Leh of the Land

It felt like we'd barely even stepped onto the flight from Delhi before the tannoy crackled with the news that we were coming into land. Already? I hadn't even had a chance to tear open my plane food, a meal which called itself a chicken junglee sandwich (probably for the best).

As we descended through an alabaster veil, the clouds dissolved into wisps, and an arid moon-like landscape emerged out of the milky haze. The land below was a tectonic skeleton, jagged with barren peaks and mineral-rich earth, while giant Himalayan massifs loomed beyond, dappled in deep snow and hoarding rain clouds from ever reaching the interior.

The air is thin on the western edge of the Tibetan plateau, and thankfully, so are the crowds. Our declarations of "no symptoms" on an Ebola entry form a final, bureaucratic reminder of the chaos of Delhi, we emerged from the terminal in desperate need of rehabilitation. A gentle taxi ride took us through the stark, sun-bleached outskirts of Leh to the doors of the Thangkop Guesthouse, where we were welcomed by the warm and weathered Dolma.

She was the antithesis of the city we had left behind: composed, compassionate, and quietly charming. Her home was to be our sanctuary, a quiet base in a town that turned out to be a high-altitude melting pot.

Walking the streets past mud-brick buildings and spirited strays, we watched monks in dark maroon robes collecting alms with practiced humility as prayer flags of the majority Tibetan Buddhist population swirled overhead, and Arabic banners fluttered on mosques wailing calls to prayer, and bronze statues of Ganesh peered out from shop windows. We had arrived at the confluence of Hindustan and Central Asia, where India meets China meets Pakistan, and they'll each squabble to tell you Ladakh belongs to them.

48 hours to acclimatise, those are the rules. So after countless cups of tea and lung-busting breaths, we set out to explore the city, starting with Leh Palace. Its nine stories are supported by medieval timber and meticulous stonework, and we meandered from temple to stupa until a black storm rolled menacingly into the valley. Our first day and it'd already rained in the moonscape desert. That's once in a blue moon for you, or in this one, an ochre one.Read more