to marvel at the pristine pavement and sweeping curves out through there - so different from the bumpy, stone-ridden track I'd traversed in 2007 with considerable difficulty. Our hospital's accompanying Qualis back then could hardly ascend a few of the badly potholed extreme inclines, and our companion, on hitting a stone with his old Bullet's front wheel, had veered off the road, hitting a larger stone, falling over with his wife pillion, and nicely holing the clutch housing. Extra adventurous back then!


Before long, we came to behold the wonders of the marvelous Drang-Drung glacier and Zoji-La. Some brilliant individual had stuck a long broken-off portion of the iron viewpoint railing and its pillar on end in the middle of the observation deck, which suddenly blew over in a strong gust of wind, narrowly missing our 10-year-old's head – which would have caused serious injury if not death on impact. Stray images of my trip to the Matterhorn in the mid-90's popped into my mind – Zermatt had been so immaculate, the train up and gondala perfectly maintained, the orderly parking area kept a couple km's from town, which was accessed by shared open-air electric shuttles...
You cannot exactly say that in comparison things are being done especially well in Ladakh. Suru Valley as we speak is being filled with hundreds of massive high-tension electrical towers, their spindly, glistening frames scattered just everywhere. I don't know why Padum, a town with probably 300+ fully sunny days a year and countless square km's of unused open land, wouldn't be a prime candidate for a solar farm... but here we are. And directly front and center of that glorious glacial highway of ice that winds down from what truly could appear a faraway and frosted divine abode, some absolutely brilliant minds have decided to pour the concrete bases of one of these towers right smack in the middle of the line of vision. What in the hell were (/are) they thinking??? It is so wrong when a government (or anyone else) is too blind to grasp the natural heritage they have been granted to preserve / protect. I am SURE those towers could have run up another part of the valley – or at least been placed a hundred meters further to either side. Just no apparent thought given at all, and it's sad.

Somewhere out there in the middle of all this - a few km's beyond Rangdum iirc – after a nice smooth run of many km's, we slowed for a bridge, came across it, and “...now for something completely different” (don't mind the Monty Python): the engine totally lost power, started rattling loudly, smoking thick black smoke and shaking like it was running on three cylinders, a continual miss. This is it, I thought – we're finally in real trouble now. This was an isolated spot, we still had 150+km's to go, and if the car was going to run/drive at all, it wasn't going to manage more than 20-30kmph, if that. I said a prayer under my breath - I am sure my most sincere and desperate yet. For lack of any better ideas, I popped the hood release, got out, and pumped the primer. And it suddenly started running fine. Putting aside the idea of anything miraculous (I'd pumped it, after all), I got back to my theory of the water-in-fuel, or some blockage in the lines. We travelled through the awesome and well-watered grazing lands of Suru Valley successfully and pleasurably after that.

[ringoism]

A socio-cultural interlude:

Now I want to be careful about how I express what I'm about to, and assure readers that it will end on a positive note: But somewhere along the way a slightly uneasy thought dawned on me, and I confess that as a “gringo” I began wondering about what kind of attitudes / reception I'd encounter further ahead – Reason being that I'd begun seeing increasing numbers of flags and bumper stickers urging, “Pray for Palestine”. Oops. Hadn't really thought of that! I remembered one of our companions back in 2007 commenting that residents of some localities along the way were historically quite stern and unfriendly towards outsiders. And I wasn't just any outsider.

Over the course of the past few hours, the demographic had indeed drifted away from the Buddhist populations we are more familiar with among neighbors in our own village and this region till now, to something I considered a little less easy for us to predict. We'd heard first-hand a couple years back that some more strict religious forms had started making inroads in traditionally quite flexible/peaceable Sufi realms like Turtuk, and I didn't relish the possibility now of suddenly becoming Public Enemy #1, a representative of the great Satan, through no real fault of my own, and regardless of my views on any current world conflict! I'll confess that way back I'd had a couple of bad / threatening experiences in other parts of the sub-continent that now served to form a rather unpleasant backdrop to my imagination.

