Audi Q7 Ladakh Roadtrip Feature - Quest for Adventure

India’s national highway network has grown by 60% in the past decade. If that isn’t reason alone for a road trip, I don’t know what is.

The last time I drove to or from Ladakh was a decade ago. On that journey, we got snowed in between the high passes of Baralacha and Taglang La – forcing us to spend the night in a tent on the freezing plains of Sarchu. Fortunately, a hot water bottle saw me through the night. But things have changed quite considerably since.

Gone are the narrow dirt trails and treacherous drops. Well, the drops are still there, but now they’re concealed behind a ribbon of neat Armco. The dirt tracks that previously doubled as rally stages on the Raid de Himalaya are now gone and have been replaced by two– and sometimes even four–lane highways that make accessing some of the highest motorable roads in the world an absolute breeze.

Call of the Mountains

On this occasion, we were driving from Delhi to Leh, with a couple of detours that included Pangong Tso – the world’s highest saltwater lake at over 14,000 feet. The first leg was Delhi to Kullu – an almost 500-kilometre journey that took a little over nine hours at a pretty relaxed pace.

Sadly, the green fields on the way to Chandigarh have all but vanished and given way to a concrete jungle that lines both sides of NH44 for mile-after-dreary-mile. The Q7 makes quick work of it though – the 3.0-litre turbo-petrol V6 dismissing everything in its wake, while the 19-speaker Bang & Olufsen sound system keeps you totally isolated from the chaos outside.

Day 2 was easier still, with just a 4-hour journey to Jispa – well short of dreaded Sarchu. This was my first time through the Atal tunnel, which is a spectacular feat of engineering. You enter the 9-kilometre tunnel via a deciduous forest en route to the Rohtang Pass and exit right into the belly of the high-altitude desert that is the Spiti Valley. In fact, the journey was so easy that next time I may head straight to Jispa from Delhi – a journey that, in 2007, took me a full 21 hours nonstop.

Day 3 was over 300-kilometers of high-passes all the way to Leh, but even this once-fearsome journey was smooth-sailing and took just over 7 hours. My memories of this drive consist of charting your own course through the More Plains, in stark contrast to the now beautiful stretch of tarmac that not only cuts through the plains but also snakes its way up the mountain and all the way to Taglang La. There are, of course, some broken stretches, but nothing that the Q7 can’t handle without even breaking a sweat.

Before we knew it, we had entered Leh and were driving past the Thiksey monastery. Here, again, I was amazed at the scale of development. A decade ago, you could see Thiksey from afar – perched on top of a hill. Now, it creeps up on you because of the sheer volume of construction in and around Leh.

If you do, nevertheless, want to step back in time, you need to head past Leh and keep going for about an hour-and-a-half towards Kargil, before turning off abruptly in the direction of the village of Mangyu. The village itself is beautiful and quaint, while the monastery is absolutely stunning with its with 800-year-old wall paintings and sculptures. We even got a chance to do some serious off-roading both to-and-from the village – which, thanks to some razor-sharp rocks underfoot, ensured we had a reason to test the hydraulic jack and full-size spare that we brought with us in the event of that inevitable flat tyre.

A full-size spare wheel and tyre are absolutely essential on a journey such as this. So is, of course, a hydraulic jack, an air compressor and a tyre repair kit. We may have gone overboard because we even brought an oxygen concentrator, as well as a portable power station to run it on the go. Fortunately, it stayed well packed in one corner of the boot the whole time. The spare tyre, though, proved to be very useful.

Other than the flat, the Q7 was completely faultless. The air suspension, in particular, deserves special mention. It gives you almost 250mm of ground clearance, which was particularly useful during our daytrip to Pangong Lake. It’s a ten-hour slog to and from Leh, but is well worth the trip. The last, and only, time I visited Pangong was in 2007, and the crystal-clear water reflecting that incredible Himalayan sky to create an Impressionist canvas of indigo hues was a view that I’ve longed for ever since. Needless to say, it didn’t disappoint!

Here, again, the drive has been completely transformed – the highway was so wide in some stretches that it looked as though you could hold a military parade if you so wish, which, come to think of it, is precisely why the roads in these border areas have become unrecognisable. Especially after the 2020 Galwan skirmish, the road building efforts across the northern frontier have been in overdrive.

I have to say, though, that I miss the heyday of the Raid de Himalaya – the best motoring experience I’ve ever had, bar none. I remember being awestruck during my first attempt in 2006. At the time, my rally Gypsy was brand new, and so we even came away with some silverware for our efforts. The rally was so gruelling, though, that one event was enough to have an enduring impact on the car – literally – so-much-so that we were plagued with mechanical trouble in subsequent years. They say you’ve never really lived until you’ve lived on the edge! Perhaps that explains the euphoria of an event like the Raid, with terrain the likes of which you can only experience in the upper reaches of the Himalayas. The journey now is, of course, a lot safer and more accessible but also a little anodyne as a result. Don’t get me wrong, the views are still spectacular, but you don’t feel the same level of accomplishment on completing it like you did before.

That being said, there’s no better machine than the Audi Q7 in which to embark on such a road trip – the refinement, comfort and levels of usability are second to none, as is the ease with which it handles everything that’s thrown at it.

And while all the development has meant that some of the charm is lost, it also means that you just have to look that little bit harder to seek out those really special experiences. Take, for instance, the morning prayers at the Thikse monastery – where the monks let you in to get a brief, but very insightful, glimpse into their daily lives. They even offer you butter tea, as you join them for morning prayers with a side of porridge. It’s incredibly peaceful, and a testament to an incredible and enduring culture. And if ever there was a time for those Buddhist prayer flags to carry the message of compassion and wisdom, it’s now.

The Wi-Fi password at our hotel in Leh was ‘responsible-tourism,’ a subliminal message that needs to be far more overt to protect the fragile ecosystem of this majestic land. As we modernise the face of this nation, we also need to be mindful to retain the identity, culture and diversity of this incredible land as we make these remote corners more accessible with each passing day.