Leh has been my homebase now for around 2 weeks; I reckon
it’s time to move on. The scenery of this area is like a fucking fairy tale or
somethin’. After Allan went back for Australia, I right away joined in on
Chey’s group, which I was never really keen on to be honest but I’m glad that I
did. The group was incredibly diverse, and everybody played an important role.
After a while it began to be a bit of a challenge to hold things together. Liam
has a gung-ho attitude about keeping the group entertained and keeping up with
it is all about banter and boosing, which I’m not against but material started to become scarce after a 5 day bike trip. I was very impressed
with Yael, an Israeli girl I talked with for only a brief moment atop the
Stupa. Just before our departure to Nubra Valley, she casually invited herself
for the ride. Old Consuelo is used to hauling a couple passengers, so she had
no problem keeping up with Liam’s Lobsang, the bike that climbs mountains and
saves lives. Even with all this stimulation in the past couple of weeks, I feel
like I’ve been holding back a bit too much. Mein ego is getting in the way of
my normal humanly function. I have been slacking on my self-improvement time
and socially overloading.
Ali, Turtuk's mob boss posing as a weaver.
The garden I view from my peripherals is full of pinks and
whites and yellows and violets, among carrots, eggplant-shaped radishes,
cauliflower, and cabbage. One must be vigilant with shutting the gates to the
guest house yard, not for the safety of the vetements hanging on the line,
whereas in Turtuk nothing could be left unwatched as the children had sticky
fingers, nor for the safety of the bikes parked in the driveway, but the ninja
cows silently slipping through the gates to enjoy a fantastic garden salad. The
highly worshipped beings have no authority over mum and old mum when the
tell-tale sound of torn vegetation floats through the air. They’re armed with
their “hiyahiya’s!” and canes, usually requiring a bit of assistance after having
a few chuckles over the seriousness of the situation. I will miss the character
that brings travelers back to this fairy tale. People do not try and rip you
off, nobody hassles you to buy their shit, and the honking is at a minimum. The
sound of Enfields become music to the ears and it becomes second nature to get
along with the scorching hot sun and the freezing cold shade. Might I add it is
now off season, maybe it’s chaos in the busy months?
A pretty high road pass with the left-leggers.
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