But most of whom we'd met here and there along the way had seemed okay with us, and around dusk we made our way up a winding road to our hotel high on a hill above Kargil, this having been recommended by the owner of a resort out on the highway a half-hour back. Hotel Lall's Inn was quiet, had great views of the town all-round from the rooftop, and the proprietor and staff (the latter of whom hailed mainly from Nainital, as it turned out), were among the most friendly, helpful, and eager to serve that we’d met anywhere in a long time. Price was surprisingly reasonable in our assessment, for a full-service facility of new construction.

The front desk had recommended an independent automotive workshop nearby, which was right beside the riverfront city park (yes, Kargil has a couple of quite lovely public spaces!), so I planned to see to that next morning and in the meanwhile just relax.

Viewing it all from high above, the town seemed a lot less sinister/ threatening of a place now vs. what I'd imagined it to be back in 2007, a lot closer to times of infamy, when we'd put up overnight in a dingy and dusty little wooden guesthouse in the main market. I am ashamed to admit that at that time I'd never even had any idea that a river ran through it! But like a lot of other places, residents say the town has developed considerably in the past 10-15 years, and seems pleasant enough despite its extreme dryness and brutally intense daytime heat. I drank four liters of water over a mere couple hours the next day working outdoors on the car, yet still felt thirsty. I couldn’t grasp how the mechanics were carrying on without so much as a sip over that same period of time. Adaptation, I suppose. But it is a harsh natural environment for sure. Kudos to the town’s leadership for creating some slightly cooler, more pleasant spaces within that otherwise tough little realm.

As for any misgivings about my personal nationality: At one point while crawling along in the car through Kargil's old market area, an aged, long-bearded man of fairly obvious community affiliation approached the driver's window, looking directly at me. I was waiting to hear the (dreaded) “Where are you from?” which he indeed asked and I hesitatingly answered truthfully.

“Please pray for me, brother!” he exclaimed. I viewed him, first a little incredulous and then scanning briefly for marks of possible terminal illness. “I am getting old” – he looked down at himself and raised his arms out from his sides slightly: “my body...” he explained, perhaps reading my thoughts. But he was not a beggar of anything material:

“Pray for peace between Iran and the U.S. - I am worried about these relations” he told me.

“We should pray for peace everywhere,” I responded, asking his name and assuring him, “I will certainly pray for you”. In retrospect, I sincerely wished I'd found a place to park the car and just gone and had a cup of tea with the old fellow. Horns behind were blaring (I cannot say anything good at all about Kargil driving habits), and I moved on, a little wistfully.

But from that time onwards, I had no further thoughts as to anyone's prejudices or assessments, or the potentially problematic relations between us. What a wonderful little experience, in truth: While this world is undeniably filled with promoters of discord, and workers of violence and hatred of all types besides outright war-mongers, it is also the reality that all sorts of “normal” people everywhere simply want to be able to live in peace and harmony with others, even if it means extending themselves to those they've very likely been told are evil and to be mistrusted and opposed.

[ringoism]

DAY 5:

Next morning, I left the wife and kids to eat and relax in the park, while I prepared to go over and get busy with the mechanics. Just then I met a taxi driver in the parking lot who also drives a tipper, he'd experienced the same type of symptoms recently and helpfully advised me, swearing by some kind of additive available at the local Indian Oil petrol pump. “I too had my tank out and cleaned, but within a few days same problem started again,” he offered. “The additive fixed everything entirely within 30kms or so – I'm quite sure it'll do the same for you”. Sounded great. I assumed this was some kind of alcohol-based fuel “drier” as had been in common use abroad in my past experience, which allows any moisture to dissolve into the fuel and be burned along with it. Drove up and bought one, poured in a bit more than the specified quantity, re-gathered the family and drove out of town some km’s uphill to a high viewpoint from where we could see the Pakistan/India LOC and various camps / abandoned village, etc through high-powered monoculars. Met a friendly biker up there who'd ridden all the way from West Bengal on his new Himalayan and who apart from some excruciating sciatica was having a grand old time. Amazing the sort of tenacity and endurance some demonstrate.

