Day 3, Tuesday:Good Morning Manali.
It’s 9:30 am. I slept great. The skies are cloudy. And the mechanic just messaged me—he’s waiting in the lobby.
I peak out the window—there's basically just fog. Oh well. Looks like I’ll have to come back another time to actually see what Manali has to offer. It is monsoon season, after all.
Anyway, I head down to the lobby, and Judging by the look on the mechanic’s face, he didn’t have quite the night. I almost don’t want to ask him how his $6 place was.
"Wasn’t too bad,” he says, though it looked nothing like the pictures online.
Alright then… Not too interested in finding out what his version of “not too bad” means, I move the conversation along.
We've got a busy day ahead, the mechanic tells me—not just sightseeing around Manali, but also getting ready for the next leg of the trip: the
Leh-Manali Highway. That’s the road we’ll be on for the next three days, starting tomorrow, until Shabbos.
Little info on:
The Leh-Manali highwayLet’s make one thing clear—this Leh-Manali Highway is no highway. It’s 428 kilometers of rough paths made of asphalt, ice, gravel, sand, water, and sometimes… nothing at all. It’s bad enough that they only keep it open for six months a year—the rest of the time, it’s buried under snow, with avalanches and landslides wiping out entire sections. Before reopening each year they gotta rebuild full parts.
For people living along the highway, winter can mean being stuck in place for months.
The highway runs through some remote and rough places, while also climbing to serious altitudes—like the
Baralacha La and
Tanglang La passes, which top out at 5,328 meters (17,480′).
Out there, there's pretty much no gas stations, no power, and no cell service—so yeah, we’ve got to get our act together before we hit the road.
Oh, and then there are the permits.
Long story short, with the ongoing conflicts along India’s borders with China and Pakistan, some roads—either because they’re close to the border or because they’re critical infrastructure for the army—require special permits to pass through.
There are checkpoints all along the route where they check your documents. And just to make things even more fun, thanks to COVID, every single checkpoint now requires a negative test result—even the ones that don’t ask for a special permit. No test, no go.
So that makes our to-do list for today:
- Mikvah
- Getting permits (because India loves paperwork—rant for another time).
- COVID tests.
- Extra gas cans (our bikes' tanks don't hold enough for 3 days).
- And, of course, a bit of Manali exploring.
Permits and covid testNot really sure where to begin, I walk over to the front desk and ask if they know where I can get a COVID test.
To my surprise, they say, “Yes, we can do it right here.”
Great! until they mention it’ll take 72 hours to get the results… and cost $40.
Yeah, that’s not going to work.
Time to think outside the box. The mechanic pulls out his phone and starts dialing up his local Manali contacts. Within minutes, he’s got a guy: instant covid test, $5, and he can handle the permits too.
He says let's meetup now, and we'll get it all sorted. He is located in
Vashisht.
What and where is this Vashisht place? Let me try to paint you a picture of the map.
Manali mapOk. So there’s a river—the
Beas River to be exact, and that is the dividing line.
On one side, you have
Manali; on the other,
Vashisht.
The river:
Manali SideOn the Manali side, you have
New Manali, which is the touristy area with the ‘mall road’, a plaza-market-square kind of thing, restaurants, gift shops and all. It has a commercialized modern-ish feel to it.
Drive up along the mountain for 10 minutes, and you're in
Old Manali, this is near where we're staying. the original village life, narrow streets, family-run guesthouses, apple orchards, and the occasional mud house. (exploring the local part of old manali by foot is a must). The Chabad house is here too. (currently closed — covid) This is where the Israelis usually hang out, but for now, it’s quiet.
Vashisht SideNow, if you cross the river and drive up the other mountain, you're in
Vashisht — the quieter, more secluded, and more “in nature” part of Manali. Backpackers come here for a week and end up staying for months. You'll usually find the more spiritual-ee tourists here. It has a more laid back feeling.
And that's an oversimplified inaccurate version of the map:
Headed to VashishtAnyway, back to our story. He sends his location—the guy for the COVID tests and permits. He's in Vashisht.
It’s a chilly morning, so I grab a sweater, we hop on the bikes and start winding downhill from Old Manali.
As we make it down to New Manali, cross the river and start heading up to Vashisht, the views widen up, giving us some peeks at the himalayas. Soon enough, we pull up to the location he sent—
a small café. The guy greets us, asks what we’d like to drink. I go for a coffee; the mechanic grabs a pastry. We sit down at the small wooden table, and he starts explaining:
First, the COVID test: no problem. He’ll send the results over in an hour. As for the permits, that’s a bit trickier. Thanks to COVID, things are moving slower than usual..
