Cycling the Manali - Leh Highway: Day 6 [Upper Zing Zing Bar to Sarchu]

Date: 18th July 2025
Route: Upper Zing Zing Bar → Upper Zing Zing Bar → Sarchu
Start elevation: 4,300 meters or 14,100 feet ASL
End elevation: 4,201 meters or 13,783 feet ASL
Distance: 50 kms
Time taken:  ~9 hrs
Road: Broken roads till Baralacha Top; fine afterwards
Connectivity: Not available throughout the route. Jio (Prepaid/Postpaid) present at Sarchu

0700 hrs. It was a frigid night at Upper Zing Zing Bar. I remember sleeping in intermittent winks; but I felt fresh and well-rested and that was all that mattered. The first order of the day was to get the morning ablutions done. Despite freezing waters and a Eastern style toilet enclosed by only a tattery tarp (which barely covered the reliever's dignity, the deed was done), layers put, rain coat on the ready, breakfast (Aaloo Paratha) gobbled and the bill settled. 

The only problem? The weather. It had started drizzling as we were having our breakfast when we met a biker duo from Surat (on one Royal Enfield) who were coming down from the top reporting inclement weather there. We also happened to meet a family of three in a Honda Amaze (from Himachal, heading to Leh) who we had good chat with; the gentleman happened to be a chemistry teacher at one of the higher secondary schools in Himachal (the town/city escapes my memory), who we later bumped into just before Upshi!

The drizzle stopped and we began. The Danish gent had already left at the crack of the dawn and was nowhere to be seen. The climb to Baralacha La is punishing only made worse by weather like such. 

This was a couple of hours after ZZ Bar
The clouds seemed to be at an arm's length in the overcast (and cold!) weather and one can spot the BRO workers toiling and the winding roads I had come through leaving ZZ Bar out of sight!

I don't have vivid memories of the roads tarted from ZZ Bar, but it was uphill ride all the way to the top with mostly broken roads. There were stretches when I had to get down on my feet and push the bike. The cold winds, rain and low visibility weren't helping either. 

On one such stretch, it was drizzling, misty, cold and uphill. Fingers stiff cold, I struggled with my glasses, having to wipe them ever so often. Having just crossed a puddle of water, the road ahead was patchy and the visibility was bad; Suraj Taal was nothing but a mist of haze. I pass by without being able to spot it. Baralacha La still some distance away, I concentrated on my breath like a metronome to keep the momentum going; every inhale and exhale was one rotation of the pedal each, covering only a little more than a couple of metres. As I lifted my head up, I saw a sillouhette of a cyclist coming down the road. I was already standing by the meagre shoulder of the roads, munching on some biscuits and signalled him to stop. A foreign national, I ask him about the weather up top and pat receive the reply, "Not good, not worse." That's good news, wrapped in a bad one.

On some places enroute, I could see huddles of BRO workers, their trucks and machines and that was a relief to see since it felt almost dark, depressive and disorientating to only see only the wet, empty road ahead with nothing else around. 

By the time I reached the top, I was cold and almost shivering. Barely managing to take a photo, I clicked one and decided not to spend too much time there leaving the place almost at once. It was downhill for almost 7 kms from the top which was a breeze (as always); feeling miserably cold, I stopped at the first dhaba somewhere before Bharatpur Tent Colony and ordered for a Chai and Maggi. As I regained my sense of touch, I got talking with a happy-go-lucky group of friends on a Maruti Brezza (from Varansi) who were having a "drink" with fried ride. It was fun talking to them and tackling their almost quizzical questions behind the ride (not to forget turning down their invitation for a drink, which I was told would: "taaqat aayegi isliye"). Before long, we bid adieu to each other not before being told to "cycle ko truck mein load kariye aur chaliye". The whole experience ended up as a lesson in not being judgemental about everyone I meet.
Onkar had arrived by that time and we took quite a long break there. 

At the B Top!

Soon, we were on our way and crossed the Bharatpur Tent Colony on our right. The road to Sarchu is mostly flat and the vistas are beyond mesmerising. It was overcast, but now the clouds were high up and we could actually see around. The road (virtually absent, just a beaten path) through Killing Sarai has been in making for more than a decade, is bumpy and has prickly stones jutting out of the roads at mutiple places; best advised to get off the bike and cross it. Killing Sarai is a BRO base with a multitude of makeshift tents and settlements; We could see black smoke bellowing from the fires lit to melt the coal-tar which would probably be used for the road construction. I couldn't help but wonder on the tough conditions the workers were put through to keep the highway running for the better part of the year.

Cell reception was back just after crossing Killing Sarai and we made a quick call home. A short and quick ascent later, one enters the magnificent Sarchu valley. It was 1400 hrs, a slight drizzle persisted. The roads were now smooth and it was such a pleasure to be riding there; the valley felt almost magical with moonlike features flanking us and a straight black road running piercing the landscape!

Even before one approaches Sarchu, tent sites and camping grounds start sprouting up and one has a plethora of stay options to choose from; like most days, we decided to choose one on the fag end of Sarchu and hence continused pedalling. Sarchu forms the political border between the state of Himachal Pradesh and the UT of Ladakh. There a small check post manned by the Ladakh Police where one has to register their details before crossing over to Ladakh region. By 1600 hrs, crossing over into Ladakh territory, we ran into the Danish gent and had a small chat about how he had developed a fascination for Sarchu and had decided to spend 3-4 days there, doing pretty much nothing but to observe the locals there.

The place to stay the night was finalised at the Potala Sarchu Dhaba in the watchful and observant eye of the the Uncle manning the whole thing; we had the good fortune of having occupying a small cosy private cabin/room (made by propping plywood on all the four sides with an asbestos roof) also along with a functional western toilet! Since we hadn't had dinner, he was kind enough to whip us some Dal and Rice which tasted heavenly and was quickly polished off the plates.

The place for the night!

I spent my evening with the dhaba owner chatting with him about his family, how they had another dhaba manned by his son, on various aspects of Buddhism, Dalai Lama, their life in the valley and other subjects; he offered me dried Chhurpi which, I was told, is dried yak cheese that can be used to a source of fat, protein and warmth in the hard, winter months. It tasted unlike anything I've had before, with a tinge of sourness (from the fermentation- my guess) and felt greasy inside the mouth (all the fat from the yak milk); no wonder it is a powerhouse of energy for the locals and is used as an integral part of their diet!

The dinner was, again, simple, scrumptuos and steaming portions of Dal and Rice and there was little I could ask for more; that was all (and more!) that I could've ever wanted in such place, at such time.

How could a meal, supposedly so simple, could feed you and your soul at the same time?

The inside of the Potala Sarchu Dhaba

It was time to get a good night's rest for we were to fight the demon called the Gata's 21 Loops the next day.