Was glad to get to see this place, but it was clear that our (smelly) liquid miracle-cure wasn’t producing any positive effects. And thus I resigned myself to finally dropping the fuel tank, which upon return to town we got down to in short order. I was confident by now that the mystery would finally be revealed, fully expecting to find either a large amount of water or some of the black gunk and mysterious hard flakes the likes of what I'd discovered in that tank last year. So imagine my utter shock upon removing the last bolt from the sending unit cover, lifting it and and peering inside to find... ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! It was almost perfectly, unbelievably clean! Mechanic found the round foil from a cap-seal floating near the bottom, suggesting that it had been now and again blocking the fuel tube – I know he was trying hard to find a plausible cause, but this wasn't it: the castellated tip on the tube's end would have allowed sufficient fuel flow even if the foil had been sucked up hard against it.

So now what?

We drained it despite my being convinced it wouldn't make any difference, checked our cans carefully for water droplets, and put it back together, pouring back in only the top half of our jerry cans for now. These were young mechanics again, but seemed pretty adept/ experienced, charged me a paltry Rs200 for their joint services of probably 1-1/2 hours; I looked surprised and they asked if it was too much, at which point I felt it was right to toss in another 100 – I'd have been charged perhaps three times that amount back in Manali any day, and these guys had been polite and truly done their best. “You also worked with us”, they explained (they'd used some of my tools, as well, as what I had was better / more convenient than what they had). They pointed out the various sensors under the hood, describing the typical symptoms of their respective failures and repeating that apparently universal conviction that if it was a sensor problem, I'd be seeing a code. (Btw: yes, my sensor/ check-engine lamp does light with key in the ON position; I was not missing codes due to any bulb failure). I thought I recalled from my reading of the workshop manual sometime last year that there really was a specific code related to discrepancies between the cam and crank sensor readings. Which SHOULD have been tripping if either were giving erratic outputs. So what I was being told sounded right.

In the course of this work I'd gone out to the main road to a parts shop, thinking I'd change out my aftermarket fuel line for good measure; And standing there at the counter was to my surprise a man holding a crank sensor in his hand and inquiring whether the proprietor had one available. They had neither that nor my line - but it did give me pause, as it seemed to confirm that these DO go recognizably bad - something that an old college buddy and a knowledgeable Bhpian from Mohali had in remote consultation also suggested on the basis of their own personal experiences.
But if that man standing now in front of me with that cylindrically-headed, lifeless serpentine form dangling from his hand was supposed to be some kind of prophet presenting me with a divinely-granted clue / confirmation, I clearly did not take it seriously enough...

...proceeding instead to the official M&M ASC Kargil, where very friendly staff of helpful attitude gave it a quick look & listen after my explaining the problem, but hearing it run so flawlessly in those moments, asked me with incredible sincerity, "So what's your complaint?”!!! I could have literally thrown up my hands, but finally just gave up my spirit, in something now approaching a resigned amusement. They too joined the refrain of, “if it were a bad sensor, you’d have a code setting” – “so just change that fuel line when you get to Leh (they didn’t have the part either), it'll surely make it there without trouble”.

Well.

Honestly, it wasn’t running worse overall than it had earlier in the week, which was some consolation. When it did stumble, it had normally remained driveable. That one near-death-experience notwithstanding, I once again concluded that we had exhausted my servicing options for the time being, and could do nothing but press on in the general direction of the capital and the comfort and familiarity of a home and dear friends, where we could re-explore the markets of the “big city” and enjoy some repose while attempting to get the car attended to. We would take the longer route via Aryan Valley, a place my wife had wanted to visit for a long time, which would require cresting Hambuting La, a pass which in truth I’d never before heard of. This turned out to be an unexpectedly relentless climb in truly desert-like conditions, and the car got working hard enough that I began smelling various things burning - but pressing beyond a few hiccups lower down, it finally ran perfectly smooth up and over the top.

