Saval Challenges

Stage 10 – Spiti: Tabo to Kaza
I started early. In Spiti, that's not ambition — it's survival strategy.
The road was the same single track from yesterday, but today it seemed to have decided to make a point of itself. Dusty, broken in stretches, relentless in its indifference to the person moving along it. The kind of road that doesn't reward effort so much as simply endure it alongside you. Every kilometre felt negotiated rather than covered.
And the heat. By mid-morning it was already sitting heavy on everything — the pale dust, the bare rock, the air itself. Spiti doesn't cool down gradually; it just switches. You're either in shadow or you're in the sun, and out here, there isn't much shadow to find.
There wasn't much food either. The valley between Tabo and Kaza is sparse in the way that reminds you this isn't a trail designed around your convenience. I kept grinding — head down, one push at a time — rationing energy and hope in roughly equal measure.
And then, a dhaba. Small, roadside, unremarkable to look at — exactly the kind of place that becomes a minor miracle when you've been running on empty. I ordered Maggi. There's a particular joy to Maggi at altitude, in the middle of nowhere, when your body is asking questions your legs can't answer — salty, hot, instant, enough.
And there was company. A group of motor cyclists, loud with the kind of enthusiasm that doesn't apologize for itself. We got talking — that easy, instinctive kinship between people sharing the same road, the same dust, the same stubborn decision to be out here at all. They were buzzing with where they'd been and where they were headed, and somewhere in that conversation, something in me reset. You forget, mid-grind, that this is also joy. They reminded me.
I rolled into Kaza with that energy still in my legs.
Kaza had been my endpoint by necessity — Kunzum Pass was closed, cutting off the route onward to Manali. It wasn't the ending I had planned.
Sometimes the mountain decides where your story ends.
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Stage 7: Kalpa to Pooh 📍

Started the day with a nice, long descent, using the initial miles to carefully get a feel for the new "Frankenstein" bike setup. Fueling was tough this morning—I started on an empty stomach and had to survive on just biscuits for the first stretch.

Finally spotted a small roadside hut where I stopped for a much-needed coffee and proper breakfast. Re-energized just in time to face the brutal first taste of the high-altitude desert heat! I knew this was just a preview of the furnace waiting for me in the next two legs.

Finished the stage with a tough, final grinding climb up into Pooh village. After hunting around to figure out the logistics of where to sleep, I finally tracked down a guesthouse and settled in for the night. One step closer. 🙏🏔️

Stage 6: Kalpa to Roghi Peak. After a 500+ km journey back and forth to Shimla to scavenge parts—massive thanks to the guys at Bike Bros!—my new 'Frankenstein' bike was finally ready, complete with a new fork, wheel, and cranks.

I arrived back in Kalpa to restart the expedition and immediately took it out for a test ride over Roghi Peak. I used the climb to dial in my saddle adjustments and check the handlebar stiffness. The road up Roghi Peak was incredibly narrow, and I had to stay sharp on the descent to watch out for oncoming tourist vehicles.

Along the way, I caught a stunning view of the Kinnaur Kailash mountain and took a moment to visit a local monastery. The bike is officially ready to continue the journey, though I think I still need a few more miles to fully adjust to its new personality! 🏔️🚲⚡️"

Day 5: Sangla to Chitkul. This stage was all about riding above 9,000 feet to reach 12,000 feet for crucial acclimatization. The conditions were brutal—not just the unforgiving road surface, but the thinning air testing my lungs. I fought through every inch and finally made it to Chitkul.

There was a checkpost another 4 km away, and I honestly thought about skipping it to turn around and race the incoming storm back to Sangla. But a good Samaritan convinced me to push on, promising well-paved roads ahead. Encouraged, I turned back up to climb. Along the way, an elderly couple stopped their car to wave at me, exchange pleasantries, and kindly offer me water.

Right after they left, as I tried to move, my front fork completely snapped off. I wasn't even moving fast, and thank God I wasn't descending like I originally planned when it happened! It took a few minutes to fully process the impact of what just occurred. I immediately called my hotel and a taxi, and I'm now heading back while weighing my options. Finding replacement parts or a proper mechanic for a high-end bike in this part of Himachal is no easy task. 🙏🛠️"