Suru Valley

We left Padum under cloudy skies. After a few kilometers, we stopped at Sani Gompa that the monks had the good sense of building on flat ground, right on the side of the road. After a quick visit, we were invited for tea and the Head Lama took it upon himself to see just how many cookies two Canadian kids on a bike trip can put down. A lot, as it turned out. We left embarassed but with kids grinning ear to ear and likely newly converted to Buddhism…
It didn’t take long after we left the gompa for the weather to deteriorate. It began with a headwind. Fierce. Then the clouds darkened and by lunch time the rain had begun. We sat in the lee of a small stone building for a quick snack and pressed on.
The Stod Valley is very wide and the lanscape is vast. While beautiful, on a bad weather day, it has a certain desolate feel and it made us painfully aware of just how slow we were actually going. We are heading to Pense La, the most remote part of our cycling journey. We know that for a few days on either side of the pass, there will be no settlements or possibilities to buy food so we stocked up in Padum with 3 days worth of provisions that we are carrying for those days.
We stopped on our first night at Ating in a charming little homestay. Since we arrived in early afternoon and the weather had improved, the owner encouraged us to ride to the very ancient Dzongkhul gompa which stood at the end of a “4km flat road”… So after 8km and a 300m climb we arrived at the gompa which was highly sacred but somewhat underwhelming from a tourist stand point. We spent a nice evening and shared a delicious meal with a young Italian couple back at the homestay.
The next morning, the road quality deteriorated into jagged cobbles and long, low grade climbs. 25km was all that we could manage after a full day of effort but that was enough to get to a little tea stall that served omelettes and chapatis so we didn’t have to tap into our supplies. We camped right behind the stall so breakfast was covered too.
This was the last settlemt before the pass. The rough road kept on climbing slowly higher and higher and another 25km took us to our camp at the base of the Durung Duran glacier and the final 400m of switchbacks leading to the pass.
“Bluebird!” I called with satisfaction and relief as I peeked outside the tent on the morning before we tackled the pass. We packed early and made quick work of the switchback thanks to fairly gentle grades most of the way. As we climbed, we were rewarded with breathtaking views of the East face of the poetically named Z3 mountain and the Durung Duran glacier under perfectly clear skies. Arriving on the top of the pass around lunch time, we celebrated the end of the Zanskar portion of our trip with Maggie noodles and boiled cabbage.
Slipping down the North side of the pass, we entered the headwaters of the Suru river. Kilometers after kilometers, numerous side valleys offered us glimpses at jagged rock spires and gigantic claciers tumbling down in seas of seracs. The road is still very rough though and riding requires constant attention so we stop regularly to enjoy the scenery. We camped that night at the bottom of the steep section on the banks of the Suru and prepared “Himalayan tartiflette” which consists of boiled potatoes, fried onions and carrots mixed in with India’s #1 trusted, pure vegetarian, canned processed cheese. (it was better than it sounds)
The next day took us through the small settlement of Rangdum where we were able to grab an outrageously overpriced, watery dahl bhat. We were running low on food but the “general store” had little to offer. For a princely sum, we got some raisins, cookies, Maggie noodles and a small roll of toilet paper and were on our way. We camped again on the banks of the river with a meal of home made chapatis, peanut butter and honey prepared in the vestibule of the tent with the sound of thunder rumbling outside and the crackling of rain on the tent.
Helped by consistent (for the most part) downhill but all time low road quality, we were finally able to exceed the 25km/day that had become our standard with a whooping 31km to Parachik and the start of the populated and predominantly muslim portion of the Suru valley.
As we continued down the valley under heavy skies and rain, we soon hit tarmac and everything turned to a blur. With the smooth road surface and consistent slight downhill we were going fast. So fast that it felt like we were missing out as we buzzed through small towns. When we did stop, the difference between the Buddhist lands we just left and our new Muslim surroundings was palpable. Don’t get me wrong. People in the lower Suru valley were nothing but nice to us but the easy going joie de vivre that we had come to expect just wasn’t there to the same extent.
We often see cyclists kneel down and kiss the tarmac after several days or weeks of rough gravel. When I suggested this to Nico he flat out refused. A true mountain biker. Indeed, getting back into more populated areas and smooth roads hardly felt like a relief. I felt like the end of something very special. A bit sooner than we were ready.