Some of the villages that came into view on the other side seem so incredibly remote and isolated, one repeatedly wonders how they ever came to be inhabited, so seemingly inaccessible in the midst of that stark landscape. About 15-20 minutes down, the car got moody again and started its old antics – just utterly bizarre. I am in truth getting tired now of writing about it, and my readers may be as well. But I felt even more weary / helpless at that time. This vehicle utilizes a relatively simple electronic control system with only about five sensors, vs. some newer diesels with over twenty. It is a genuine, high-quality Bosch setup, moreover. Mahindra produced about a zillion of these CRDe’s over a number of years, in models heavily used in this region. It was a little baffling to me by now how exactly it was possible that by now seven mechanics and two service managers had proved utterly clueless regarding this issue. But no point complaining. And something was beginning to “click” mentally.
From the pass it was a long winding descent down into Aryan Valley. We hadn’t specifically planned any stopovers and lacked internet access, so were totally “winging it” in the old-school manner as far as night stays went. We rather enjoyed doing it like this. Considering the trouble with the car, not being phone/ e-connected made us feel more vulnerable of course, but there was a rather freeing aspect to this, as well. Wife expressed the same repeatedly: it can be so good and refreshing to be away from mobile devices, wifi, networks, distractions for a time. I had traveled thousands of miles across continents in the “old days” in like manner. It didn’t really seem crazy back then, and in truth we still have access to most of the same assets we did back then: our eyes, ears, noses, the ability to observe, helpful people, basic facilities here and there, adaptability, and if we really had wanted to, paper maps (offline GMaps can get quirky, and if the routes hadn’t been so straightforward for the most part, I’d have liked to have had a hard copy. We did find them later in Leh).

More soberingly, though, someone else we knew with a few years’ newer Getaway had broken down on some high pass in Ladakh last year (with a count of three affected Getaways now, readers are going to begin believing that these are distinctly unreliable vehicles – which I do not believe to be true at all), and had received a bill of $40,000 to recover it back to the Mahindra showroom in Leh - a rather terrible proposition in itself, but all the worse if as a family we might have to temporarily split up without any ability to communicate with one another in the meanwhile. So that was the sobering downside of our unconnected state. In this modern period, we've just lost the ability to think and react creatively / effectively in the manner of earlier times, and seem to be at a loss to know how to handle these sorts of challenges when they come.

When we descended just about as far down as we could and were coming at long last alongside the Indus River that we reassuringly would be following right up to Leh, the car decided to throw a major tantrum again. I pulled off to the side in a wider spot between a huge boulder and the river. Barely able to run, it was now idling up and down in a very unsteady manner. This time the old primer-pumping trick did no good. We were facing a steep uphill ahead that it was clearly in no mood to climb, so I simply shut it off, praying that it would behave better upon restart.
Thankfully it did, and we proceeded, arriving at Dah around dusk and beginning to search out a stay. There were slim-pickings and I’d say sorely overpriced for what was on offer. What seemed to be a teenaged girl in one of the guesthouses was calling the shots and trying to drive a hard bargain of $1500/night/person (two of our people were kids), for a stuffy, hot room with no views, a long walk up a dirt path from the parking on the (barely) motorable road. The older guy there who was presumably her father spoke Hindi but hardly offered a word, just pointing to her for any dealing. We kept looking.

Nobody I saw around initially appeared to be very “Aryan” in racial terms and I wondered about all the hype we'd heard. Old ladies in their flowery traditional headgear were sitting here and there along the roadside sorting apricots and we studied their attire with some curiosity - such a strange and wonderful sense of fashion that may not be found in many other places on earth. I suggested that my wife (who usually passes for Ladakhi in truth) request a photo of them, which they agreed to - and then firmly charged her for. It was becoming evident that this formerly most remote of Indian regions had begun to change radically.

One cannot in any way blame people in these and other places from trying to cash in on the tourist industry. But one wonders how much authentic experience will remain in the pursuit of it. Where are the genuine *HOME*-stays of old, where guests actually sat down to meals with family members, ate local cuisine, drank goat's milk or what have you, heard the old local / cultural tales? I thought back to our last trip in Ladakh, and a visit to another formerly untouched place, Turtuk. I had searched in vain there to find anything like authentic Balti cuisine - anything other than momo-thukpa and Punjabi dhabas; we crossed the famous arched bridge there, which was elbow-to-elbow along its entire span with bikers and Traveler van arrivals about ready to turn around and return to wherever. And when the “Balti Kitchen” finally and hopefully came into view some way up that path, we were confronted with a pricey menu of elaborately concocted dishes devoid of any kind of meat, the Nepali (!) chefs there insisting that this was a pure veg culture! I finally found a more authentic inhabitant in a remote corner of the village at the Balti Heritage House, who upon inquiring, confirmed my strong suspicion that the pure veg claim was (of course) utter nonsense. Not that I was craving meat, mind you. I just wanted to enjoy a truly unique cultural experience, and was finding it harder than expected to avail of anything like that.

