Epic ascent up Zoji La

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Our truck had successfully conquered Zoji La, the mountain pass of 3528m between Kashmir and Ladakh and, even more remarkable, had mastered the dangerous descent on the Ladakhi side.
The scenery was breathtaking, the green mountains of Kashmir being replaced by the arid rock desert of Ladakh.
After we had stopped for a tea break at one of the road stalls, wherever there is a road with some traffic in India there will also always be chai, Eve and Yannick decided to take their seats with the other passengers in the driver´s cab, since the sun was sinking and so was the temperature.

Greedy as I was, I decided to climb up on the roof again, intent on savouring this georgeous view as long as there was light. After the nerve-racking descent from Zoji La, with an excellent view of the abyss a few inch beside the road, the driving was easy now, the road following a beautiful, wild river, tributary of the mighty Indus. I had arranged a comfortable divan with our backpacks and some cargo, lying there with no care in the world, enjoying the last rays of the sun on my face when suddenly the truck pulled toward the right.

“Ah, another chai stop.“ I thought to myself.
“Good idea, maybe also time to join the others in the cabin now.“
The truck started to go faster to the right now, on what seemed to be a bit of a bumby ride, started swerving and behaving funny.
“Something´s wrong I thought“ and just wanted to get up from my comfy place when I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my right side.

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Best view when travelling on top of the driver´s cab

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What I´m about to tell you now actually happened in seconds or split seconds, it´s amazing how much you can experience in such a short time.
So I felt that sharp pain above my right hip, it was the board at the side of the cargo hold on top of the driver´s cab against which I suddenly was thrown, after that blow I got catapulted through the air, would have loved somebody to film that stunt, and landed in the river!

I looked around, dazed and confused, saw the toppled truck, lying at the edge of the river. For whatever reason, it had come off the road, raced down the slope to the river and fallen on its right side. There was no sound and no movement from the others inside the cabin.
“They´re all dead!“ I thought, and just before I could congratulate myself on being the sole survivor I started to drown. The river pulled me under and whirled me around like in a washing machine.

An eery silence befell me.
“So this is it? This is how I´m going to die?“
The river spit me to the surface again and I started to swim and fight and claw and struggle and cling to life.
“Not yet, dear reaper, not yet!“

I was surrounded by the cargo, big sacks with folded empty cartons, floating happily downriver with me. I caught hold of one of them, holding on for dear life, enjoying the sudden improved buoancy.
“So you´re not going to die today!“
Then I saw our three backpacks floating in the river, a bit downriver from my position. For a split second I pondered the pros and cons, the odds, but then I accepted the challenge, no risk no fun, let go of my lifesaver and swam after them.

Now this was years before I joined the ashram in Germany, and heard of selfless service, and since I sure could not save all three of them, I decided to save mine. It was also the biggest and the heaviest one, so I did it solely for the challenge. 😘
So I reached my backpack and started pulling it toward the bank which was quite the struggle because it was totally soaked and very heavy, but at least still floating. The river was quite shallow now, I could feel my shins being sacrificed to the river stones underwater, I tried to get on my feet, but the current was too strong. Must have been a funny sight, me in the whitewater, kicking me legs, paddling with the left arm while desperately clinging to my backpack with the right, stumbling through shallow but fast flowing water.

But, like Henry Rollins of Black Flag fame,
“I have no talent, I have tenacity!“
So after putting up quite a fight, I managed to reach the edge of the river, where there was less current, got on my feet and dragged myself and my backpack out of the river´s merciless grip. Without the river´s helpful buoancy, the backpack, full of water, was too heavy to carry, so I just kept dragging it behind me.

Then I heard a scream from above.
I looked up and saw Yannick waving frantically from the highway. He raced down the slope, laughing madly, came to a halt just before he bumped into me and almost threw me back into the river with his overjoyed hug.
“There you are!“ he grinned “And of course with your backpack!“
Never in the field of human conflict had a German been happier to see a Frenchman! He grabbed hold of my backpack and united we managed to carry it up the slope to the road. It was only then, on the sharp debris of the slope, that I realised that the current had taken away one of my chappals, the sturdy sandals I had bought in Pakistan.

I don´t know what´s it like today, but in 1992 the Srinagar-Leh Highway was a oneway road. I forgot how exactly it was organized, but I think it was traffic from Srinagar to Leh one day, the next day Leh to Srinagar, and so on. In many places the road was too narrow to allow two trucks passing by each other, and if you have any idea about Indian driving, you know that this regulation was the smart thing to do.
So there was actually a long convoy of trucks travelling to Leh and all the trucks behind our truck had stopped to help. Our driver was down by the river, desperately trying to salvage what was left of his cargo. When he saw me, he ran up to me and hugged me, tears running down his cheeks.
“You´re alive, you´re alive!“ he kept muttering, his feeling of relief spreading to the rest of the passengers. There I saw that everybody was alive, nobody seriously injured.

“Wahe Guru!“ the truck drivers surrounding me, all Sikhs, shouted, thanking God for the miracle of my rescue. I looked at the scene, trying to make sense of it all and suddenly realized how lucky I had been. When the truck toppled, I had been thrown through the air into a whitewater river with lots of rocks in it, but I had managed to land in a kind of pool with deeper water, for a soft landing. I did not break any bones and if I would have hit one of those rocks with my head I probably would have knocked myself unconscious and drowned.

With unusual effeciency for India, Eve, Yannick and me were immediately ushered to the next truck to continue our journey. After a few minutes the driver stopped at a suitable place to let the convoy of the other trucks pass. It had become dark now, a stream of headlights kept rushing by, trying to make up for the delay caused by the accident.
Then the driver asked the sweetest of all Indian questions.
“Chai, chai? You want chai?“
We all nodded thankfully and the driver´s helper got their kerosene stove out and proceeded to make some chai. When it was ready and the driver passed me a cup full of wonderful, hot, awesome smelling chai, the shock set in.

Just a few minutes ago, I had been fighting for survival, adrenaline pumping, reptilian brain taking over, but now, in the safety of another truck, it was time for a breakdown. My hands started to shake uncontrollably, hot tea was scalding them, but I held tight, not wanting, or not able to let go of the warmth. The driver grabbed both of my hands with his hands, stabilizing them and guiding my hands with the cup in them to my mouth.
The chai tasted delicious, best chai ever!

“Take off your clothes!“ the driver commanded.
Only then I realized that I was still in totally wet clothes and with the sun and the adrenaline gone, it had become uncomfortably cold.
So I stripped down to my brief, the driver wrapped a woolen blanket around me and then placed the burning stove between my legs so that the heat would travel upwards under the blanket and warm me tremendously.

As we hit the road again the driver asked
“You like music, Western music?“
I couldn´t have cared less about some music now, wondering what kind of Western music that might be, “Highway to Hell“ would have been appropriate, but nodded anyway.
The driver put in a tape and guess what, while we were speeding through the night, the recorder, in the most cheesy Hollywood happy ending ever mode, gave us Bob Marley,
"Everything´s Gonna Be Alright"

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I have now combined all my Pakistan travel stories into one chapter, which can be found here.

For more adventurous stories check out my blog @likedeeler

For more inspiring stories and a group of inspiring and supportive people check out @ecotrain.