Ladakh: an assault on the senses. #thread
Ladakh has jaw droppingly incredible topography. Nothing like I've ever seen before. Just look at this. 
And the night sky -- oof. I have no pictures because they will not do it justice. Watching the night sky on a dark night in Ladakh slaps the insignificance of human existence on our faces. The night sky is so immersive, it almost looks fake.
As for the people: absolute sweethearts. It doesn't help that I'm used to Delhi's rudeness and crudeness.
And that's where it ends. I did some research on Ladakh before going there, and also talked to friends who had been there recently. Everyone had good things to say on average. But the reality is far bleaker.
The roads in Ladakh will give you a taste of Russian roulette.
Firstly, they aren't paved roads. Much of it is loose gravel and rocks. Just one lane of it being used by traffic going both ways, with drops of hundreds of metres on one of the sides, and loose boulders hanging on the other.
And when I saw loose boulders, it's worse than you can imagine. They are rocks the sizes of cars and trucks just hanging there by a thread, ready to roll down at a moment's notice.
And they do roll down.
All the time.
People die.
And they do roll down.
All the time.
People die.
If you're fortunate enough to not be squished on the road, you could still be stuck on a narrow road with a deathly drop for hours or even days. My father on his trip last month was stuck for three days on the road after an avalanche.
I've seen those videos. Imagine being stuck on a narrow road where the darkness hides the drop on one side, while melting ice on the other side threatens to bring with it more rolling boulders.
But let's say you can continue driving while ignoring the crushed vehicles in the valley that had rolled down in the preceding months. You will still have to deal with the tonnes of dust in the air while on the road... mixed with diesel fumes from old vehicles.
My mouth would taste of sand and smoke at the end of the day. Yum.
And my back and head would hurt. Think of 10 hours of driving on literal rocks and sand, with sharp turns every hundred or so meters and a risk of being tipped over into the valley by speeding vehicles every other moment.
And to be greeted by underwhelming food and filthy toilets along the way.
It's. Not. Worth. It.
It's. Not. Worth. It.
I'm not even discussing the issues with acclimatization here. One can argue that the low oxygen and sharp sunlight here is a part of the adventure. I'll give you that. (But be prepared for headaches, muscle pains, drowsiness, flatulence, dry eyes, noses, what not).
But here's the absolute worst thing: labourers working with their bare hands on the dusty roads, hanging loosely on the cliffs, cutting down rocks with blunt tools and even being crushed and killed in the process.
Many of these workers kept asking us for water as we drove by. Water. Imagine. They weren't being provided water. And I'm supposed to ignore them as I admire the mountains in the background.
So here's my travel advice for Ladakh: don't go. At least for the next five years.
Believe it or not, I actually breathed in Delhi's air after landing and it felt far cleaner than Ladakh's dusty and smoky air on the roads.
Of course, if that kind of risk and the taste of diesel smoke is your thing, please go right ahead. Like I said, Ladakh is gorgeous. But you should at the very least be informed of what awaits on the path to the incredible mountains and rivers.
Informed consent.
Informed consent.
There is nothing brave hearted about unsafe roads. I saw a few army jeeps crumpled in the valleys below. More Indian soldiers die on roads than in cross border shelling and terrorism. And on the other side of Ladakh, China has made safe mountain roads.