People everywhere say that domestic tourists tend to be demanding and picky about things, and sometimes inflexible when it comes to food preferences in particular. It is a shame, and one begins to wonder why on earth any of them want to visit such places at all, if the expectation is that everything should be experienced / enjoyed on their own narrow, familiar terms! To be a bit uncharitable but all-too-accurate, it has been observed that many such are simply sleeping enroute, running from one popular selfie-point to the next with little interest in anything but promoting themselves in the social-media world. A sad state of affairs. And by all accounts a dramatic change from what was typical of an earlier trickle of worldwide tourists who had so valued the uniqueness of these places and effectively put them on the maps. Our friend at the Heritage House said the trickle turned into a flood around 2011-ish. Which might make the case that the 3 Idiots are largely to blame. Don't get me going on those glossy bum-chairs, bright yellow scooters, and horrid plyboard guest cabins lining the once pristine western end of Pangong Tso. It is disgusting and downright disrespectful / irresponsible. Forgive me for ranting again about what I already have in the “Ladakh in Old Iron” thread from two years back. But am wondering whether this degradation can be stopped, or whether we must simply accept it on the basis of, “it's what the customer wants, we must pander to them”. Personally I'd say forget those customers and find some better ones that would better sustain and preserve all that's best in these places – but I obviously don't make the rules.

Anyway, by now I had resigned myself to any kind of negative possibility that may befall us enroute, and was sleeping at night despite knowing the car was sick. My kids asked what would happen if it finally broke down hard; I told them that I couldn't honestly imagine why God would let that happen, but that either way He was with us, we’d be okay, people would come alongside to help, things would finally work out fine; Even if we ended up having to stay overnight – or even a day or two – in some obscure little village, we could look at it as a good experience / opportunity to connect with “real” people, rather than as a disaster. And I really believed all of this. I have personally experienced such things before, as have others I know. Granted the thought of a Rs40k recovery was painful, but if truth be told, we were blessed to have that much and more in the bank and ready if it were ultimately required. It was not as though we were going to die of dehydration / starvation, be forced to abandon our car forever, or have to settle in there for the rest of our earthly lives!

By now I was at long last beginning to finally discern a pattern with the car, too. I had at one time in my former life been charged with the oversight of the remanufacture of automotive electronics like MAF sensors and ECU’s - and I knew that thermal failures in these components were common, usually traceable back to compromised / cracked solder joints and other would-be continuities. I had even gone out for training on surface-mount technology, to learn how to effectively reflow soldered connections between boards and IC’s in modern circuits. So it was starting to make sense: What we were very likely seeing here were the effects of a sensor which was working ok in either cool or hot temperature ranges, when thermal contraction / expansion would create good-enough current flow on some cracked joint or the other - but which in a moderate range started making only an intermittent connection. Startups were cool, highways were cool (due to airflow around sensor, being mounted exposed beneath the clutch bellhousing), slow driving under light load that day out to Pishu had also allowed it to remain cool, while hard climbing at slower speeds eventually got it hot - under all these conditions the running was perfect. But 30 minutes of normal driving or a descent from a heated run up a pass got it into the “wrong” intermediate temp range, where continuity would become intermittent and the misfire would result. It all began to fit.

The culprit became almost totally clear when I FINALLY after these several days noticed that the tachometer needle would often go wild at the exact times the misfiring was occurring, jumping erratically between zero and 2.2k rpms despite being in gear/clutch engaged, with no significant change in engine speed possible. This appeared telltale, as I assumed the crank sensor was what both informed the ECU of engine speed AND ran the tachometer.

[ringoism]

DAY 6:

That second day along the way towards Leh, we explored the ruins of the old Aryan dwellings at Hanu - we could hardly spot any inhabitant in the surrounding few homes / structures in over an hour there, it seemed a real ghost-town despite the presence of a sizeable school building and a medical clinic. On our way out we heard that the owner of those ancient dwellings, who lived back near that clinic somewhere, could open the various padlocked rooms and provide guided tours upon request, but we had seen enough open rooms, rooftops, and cool old stuff including carved wood features and old cookware/pots within to get the basic idea.