Now, there are multiple permits we might need (it’s India—nothing’s clear, so maybe yes, maybe no):
- Rohtang La: the first mountain pass, about 50 km from Manali (more on this tom). The army requires a permit for safety reasons.
- Pangong and Nubra Valley: We’ll need multiple permits here, and they can take time to process. But these are for areas after Leh, so he suggests we hold off and apply once we reach Leh.
That leaves us with just the Rohtang La permit and the COVID test.
He quotes us $10 for the permit and $5 for the test—per person. Sounds fair.
I’m out of cash, so I ask the mechanic to cover it. He happily agrees. That reminds me—I need to stop by the ATM today. There’s no way to withdraw cash for the next three days, and it’s always good to have some money on hand when you might get stuck in the middle of nowhere.
As we’re leaving, it hits me: the guy didn’t even take a COVID swab (Brooklyn style). The mechanic reassures me it’s fine. As long as the police will accept it, I’m cool with it.
Oh right, Mikvah.To be honest, mikvah wasn’t really a worry for me in Manali—there’s always the river, after all. But since we’re already with this permit/COVID guy who seems to know his way around, I figure I’ll ask him about a good spot.
He’s not fully understanding what I’m asking of him, so the mechanic jumps in, explaining that I'm not a like homeless guy looking for a shower or something—I just need water to dunk in.
He says, “Oh, go to the hot springs.” I’m like, What? Yes he says: “Straight up here to the right, just a 2-minute walk.”
I’m still convinced that there’s a misunderstanding – maybe something lost in translation. Although I did hear people mention waterfalls or something, but hot spring right here?. Sure enough, after just a 2-minute walk, I stick my head through a doorway and there it is: a steaming hot mikvah. Natural hot springs.
This time, i get all the amenities, a bench, a shower, the whole package. There’s a sign asking people to wash off before entering the pool – same same like Brooklyn. I rinse off, head for the stairs, stick my foot in, Ouch. it's a bit much—feels like 107°F. It's gonna take a second.
Still attempting to enter, a foreign-looking guy walks through the doorway, heads straight for the stairs, and is fully submerged within seconds, like it’s nothing. I’m shocked. Well, that is, until he opens his mouth and says, 'Hi' with a thick Russian accent.
He points to the left corner, where there's a green inlet (see picture) of freezing cold water to cool off the pool. “Jump in there,” he says.
Tried and tested, the back left corner is the way to go.
figuring I won't get this luxury in the coming days, I take some time to enjoy the steaming hot mikvah. Even though, with these temperatures you can't really hangout for longer than 10–15 minutes.
It’s now that I realize I have no towel. Forgot it in the hotel. So, I step out, air dry for a bit, and get dressed slightly damp.
By the time I’m done and out of mikvah, the mechanic has the COVID test results on his WhatsApp. Surprise surprise it's negative:) Now we’re just waiting on the permits.
I’m starting to like this Vashisht place. In retrospect, maybe I should’ve stayed up here instead of Old Manali. Seems like a slower, more relaxed kinda area.
The market here runs along the main and only road, with all the regular shops and stands (great fruit shakes). Me, sensing the cold nights ahead, I pick up some thick woolen socks. Hoping to, at least, save my toes.
It’s getting close to noon, and we still have some things ahead of us, so I think that’s a wrap for Vashisht. With the woolen socks secured and mikvah taken care of, I start heading back to the hotel.
Meanwhile, I send the mechanic to town on a search for gas containers. No gas stations for three days means our bike’s 15-liter tanks won't cut it. we’ll need about 10 extra liters per bike.
Exploring ManaliAnd so it is. 1 p.m. An hour later, I’m wrapping up my tefillin, water's boiling for my ‘tradition soup’ = lunch, and the mechanic walks in, mission accomplished and looking happy with himself.
He enters with a big smile on his face, waving four plastic jerricans. “5 liters each, 80 rupees apiece”. Looks good – should do the job. Without wasting time, he heads straight outside and gets to work strapping them to the bikes, One on each side:
When done, he rejoins me inside, while I'm enjoying my soup. He starts rattling off ideas for what we can do with the rest of the afternoon. Among the sightseeing options and all, almost as a side note, he mentions, "My father-in-law is in town today." I'm like “that's the one”. Let's go see him.
"Okay, okay, But first, we'll stop by the market in New Manali and make the basic rounds.”
Sounds like a plan. Soup finished, we hop back on our bikes and ride our way down to new manali. We reach the
Mall Road market, find a side street, park our bikes, because the whole area is closed to vehicles.
