“I know of no better life purpose than to perish attempting the great and impossible. The fact that something seems impossible should not be a reason to not pursue it. That’s exactly what makes it worth pursuing. Where would the courage and greatness be if success was certain and there was no risk. The only true failure is shrinking away from life’s challenges.” – Friedrich Nietzsche
The blizzard raged on, through the dead of night – winds so strong that the snow had brought visibility down to nearly zero. GPS zoomed into 50m to make sure I didn’t drive off a cliff into the freezing Spiti river, a swig of Red Bull to keep my senses completely locked in, and on our convoy snaked towards Kaza. Past midnight, but soldiering on.
Spiti is one of the most beautiful parts of the Himalayas. The rapid development of roads in the region however, have led it to gain more footfall than is advisable of late. People can drive up in their “compact SUVs” in the summer. You even see an odd Honda City belting it up the loops towards Nako. Cellular network is largely unbroken. The tarmac is smooth. Complacency builds. The winter used to be a safe haven from all this – until the frequency of the snowfall started to reduce. Hotels became more comfortable. It didn’t snow all the way till end January this season. Some random influencer made a reel on how their 2WD Fortuner “conquered” Spiti in the Winter. Another got lucky with the dates, and did it on his Himalayan. But they were all deceived, for dumb luck is named so for a reason.
And here we were, on another edition of Xplorearth’s annual Ice Kross – a 4×4 expedition into Winter Spiti like no other. Not a flake of snow all winter long, and then like clockwork, the region had its heaviest snowfall the day prior to the start of the drive. A foot deep in Shimla, and even more, further up the road. As expected, the hoards descended from the plains in droves – eager to get their 15 seconds of fame dancing in front of an unfortunate Yak in Kufri. 2WD cars were stricken at the first sign of snow and ice, and simply getting to the property for the start of the drive was a gargantuan task.
Getting out of Shimla was a similar task, but using the age-old undefeated technique of simply waking up before the crowd and taking some lesser-known back-roads out of Shimla got us out and into Kinnaur in good time. Every kilometer we covered got us further and further from where the casual tourist would be capable of venturing, and before long, we were in Kalpa – basking in the nighttime glow of the Kinner-Kailash. The skies were clear and the spirits of the group were high, but the team knew what lay ahead.
And just like that, we woke up to 6 inches of fresh snow outside our windows. The morning always carries with it a feeling of wonder, hope and optimism – and the entire group was smiling from ear to ear as we made our way through the magical forest of Kalpa, looking even more enchanting covered in white. As we dropped altitude, the white was replaced with brown, jokes were being made over the radio, stories were exchanged, and we made good time towards Pooh. Our lead car, on the other hand, was living in an alternative reality. We had news that the climb to Nako had iced up severely. Furthermore, Malling Nala was frozen too, with cars being turned around at the top, and the visibility dropping to almost zero. What lay on the other side was my greatest concern however, as the day would go on to prove. We passed a line of stricken 2WD Fortuners on our way up to Nako – ironically enough, they were badged with their group’s stickers – 4×4 Extreme, if you will. Sometimes the jokes write themselves. As the group gratefully had a nice, hot lunch in Nako, our team carried on through the snow to recce the route ahead. The moment they returned, we were off on our way – all unknown to our guests, who were enjoying the adventure and everything it brought with it – and rightly so. The climb to Malling was slow but steady, and we managed to get everyone over the top without having to put on snow chains. Many of the participants had visited Spiti before, and knew of this point as a usual choke on the route, so we could feel the collective sighs of relief as we began our descent.