Our family had moreover got separated for awhile in that veritable maze of stacked-stone walls, tunnels, stairs, and basements built upon that hilltop. So upon finally reuniting (with some slight irritations being expressed, I might add) we felt eager to get back to Leh, and headed onwards. I think there were only 150 or so km’s to complete at this point, and I felt it very likely we would be able to make it.

And we did. Upon arrival headed straight for the the automotive/truck servicing strip I knew ran along the airport road south of town. Stopped in at an oily, high-volume workshop area with several shops including a turbo rebuilder, tyre remoulder, and a couple generalists, accessed through a gulley off the main road. Spoke with the (again young, non-Ladakhi, well-blackened) mechanic there, who I found (somewhat hopefully) working on a XYLO CRDe - but he once again told me the same old story, now with a twist:

“You should have all the injectors removed and checked”.

I asked, “Why would a fault in them make my tachometer go wild?” He had no answer, then added, “You should show it to an electrician”!

I rolled my eyes in disgust at this latest expression of ineptitude, which he noted before suggesting a little sympathetically, “You can talk to my boss”, directing me inside the office. Boss-man, sitting with another middle-aged man in a grimy cushioned chair in that dingy room, heard my problem, made similar useless technical comments drawing similar protests on my part, then gave the absolute best advice I’d heard in many days: “There’s a man on the other side of town who uses a laptop while driving the car, he can tell you everything that’s wrong with it”. Wow, Brilliant!

The man out there turned out to be a Ladakhi, Tashi, who seems to be a genuine gear-head and runs the authorized Isuzu service center above Saboo, east of Leh. In perfect English he told me, “We do multi-brand service, and get a lot of stuff up here that nobody else can figure out”. He has a proper Rs70,000 multifunction scan tool and pays the 10-12k annual subscription fee required to get it updated for the latest models, etc. I described the problem and my suspicion, and he replied with, “Yes, sounds like it could be that, let’s test-drive it”. For once, it thankfully behaved badly for him, too, and when he saw the tach bounce, concluded that we’d probably identified the issue: “We can change it”. I was surprised to find he had the crank-sensor in stock – it took his mechanic a few minutes to find it, but once in-hand it was about a two-minute job to swap out the old for the new genuine Bosch unit. Tashi noted that this was a considerably tougher job on mHawks, which require removal of the alternator to access this sensor's location.

Another test-drive confirmed that all was completely well. “Do these fail often?” I asked, thinking it might be good to keep another on hand for our travels. “In truth this is the first failure I’ve seen”, he said to my utter surprise. Now why on earth would be have one in stock if he’d never been presented with a failure, I wondered. I had to just thank God for this unlikely provision. It cost only Rs1800 including the labor and time for two test-drives, less than I'd spent on all the earlier wrong diagnoses.

For good measure, Tashi also attached the scanner to the OBD port to check the MAF readings, which were well within spec. FINALLY all was well, I knew it for sure this time, and what a relief!

[ringoism]

DAY 7

Next day was Sunday, and we headed down to a place I’d identified on GMaps as a likely shady swimming spot down where the Indus splits into a few streams near Spituk Monastery. On the way stopped off for awhile at the War Museum and Memorial along the highway, flanked by cannon-equipped Jeeps and armored vehicles - a place I'd never visited. Quite an interesting collection in there of photo/video, captured weaponry, Siachen glacier equipments and descriptions, etc.

After that we found our way down that narrow twisting road to the Indus, parked amongst a number of other cars near the dead-end, walked across a footbridge, and finally discovered some lovely spots for doing exactly what we’d intended - which was to lay in the grass in the cool shade, wade in the silty but refreshing waters, and simply insulate ourselves from the blinding high-altitude solar rays that scorch Ladakh all day, every day, in summer – this summer more than ever, locals had been saying.

There were a lot of horses / cows grazing down there, and it actually turned out to be a very popular spot for Army personnel and other local settlers from outside Ladakh looking for a refreshing way to spend an off-day.

