We had a very early start to our journey from Leh to Sarchu. Mr Tashi met us at our hotel at 6.00 am and we picked up Rigzen on our way out of town where he was staying with a friend.

Not far out of Leh, we drove past The Trishul Army base, a huge military establishment in the middle of seemingly nowhere. We were highly amused to see a large sign on the roadway saying "Army Base Souvenir Shop". Just what you could buy at the shop defied imagination. Perhaps a miniature Kalashnikov for the little grandson or a second hand flak jacket for the dysfunctional brother-in-law?

The drive along the Indus River was both scenic and interesting. Huge moulded bare mountains resembling folded elephant hide rose up above the fertile valleys of the Indus. Sculptured rock formations in varying brilliant colours of green, violet and red pierced the skyline. Some of the mountains looked like the protruding back of an ancient Stegosaurus. Others looked like huge animal feet. Like all of Ladakh, the countryside was dotted with ubiquitous stupas and occasional whitewashed Tibetan looking monasteries.

We had grabbed some food at our hotel before we left but Rigzen and Mr Tashi wanted to stop at Rumtse, a tiny village at an altitude of some 4,240 m about half an hour out of Leh for breakfast.

Alan and I took the opportunity to explore what there was of Rumste.The village was primitive but fascinating. Several small Tibetan styled homes were converted into hotels and guest houses, and small plastic covered "shops" and outdoor restaurants lined the road. Houses were surrounded by stone walls and Tibetan featured women in traditional dress washed clothes out in the open. A small child with her trousers around her ankles ambled across the main road, squatted and urinated in the grass. After a while her mother came to collect her - it was all very casual in Rumste.

The road to Sarchu winds up and through the high Taglangla Pass at an altitude of 5,328 m. It is the highest altitude that Alan and I have climbed and we really knew from our panting breath and constant headaches just how high we were. After all, we were right in the Himalayas. And it was the beginning of altitude sickness for Alan.

We could hardly believe seeing a number of European bicycle riders peddling up to the Pass. Even more extraordinary was a man zooming down from the pass wearing roller skates! How the riders could cycle up such a steep long pass at such a high altitude was beyond us. We decided they were either mad or the onerous trip gave them bragging rights when they returned to their cycle club.

Well above the tree line, the views from Taglangla Pass were splendid. Snow was still capping the surrounding mountains and the sky was an amazing azure blue. At the very top of the Pass was a small building heavily adorned with Buddhist prayer flags. We could well have been in Tibet.

On our descent we noticed several groups of road workers gathered together around small camp fires. They were all women who shyly bowed their heads and turned their backs as we drove past. Equipped with primitive tools and picks, these women must have had to endure unbelievably hard work in this desolate, cold and high altitude environment.

About an hour past Taglangla, our car suddenly swerved and from the sound of the flapping, thumping noise it was sadly clear that we had a ruptured tyre. We were really in the middle of nowhere in a flat lonely desert basin with not a tree or a settlement in sight. Poor Mr Tashi and Rigzen spent about an hour trying to change the tyre and put on the spare. During this time I wandered around the surrounding arid area. I was intrigued that, like most deserts, there actually was some life. Tough, tiny leaved ground cover plants somehow eked out an existence in an environment that to me was totally devoid of moisture and would be snow covered for many months of the year.

We followed a silver colloidal tributary of the Indus River, etching its way through fantastic rock formations and arid canyons. The dramatic columnar erosion of the steep river banks was some of the most extraordinary desert land formations we have witnessed on our travels.

Mr Tashi was not at all happy with his spare tyre and frequently stopped to check it. We hoped that we could get the injured one repaired at the next village of Pang.

The small nomad settlement of Pang is located on the Leh - Manali Road not far from the border of Ladakh and the state of Himachal Pradesh. We had to give our utmost credit to these entrepreneurial nomads. They apparently set up shop at Pang in summer when they climb with their animals up the high Himalaya Mountain plateaus. Shops, or more accurately tents, selling hot food and drinks accommodated their customers with outside chairs and tables, with fabulous views of the Himalayan countryside. Other tents acted as hotels offering beds for the night and food. The local nomads were very friendly and the "village" had a pleasant and relaxed feel. We enjoyed a simple lunch of rice, dahl and chappatis.

I noticed at another "restaurant" a blond haired European woman. We had not seen many Europeans for a long time and so I decided to introduce myself. I was disappointed however when she disappeared into a shop when I approached. Little did I know we would meet up that night and have since become good friends, even having both Jose and her partner Marcel stay with us at our home in Australia.

Sadly, there were no mechanics in Pang to repair our tyre. The first we were told was just out of Sarchu where we would be staying for the night.

