Ladakh- A Julley Good Time

From the remoteness ofthe last village to the bright lights in the city, Manek S. kohli retraces the steps ofmankind in ladakh.

- Manek S. Kohli

VALLEY IN THE ROUGH

At Lukung (4,378m), the last Ladakhi village north of Pangong Tso accessible with an Inner Line Permit, everyone is farming the same plot of land. Around it are a dozen scattered homes, a crystalline streamlet snaking its way to the ultramarine lake, and about 30 individuals ploughing a central field using horses. However, your attention lies on the agricultural activity—women sowing seeds; men working in pairs to guide the capricious equines; and everyone singing folk songs to keep them calm. Enthused at the scene, you jump in to help.

May is an unpredictable month. Snowfall at higher altitudes translates into thick clouds, rainfall and gusty winds. However, under no circumstances, does this hinder farm activity—at the vertical edge of civilisation, the soil has very little nutrition, fresh water is scant, and the winter’s icy embrace knows no mercy. Speed is of essence; hence, everyone works each others’ field and rather than the yak or the dzo (a hybrid of a yak and a cow), uses the faster horse for ploughing. Then, the seed shows stubbornness, taking the whole of summer and autumn to grow. At Lukung, it is mainly peas, potatoes, spinach, turnips, and, most importantly, barley that equip families for the harsh winter. Dry meat is stocked up, mud brick homes are warmed with bukharis (heaters) and thaps (stoves), and winter is spent in the cosy indoors.

You are groggy after a challenging drive from Leh. Konchok Stobgais, a tour operator and camp owner, has been kind enough to chauffeur you around. The 150-odd-kilometre route that began at Leh (3,500m), steadily ascends to the snow-covered Chang La pass (5,360m) and then descends as Pangong nears.