Roadway to Heaven

In this, the last part of the Hyundai Santa Fe travel series, Car India leaves Srinagar and its placid lakes and sets course for the Himalayas and the highest motorable road in the world - Khardung La

I gently steer the Santa FE round the final bend on this dizzying upward climb. Amid a crowd of people, something scrawled across a nondescript signboard catches the eye. It says, 'Welcome to Khardung La, the highest motorable road in the world'. It suddenly hits me when I see that sign, and all the tiredness, all the shortness of breath, and the weariness from this long and arduous journey are buta fleeting afterthought as I think of what this car and I have managed. From Indira Point at Kanyakumari to Khardung La in Leh. One heck of a journey we've had, and this last leg began in Srinagar.

The screech of a kite cuts through the early morninghush as I look out of the window of my room at the Welcome Hotel in Srinagar. A new day has dawned, and has brought with it a fresh dose of enthusiasm as we headout to explore Srinagar and divine some of its secrets.Since our hotel is placed on Boulevard Road and only the thin stretch of tarmac that is the road itself stands between it and the Dal Lake, our first stop on our little tour of Srinagar was pretty much a given.

Often referred to as the jewel of Srinagar, the Dal Lake is spread over 22 square kilometres, and is absolutely breathtaking to look at. The colourful houseboats and shikaras that bob along the far bank, the patches of lotus plants floating across it, and the glimmer of the rising sunplaying off its surface all made for an enchanting image.There are also a few fountains planted near the edge of the lake that only add to the beauty. The road is lined with trees and rings around the lake, offering you a panoramic view of the water body.

Next up on our agenda for the day is Nishat Bagh. This spectacular garden was built by Asif Khan, father-in-law and Prime Minister to then Mughal monarch Shah Jahanin 1633. An interesting anecdote is often repeated around these parts regarding this garden. It seems that Shah Jahan was enthralled by and was quite envious of this garden when he first laid eyes on it, and expressed his adoration for the garden three times to Asif Khan on his first visit there in the hope that Khan would make a present of it to his lineage. When this chain of events failed to transpire, Shah Jahan supposedly ordered that the water supply to the garden be blocked in an act of spite. This action disheartened Khan to no small degree, and he lost all vigour after these circumstances played out. His servant seeing his master thus dejected took the bold step of restarting the water supply to the garden to alleviate his master's misery. When Shah Jahan heard of this, instead of being cross, he was appreciative of the servant's faithfulness and allowed the water supply tocontinue. After personally witnessing the splendid gardens with your own eyes, you might just begin to understand Shah Jahan's point of view in the story too, petty though it might seem to begin with.

After the Nishat Bagh, we drove on to Hazratbal Dargah, or shrine, one of the most visited spots in Srinagar. Hazratbal, and particularly the Moi-e-Muqqadas relic that is placed within is of particularsignificance to the Islamic fraternity, because this relic is believed to be a holy relic of the prophet Mohammed himself. The mosque that holds the relic is the only domed mosque in all of Srinagar, and made of pristine white marble, and if you do visit on a Friday as we did, you'll see just how many of the devouthold a special place in their hearts for the shrine.

Other notable places to visit in Srinagar that we stopped by during our whirlwind tour of the city include the Shalimar Bagh. Another picturesque garden steeped in Mughal history - Emperor Jahangir built this garden for his wife, NurJahan, in 1619, and the garden leads out on to a bank of the Dal Lake, giving an additional pinch of wonderment. The garden tour wouldn't be complete without a visit to the Jawaharlal Nehru Botanical Garden and Indira Gandhi Tulip Garden either, nor could we skip out on Chashme Shahi garden, which, I may add, is widely renowned as a garden with great architectural constitution. An accolade you wouldn't begrudge it either, once you take a leisurely walk through its leafy hollows. Last on the agenda was Pari Mahal or "the fairies' abode". That lofty title is well-deserved, too, because this garden, perched atop a hill and commanding a magnificent view of the rest of the city, boasts of seven terraces, and is another example of the craftsmanship ofthe Mughal Empire, although the actual complex situated there was once a Buddhist monastery.

