I had to take a bike which was with a friend of my friend. To take that bike from him we had to go to his home.

A trip to his house was itself an adventure! Two guys on a bike, through narrow roads which at some places have fences and concrete barricades to protect the travelers from falling into the deep canyons on both sides and some places just bamboo poles. And in these roads I saw the steepest climbs and hardest descents. I found out why my friend had his bike’s break problem fixed!

By 2.45 PM we reached that guy’s home. But he wasn’t there. His mother told us he went to the deep forest with some guys who used to be in the college with him. They had gone to visit a temple in the forest. Also he took their jeep and asked his mother to give me the bike’s key when we arrive there. So I took the key, thanked her for the fruit juice she gave us and began the journey back.

Anyway, when we got out from there my friend asked me if I would like to go for a trip into the forest. And with out any hesitation, I accorded with him. And we began to climb the mountain on our bikes.

The start-up check

First we had to check if we had enough fuel to make the climb and to come back. We decided to switch of the bikes and ride on neutral while making the descent, as long as possible so that we could save some fuel. There are no petrol bunks in that area and to refill the tanks we would have to come back to the town area which is about 50 KMs from where we were then.

We also decided if his bike runs out of petrol we would use some petrol in my bike. We were safe as long as my bike runs on the main tank. We had to be pretty much sure about that as my friend’s bike drinks up petrol twice the rate than mine.

The Climb – Stage 1

Since we knew they went to a temple and in the forest there are not much temples, we could find the way by asking the people who were there in the first junction we saw. They clearly told us about the steep climbs that are to come and the possibility of seeing an elephant in the way.

For some length the road was tarred and though broke at most of the stretch was comfortable compared to the rest of the way. And then came the steeper climbs. And the inroad? Please imagine this, you are walking on stone paved road. And the stones are floating on water! It was almost the same.

We had to be extra careful on the rocks. There were no barricades to prevent us from getting thrown from the edge! And every now and then me and my friend felt like we were losing control on our bikes! But we kept on going as we both love adventure.

This is the maximum I could snap while on the bike. I had to have both my hands on the handle for the bike to be stable. And that is my friend on his bike, in the distance. Also I took this picture while descending.

A Temple

There were many side roads from the main one. There are nobody in the jungle to ask for directions. We continued on our way trusting our instincts and we looked for tyre marks of the jeep. It was the tyre markings which helped us to decide on which way to move, when we reached a 3-way joint. And we saw it – A Temple.

This temple is of Lord Shiva. There is also a place where the people keep betel leaves and areca nuts for the mountain god, for its help in finding way in and way out, with out any problems. It is believed, if a person gets into the forest with out giving offerings to the mountain God will have a hard time inside the forest.

There they were, the guy whom we went to meet and his friends, with the Jeep. We decided to travel on the Jeep for the rest of the stretch as we were not sure about how far we would be able to ride on the bikes with the available fuel. We had to save the fuel for the trip back, at least until we could refill.

The Climb – Stage 2

So we got into the jeep with the rest of the guys and continued on the trip. The road was much better than the stretch we climbed. We were told that some people had cleared the road with a proclainer. My friend kept watch in anticipation to find an animal. We expected to see elephants or deer or wild buffalo. But with no luck. So we decided to go on with climbing the mountain.

By ‘climbing the mountain’ I don’t mean that there were only climbs. The road was twisting with sharp turns and quicksands where the tyres could get stuck and if not careful even we could get caught in that.

The boys got on top of the jeep so that they could have a better view of the woods. I still can’t make out how they managed to hold on while we were having a rough time traveling through that road.

On Foot

Finally, we reached a point from where the jeep could not be used. The road had mounts of mud and sand in the road which were formed by the JCB which passed earlier some day through there. So, we left the jeep and began to trek. We trekked for almost 5 Kms. We were looking for a small river which we had heard about.

The Leeches

While we were walking we noticed some things crawling on our feet. We took a closer look and saw the leeches: scores of them! We ran from there to a log we found lying on the side and sitting on it we began to remove the leeches. As we were removing the leeches one by one, more of them began to climb. We decided to move till we found solid ground or rocks, to get rid of leeches.