As the day would have it however, this is where the trouble began. I came over a crest before a steep downhill section of the road, only to find vehicles sideways across the road, after having failed in their attempts to climb up towards us. I tapped the brake and immediately felt sheer glass underneath, as the ABS kicked in and started putting us into a slide. Instinctively steering towards the deeper snow bank on the left, the Hilux regained traction and came to a controlled halt. No sooner had I started to relay the message on the radio, did I see the Fortuner behind me sliding lazily in my general direction, like a large ship at sea. Luckily, it came to a halt without sending me into the nether realm, and we got out to survey the carnage ahead on foot. The surface was so slippery, that even those with crampons were struggling to stay upright. We got to work clearing the road, one car at a time, which was pure chaos. Thars with malfunctioning 4×4 systems, off-road specialists from down south who mocked us when we suggested they reduce tire pressures, only to end up sideways in another car moments later – this hour or so of action had it all. Our team forged on, and with a mixture of experience, preparation and a systematic approach to things, our entire convoy was through. All this while vehicles going the other way hadn’t bothered to bring so much as snow chains to the fight! We hit the tarmac at the base of the descent, and one could see the gleam in everyone’s eyes – knowing what they had accomplished. Just a few more hours to Kaza, I was told – to which I just smiled politely. Flashbacks of doing exactly this a few years ago on two-wheels were tormenting my brain, but hey, at least I had a heated vehicle to sit in while blasting some Dua Lipa this time!
On we forged into the dying light, with the snow picking up pace rapidly. As soon as we hit Tabo, a little squirt of the throttle sent the Hilux sideways – the kind that nobody else in the car can feel, but you can immediately tell in the seat of your pants. We turned in to the town and parked everyone up to mandatorily put on their snow chains. It was only getting colder, and the news from Kaza was that no vehicles had arrived all day (or night). It was at this point that we saw a host of Tempos returning with their tails tucked between their legs. Stopping one, I was told that what lay ahead was impossible. A few Fortuners followed, to my initial surprise – but soon I saw they too bore the 4×4 Extreme emblems like our ill-equipped friends from earlier in the day – so my fears were assuaged a little.
Chains on, 2200hrs, and we began our final run to Kaza. Moments like these are what set us apart at Xplorearth. The convoy moved like a tight military unit, guided with a mixture of radio communication and GPS tracks that did not care for loss of mobile network. Each tricky section in the road was called out before you hit it, and though we slowed at times, we kept on going. The mountains threw everything at us – a blizzard unlike one I have ever experienced before. When the winds blew in the same direction as the road, the snow engulfed everything. All you had to work with was the lights of the car in front, and your wits.
Midnight came, and people began tiring. Others were uncomfortable on the narrow, icy descents. We deployed the spare drivers from our team – a service no other organization even considers. On we marched, through the apocalyptic storm. The experience was brutal, challenging, but oh so magical. The kind that stays burnt into your brain for life. An hour later, and we saw the sparse but unmistakable lights of Kaza town.
Parking up outside Sakya Abode, I was warmly greeted by Tsering, our perennial host who is family to us. He was busy preparing his 4×4 to come get us in case we did not reach for much longer, and that pretty much tells you everything you need to know about the kind of person he is. For the first time ever, his usual calm demeanor was replaced with surprise. He had been reliably informed by his contacts enroute, that there was no way any vehicles were going to make it to Kaza. In fact, he had already arranged for alternative accommodation for our group in Tabo, should we have had to turn back.
17 cars made it to Kaza that day. All 17 bore the emblem of Xplorearth’s Himalayan Wolf, and Himalayan Motorsport’s Snow Leopard – paying homage to our years of running the Raid-de-Himalaya – the reason why we are what we are today. A word for the group – they were incredible. Up for the challenge, curious to learn, not a word of complaint and just sheer adventurers at heart. It was a privilege to share this experience with them, and we hope to see them along for many more.
We believe we are the best at what we do, not because we are arrogant, but because we hold ourselves to a higher standard. Our entire ethos is built around providing world-class experiences, where we get to showcase “our” mountains to those from around the world. The Himalayas are not ours because of any form of ownership, they do not belong to anyone. They are ours because they are where we feel most at home, where we feel most alive, and where we are blessed with safe passage because we understand they make the rules, we do not – but most importantly where we feel unmatched pride in showcasing the places we have been born and bred to those curious enough to make the journey!
Finally, generations may pass, regimes may be overthrown, my stocks might be going to zero, but nothing beats a Toyota. We had a Ford Ranger Raptor along with us all the way from Nepal on this journey – but as it is not sold in India – I will reserve my judgement. The Hilux however, blew me away and then some. Never missing a beat, chugging along faultlessly. A fuel filter error due to some dodgy diesel in Kaza, but that’s all there was – an error light despite which the car ran as it always did. Through the snow, ice and darkness, I knew the legacy of Kiichiro Toyoda would never let me down. If any of this off-roading malarkey is for you, buy one with your eyes closed.