Before heading out of Srinagar, we dropped by the New Market, and sampled some of the local cuisine. The road that leads out of this, the summer capital of J&K is a pleasure to drive through. Smooth, uncluttered, and flanked on both sides by expansive farmlands smothered under the shadows of knotty ridges that stand tall on the farms' outer reaches. The further you go, the better it gets, because Sonamarg is the next little hill-station that falls en route, and this places is beyond amazing.

The boundless Sindh River meanders down your right flank, crashing and gurgling, throwing up a ferocious, swirling white foam that is in sharp contrast with the clear blue tinged with green that makes up the natural colour of the river. This beautiful sight is set up against the backdrop of peak upon peak flush with Deodar trees on the opposite bank, making for a majestic wall of green topped off with a sprinkle of snowfall white. I even spotted a herd of horses enjoying their daily fare with not a care in the world as we drove past. Just before we arrived at the mouth of the daunting Zoji La ('La' stands for pass in a number of local tongues, which would render the addition of the word pass' after writing Zoji Laredundant), we stopped for a quick chomp at ParadiseFood Court - the proprietor of which, an elderly gentleman, regaled us with anecdotes of the local history while we enjoyed our piping hot food.

Moving on, it was onwards and upwards for the Santa Fe as we approached the legendary Zoji La, 11,500 feet above sea level and widely credited as one of the toughest passes in the world. Landslides are a dime a dozen, and the roads don't have barriers, meaning shooting off the side into the abyss is just one flick of the wrist away. All the while strong, powerful winds buffet you, throwing you off course. This wasn't a problem for me, though, as the Santa Fe's size and aerodynamics meant it wasn't perturbed by the winds.

We did, however, get stuck for a good four hours at the very top of the pass, and not because of a landslide either. A routine road-widening project required traffic to behalted, it's a daily phenomenon between 12.00 noon and 4.00 pm I was told, meaning our timing couldn't have been worse. Something to keep in mind if you plan to headdown this road yourself in the near future. Another thing to keep an eye out for is truckers driving through the pass. One such trucker came hurtling up a sharp hairpin with not a care for oncoming traffic (in this case, me), and I was forced to jerk the Santa Fe on to the shoulder of the road,and perilously close to the edge and a 10,000+ foot dropbeyond. It’s extremely galling to witness such little regard for other people's lives. It wasn't an isolated occurrence either, and happens on a disturbingly regular basis according to the locals I mentioned the incident to once we completed our passage through Zoji La, or Godzilla as ourresident shutterbug Sanjay started referring to it as.

Once you exit the pass, though, it's like passing through a magic veil. The brown and barren mountain face littered with stones is at once transformed into a lush green valley dotted about with little huts. Another brook appears, and the road instantly transforms from precarious and distinctly spiral to arrow-straight. The fact that it isn't littered by or susceptible to massive rocks descending from the heavens also takes the driving delight factor up a few notches.

Zoji La connects Srinagar to the Ladakh district, and pretty soon after the end of the pass, you come across a massive board informing you of just this fact. A little further away is the first established dwelling you'll see this side of the pass - Drass. An inconspicuous sign in the centre of this tiny town proudly proclaims it to be the second coldest inhabited place in the world (after Siberia), although you wouldn't know it from inside the Santa Fe, the heater was turned up and I was nestled in and quite comfortable, thank you very much. The colder climes are extremely harsh here, though, with temperatures dropping down to an incredible minus 45 degrees Celsius at winter's zenith. Drass also had the misfortune of being one of the Pakistani infiltrators' prime targets for shelling during the Kargil war. On a more positive note, though. Drass is a hub for a multitude of trekking passes, and is often used as a base-camp for those of the bush walking persuasion.