It is very hard to see where the leeches have bitten or where they found room. When they bite you, they inject some kind of a local anesthetic which numbs the portion and they begin to fill themselves with the blood oozing from the tiny wound. We won’t notice it unless we look for it. So, we thoroughly checked our body so that later we wont have to find a leech bulging with blood!

Gradually we lost our hope in finding the stream. We couldn’t hear the stream. Anyway, we kept on walking, with the leeches on our feet.

The Stream

After a hike for about 3 hours we found the stream, or a skeleton of a stream. With only a little amount of water in puddles, we identified it as a stream by the rock pattern. Its dried up. Also we found some remains of burnt logs which might have been used in the process of making arack! We climbed the rocks and continued to walk along the stream.

After sometime we got tired and decided to head back. We couldn’t see any animals and it was almost dark. We thought it would be best if head back as we haven’t taken any precautionary measures against rain or animals as it was a completely unexpected trip.

The Descent

Climbing a mountain is much easier compared to the descent, through a steep slope, with stones rolling under your bike’s tyres. We couldn’t idle the engine and descent on neutral gear as we needed to employ the ‘engine break’ to keep the bike on the road, rather than fly down the slope! But once the rocky slopes were over we could continue our downward journey on neutral gear.

I was not able to take pictures of rocky slopes through which we traveled, because as I said earlier I needed my two hands to hold my bike on track, and I was hoping if I had two more hands!

We were very excited to have made this trip on our bikes. We were very tired. I was fighting hard for breath after the climb back on foot. While climbing back I was running as I didn’t want much of those leeches to get on to my feet!

We were in Leh for the express purpose of meeting with Helena Norberg-Hodge, the founder of the International Society for Ecology and Culture [http://www.isec.org.uk/], co-founder of the International Forum on Globalization [http://www.ifg.org/], founder of the Ladakh Ecological Development Group [http://ledeg.org/], and founder of the Women’s Alliance, Ladakh. We had learned of her online, seeing an article of hers in CounterCurrents.org, and watching her video “Ancient Futures.” She is the only person who has critically witnessed the “development” of Ladakh, from complete self-sufficiency in an exceedingly fragile eco-system, to the disaster under which it writhes today. She has seen how “development” pulls people into a money economy, increases the distance between production and consumption, brings reliance on fossil fuels (especially apparent in Leh where fuel and commodities are trucked in over a hazardous two-day journey from lower altitudes), results in urbanization and rural-urban migration, and brings psychological impoverishment to the people it is inflicted upon. For 35 years, she has been working to bring safe, stable, and ecologically sound development to the region through her organizations. Her work today, no longer limited to Ladakh, is focussed on spreading economic literacy among people throughout the planet, educating about the deeper impacts of globalization and today’s consumer mono-culture. Garnered from her years of observation and research, she has an important message for humanity today, which is what prompted us to go and meet her.

Rain is more or less foreign and new to Ladakh, as are tourists. People there say that it never rained in Ladakh, though records show an insignificant average annual rainfall of less than 3.5 inches. Villages exist like oases around rivers and tributaries, the only green in the otherwise rocky, arid landscape. Geographically, Ladakh is situated in the rain shadow of the Lower Himalayan mountains. Water for drinking and irrigation in Ladakh comes from glacier melt, which was historically replenished every year by winter snowfall. Today, anyone in Ladakh — even children — can tell you their memories of large glaciers, now only tiny silver slivers on the tops of massive black mountains in the distance. Going and gone are the pure waters that came from those glaciers. Each generation, and now each year, looks toward the mountains apprehensively, watching their water supply — their life-blood — melt away.

Before bed, Stanzin Tashi, Mr. Gyatso’s son, had been playing with my camera, trying to take pictures of the lightening. It was a ferocious storm, with constant, menacing thunder, and an incessant volley of lightening up and down the valley. The whole family was a little nervous, since they had never seen such a storm before. Mom and I weren’t particularly worried, having experienced tropical storms in Kerala. Only later did we realize that tropical storms belong in the tropics, not the highest mountain desert of the world.