Unfortunately, the place was pretty disappointingly trashed up on that account - something we’d seen near an upstream bridge two years ago as well. Hard to understand how people can have so little respect / regard for the places that they and so many others really should be able to enjoy in a state of complete purity. It is said that there are decreasing numbers of places in the subcontinent where that can be found, and it is a real shame that they aren't for better financial resources and care instead increasing. Couldn’t complain about the idyllic setting and pleasant breezes all afternoon, though.

Our kids love water and along with other swimmers had a grand old time down there splashing around and making some sand-works on the bank. Wifey slept off on a blanket, and I just soaked in the scene, only half-awake and fully relaxed.

Leh's Muslim community makes some great food and we found a place that offered top-quality, extremely tasty and frankly quite cheap cuisine. Liked it so much that we went there two days in a row.

[ringoism]

DAY 8:

Monday would be our last day in Ladakh. We had earlier thought of heading back to Padum via the new road through Chilling, but it is a route that is absolutely uninhabited for most of the 4+ hours it is supposed to take, and moreover we had heard from people in the know that there were currently a couple loose landslides and very narrow sections that would be difficult / risky to navigate in a four-wheeler.

It had been a couple years since we'd traveled the main Manali-Leh highway, and being that tourists were few and traffic light, and with GMaps claiming an incredibly short 10.5 hours’ journey home, we packed up, said goodbye to the friends who had hosted us, and headed out, making very good time and enjoying the classic old views of this always-amazing highway I've crossed over a dozen times.

The shortcuts down the Gata Loops and other points coming down from the passes, and those heading up towards Thanglang La were taken part of the way, a great thing as that's where we were able to view a number of wild asses and also some sort of little rabbit-like rodent at close range. At points it was probably a rougher and steeper track than anything we'd done off-road till then in the Getaway, and I wondered if in such a remote place it was entirely wise to attempt, but the car managed all of it quite effortlessly.

With our brisk pace and the distance saved on these, I was hopeful of arriving back home by early evening - until around noon when we came to a line of cars at the Sarchu checkposts, where authorities were detaining everyone on account of a broken bridge under repair since morning, lying some km’s ahead where there were no facilities - a sensible decision on their part that nonetheless would introduce some delays and boredom into our equation.

So via a little track I’d discovered back in 2016, we drove down to the river there that I suppose effectively divides HP from Ladakh, finding another wading pool where what looked like a group of Nepali kids were already engaged in a mid-day cool-off. It seemed a better place to wait than in the line of traffic up on the road. I nearly slept off there to the cool breezes and sounds of that clear running water. After awhile my wife saw a lone government bus come past the checkpoint above us, and we figured maybe would could proceed offroad a bit and try to arrive nearer to the broken bridge in question, where perhaps with the benefits of 4x4 and generous ground clearance, we might ford the river there, get back under way, and retain some hope of having the kids back in time for school the next day.

It seemed a good plan, so with a steep climb up the loose track up the other side and out of that riverbed, and some great offroading along the edge of the flat plains bordering the main river far below, we proceeded further ahead till we could find a spot to re-join the highway, shortly thereafter arriving after a short time at the fated bridge and river. But the latter was raging angrily, muddy and scary. Vehicles had crossed it earlier in the day, but with the typical midday snowmelt, volume and speed had increased to where it would seem very risky to attempt. Fortunately our wait didn't turn out to be much beyond an hour. A long line of accumulated trucks on the other side delayed things awhile but ultimately all was well, we crossed that little, rattly single-lane and soon to be superceded span, and proceeded up towards Baralacha-La, Lahaul and home.

All in all a truly great journey – but one that was nearly spoiled by what I could only term ignorance / ineptitude (however well-meaning and sincere those multiple attempts at mechanical assistance)... and perhaps by my own failure, in light of very legitimate suspicions, to ask of my own accord whether that sensor wasn't available with someone else much earlier along our way.

But I could only imagine how much more trouble it could have been if we'd been travelling in a more obscure and complex AWD crossover like a Yeti, X-Trail/Koleos, Rexton, Captiva, Santa Fe or the like – all cars I really am keen on, can easily afford secondhand, and have seriously considered owning – but in the final assessment here, was glad to never have taken the plunge. Tashi, for his part, ended up being an absolute Godsend, a truly professional individual who actually likes cars and keeps the most tidy shop I’d seen till then out there. A big shoutout / thanks to him.

