The marvels of Moonland
The landscape may be stark but the ancient way of life in the Indian region of Ladakh is utterly mesmerising
LIFE at extreme altitudes can be wild and fun. Sure, the air’s thin, but in Ladakh everything goes a little crazy from May to August. The colours deepen, the wildflowers erupt, the rivers boil and everyone’s out, looking by turns medieval and happy.
My wife Jayne, 19-year-old daughter Lucy and I spent a fortnight in Moonland, as it is known. It seldom rains and the mountains rise to about twice the height of the Alps. This makes it one of the barest but most beautiful places on Earth.
Although this is India, Ladakh often feels more like Narnia. Thanks to politics, the entire region was sealed off to visitors until 1974. There are no rice paddies or railways. Its people, the Ladakhis, grow barley and apples in green ribbons along riverbanks. They are also handy with slingshots – this is no place to be a wolf.
We began our trip in the capital, Leh, where an ancient way of life is still in full swing. The national sport is archery and the old town is built of mud bricks and willow. We even had tea with the king, Raja Jigmed Wangchuk Namgyal, who’s now a hotelier. His family lost power in 1834 when the Dogras invaded. He didn’t seem to mind. The rooms at Stok Palace, his hotel, were surprisingly cosy.
THERE was a lot to fit in. We did a short course on Ladakhi cuisine, which is all about barley, apricots and ingenuity. We also learnt how to dye pashmina wool and weave scarves. We stayed in two hotels during our visits to Leh. The first, Saboo Resort, was out in the hills, overlooking the Indus. It was cool and funky, and a favourite with Bollywood stars. Everywhere there were movie posters, and sweet peas planted in old ammunition boxes marked ‘TNT’. The other, The Grand Dragon, was more central and palatial, a visual feast of lacquer and dragons.
From Leh, we set out to explore three great valleys with our guide, Dorje. Like all the Ladakhis we met, he was a devout Buddhist, affable and tough.
Although Ladakh is twice the size of Belgium, it has few roads. Some are closed for months on end, or get swept away. Others zig-zag upwards through the gorges or skirt some great abyss.
One road we took, over the Khardung Pass, runs past the ‘Highest Cafe in the World’. Once the Silk Route came this way, funnelling goods from China to Europe. Up there, at 17,600ft, you’re almost flying.
Monasteries were a prominent feature of these adventures, appearing in the most improbable places – embedded in mountain walls (like Ensa) or perched, 12 storeys high, on the summit (like Thiksey).
I loved these places. We attended early morning prayers, a beautiful if mysterious event involving chanting and drums and enormous kettles of buttery tea.
Our first great valley, the Indus, has long been a cut-through for traders and hunters.
Domkhar’s petroglyphs, depicting ferocious wild sheep, are at least 2,000 years old. Villages such as Tia now feel Hobbitlike and ancient.
The other two valleys, the Nubra and the Shayok, were even more magnificent. In this gigantic U-shaped landscape, towns and villages shrink to nothing, while huge sand dunes have formed, and this is where the camels live. For about £3.50 you can hire one and run your own little Silk Route across the valley.
Even now this is a strategic and political hotspot. Upstream of Nubra Valley is the Pakistan frontier. India and its neighbour still contest the Siachen Glacier, and occasionally their soldiers slug it out.
Defiance defines these valleys. Despite the cold, the heat, the politics and the landslides, life is lived to the full.
Best of all was The House of Trees or Lchang Nang. For Lucy, this very chic mud-brick hotel was heaven – the cottages, the firepit, the gorgeous buffet, the cat (Biscuit) and the little outdoor cinema they set up in her garden.
For our last few days, we went trekking. We camped near Rumbak, high in the Hemis National Park. This is snow leopard country, and although we didn’t see any, we did see their dinner – some blue sheep skittering around up in the cliffs.
Our best trek was up a pass called Stok La, a round-trip of about ten miles. At first there were shrines and burial mounds, then yaks, and then nothing but the desert.
Eventually, however, we reached the top and there was our entire fortnight, spread out below. We loved that: Ladakh once almost disappeared, and now you can see it in all its glory, all at once.
Travel Facts
John Gimlette was a guest of TransIndus. Its 14-day Ladakh In Style tour costs from £3,425pp, and includes international and domestic flights, transfers, guides and accommodation on a full-board basis (transindus.co.uk).
■ John Gimlette is the author of The
Gardens Of Mars: Madagascar, An Island Story (Head of Zeus, £10.99).