for an interactive version of this blog, please click here...

(with spl thanx to IBIS Simran and IBIS Tejas for the pics)

The Youngest Rider

CZIA – THE YOUNGEST RIDER

It all started with an innocent comment in late 2008. Having come back from Changthang in September 2008, we had been enjoying a relaxed evening at home, watching the video of the bike ride. Czia, barely one year old at the time of the ride, had not been a part of the ride but as we switched on our media player, she, now six months older, started watching the movie. There is a particular scene in the video that had been shot in Shyok Valley in Nubra, by Simranjit. The shot starts with Simran leaving the camera in ON mode on a rock and rushing back to a distant point. After a while, the whole group rides by and finally Simran comes back to collect the instrument. It was a longish shot and when bikers are not seen, it looks more like an outstandingly beautiful still shot. Self and Deepika were appreciating the shot when Czia, while pointing at the TV screen, said in her puerile accent, “Papa, mein bhi jaunga udher (I shall also go there).” And we encouraged her by saying, ”Why not, sure !”. However, in the process, an idea got germinated. As parents, though we would have been happy making her wish come true some day in future and yet none of us actually thought that it would materialise so soon.

CZIA (turned two years) hates to eat but remains energy packed throughout the waking hours that extend for more than 14-15 a day. A lean, fragile looking tot, her looks secrete her

stamina and a sound immune system (latter being courtesy her three four-legged siblings who would lick her every now and then and would transfer friendly bacteria in the process).

Having been born into a family of travelers, her off beat travel experiences (though not on bike) already included Sangla, (when she was forty days old), Shoja (at an age of three months) and Egypt (18 months). So, by the time we started to plan our sojourn to Zanskar in June 2009, she had already qualified herself to be part of the group. Having discerned her passion for our beloved Bagheera (Bull Electra 5S), it appeared to be a difficult thing to deprive her of the upcoming ride. But it was going to be a big decision that could not have been taken on an impulse. So, while we

started searching net, with acute mountain sickness (AMS) in mind, we decided to go for a trial run in a slightly less demanding terrain. So, just before she cut her second cake, we took off for Khajiar near Dalhousie. Ride till then was more of a regulation kind. The next day, we went for a tougher

ride, actuated by hot weather of May, to Bharmour. That 200 odd km ride over poor roads and in a less frequented part of HP, in one day, gave us the confidence that Czia would be able to take it in her stride. AMS, though, was an issue that remained unaddressed. Having tested her patience and physical stamina under trying conditions that included burning hot Sun, dusty and un-maintained

roads and virtually no amenities, we had to now look into high altitude angle. With some ingenuity, protection against cold can be organized but AMS is a silent enemy that can prove to be very very nasty. To our relief and comfort, we discovered a simple fact on the internet – infants, especially those under two years of age, have extraordinary tolerance towards AMS. This has probably something to do with their growth as a fetus in a very low oxygen condition. One write up on the subject even claimed that if temperature factor is looked after well, an infant can be taken to Mount Everest. Such articles, whether absolutely true or cynical, gave us the confidence level required to undertake such an endeavor.

The ride plan included, starting from Jammu, Srinagar, Zojila, Kargil, Rangdum, Padum, Parkachik, Kargil, Batalik, Hanuthang, Kaltse, Lamayuru, Alchi and Likir before hitting Leh (first leg of nine days). This was our second bike ride to Leh in less than an year. Having done Nubra on previous occasion, we decided to do Khardung La once again since it was Czia’s first trip and we could not have left out the so claimed highest motorable road in the world at 18,630 feet. After Leh, our plan was to ride on Leh-Manali road till Gramphoo and then take a turn to Spiti Valley before emerging from Rampur (this second leg would have been for ten days). While one was aware of more notorious and higher mountain passes like Tanglang La (17,582 feet) and Baralach La, our first concern was the famed Zoji La pass. At less than mere 12,000 feet, Zoji La guards the entry into Ladakh from Kashmir. For Czia, this would have been the highest height under natural conditions. Her behaviour and forbearance at that height would have defined her journey ahead. As a matter of contingency, we had booked air tickets for Czia and Deepika from Leh, just in case……!! We crossed Baltal around brunch time before hitting the dry, dusty and very poor road surface short of Captain’s Morh. Rains do cause slush and trigger landslides but absence of showers means dust, loose mud and near blindness when vehicles from the other side cross a bike rider. To our luck, we had a full army convoy crossing us just ahead of Captain’s Morh. Having waited for sometime to let the big trucks pass, we soon ran out of patience as dust settled on us. With the small size of a bike making two way travel possible, we negotiated the turns as army trucks kept on passing by from the other direction. The moment we crossed India Gate, the scenario changed suddenly. We were now riding through a cut with ice on both sides and water beneath. The ice to our left was in form of a long ice wall while the other side looked like an ice dump. Czia remained busy counting trucks (she counts till ten with a couple of gaps) repeatedly, showing complete disregard for dust clouds around us. Once across India Gate, she startedcounting sheep and appreciating beautiful mountains as Deepika indicated and explained the vista to her. As we hit the newly paved road just short of Zoji La, the worry came back.