Since Kargil was our destination for that day's travels, the War Memorial was an obvious port of call along the way. Placed in front of the very hills were captured from the Pakistani infiltrators back in 1999, the Kargil War Memorial is a short distance away from the town. The one structure that absolutely dominates the Memorial is a massive sandstone wall with the names of all the soldiers who lost their lives in the war inscribed, set against the backdrop of an eternal flame that burns in their memory. To stand before it and just take it all in is one of the most emotional and evocative experiences I have ever had in my life, and to read the tales of our soldiers' bravery, eloquently laid out in words and images around the Memorial, while the actual hills they defended stand immediately behind it will definitely leave you overwhelmed with pride and sadness in equal measure.The whole Memorial has been built with elan and infused with beauty, and everything from the parking area, the Army personnel working there, the constructions, and the restaurant are absolutely top-notch.

The open road awaited us as we left the Memorial and headed towards Kargil. The one thing that people constantly say about Kashmir is that there's something picturesque to see no matter where you're looking, and I can vouch for the truth in this statement. Something as simple and often mundane as highway leading to the city turns into a veritable visual treat. For example, on the way to Kargil, the air was clean, the mountain face was flush with greenery, waterfalls were abundant, and at certain points you could even see huge blocks of ice melting and morphing into little streams that fed the many crevices and fissures in the mountain side. Couples that with a powerful, well handling car like the Santa Fe and the pleasure of just being there is amplified to a greater level. I definitely didn’t want this journey to end, but as the lastrays of the sun hid behind the peaks, a glitter of lights in the distance indicated our arrival at Kargil.

This small town has a primitive charm about it. Nestled as it is in the lap of theHimalayas. There's no flamboyance or glamour about the place, instead the buildings, bazaars, and streets are all simple and efficient, and the people are always ready for a quick chat. We set down for a night's kip at the Zojila Residency, and thankfully the hotel was nothing like the pass, allowing us some precious downtime. Well rested, we headed out of Kargil and towards Leh, with a lot of things to be seen along the way.

The terrain took on a different look as we crossed over to the other side of Kargil, with bare, brown mountains now dominating our line of sight once again, no less majestic in their bearing, though, just differently cloaked. The route takes you past Fotu La, although any similarities between the name of the pass & how well it photographs are purely coincidental. Another pass that soon follows is Namika La, and, as expected, the roads on both these passes aren’t roads really, but rough patches  and little streams that needed to be forded, but were  absolutely no hindrance to the Santa Fe and we were back to smooth tarmac again soon enough.

On the way, we also took a quick stop at the Magnetic Hill just outside Lehand even had some off-roading fun in the area. After all what else are you expected to do when you have a sturdy 4x4 and an empty, gravelly area? Once allthe romping about on the hillside was accomplished to our hearts' content, it was time to turn back on to the roadif we wanted to reach Leh before nightfall.

We did arrive before nightfall too, and Leh was quite a revelation when I first set eyes upon it. When approaching Leh, you see rustic, irenic monasteries andsmall huts lining the sides of the road. Even the actual entrance to Leh is dominated by a monolithic gate with an indistinctly oriental flavour, and an absolute explosion of colour. As soon as you pass through the gate, you come across a massive central structure with twin-prayer wheels and flags abound. All this affirmed my initial impression of the city of Leh, one of peace, tranquility, and a slightly orthodox way of Life. Boy, was I wrong!

The deeper you delve into the city, the tinier, and more lively the roads get. While the latter was intriguing, the former made life a little difficult, because the Santa Fe shuffing mass was forced to squeeze into a few tight spots, and my dexterity as a driver was tested to the limit as I navigated it through the borderline chaos that is a staple of Leh's streets. Honestly, the a forementioned liveliness didn't help matters either, as the eye was ever drawn to the merriment being carried out at little restaurants and cafes by the wayside. Leh isn't a little old quiet town by any stretch of the imagination; it has a vibrant underbelly that likes to party hard. This is probably what attracts the throngs of young foreigners who can be found littering Leh's streets by the dozens. We checked in at the Hotel Namgyal Palace.

