RIDING THE HIMALAYAS: HIGH ADVENTURE WITH ROYAL ENFIELD

[MotoFactory]

By Pete Murray

The sign said I was at 19,024 feet above sea level. That’s well over twice the altitude of the track at Mammoth Mountain and about 2000 feet higher than the base camp for Mount Everest. The air was thin and cold, but at least the rain had stopped. I took a deep breath, both mentally and physically. It had been a long trip to get there.

The location was Umling La Pass in the Himalayan Mountains of India. It is the highest paved road in the world, about 700 miles northwest of Mount Everest. I was there on a Royal Enfield 450 as part of the 2025 Moto Himalaya Ladakh expedition. There were a number of casualties along the way. One member of the group had spent two nights in an Indian hospital. Another had to take oxygen on several occasions. There were road washouts, crashes and flash floods, but we made it as a group.

Now what?

The Royal Enfield 2025 Moto Himalaya Ladakh expedition began at a searing altitude of 11,500 feet in Leh, and then continued up.

ONE WEEK EARLIER

“Ron Lawson is a criminal!” It was the last thing I said before I put my phone in airplane mode at LAX. I had my dentist friend, Mark Crosby, on the line, and I was trying to explain what I was doing and why I was doing it. In truth, I really didn’t know myself. 

Ron had talked me into this. He returned from a similar trip to the Himalayas less than a year ago and had been working me over ever since. “We’re not getting any younger,” he said. “While we’re healthy and able, we shouldn’t say no to anything.” He spun a good yarn, and eventually I made the commitment. I signed up for the Ladakh adventure. It was $2300 U.S. plus airfare. They supplied the motorcycles, the food, the accommodations and full support for a 10-day expedition through the highest mountains in the world. We would start in the village of Leh at 11,500 feet, then go up. 

Before being accepted, we had to submit a doctor’s approval and a treadmill test to prove we could survive the ride. Ron said he knew the ropes, and we would get through it as a team. Then, less than a week before we were to leave, he informed me that his visa into India was denied. I was on my own.

I’m not a very seasoned traveler, but I made it to Leh. The trip took me through Dubai and Delhi. I got picked up from the airport by a friendly guy with a Royal Enfield sign. It was a short ride to the hotel, which looked new; lots of construction going on at the airport and around town. I could barely tell if it was day or night, but breakfast and coffee were ready at the hotel.

It wasn’t about the riding. The Ladakh adventure was about seeing sights and doing things you never dreamed of. Most of the asphalt looked fresh, but the roads were often like paved motocross courses.

WELCOME TO LEH

When you arrive at that kind of altitude, they want you to take it easy. No riding, no strenuous activity, just time to acclimate to the thin air. It gave me a chance to get to know the other members of my group. They were as international as could be. There was a rider from Japan, and others from South Africa and Italy. Eight were from Turkey, including two women. Our leader was Pankaj Bishnoi, otherwise known as “Prince.” 

We took a taxi into town, walked around, bought T-shirts and had lunch. The taxi ride was a bit like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride. You are supposed to drive on the left, but most of the roads are so small, everyone kind of drives in the middle. It’s like a game of chicken, with the locals moving over at the last second and just missing each other.

Most of the asphalt looked fresh, but the roads were often like paved motocross courses. Regrouping was a necessary part of the procession. The skill levels in the group started at true beginner.

Leaving on our first ride the next day was scary. It was a short ride up the mountain and then back to town, just to get used to the bike and the riding. I was mostly worried about driving on the left and not letting instinct and habit take over. One of the Turkish women came to the first intersection, dove to the right and almost hit a truck head-on. The locals drive aggressively and are quite comfortable with the never-ending game of chicken. So, I was riding on safety level 10 out of 10. I hung out at the back of the pack through town, but once away from the crowds, I became more comfortable. The roads up the mountain were in good shape, and the bike was very much in its element. We rode to a spot where two rivers merged, all barren but beautiful. The ride back was much more comfortable.

