Mountains, Motorcycles, and Memories: Niraj’s Ladakh Trip Review with Thrillophilia
“Are you sure you want to go alone?”
That is what everyone asked me when I told them I was heading to Ladakh. Just me, a Himalayan bike, and the open road.
The truth is that I was not entirely sure. Life had become a loop of responsibilities and noise. The idea of going solo scared me. But somewhere deep down, I knew it was exactly what I needed.
So, one morning in April 2025, I boarded a flight to Leh. My backpack was light, but my heart was heavy with restlessness. What I did not know then was that Ladakh would change something inside me forever.
A City in the Sky
Landing in Leh felt like arriving on another planet. The air was thin, and the mountains were bare and bold. After checking into my hotel, I rested briefly to acclimatise. Later that afternoon, I met the machine that would become my travel partner: a Royal Enfield Himalayan. Rough. Majestic. Trustworthy.
The local sightseeing began with the Leh Palace, which offered views of the whole town. Then I visited Shanti Stupa, where I sat for a while and soaked in the quiet energy.
I ended my evening at Leh Market while sipping butter tea in a cosy café and watching life unfolding around me. That night, I lay in bed thinking, I am really here… and I am not alone. I have the road.
Riding with Strangers Who Became Friends
The next day was a ride to Sham Valley, and I met fellow bikers from all over India. Strangers at first, but by the time we stopped at Sangam (where the Zanskar meets the Indus), we were already laughing like old friends.
A few of us decided to try white water rafting in the icy waters of the Zanskar. The rapids were fierce, and the water was freezing, but the adrenaline and laughter kept us warm. By the end, we were completely drenched.
At Magnetic Hill, our bikes rolled “uphill” like magic, and we stood there scratching our heads in disbelief. We also visited Gurudwara Pathar Sahib, where even non-Sikhs like me found deep peace, and then the Hall of Fame, which moved me more than I expected. Reading about the sacrifices of soldiers brought a lump to my throat.
Just before heading back, we made a stop at the SECMOL Campus, the innovative and solar-powered school made famous by the movie “3 idiots”. It was a deeply inspiring place. The campus ran on principles of sustainability and real-life education. I spoke briefly with a student who said, “Here, we learn how to live life by studying different subjects.” That stayed with me.
One of the bikers said, “Funny how you come here for the mountains but end up finding people.”
He was right. That night, we shared stories over dinner around a bonfire, and I felt a connection.
To the Clouds at Khardung La and the Desert Below
On the third day, we travelled to the famous Khardung La Pass. As we climbed towards 5,359 metres, the air grew thinner and my heartbeat louder. The snow was thick and the ride tough, but I laughed like a child when we reached the top.
We took a quick break at Khardung La Café and sipped tea while the wind howled around us. Then we descended into Nubra Valley, where the world changed again. From white snow to golden sand, it was like riding through nature’s flipbook.
We stopped at Diskit Monastery, where a 32-metre Buddha watched over the valley in complete serenity. Later, I rode an ATV at Hunder Cold Desert and watched double-humped camels cross the dunes.
That night, I stayed in a riverside camp. The stars above the Shyok River looked close enough to touch, and for the first time in years, I did not check my phone before sleeping.
Stillness and Sacrifice of the Heroes
Our ride to Pangong Lake on Day 4 was a visual treat. The twisting roads, wild rivers, tiny villages, and the lake were shimmering and looked surreal.
I sat by the water for what felt like hours and watched it change from blue to green to a shade I could not even name. People came and went, clicked photos, and cheered. But, I just… sat.
On Day 5, we rode towards Hanle and stopped at the Rezang La War Memorial. It honoured the soldiers who had fought with unimaginable courage in 1962. The place had an energy I cannot describe. Besides stone and plaque, it was sacred.
By evening, we reached Hanle, one of the most remote inhabited areas in the country. At the Hanle Observatory, we learned about stars, galaxies, and light years. Funny, I thought, how something so far away can feel so close in places like these.
Touching the Sky at Umling La
This was the day I had been dreaming of: Umling La, the highest motorable pass in the world at 5,883 metres. The roads were harsh, and the winds were merciless. Moreover, the oxygen was in short supply, but every twist of the throttle was a step closer to the sky.
When we finally reached the top, there was just silence and awe. Flags fluttered in the wind, and snow gleamed like diamonds. All of us stood there with tears in our eyes.
I clicked a photo but quickly kept the phone away. Some things are not for social media. Some things are just for the soul.
The Return
The ride back to Leh via Chumathang Valley was bittersweet. The roads were familiar now, and the strangers had become friends. We stopped at hot springs to soak our tired feet and laughed about our near-falls and awkward camel rides.
Back in Leh, I returned my bike with a quiet nod, as if saying goodbye to an old friend. That evening, we had our last dinner together (our “bike gang” of sorts). We hugged, exchanged numbers, and promised to meet again, though we all knew life would pull us in different directions.
The next morning, as I sat in the airport waiting for my flight, I looked back at the mountains one last time.
They gave me a journey I could cherish all my life, and that made all the difference.
Read More: Thrillophilia Ladakh Reviews