We reached the erstwhile marker (now in dilapidated condition) at Zoji La and switched off the ignition. The group with us was closing in when we took Czia to the remnants of the yellow marker for a few pics. She behaved extraordinarily during half an hour that we deliberately spent there. She appeared to be at home with the surroundings. There was no change in her mood or behaviour and suddenly I realized that I would need to cancel the air tickets. God had been kind and our worries disappeared suddenly. We reached Kargil around tea time after paying our respects to the martyrs at Drass Memorial. Stay at Kargil turned out to be nothing special for the youngest bike rider the area has ever seen. By the time we set out for Rangdum the next forenoon, we were confident that everything would be alright. A lazy start actually meant a late arrival at the next destination. As the metalled road disappeared after an hour’s drive and we hit a never ending dirt track, the scenery around us turned beautiful to gorgeous to stunning to dazzling. Czia passed her time (approx seven hours) reciting rhymes she had picked up in her play way and taking catnaps in between. By now, she had becoming adamant against wearing her gloves and she hated socks inside her fur-lined shoes. So, there she was, amidst snow clad mountains and through knee-deep ice-cold water crossings, traveling on a bike without any gloves and socks. And cold appeared to have no effect on her either. With oxygen issued sorted out and cold factor totally discounted, Czia appeared to be getting as good as she could get under such circumstances. Poor eater that she is, mountains appeared to have a positive effect on her. Besides her daily doses of Amul tetra-pack milk, she started to eat whatever she could lay her hands on. It was, undoubtedly, to our delight.

That particular day, however, turned out to be pretty tough. With heavy snow on the slopes and a very bright Sun that day, we started encountering massive water crossings towards later part of the day. After one crosses Panikher, a sudden wilderness takes over. Amidst such an isolation, we struggled to take our bikes across as we skidded, fell, drenched and got frozen at times. One bike finally ceased and had to be left in a village six KM short of Rangdum. We had crossed 37 water channels that day with six huge ones. Even the locals were astonished to see the nature’s fury that particular day. We drove into JKTDC guesthouse in Rangdum, after last light. We were cold, most of us wet at least till knees and one rider fully drenched. With no electric supply and nix heating arrangement, things looked pretty gloomy. Czia, however, decided to take all that in her stride and quietly went off to sleep soon after our arrival but not before keeping her mother on toes for a while as she played and ran from one room to another. it had been one hell of a day for others and Czia appeared to be unaffected except a nasty bruise on her forehead that she had gathered from my jacket.

We were all apprehensive about the effect of water related cold on our bodies. The next morning, however, things appeared to be OK for all of us. On our way to Padum, as we took a break at 14000 feet Penzi La, power of God’s care of small children came to fore once again. Cold and wind chill factor notwithstanding, Czia decided to climb a small pile of snow turned ice.

It was a sight watching a small fragile looking kid falling flat on the snow and then struggling to get up on her own. Stay at Padum was nice but Czia had a great day out when we went down to Zangla to see the nunnery in the local monastery. All the nuns flocked to Czia and showered their affection on her. In spite of their tough living conditions and penury in such a remote land, they

pampered her with all kinds of eatables and works (hats off). Days later, Czia still talks and fondly remembers her Didi from the nunnery. They had made her feel special and she fondly remembers that treatment. The return ride on the third day from Padum turned out to be a much easier affair. Actually, the weather was packed up and mercury had taken a good dip.

That had actually meant less water on the road. But what we saw on our way back, did disappoint us. There was hardly any water and those massive streams had turned into trickles. But just short of Parkachik, it suddenly started to rain. Sandwiched between ma and pa, Czee (her pet name) kept on singing one of her favourite rhymes,” Rain, rain, ….come again…..” Our waterproof riding kits kept us dry while others in the group got drenched. A hot cup of milk at Parkachik and Czee started to dose off. We had a comfortable night at JKTDC Alpine Hut at Parkachik.