We climbed two more passes, the Lachlung La Pass at an altitude of 5,060 m and the Namkila Pass at 4,590 m. Descending the Namkila was by way of what Rigzen had described as 'Snake Road". And you could well see why it has this name. The road snaked in 21 long sharp loops for some kilometers before we reached the valley floor. On our descent we came to an abrupt stop. Trucks and cars were lined up for as far as we could see and it took over half an hour before the traffic began to move. Apparently, it was due to a large army convoy which was very common in this area. Although the army is regulated to travel only during certain hours, this was obviously not always the case.

Our hearts sank as we crossed the Ladakh border into Himachal Pradesh. The border officials were unfriendly, wielding large rifles and taking forever to process our documents. Soon we crossed a tributary of the Stod River and arrived in Sarchu, a miserable, mess of a village set high in the Himalayas at an altitude of 4,290 m. I consoled myself. After all, we were camping at Sarchu Heights  - and of course we were staying at the Sarchu Heights LUXURY Camping Grounds...... Alan and I had done our homework and looked at the camping grounds on the Internet. While camping is not for us, the camp site looked clean and comfortable. Furthermore, it had reviews saying it was "The Only Place to Stay in Sarchu".

Mr Tashi drove us into a camp site that was obviously NOT the Sarchu Heights Luxury Camping Site. Our itinerary had read "Night in delux camp with cote". What was a cote we wondered? Gopi Chand Director of our Himalayan Frontiers had confirmed it was a folding bed and to us that sounded OK.

Looking at the tatty tents and surrounds, I was furious and stayed in the car while Alan had a look at the camp site. He came back looking highly annoyed, saying it was less than basic and our tent floor was covered in goat and sheep poo. The beds were at floor level and there was no shower. Oh goodie.

We insisted that this was not the place we had booked but despite all efforts, Mr Tashi and Rigzen could not find the Sarchu Heights Luxury Camping Grounds. It was not their fault and in the end I insisted that we find the camping grounds that the European people we had seen at Pang were staying at - and they did.

Well, our new camp site was no better than the first. The very friendly manager then told us that the Sarchu Heights Camping Grounds had closed last year. Being in such a remote place we knew that there was no choice other than to accept staying there.

I guess what was really disappointing was that our itinerary clearly stated that we were booked into the Sarchu Heights Luxury Camping Site. We couldn't even phone our travel agent as there was no phone reception in this very isolated area. We realise of course in hindsight, there would be nothing our agent could do anyway.

Oh dear, it was very basic and understandably filled with the local dust of the high and dry Himalayas. The "cote" was a folding unstable bed but at least it was off the ground - which was covered in dusty grey plastic. A rickety table covered with a dirty tablecloth was the only other bit of furnishing. There was no shower (as promised) but we did have a "porcelain" toilet which was precariously housed on a rocky floor in a separate enclosure at the back of our tent. There was a make shift sink too but turning on the water would cause it to sway dangerously from its fittings.

There was nothing to do other than to have a drink. Fortunately, we still had some whiskey left from Leh as there were no settlements or villages anywhere near us.

Strolling around the camp site I had a look at the sewage system for our toilet. Oh dear, it was just a pipe leading out of the toilet down into a pit at the rear of our tent - and it smelt vile. Sarchu toilets must get quite a hard time from the camping patrons. A pile of old broken toilets littered the rear grounds of our tent together with what could only be described by an Australian as an "Outside Dunny" (see videos http://youtu.be/ptP0K3e9DKM and http://youtu.be/iodoofk0ms8)

It was a great pity as once I could divorce myself from the misery of the camp site, the surrounding countryside flanked by gorgeous, treeless, multi-coloured mountains was breathtaking. Scree sloping landslides flowed from nearby mountains and in the distance it was possible to sight some of the magnificent snow covered peaks of the Himalayas. And it was - wonderfully - deadly quiet.

We introduced ourselves to the European couple we had seen at Pang village. They were from Amsterdam, Holland and like us were travelling south to Manali, but unlike us stopping off at the village of Keylong on the way. Jose and Marcel were a delightful couple and we thoroughly enjoyed chatting with them and dining together at the campsite dining tent. Our meal was simple - dahl, rice and vegetables but it was very good.

Jose and Marcel were travelling like us, on their own with just a guide an driver. They were great company. They were very friendly with their own guide and driver, and also very inclusive of our Rigzen and Mr Tashi. They certainly saved our stay at Sarchu.


Our night in our "luxury tent" bed was highly uncomfortable and we were freezing cold. The wind howled eerily all night sending loud and violent flaps into the fragile tent walls. Alan was suffering from altitude sickness and had a thumping headache and acute diarrhoea. Our electricity was turned off early in the evening but what we didn't realise was that the cistern on our toilet was somehow related to electricity supply as it would not flush without power. Hmm, say no more..... And then the toilet fell off its base - with Alan. Oh dear......

We thought of the Taits, our good friends back in Australia who always think we are mad travelling to the places we go to. It was a bit of a comfort to look at the funnier side of our situation - well, sort of..