Somewhere just after Sarchu we came across a recovery vehicle with a gleaming black Kia Sonet strapped down on the flat-bed, apparently as undamaged as it was inoperative. As we approached and passed, my wife exclaimed, “There’s a whole family riding in there”! Not in the cabin of the truck, mind you – but perched high up there in the Sonet! A commanding vantage point, for sure - but definitely not the way anyone would want to end an otherwise cherishable family vacation. I realized it could have so easily gone that way for us, too, and again whispered a prayer of gratitude to the One from whom the promises came: “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. So do not be afraid, and never be dismayed.”

As a husband and father, the safety and well-being of my family has of course been paramount in my thoughts. But I see that they, too, have been kept under a kind of watchful care that goes beyond what I could ever provide them myself. And it is good even for them to be stretched up to and beyond normal limits from time to time, to live on that edge between faith and despair once in awhile, whether we've had any conscious intention of that or not. In coming through such experiences, I've found that we consistently do emerge with greater sense of humble sobriety, knowing all that could have gone wrong against our human weakness and helplessness to rectify it; But also with confidence, in knowing that nothing terrible actually did come to pass. Far from it, apart from the ultimately unnecessary mental tension I experienced, there was actually nothing but good experiences to relate.

As such, we weren't back a day before I began thinking of our next trip out there. At this point I/we have covered all the major parts of Ladakh besides areas along those more direct new routes between Padum and Leh, and also the further side of Pangong heading out towards Hanle. Autumn is too chilly for many to consider travel in Ladakh pleasant or advisable, but it is probably worth considering – especially if this should be our last year living with such good access to that region.

[Aditya]

Thread moved out from the Assembly Line. Thanks for sharing!

[Kosfactor]

Beautiful travelogue, thanks for sharing.

The degradation in the name of development is a worrying prospect for all the beautiful places in the world.

I visited Manali once as a graduate student and I remember saying that I would return to this place once again granted it would remain as beautiful as it is. Well, it did not and I haven't been there either.

Many a times movies enhance the speed of this degradation, for the most part the localities welcome the development because of the initial benefits and later it would become a headache for themselves.

I'm sure the trip would be worth remembering for a long time to come.

[BullettuPaandi]

Breathtaking landscape and beautiful pictures of it! Some of the best I've come across on the forum. Thanks for taking the time to share.

[thebfg]

Thank you for a delightful read!

The influx of tourists in the erstwhile remote and tranquil reaches of the northern mountains is honestly disheartening. I often wonder how we can minimise our role in this growing problem: the way you structured your travel is a masterclass in exactly that. One must travel to experience a culture as it is; not how we want it to be.

I also admire your aptitude for diagnosing and repairing your vehicles.

Wishing you and your family the best!

[condor]

@Ringoism, reading the thread reminded me of Robert Pirsig and his classic - Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. What more can I say ?

Lovely pics, and excellent write-up. Though would love to see a comment against each pic that you have shared.

Keep driving !

[asterix08]

Fantastic read and beautiful pics...

[ringoism]

Originally Posted by condor

@Ringoism, reading the thread reminded me of Robert Pirsig and his classic - Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. What more can I say ?

You are definitely too kind... Pirsig's is a wonderful book. Which I should probably read again soon.

If you like classic travel tales though, Jupiter's Travels (Ted Simon) is another great one, perhaps a little less self-consciously philosophical, but he gets there anyway.

There is potentially so much to be observed, pondered, and sometimes concluded in the course of travel - especially remote travel where you have some space to think and to find yourself at the mercy of your circumstances and environment; So I feel very blessed to have been able to have undertaken a fair amount of it, whether with family or (as in the past when biking it) solo.

Originally Posted by condor

Though would love to see a comment against each pic that you have shared.

Believe me, I'd have liked to comment too, and that would provide the better experience for sure, but it also would have taken me several times as long to complete - and I was already up a full night and better part of a day putting this much together!

I have also felt that it can be better in general to not disclose particular locations... because any of us, having been lured by another's captured scenes, could fall into the trap of chasing after specific photo-ops, or aiming for mainly wherever others have been...

Whereas travel is to me about discovery, wherein we all should have unexpected things before us waiting to be uncovered, reserved for each of us uniquely to find and enjoy.