By Amanpreet Singh
What’s up, Cloggers! If our Khajjiar trip was a lovely meadow stroll, our recent run through the Spiti Valley was scaling Everest on two wheels. This was less a trip and more a pilgrimage—a high-altitude test of grit, friendship, and the reliability of our iron horses (our bikes!).
The Gateway to Nothingness
We started the journey not with a bang, but with the cold, thin air slapping us awake in Shimla. Rahul, Simran, Vikram, and I—plus our trusty Royal Enfields—were geared up to tackle the treacherous, breathtaking circuit of the Spiti Valley.
The moment you cross into Kinnaur, the terrain changes dramatically. The lush greenery fades into shades of ochre and rust. It felt like riding through a moonscape carved by ancient rivers. The challenge wasn’t just the sheer drops and narrow roads; it was the element of surprise. Was that a waterfall running over the road? Yes. Did we hit a patch of freezing slush in July? Absolutely.
The “epic” part of this adventure began immediately. The road to Kaza, specifically the notorious Malling Nullah crossing, was relentless. We were a team of four, but on that stretch, we moved as one machine, spotting rocks, offering shoulders, and hauling bikes out of tire-swallowing sludge. The true measure of friendship? When your friend helps you push a 400-pound motorcycle uphill at 12,000 feet.
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The Silent Majesty of Monasteries
The noise and adrenaline of the ride would suddenly give way to moments of profound silence. This is the “lovely” contrast of Spiti.
Stopping at the Key Monastery felt like stepping back a thousand years. Perched precariously on a hilltop, surrounded by stark, snow-dusted mountains, the monastery exuded a powerful calm. We sat in the prayer hall, listening to the resonant chanting of the young monks, and felt the weight of the outside world dissolve.
We all took a break just outside the monastery. No talking, no pictures, just staring at the sheer, overwhelming majesty of the Himalayas. In that silence, we didn’t just see the mountains; we saw how small we were, and yet, how strong we were as a unit to have reached this place. It was a moment of beautiful, shared humility and accomplishment.
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Stars and Shared Secrets in Kaza
Our nights were as memorable as our days. Staying in Kaza, the temperature plummeted, but the sky opened up. After dinner, we huddled outside our guesthouse, wrapped in every layer we owned, and watched a spectacle of stars that you simply can’t see anywhere else.
The conversation drifted deeper than usual—about dreams, fears, and the bizarre things we had seen on the road. The shared struggle of the day—the bumps, the near-falls, the freezing river crossings—forged a bond tighter than any tarmac we had ridden on. That night, under a billion-star sky, sharing weak coffee and knowing we had each other’s backs for the rest of the journey, was the sweetest part of the whole Spiti trip.
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Go Prepared, Go Together
Spiti Valley is not for the faint of heart, but it is for the seekers. It challenges your limits and rewards you with views that change your perspective on life. But the biggest takeaway? These adventures are meaningless without the brotherhood. We conquered Spiti not as four individual riders, but as one unstoppable crew.
If you’re planning this ride, remember: pack smart, ride safe, and always, always keep your friends close when the road disappears beneath the slush!
Have you ever done a high-altitude ride? Tell me about your toughest stretch in the comments!
Happy riding, Amanpreet Singh clogtheblog.com
