In June last year I had a near death experience; several near death experiences actually. All of which happened whilst travelling around the mountainous Northern echelons of the sub-continent in the back of a more than questionable bus, driven, or perhaps more aptly – hurtled, around the most indescribably terrifying passes on earth. They say that Bolivia is home to the world’s most dangerous road, they call it ‘El Camino del Muerte’; the road of death. Around 26 busses packed with tourists and locals alike plunge over the edge every year into the precipice of doom, not to mention the droves of thrill seeking cyclists who over shoot on any one of the 130km of unforgiving bends. It is a truly bone chilling experience that would have even the most hardened of atheistic nut cases reaching for the nearest edition of the King James. I know as I spent the best part of 50 hours stuck between two landslides on the very same road whilst journeying towards the Amazon basin.
The statistics speak for themselves; however I believe the title of ‘World’s Most Dangerous Road’ only applies because the Bolivians are actually keeping count of the lives claimed every year. The road, if you can call it that, between Leh, India’s Northern most town and final outpost before Tibet and Manali deep in the heart of the Parvati Valley, claims as many lives in a month as ‘El Camino del Muerte’ does in a whole year. The reason the deaths aren’t documented is because the Himalayas are so high that when a bus disappears over the edge, it is lost forever along with the doomed souls within.
Having stopped for a yaks milk hot chocolate at the highest service station on earth; no more than a handful of Tibetan yurts at well over 5000 metres above sea level, I climbed back into the bus and held on for dear life as we climbed further still to the world’s highest drivable pass at nearly 5600 metres, 1000 metres higher than anywhere in continental Europe. Even when we’d reached our highest point the mighty Himalayas loomed dramatically above us pushing well past the 7000 metre mark; nowhere on earth does one get such a humbling feeling of perceptive enormity.
We began our descent out of the sub zero summer temperatures into more temporal climbs, dramatic waterfalls cascaded out of the clouds down the valley walls and out of sight into the caverns below. We passed a large group of motorcyclists roaring up the gravel track astride their Enfield 500s, bellowing as they tore up on the inside line. The final biker misjudged the corner and flew past in front of our bus; as if in slow motion I panned across and watched in dumb founded horror as he disappeared over the edge drifting weightlessly away from his saddle and out of sight.
“Stop the bus”, I screamed.
The driver who hadn’t quite registered what had happened slowed down and drove aimlessly toward the edge.
“Stop the fucking bus”, I shouted even louder.
I pulled back the door and jumped out, running towards the edge and looking down into a ravine with a fast flowing stream gushing over sharp glacial rocks. It took me a few moments to focus on him, but when I did I saw two leather clad legs protruding from underneath a 200kg motorcycle; he was face down in the water with the bike lying on top of him.
With the adrenaline coursing through my veins I jumped off the edge into two feet of scree and slid manically down the fifty or so feet to the water’s edge, before clambering up the steep incline through the gushing torrent to where the bike lay with the man beneath it. The machine weighed next to nothing as I picked it up and threw it off him; by this time two of his riding partners had descended down the other side of the gorge and together we pulled him out of the water and onto his back. His eyes were in the back of his head, blood was pouring down his forehead and there was white froth coming from his mouth.
Did the froth mean he was breathing? Was it his last breath leaving his lifeless body? Had I just seen someone die right in front of me?
His eyes rolled forward and water spluttered from his mouth, he was delirious, but he was alive. I stepped back to give him some space and let his friends take care of him. They thanked me for reacting so quickly and I clambered back up the slope to where my terrified girlfriend stood next to the bus; by this time a hoard of apathetic locals had gathered to look on, some with apparent amusement, at the scene which had unfolded below.
Back on the bus we drove for another 20 minutes till we reached a plateau with a Chai shop, I sat down with a cup of tea and unashamedly shed a few tears. I’ve never felt so shaken in my life.
When we finally arrived in Manali another 20 hours and several peaks later I slept like a baby, never have I felt so happy to have my own two feet on the ground. The next day we sat in a café all day writing about our experiences, gazing out across the misty river valley, and eating some of the most delicious Tibetan food in town. Which brings me round, finally, to the Chicken Satay Momos.
Ingredients: (Serves 4)
You’ll need a Chinese bamboo steamer for this, or a vegetable steamer
1 cooked rotisserie chicken, all the meat shredded
1 large red onion, finely chopped
3cm root ginger, crushed
1 red chilli, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, crushed
6 spring onions, chopped into 3cm lengths
2 tablespoons smooth peanut butter
2 tablespoons light soy sauce
3 cups plain flour
1 - 2 cups of water
4 tablespoons Sweet chilli sauce
1 tablespoon dark soy sauce
1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil
Ground nut oil for frying
1. In a bowl make a well in the flour and pour in the water, mix well into a dough (as for bread making), knead for 5/10 minutes until not sticky any more. You will need to dust your work surface with flour so your dough doesn’t stick. When you’ve done kneading it whack it in a bowl and cover it with a wet tea towel and set aside for half an hour.
2. In a frying pan add a slug of ground nut oil and fry the onions, garlic, chilli and ginger for a few minutes till the onions soften. Chuck in the chicken and mix well, then add the peanut butter and melt it through. Finally add the soy sauce and stir well, fry for another couple of minutes and take off the heat.
3. Now get the dough and roll it into a long sausage about 3cm thick, cut this into lengths about half the size of your index finger and roll each segment out into a thin circle about 10cm across, making sure that the dough is thinner at the edges. This is because when you come to twist them together they aren’t too thick and doughy on top.
4. Place a heaped dollop of the chicken satay mix into the middle of each dough circle, and pull up the edge over the top in a clockwise direction till the mix is covered, twist them closed. Do this to all of them and put them in the top segment of the Chinese / vegetable steamer. Pour a couple of inches of water into a wok and put the steamer on top. Cook them for 10 – 15 minutes or until the dough is dry to touch and not sticky. Then chuck in the chopped spring onions and drizzle a little soy over the momos, steam for a further 2 minutes and take off the heat.
5. Serve with the dip made from the sesame, sweet chilli and dark soy.
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