Pangong Tso, India/China border.


Pangong Tso.




Karl's great acclimatisation plan – drive over a 5300m pass and stay overnight at 4300m. In fairness, this is a beautiful lake. It's maybe the highest/biggest saltwater lake in the world/northern hemisphere/asia. Something like that. It's on the border between India and China. Because it's the end of the tourist season all the campsites had closed, there was hardly anyone around and you could sit by the lake all afternoon (as we did) feeling like the only people in the world.

Our room in (possibly the only open) homestay.
Karl outside our homestay.


 
Lake makes a pretty good beer cooler too.
 
The roads were a little scary at times (though Valium worked wonders on the way out) but the army and road people have helpful signs to keep you amused at least if not safer.

“After whiskey, driving risky”, “If married, divorce speed”, “Better Mr. Late that the late Mr.”. I feel the work of military personnel in the mess after a few beers at work here. My favourite though courtesy of the Better Roads Organisation (BRO) says : BRO, Go Slow.


The shortest way from A to B?


Village and gompa (monestary, always at the highest point with the best views)


Village, villagers.
 Tents of nomadic tribes.
Road workers maintain these crazy highways.

Us at the top of the pass and 24 hours later crossing back. Note I'm still wearing thongs! I demand Australian citizenship instantly.



Having just gotten the hang of the narrow roads with precipitous drops

on the way back it started to snow!

Then a big truck came around the corner.

 Then the driver stood on the brake. Then we had a wee little skid. And that's how we almost died, number 1. But we didn't die and everything was grand.

And the trucks are awesome.


My project to minimise Karl's (over)use of his fancy schmancy new mega-camera wasn't helped by the fact that we shared the trip to the lake with a photographer from Kolkata. Clickity click click they went all day. Karl's brief love affair with the squirrel (see Delhi) has passed and he is now enamoured of the marmot – see photo (you can't even imagine how many photos were taken of this poor guy by Karl and the photographer).

 The army also thought they were irresistible (the marmots, not Karl).

This place is also full of brilliant Royal Enfield motorbikes.

They look great, they sound great, people are driving them over the 5000m passes, they have dodgy brakes and no suspension on the passenger seat but I still really really want a go. Karl is currently declining to oblige me. Stay posted for progress.



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