I've often heard Kashmir in particular described incessantly as breathtaking, and I always interpreted that as a figurative statement. It wasn't until I had to climb the one flight of stairs to reach my room at the hotel, however, that I realised Kashmir is literally 'breathtaking', in the sense that something as simple as climbing stairs can take your breath away and leave you panting like a stallion at the end of a mile-long race at the Ascot. The situation was made all the more curious (and embarrassing) by the fact that the hotel had employed a group of young women to help transport the guests' luggage to their rooms. These women insisted on carrying our bags, not taking 'no' for an answer, and lugged them up that one flight with consummate ease. I was worried that my junk food addiction had finally gotten to me for a second, until I remembered that the lack of breath was only one of the side-effects of being 15,000+ feet above sea level, after which the only feeling that lingered was the crippling embarrassment.

The following morning it was time for some Leh exploration and then the moment I'd been waiting for -ascent to Khardung La. As we head out of the hotel, roads were mercifully empty, and we made our way to Stupa. This two-tiered domed structure is built on Chanspa Hilltop and affords a bird's-eye view of Leh and its surroundings. Step inside and you can see delicate paintings that show Buddha in different stages of his life. We then travelled to the Leh palace, which isn't the most glamorous palace you'll ever see, although that very unpretentiousness of its construction is what lends itits own unique charm. Construction on the palace beganin AD 1553, but after being abandoned in the 19th century, it was refurbished by the Archaeological Survey of India in recent times, and is another point that offers an alluring vista of the craggy expanse around. We also grabbed some grub at the Leh Palace restaurant before we finally set off for Khardung La.

The road approaching Khardung La is narrow and smooth tarmac till you reach the base site of South Pullu. On the way up, you're very likely to see the yak sedately chewing on the tough shrubbery growing there, as we did. At South Pullu you are required to submit a form that costs Rs 10, not to mention another breath-robbing walk across the camp to reach the shop where you can buy it, before you can proceed upwards. That's when things get a little hairy, though, because the previously smooth roads disappear, and all you're left with is a mountain path full of mud and loose stones. When the going gets tough, the tough get going, and the Santa Fe powered through with a plomb, which I had by now come to fully expect of it. Funnily, though, the first thing that caught the eye when Iascended to the top and, consequentially, Khardung La wasn't the snow-capped peak. It wasn't even the sign that gave me the epiphany I spoke about at the beginning of this article, no, the first thing I saw was a flight of stairsleading up to a small Buddhist temple and the only thing that crossed my mind when I saw that was, "Great, more stairs, just what I need, haven't I climbed enough?" Afterthe mini-whine, though, it was all glorious wonder and wide-eyed astonishment. Here, at the top of the world, in the cradle of clouds, I thought about how people always talk either about a 'means to an end', or 'it’s all about thejourney, not the destination'. This trip was a little bit ofboth I think, because the destination - the very roof of the world - is indescribably exquisite-looking, and an experience in itself, but that sense of accomplishment wouldn't ever have been felt if not for the journey it took to get here.

It's worth mentioning my faithful companion through this entire journey too, the Santa Fe. By this time, I feel aboundless affection towards this car, and even when I cross one on the road today, or see it in a parking lot, it brings a smile to my face. This car has been rock-solid throughout the rigours of this journey, through the 47 degrees of Dasada and the freezing cold climes of Kashmir. From coastal runs to mountain drives and everything in between. This car is reliable, comfortable, and packed with gadgetry, one that I could go to the ends of the world in without a single complaint.

After a deep sigh, (and a long breath, seriously I can'tstress enough how thin the air is up there) we piled into the car and I turned it around. The journey was over, the task at hand accomplished, and being a glutton for the cliché that I am, I played Led Zeppelin's Kashmir before heading off. These few words from the song resonated very strongly in that moment, as I vowed to myself that I would come back here as soon as circumstances allowed.

"My Shangri-La beneath the summer moon, I will return again Sure as the dust that floats high in June, when movin’ through Kashmir."

Story : Harket Suchde

Published by : Car India