It's lively, mostly with Indian tourists. Feels like an outdoor mall/square market – shop after shop, all selling pretty much the same things: t-shirts, sweaters, shawls (lots of wool here), wooden handicrafts... you get the picture.
Mall road market (picture from google. didn't take many pictures today)
I wander through, schmoozing with shopkeepers, keeping an eye out for something interesting. Nothing is really jumping out at me, and besides, backpack space is prime realestate. Anything I buy now has to be schlepped all the way along.
Eventually, i spot the perfect gift: a Himachali hat and vest. Compact enough, and definitely a unique addition to the Purim costume box back home. I haggle a bit and pay ₹150 for the hat and about ₹700 for the vest.
For context: India has 28(ish) states, each one can feel like its own country—different languages, cultures, even dress. Often, just by looking at someone, you can guess where they’re from. Currently, we’re in the state of
Himachal Pradesh, and The hat and vest I just picked up are Classic Himachali. You'll spot locals wearing these everywhere.
Looks something like this: (image from google)
Gift shopping sorted, I stroll a bit deeper into the market, past the tourist stuff, towards the area where locals are doing their everyday shopping. At the vegetable stand, I get the attention of the guy, nod my head while pointing at what looks fresh: tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots, green chilies, and eggs. The shopkeeper bags them up. I hand him a 100-rupee note – dinner sorted. Simple, cheap, and fresh.
We grab some extra bungee cords, head back to the parked bikes, tie down the veggies and gifts, and with all secured, we're ready for the next stop:
His father-in-law"We'll take the scenic route," the mechanic says, turning onto a different road. Fine by me. To my surprise, the views are actually pretty great—even with it being monsoon. Every two minutes, he’s stopping for a commercial break. The kind where he just snaps away. Yeah, he’s big on pictures. Half my camera roll is probably just him.
“This angle, that angle, just me, now you..” You get the idea..
After what felt like his hundredth photo stop, we finally pull up to a
small mechanic shop – oil stains, tools all over the place. And there he is, the father-in-law, wiping grease off his hands, waiting for us.
He greets the mechanic. Like FIL, like SIL – he is also a mechanic. I stand there awkwardly with the spare tires, until the mechanic introduces me as the client he's guiding to Leh. The father-in-law smiles, and shakes my hand.
Trying to chat up the FIL a bit, I’m like, “Oh, so it's your daughter that he FaceTimes all the time”?
"Nono", the mechanic quickly corrects me: “This is my other wife’s father.”
Ok. perfect time to break the news to me. Yup. he’s got two wives. Muslim. Caught me a bit off guard, but sure. On the bright side, I guess now I feel less bad about taking a married man away from his family. As he's leaving one to be with the other anyhow, I assume.
Attal tunnelJust as we're getting ready to say our final goodbyes, the mechanic's phone rings. It's the permit guy from Vashisht. He starts with the bad news: getting those Rohtang La permits is a mess, probably not possible by tomorrow. He then continues with the good news as i see the mechanic's face light up "the Atal Tunnel is open".
Apparently, this tunnel is a big deal for Indians – (took them 10 years) just recently finished (seems like the mechanic wasn't aware that it finally opened) officially the world's longest tunnel above 10,000 feet — stretching 9km. It cuts right through the mountain, completely skipping the Rohtang Pass, which is the usual gateway and hurdle out of Manali.
"So, no permit needed for Rohtang?" I double-check.
"No permit! Tunnel going!" he confirms, practically bouncing with joy. Idk, he’s too excited about this tunnel. But hey if it gets us across.
This confirms that we can leave tomorrow morning — meaning we’ll be able to make it to leh for shabbos.
Well, alright then, with that weight off. The path forward seems clear.
Winding DownWith the Rohtang permit sorted via tunnel, and us done with our errands, all worries are gone... almost. There's still one issue I didn't mention yet. It's about the bikes. His bike - the RE Classic 350. it was lagging behind mine on the way up here, holding us back a bit.
Not wanting to continue this way, especially in the upcoming off-road settings, I decided to upgrade him to a RE Himalayan 410, same like I have. A bike far more fit for the rough himalayan terrain.
He’s old motorcycle:
A quick call to the boss in Delhi set things in motion. We meet up with a local guy who the boss was in touch with, and swapped the mechanics Classic 350 for another Himalayan. Quick, efficient, that was easy. Shout out to that boss. Now we were truly set.
Back at the hotel properly this time, I throw together a quick dinner: some eggs, pasta, and some sort of salad all made from our shopping spree earlier in the market.
That was some running around today, can use some sleep.
Lights out. Good night, Manali.thanks again again
@Yo ssi
