Ladakh, a log
Read on Substack · 2026-11-12
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I keep thinking about the routine we had in Leh. Walking to the same places, sitting in cafés, reading, having tea. My mood stayed good. Walking felt like a gift. Breathing there felt like a gift, even when it was hard.
When we got out of the aircraft, we were already expecting to feel something different. It was still so much better than I could imagine. Better AQI comes to mind, of course, but I still don’t really have the vocabulary for it.
The sunlight felt more direct, as if there was no one between the sun and the surface. No extra layer of smoke or clouds. Leh looked so clean, too. It made me think about the people taking care of it.
Devansh lived about a kilometre away. Walking to his place became a daily ritual.
We took shortcuts through really narrow lanes between houses, sometimes alongside little channels made for water to pass through. By the second half of the trip, Yash and I were comfortable finding our own way. Just a compass in your head: we’re going in the right direction, we’ll figure out the turns.
Honestly, neither of us would have minded a wrong turn. Walking to the same place was something I looked forward to.
Walk to Devansh’s.
There were coffee shops with people sitting and reading in the sun. The smell of fresh bakes and pastries from Sugar House if we took the main road. Apricot trees, bookshops, fruit and vegetable stalls, places selling momos, parathas and thalis.
Sunflowers along the way.
And Leh market. The best part of the city for me.
Leh market.
Leh market.
And the dogs. So, so beautiful. Thick fur, usually dusty, mostly asleep. You could mistake one curled up by the road for a carpet someone had kept aside. The ones we met liked their space, so we left them to it.
It was peaceful just watching animals. Grazing in the valley, sitting on steps, investigating our running shoes.
Our stay was called Saser. It had a lovely common area with old wooden furniture and just the right sunlight. We could read, play games, or sit silently. Ginger honey lemon tea whenever we asked. Maggi and food were easy to get, too. Sonam acho took good care of us.
There were also those deep breaths that reminded me how thin the air was. Sometimes they hurt. It didn’t get easier, but it did become our normal.
Now, when I eat parathas or Himalayan food, I think of Leh. Good tiramisu and hot coffee bring it back, too. So does walking into an older, quieter place, seeing happy staff, or ending up in a conversation with them.
Leh had the best of so many things for me. A lot of that was the place we were sitting in and the people around us.
The race was a challenge right until we finished. Then it was a big fucking win.
We’d set ourselves a target of under three hours. I finished in 3:03. Three extra minutes. I wasn’t completely happy because, looking back, sub-three felt doable. Very normal to think that afterwards, I know. Feedback for next time. I’m happy I did it.
Three finishers: Hardik, Devansh and Yash.
The hike helped with that feeling of not being fully satisfied with the run. We did it the day before leaving, and it made the trip really, really good.
On the hike, before dark.
I get nervous before pretty much every hike. I’m usually convinced I won’t be able to do it, then I do it and feel like a winner. This one had that, plus the dark.
Our phone lights were at max. I kept telling myself: we got up here, now we have to get down without falling.
Coming down with our phone lights.
It got easier with Devansh leading. Small things about where to put your feet, when to turn them sideways, how to move across a slope. Things that look easy until you’re the one doing them. He knew better, and following him helped.
Confidence makes a difference. Nervousness shows in every step.
We ended the trip on a high.
And then there was Hanle. The journey there was the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my life. Coming back was the same. The roads, the mountains, the colours. Such good frickin roads. Pangong, Tso Moriri, the observatory. So many photos.
I got really sick that night in Hanle. My birthday night. Altitude sickness. My head hurt badly.
The headache was at its worst when we went out to see the night sky. It was COLD. I still stayed outside for a while, looking up.
It felt unreal. I think I felt small. Really small.
The night sky at Hanle.
There was so much to be interested in. Being curious about just one thing suddenly felt like it wouldn’t be enough. Being multidisciplinary felt like the only way to be fair to ourselves.
Even now, I can’t quite imagine the place properly. I need to be there. Looking at the photos makes me more grateful that I got to go.
And after coming back, I’m more grateful for walking and breathing, too.
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