DAY THREE

This was the real start of the trek. It was a long ride, mostly on good roads with some nice curvy mountain sections, but some were rough and dirty. On the good roads, I was running at 100 kph, which was better than I expected. They say that internal combustion motors lose 3 percent of their power output per 1000 feet of altitude gain. That means the Royal Enfield Himalayan 450 must have been pretty decent at sea level, although it felt like a 200 up here. 

Wi-Fi was intermittent at the top of the world, so bring a good book. The ride started in the city of Leh at almost 12,000 feet above sea level. Then it went up.

In the afternoon we encountered about 30 water crossings. The first was the biggest, causing a massive traffic jam in both directions. There were 10 to 20 people helping push stuck cars. We parked our bikes, and Prince and I walked part of it so we knew what to expect. We ended up riding through easily. Some of the other crossings were big enough to get your attention, as the water was moving fast.

We soon arrived on Pangong Tso, which is a very large lake. It was at 13,862 feet and filled with salt water that froze in the winter. Half of the lake is said to belong to the autonomous region of Tibet, otherwise known as China. India controls 40 percent, and 10 percent is disputed.

In the ’60s, India fought a brief war with China over boundaries in this area of the Himalayas. There are reminders of that conflict throughout Ladakh. The Royal Enfield Himalayan 450 was created with its namesake in mind. The bikes were unmodified for their excursion into the ozone.

We were told that we would be staying at a new hotel for the night. As it turned out, there was no hotel, just a bunch of small tents and huts. Once shown my “room,” I found it was actually pretty nice with its own bath. I really wanted a shower, but no hot water came out no matter how long I waited. I was then told there is only hot water after 8 p.m., but they would be happy to bring me a bucket of manually warmed water.

A few minutes later, a partially filled bucket was delivered with hot water. I added some cold water to get the right temp, used a large cup to pour it over my head, and it was perfect.

Umling La is currently the highest “motorable” pass in the world, although there is considerable competition from the Andes in South America.

ONWARD AND UPWARD

On day four we left beautiful Pangong Tso and the last showers we would have for the next two nights. We started off on some dirt and gravel mixed with pavement. Most roads were only wide enough for one car, so everyone gives the necessary space. This whole area is very close to the China border, and we made a stop at the Rezang La War Memorial located at Chushul. It was built to honor the soldiers who fought in the 1962 Sino-Indian War. There was a lot of military presence in the area because of the proximity not only to China but also to Pakistan. There were numerous checkpoints, and we had to have our passports ready. At one point we had to wait at a gated road before we were granted passage.

The road upward was their version of two lanes, which was enough for two small cars to pass. It was fairly fresh and clean, so we picked up the speed and played road racer around the corners. In the afternoon, off to the side of the road by a stream, we saw our tents set up for the next two nights. This was in an absolutely beautiful location in the heart of the Himalayas. We actually ate like kings that night. Most of the other meals were at local establishments and were nothing special, but the group organized its own cook for the camping portion of the adventure, and the food was outstanding.

Khardung La was the highest pass in the world just a few years ago. The technology of making high-altitude roads has improved with time.

ARRIVAL AT THE TOP OF THE WORLD

Day five was literally the high point. We rode about 220 kilometers to Umling La, the highest paved road in the world. It seemed to be popular with motorcycle people, but the crazy thing was I saw a bunch of bicycles working their way up the pass. I spoke briefly with the lead guy who told me he had been on the bike for the last 40 days. Crazy. It was oddly crowded for such a remote place in the mountains. We stayed at the top for about 15 minutes to rotate people in and out of the photo area.

On that day, my Japanese companion, Kimi, struggled with the altitude. A doctor travels with the ride to assist with any problems. We had a couple of crashes as well, so he was busy. Kimi recovered after taking in some pure oxygen, so we were all together at the high point in the pass. As for me, I was coping with the altitude better than expected. My doctor had prescribed medication that I took faithfully, and I was very careful not to exert myself. To be honest, the riding itself was not demanding. As long as you didn’t fall and have to pick up your bike, there were no issues.

The record altitude for the trip: 19,024 feet plus one more well-earned foot.