By this time, Czia had graduated from only milk and chicken diet to Maggi, rice, roti, curd and whatever she could lay her hands on, in true bikers’ spirit. There were others in the group who would pamper her with dry fruits and sweets. She was having a blast in her own way. Drive through

Batalic was once again beautiful. Just short of Hanuthang, we came across a mountain stream. At that point of time, water looked greenish blue. The pools that were being created beneath the water falls looked more like Jacuzzis than natural puddles. It is, by far, the most beautiful water body, at least, I have seen in my life. May be it was that particular day, that particular light condition or whatever, it was simply too good. While we stood there appreciating the beauty, Czee put her foot down to have a dip in the stream. Finally, the good sense prevailed and she agreed to do with a face wash with that ice cold water. The stretch beyond Kaltse, as we took a U-turn to go to Lamayuru, made us richer in riding experience. With the link road to Lamayuru closed for widening work, we took the Leh-Kargil main road and watched in awe as we climbed those deadly hairpin bends. At Lamayuru, she met a few old ladies (who hang around the monastery) and decided to call one of them as Naani. Prayer wheels caught her attention in a big way and next half an hour was

spent spinning each one of the wheels. The artwork and antiques on display at Alchi, however, turned out to be a major attraction for Czee who just could not resist touching those pieces with our hearts skipping a beat every now and then. At Likir, the big statue as well as oil lamps caught her attention. And of course, prayer wheels were always there. But in more practical way, the highlight was Kada-prasad at Sri Pathar Sahib. She refused to budge from Granthi as we wondered what had entered our poor-eater child! All this while, as we drove through the beautiful terrain of Ladakh, we noticed people, both locals and travelers, amusingly waiving at Czia. Quite a few took her pics while many others did walk over to chat with her and, in the process, with us.

The maximum attention Czee got was at Leh because of the obvious reasons. System of people clicking her pics continued as we lazed around at Leh. The day we decided to climb Khardung La (second time in ten months), it was all packed up and there was a threat of rain and snow. Czee’s hatred towards gloves and socks played up against her that day. To start with, a few KMs beyond Tsemo, Bagheera’s brakes jammed suddenly. He did not appear to be keen on doing K’La so soon again. We had to split as a family and ride with fellow buddies. Czee did not like it a bit and as we hit the pass and mercury took a nose dive with hi velocity winds blowing and bellowing around us, her lack of protection came to the fore. That was one day and that too half an hour of our stay at K’La when she appeared to be in some sort of a discomfort. In fact, in a typical childlike way, she started crying a bit, making absence of Bagheera as the reason. All this while, though, there were

no symptoms of AMS and our belief on the subject got further strengthened. As we started downwards and halted at South Pallu for a hot cup of tea, she had already stared playing with Deepika’s gloves. Once back in Leh, she kept on telling all the shopkeepers, waiters, follow bikers

and everyone else that she had been to K’La. (Till then, when prompted, she would say Zoji La).

This continued till she posed on the marker at Tanglang La and even today, it has been “Tanglang La” with lips specially rounded to pronounce it.

At the end of it all, it is time to look back. Irrespective of the process of sprouting of the idea, the whole process had been a deliberate progression. The importance of such an approach is but obvious. As a back up, we had air tickets booked for ma and Czee from Leh. Assessment was based on the fact that Zoji La is actually not very high and any problems short of Leh may not be insurmountable. There is also enough medical support available till Leh.

Czia may/may not remember this trip but this would remain a definite landmark in her life. And we would have enough memorabilia to ensure this. The trip highlighted the fact that God takes care of children. It also brought out the fact that we fool ourselves when we look at children as soluble or breakable articles. They are much more tougher, flexible enough to absorb physical shocks and fit enough to remain fresh after a day long drive. Czee learnt quite a few things like dozers and cranes

build roads, importance of good roads, fact that snow turns into ice after sometime, that mountains could be of numerous hues, that marmot does not give you enough time to click a good pic, that Bagheera has to go into water every now and then to quench his thirst, that all bad roads are finally followed by good roads, that rocks are bigger cousins of pebbles, that a few trucks are naughty while others are good, that all Ladakhi kids are her friends, Yaks are not cows exactly; big rivers meet bigger rivers; and…..this list is endless. Czee hates to be called by any other name except Czia and Czee. However, she has taken fancy for NUNU (Ladakhi- boy) and calls herself pa’s

Nunu whenever she wants to show affection. Our last trip had seen us skidding and falling at four occasions. With worse roads this year, we did not have a single fall, though everyone else had. God had been protecting her and we got looked after in the process. After all, as Khalil Gibran said, “ Your children are not your children; They come through you but not from you.”

And The Journey Continues

EPILOGUE:- LIMCA BOOK OF RECORDS recognised and published the act on page 80 of the 2011 edition. Here is a copy of the certificate...

 

for an interactive version of this blog, please click here...

(with spl thanx to IBIS Simran and IBIS Tejas for the pics)