The plan is to travel overland to Leh, the capital of Ladakh, and a distance of some 1300k, before setting off on trek. So next evening we set off on the initial leg to Manali. The tourist bus, which takes 16 hours, leaves at 6pm as scheduled. We trundle off in heavy drizzle and, an hour later, round a familiar corner to find ourselves exactly where we started from. Several people get on and away we go again. By 10pm the bus is full and we are still in the Delhi suburbs, but after an 1/2 hour stop at the bus garage looking for a spare wheel it's hey ho for the open road. But not before we deviate through more back streets to fill up with diesel.

We rumble through heavy monsoon rain at a steady 40mph snoozing fitfully and, as it eventually starts to get light I wake to find us stationary on a pass in the foothills, stuck in a massive traffic jam. Balders tells me we have been here for some time but we eventually creep up to the cause, a large truck on its side. With much shunting back and forth, shouting and whistle blowing, we squeeze past only to find the jam continues. Two miles further on we come to another truck which has T boned a tanker on a hairpin bend and, after more exciting manoeuvres, set off again at a better speed. The hours pass and eventually at 4pm a mere 6 hours late, we roll into Manali a hill town in the Kulu valley.

Our first priority is to book places on tomorrow's 6am bus for the 2-day trip to Leh. This done we find a hotel room and some food. 5.30am finds us cowering in a shop doorway in heavy rain waiting for our bus. This promises to be no ordinary ride.  The 295-mile road to Leh is only open for 5 months of the year and includes the Rotang La 12970ft, the Barralacha La at 16,100ft and finally the second highest motorable pass in the world, the Talung La at 17580ft.

By 6am no bus has arrived, various reports of the delay are bandied about and eventually, one hour late, the bus arrives in a cloud of exhaust smoke. We pile on, together with 16 other hardy travellers, and set off up miles of steep hairpin bends to the Rotang La.  The monsoon rains continue and we splash down to the village of Koksor in the Chandra valley. Here the

(Continued on page 3)

(Being the first installment of the HMC 97 Himalayan Saga)

India is a funny place, they do things differently there.

For instance, most international flights to Delhi arrive in the small hours of the morning and so it was little surprise to find the Baldwin Edwards duo wandering aimlessly round Conaught Square at 2am looking slightly bemused.

We thought we had it sorted, having booked a room through the Government Travel Agency at the airport, confirming both price and availability, but no. By the time our taxi arrived there was no room at the Inn however "my friend round the corner has room". Cobblers, one hour, several walks lugging bags and an auto rickshaw ride later we are at last installed in a fairly expensive room complete with an air conditioning unit that sounds like a tractor and a firm conviction to get out of Delhi A.S.A.P.