Somewhere Between Pangong and Hanle: Sayan Adak’s Ladakh Trip with Thrillophilia

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PNR: BKDKVBO4AGS
Rating: ★★★★★
Traveller: Sayan Adak
Trip Duration: 8 Days | 7 Nights
Date of Travel: 24 Apr 2026 - 01 May 2026
Package Booked: Leh Ladakh Expedition

Most Ladakh trip reviews are about mountains, views and Maggi, but Sayan was honestly just looking for a solid bike trip and a break from Kolkata’s heat.

The idea was simple: to ride through places he had only seen in reels at 2 AM while pretending to work on something else.

He found Thrillophilia’s Ladakh package while comparing routes online. A lot of itineraries stopped at Pangong and rounded from there itself, but this one went all the way to Hanle and Umling La, which sounded slightly unnecessary at first. Later, that became the whole point of the trip.

Leh felt strange on the first day. Quiet, but not sleepy. There were bikers everywhere carrying extra fuel cans like they were entering a war zone. Sayan checked into the hotel, walked through Leh Market for a bit, then bought overpriced gloves from a shopkeeper who kept insisting the temperature would be really, really low.

By Day 2, the bike was handed over. Royal Enfield Himalayan. Heavy thing. The first few kilometres toward Sham Valley were awkward because Sayan had not ridden properly in months, and Ladakh roads are not exactly forgiving.

Embarrassing. Funny later.

The ride got better after Sangam. That stretch near the Indus and Zanskar rivers did something weird to the brain. No traffic noise, no billboards, no random notifications. Just wind hitting the helmet nonstop. Magnetic Hill was crowded, SECMOL had tourists recreating scenes from 3 Idiots, and someone nearby was eating Maggi at 11 in the morning.

Then came Khardung La.

Sayan had imagined some dramatic cinematic arrival at one of the world’s highest motorable passes. His fingers were half numb, his lips had gone dry, and everyone looked equally exhausted while pretending to look adventurous for photos.

Still worth it.

There was a tiny tea stall near the top where riders stood silently holding paper cups with both hands because it was too cold otherwise. Nobody spoke much. The wind was loud enough.

Nubra Valley looked softer than expected. That surprised him. He had imagined only rough landscapes and rocks, but there were green patches, tiny houses, and kids waving at bikers for no reason. At Hunder, he watched double-humped camels walking around, looking deeply uninterested in tourists.

The camp stay that night had one bulb flickering outside the tents and an absolutely terrible network. Which turned out to be nice. Someone from the group started playing old Bollywood songs on a speaker near the bonfire. Slightly off-key singing happened. One guy confidently forgot lyrics halfway through “Kun Faya Kun” and continued.

Nobody cared.

The Pangong route through Shyok was rough in parts. Properly rough. Sayan almost regretted the trip for fifteen minutes after hitting a patch full of loose stones. Then suddenly the road opened up again, and there were mountains everywhere, sharp and dry and endless.

Pangong itself was quieter than expected.

Not silent because tourists were definitely there. But the lake somehow slowed people down. Even the loud groups eventually stopped shouting and just sat there staring at the water changing colour every few minutes. Blue, then grey, then something in between.

Hanle changed the mood of the trip completely.

The roads became emptier after Chushul. Fewer vehicles. Fewer people. Sayan remembered stopping randomly near Rezang La because the silence felt unnatural, almost fake. Even the air sounded thin there.

No dramatic speech followed. Sayan just stood there in two jackets, eating Parle-G biscuits from his backpack while staring upward like an idiot for almost an hour.

Umling La was exhausting. Beautiful, maybe, but mostly exhausting. Head slightly heavy, breathing weird, roads unpredictable. Yet reaching the top brought this oddly calm feeling. No screaming. No jumping around for videos.

Just relief.

On the ride back to Leh through Chumathang Valley, the group had become quieter compared to Day 1. Less showing off. More random discussions about chai stops, sore backs, and who nearly dropped their bike on gravel.

Thrillophilia handled the logistics well throughout the trip, honestly. The backup vehicle, fuel planning, permits, and support staff mattered more than Sayan expected, especially in remote stretches where nothing exists for kilometres.

By the end, Ladakh did not feel like one clean life-changing experience. It was messier than that. Dry lips. Bad roads. Strange silence. Shared snacks. Cold mornings. Random jokes with strangers.

And somewhere between Pangong and Hanle, Sayan realised he had stopped checking his phone entirely. His trip wound down with memories of the and satisfaction of checking another destination off the bucket list.

Also Read: Ladakh Bike Trip Reviews