Ladakh, at an altitude of 3,500 meters, is geographically considered to be part of the Tibetan Plateau. They do have violent storms there, usually very brief and very destructive hailstorms, which come few and far-between. In the winter, there is lots of snow, and it is so cold that the schools give a three month holiday. People cluster around little stoves in the center of each room, burning wood and dung to keep warm. As shown in Helena Norberg-Hodge’s book “Ancient Futures: Learning from Ladakh,” (watch the movie online for free at: http://bit.ly/bIOl2B) traditional Ladakh had a completely sustainable life-style. The people were self-sufficient in all their needs: food, water, and warmth. For thousands of years, life had continued there more or less undisturbed by foreign cultures, even though the valley was a focal point for traders travelling the Silk Route, and traders from Tibet and China. Everything about life in Ladakh had a view toward the future generations; resources were shared and balanced, ensuring that they were never depleted, and the population was self-regulated to ensure enough for everyone. There were no squalid poor, no filthy rich. The people were strong, honest, and trustworthy. Only recently has all of this changed, as “modern world culture” invades and converts people to it’s individual-centric, greedy, consumerist ways.

As I awoke, I noticed water pouring down the walls, and saw that the storm was still in full force. Mr. Gyatso and I went up to the roof and started bailing with a dustpan and a bucket. Gradually the rain died down, and we removed most of the standing water. By around 3 AM, the rain had subsided, the storm had moved farther down the valley, and the roof was no longer dripping; we went to sleep.

Two nights previous, Nubra (a nearby town) had suffered significant damage from a cloud burst, and radio had reported some 12 deaths. On the morning of the 6th, the radio was silent and phones unresponsive, so Mr. Gyatso went out to take stock of the situation. When he came back, he was in shock. ”The BSNL office, the Bus Stand, the Hospital, everything below the [entrance to Leh] gate… all gone.” That’s all he could say. He had never seen anything like it, nor had anyone else in living memory. (The entrance to Leh is grandly decorated by a colorful and ornate Buddhist gate over the road, with prayer wheels and chortens on either side.) Apparently, a cloud-burst had happened in a ravine above the Leh Gate, causing a huge torrent of water to rush down the ravine into the road, picking up stones, mud, bricks, cars, people, and houses as it went. All communication channels were taken out — no electricity, no telephone, no radio, no internet.

Many of the fatalities have been blamed on poor planning: due to the mad influx of “development” to the region, many houses were built in places where, traditionally, no building should stand. We call it “tradition” and scoff at it, but in truth we are mocking a set of codes that have been developed and refined for thousands of years. A Ladakhi saying goes to the effect that “Water must have it’s way,” essentially, that the flow of water must not be blocked. Had this simple command been heeded, much of the destruction could have been avoided, but today’s globalization pattern eschews and destroys anything and everything that doesn’t fit the consumer mono-culture — it ignores the Earth upon which it stands.

Mom immediately swung into action, and she and I headed out by 9 AM with a shovel, some water, willing hearts, and two hands each. When we got to the gate, we saw unbelivable devastation. The flood had left behind mud about a story deep, buried houses, toppled steel-and-concrete structures four stories high, crunched cars… it was much like the Tsunami of 2004 in South East Asia. Numb with shock, a crowd of people were helping a JCB (backhoe) dig at the top of the pile, looking for survivors. We helped there a bit, then continued down the hill towards the hospital. The destruction became more and more massive as we went. The air was dry, causing passing vehicles to raise clouds of dust from the now-dry mud.

We later heard opinions expressed that the traditional mud-brick construction of the majority of the houses which were destroyed was responsible for the deaths; had it been modern cement and steel, they say, the houses would have remained. On the ground, however, next to a four story cement and steel structure that had half toppled over, was a single story mud-brick house that had received the full brunt of the flow but was still standing. Not that it made a difference: people in both structures died in the deep flow of mud, but the difference in structural integrity was astonishing, and is worth taking note.