Whether it was the crowd or the altitude, it seemed like Prince didn’t want to linger at the top of the pass very long. We normally had to follow the leader, but this time he just told us to meet at the bottom for lunch. So, I finally had a chance to wick it up and had a blast coming down the hill. Even though it was tarmac, it was very bumpy, like a paved motocross track all the way to the bottom. I say “bottom,” but it was still higher than the top ski lift at Mammoth.

Our chef met us with a great lunch next to a stream. From there, we backtracked to our camp through a little rain. An hour or so later the real rain hit hard, and the team put extra tarps over the tents. We all went to bed cold and worried about the next day. That second night of camping was the only time it got uncomfortably cold. At bedtime I wore the thermals that I had brought for layering under my riding suit. During the rest of the trip I was usually overdressed. Who goes to the highest mountains in the world and expects to be hot?

A treadmill stress test and doctor’s approval was required before being accepted on the expedition. Supplemental oxygen and a traveling doctor were never far behind the group.

We woke to no rain and a small spot of blue sky. By the time we left camp, it was warming up. The riding for the day consisted of virtually no real dirt, just 300 kilometers of rough tarmac. We had two riders hurt on the ride up to the pass and had lost another earlier due to sickness. One of the injured continued riding, and the other rode in one of the support trucks. The sick one recovered and rejoined the group. Like I said, the doctor was busy. Some of the participants, I discovered, had very little riding experience. Maybe they signed up for the big adventure without working their way through enough little adventures first. Those of us who were experienced riders struggled to be patient while others struggled with the ride itself.

With the events of the previous day, the pace was understandably slowed down, so it was a long day in the saddle. For most of us, that day’s goal was to get to our hotel with a toilet and a hot shower.    

Even for a life-long motocrosser, camel riding can push the boundaries of your comfort zone.

RIDE ON

This was the day I had been waiting for—220 kilometers of mostly dirt roads and a little freedom to open the throttle. However, the plan soon changed. We were told it was due to the weather. They said the planned area of Zanskar received too much rain and would be too muddy. I think another part of the problem was that some members of the group were too inexperienced and had already suffered a few crashes on the pavement. I took it in stride. By that time I had developed a close bond with all my riding partners, so we were in this for each other.

Would you call this a hotel? Traveling in the Himalayas means rewriting a number of definitions.

The alternate route took us to Khardung La at 17,582 feet. Just a few years ago, this was the highest pass in the world. Then other countries like Bolivia joined the competition, only to be beaten by India again when Umling La was completed. It was a long, slow-paced ride to get there and very crowded at the top. We had to fight to get one group photo. They let us go on our own down the hill to meet at the bottom, so a few of us once again got the blood flowing and flew down the hill. We made it back to an obscure little spot with strange little huts for our quarters. We had to wait for hot water to be turned on and got a little Wi-Fi going, but only until 8 p.m., which was when they turned off the generator.

The group consisted of 12 riders plus support personnel.

In the remaining days we had a mix of adventure and sightseeing. In one town, we had the opportunity to do an off-the-bike adventure—camel riding. We rode the motorcycles to a livestock corral where we took lessons on how to ride a two-humped camel. It was like nothing I’d done before, and I had no idea what I was doing. The instructor told me to climb onto the kneeled camel and, when ready, to lean back. The camel got up with his front legs first, immediately followed by the back ones. I flopped back and forth without much to hold onto. We were guided on a little walk for some photos, then straight back. The camel dropped back down in the front first, and I almost flew over his head.

For the camping portion of the trip, the organization supplied the best food in the mountains.

The final ride back to Leh was about 130 kilometers. Most was backtracking, so the roads were familiar. This included the pass at Khardung La once again. Fortunately, it was not as crowded this time, and we were able to take some pictures. We ran a very safe pace down from the pass to where we had started a lifetime ago.

Now, after three days of air travel, I’m back at sea level in Southern California. The air doesn’t feel much different. I’m not sure if I’m that different, either. But, I’ve learned a great deal about different places, new people, and even myself. Given enough time, I’m sure it will all fall into the proper perspective. Who knows? I might even forgive Ron someday.

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