PANGI VALLEY 2013: The mother of all rides

PHOTOGRAPHS BY HARSH MAN RAI

When you ride a motorcycle, and you crave adventure, you are always looking for that special road trip that challenges you and your bike to the core - a ride that resonates within you long after the ignition has been switched off and your battle-scarred bike finally silent. The champion of all adventure road trips is the Helmet Stories ride through the Pangi Valley in Himachal Pradesh. This gem of a little-travelled route — first pioneered by Helmet Stories in 2012 — is book-ended by Rohtang Pass on one side and the almost mythical Sach Pass on the other as we ride along the ever narrowing valley of the Chandra-Bhaga river through some of the most naturally beautiful locales in India. 

The roads are unpaved and narrow, hewed out of living rock, sometimes so high that the river looks like a shimmering silver ribbon below. The ride includes forays into abutting valleys and meadows, a route of seemingly endless twists, turns and elevation changes turning each day into a most excellent adventure on two wheels. 

There are no fast food chains or 5-star hotels on this route and it is so much so better for that. We camp below a thick canopy of stars, sometimes next to the river, or high up in the mountains with a scented mattress of pine needles below our sleeping bags. Before dark, the bonfire is lit, the grill fired up, the bar is open and it's time to exchange irreverent banter about the day well spent. 

The toughest day is the ride from the idyllic meadow of Sural Bhatori that crests Sach Pass, a road that crosses over the Chandra Bhaga and ascends through forests of bhojpatra, pine and deodhar before the terrifying switchbacks that take you to the summit. Beyond lies civilisation and the idyllic hamlet of McLeodGanj, an easy two days ride away. 

Only riders with a lust for extreme mountain roads, thin air and great food need apply!

Itinerary
Day 01 (29th September 2013): Manali - Tandi
Day 02 (30th September 2013): Tandi - Urgos
Day 03 (1st October 2013): Urgos  - Raoli
Day 04 (2nd October 2013): Raoli - Tindi
Day 05 (3rd October 2013): Tindi -  Sural
Day 06 (4th October 2013): Sural - Satrundi
Day 07 (5th October 2013): Satrundi - Khajjiar
Day 08 (6th October 2013): Khajjiar - McLeodganj
Day 09 (7th October 2013): McLeodganj - Chandigarh

Email us at info@helmetstories.com or 

https://www.facebook.com/events/541482592572079

Check out AutocarIndia's report on the Helmetstories Pangi Valley Ride last year

Rann of Kutch ride, day 5, Hodka Village

Today we ride to India Bridge, the last point where civilians are allowed. However, we have permissions to go further on, deep into the Great Rann, visiting outposts that are close to the border. This will be a first for motorcyclists. Good on ya Royal Enfield!
Sent on my BlackBerry® from Vodafone Essar

State of Grace

Pre-dawn on the NH17, Panvel bypass

Leaving for a ride before first light always seems special. When the breaking sun spills out and meets me up on the road, I feel a quiet happiness in anticipation of the ride ahead. Gentle wisps of fog wreathe the road in ghostly ribbons that lay moisture – just like dew drops – on my faceshield. The further away I head towards the open countryside, the denser the fog becomes. Soon I am riding at a pace with the throttle barely cracked open and I can hear my breathing over the soft, muted thump of my 535cc cast iron Bullet as I ponder what the day will bring. And like on every ride, I wonder how the simple act of riding can bring so much joy ride after ride, year after year, and how it never becomes a chore.

Breakfast stop at Poladpur

The sun is too weak to break up the fog except in small patches where the gentle thump of the Bullet morphs into a momentary yet glorious snarl of a well-tuned single on song. A couple of hours of this slow-fast-slow pace, I spot a roadside dhaba that looks promising. It’s early enough for me to be the only customer and even the owner-cook has just stepped out of his bath, a lurid towel wrapped around his middle. I choose to sit outside where I can glance at the hazy outline of the mountain on the horizon, the top of which is my destination for today to hook up with a few friends from another city riding in from the other side. An inquisitive kitten claws its way up to my knee to investigate the steamy wafts emanating from my kanda poha, the staple biker breakfast in Maharashtra, only to leap off in mock fright as I bend to scratch its ear showboating its agility with an exaggerated splaying of limbs and paws.

The 535cc thumper's last run before its reincarnation

A few kilometres down, a single lane road heads up the mountain and I remember it from my past rides as miles and miles of rolling curves that swiftly elevate the road providing dramatic vistas of the plains below that are lush with many hues of green after the rains. As I meet the first curve I reset my speed, downshifting once to get the revs up from my antiquated 4-speed Albion gearbox with that rather large gap between the third and fourth gear. And so it begins the intoxicating dance between man, machine and the road below. I remember now why I prefer riding alone, or in a small group of friends whose lines I trust, tag-team partners swapping the lead position in friendly competition, egos in the dust sometimes to point out to riders that their riding is on the ragged edge pushing too hard beyond their skills. Takes maturity to say it, as well as to accept it, which is a quality hard to find in testosterone-fuelled riders that I encounter often on my rides.

Like every ride I do, the first few kilometres are just to find a rhythm reminding myself to be light on the bars, upper body loose, legs locked on the pegs till I’m dialled into the groove, the zone of grace that is the reward for riding. Faster, faster exhorts that sibilant voice in my head as the corners come rapidly like the kinks and curves of a rollercoaster as the bike bellows its own tune of exultation. This is the speed I crave, not the adrenaline of a flat-out acceleration but riding the curves hard yet smooth, carving perfect lines from one apex to another and it seems that today I’m blessed with a special grace, moments that I’ll remember long after the ride is over.

I slow down just enough so that extra little bit of space lets me see unnoticed vistas and feel the cool tickle of the wind as spokes of sunlight winkle through the canopy of trees above me and I know I’m lucky to have had that wonderful, flying lap up the mountain. As I pull up into the porch of the hotel to the greetings of my friends who have already arrived, that voice in my head is stilled. But tomorrow is another day when I ride down the other side of the mountain on my way home where I will try to search out that momentary and elusive taste of joy that riding brings, hopefully finding a state of grace while I’m on the road.