Searching spirituality aboard a CB350, Ft Honda Sunchasers

A detailed travelogue of the Honda Sunchasers 2022 ride to Ladakh which took us to Leh, Panging Tso, NUbra Valley, Chang La and Wari La passes.

The post Searching spirituality aboard a CB350, Ft Honda Sunchasers first appeared on Motoroids.

Barren land. Not a blade of grass in sight. The climate is uncannily cold and dry for what my bodily system is used to. There’s no wind though. The air sends a piercing sensation up my brain as I breathe it through my dried nostrils. As I climb this nondescript mound, I realize that the sound of my footsteps is highly amplified. The thin air has tired me at an accelerated rate. It’s a small mound, this, and yet, I’m panting heavily. As I reach the top, I find a suitable rock and rest my behind on it. As I look around, the passage of air through my airways sounds abnormally loud. I sit still, without any motion or thoughts for a few minutes. As my breathing settles down, I realize that there’s absolutely no sound to be heard. It’s the first time ever in my life that I am experiencing what complete silence feels like. And it’s got a sound of its own. It’s almost like I’ve developed a new sensory organ. For suddenly I am able to feel the flow of my blood through my body. And it’s making itself heard so perceptibly, this silence, my ears hear my heart pounding away, though it’s clearly at a resting bpm. Wait, did I hear myself blinking? I’ve never felt myself, my body, my organs, my very being so profoundly. It’s almost like I never knew who I was until now. I sit there, still, silent, feeling every atom of my body at work. There’s no splash or splurge of thoughts in my mind as I experience this state of existence. I’m just observing, feeling, marveling at the functioning of this wondrous assembly of flesh, blood and bones, and I feel it all at work, for the first time ever since I came into existence. Is this how you meditate? Probably. As for the first time, I feel one with my body. It’s like the universe has slid a key into the hole of a rusty old lock, and twisted it to unlock a window into my being, my existence. Look. That’s who you are. A once in a lifetime, transcendental realization of my existence as nothing more than sentient matter. A decoupling of my thinking capabilities from my mechanical existence. A total loss of ego. A realization of the utter and complete lack of consequence of my existence in the expanse of this vast desert, forget the earth or the Universe. There was nothing more for me to do, but to smile. Marvel at, and celebrate this miracle that I was. A moving, self sustaining, maybe intelligent being built out of dead matter. Every sensory organ, revealing itself and its purpose in all its nakedness, showing me how it’s nothing but a means to keep my body moving and alive. 

I knew there was going to be nothing, ever, that would disappoint me, after that moment. That rare moment I spent with myself in the prime of my youth, is probably something the yogis call atma sakshatkar, or your introduction to yourself. It really was one of the greatest experiences of my life. And it happened in the Himalayas.      

As I climbed down that mound, unwillingly, of course, I could feel my weight, my bones sliding over each other at the joints, my ears sensing even the slightest of the movement of the wind, and yet, all of these thoughts that I so fondly tap onto this white screen revealed themselves a lot later.

This was back in 2007. And it never happened again. Maybe because I never visited the Himalayas again. It’s only an irony that I can blame life to be a bitch and a half after having written what I just wrote. And while I have found a way to keep my happiness and sanity, in the end, there are mouths to feed and senses to please I guess. Opportunities presented themselves aplenty, but any trip to the Himalayas with one of the good brands is never less than 12-15 days. Didn’t want to be that selfish, and sometimes blamed it on a lack of time. Long story short, I never went back again to the Himalayas, and always wondered whether I’d ever be able to experience that spirituality again.  

So when I learned of the Honda Sunchasers event, towards the end of September, with an itinerary of only 6 days, I knew I had to hop aboard. Who knows, I might just stumble upon that divinity once again. I always liked Honda’s CB duo of the Highness and RS. Climbing the high altitude passes aboard the reliable Honda machines was therefore an experience that I could envisage myself enjoying. Right then, let’s do this again. After 14 long years!  

As I landed in Leh, some myths about acclimatization were instantly busted with my body acting as a guinea pig of sorts for my curious, and sometimes downlight stupid acts. The more experienced folks amongst us had told us to stay put, rest, and keep our movements to a bare minimum for the first two days. I duly complied. For the first two hours that is. So while there were cabs available, I decided to shuffle between the two hotels the entire group was staying in, on foot. The road was a good incline, I can tell you that. And I felt OK for the most part. Feeling encouraged by experiencing no mentionable negative symptoms, I was recorded by some doing my easy 5K run in the Leh market the next evening. And then I felt great, and unconquerable. Big mistake. 

The first day in Leh introduced me to the quaint little town, and its beautiful little market. I loved the flea market, and the main market where I loved the honesty and sincerity with which people go about their business. We needed duct tape for something, and the hardware store guy plainly told us the varieties available with him won’t serve our purpose. In a metro, they’d sell you non sticky bandages telling you how they were custom built for your needs, with a fake guarantee and a half. No beggars, no filth, no negativity. The Leh market radiates a nice, happy vibe and invites you to soak in that happy atmosphere. 

For me, personally, the V60 Americano at the cozy Lehvenda cafe was the piece de resistance. To find your little perch in the little balcony overlooking the market and the mosque, and sipping your cuppa with the crisp Himalayan air filling your lungs and a soulful azaan quenching your auditory senses was something I’ll always remember. The coffee itself was pretty good too, especially for a little place like Leh.

The Bodhi Greens terrace restaurant is another place worth a mention. The Beautifully appointed terrace restaurant has a casual, loungy setup and serves fantastic local cuisine. It’s a vegan joint, but the local fare that they serve is to die for. I’d wager you’d not find a better place overall, including ambience to sample the local fare in the Leh market. Their buddha bowl, wraps, baos, smoothies, fresh juices and desserts are fantastic, and the coffee is fabulous too.

Bang opposite this place, there’s another terrace restaurant, although not as lofty, but they serve a multitude of cuisines, mostly North Indian, and also have Live music.

Finally, for those of you who are into small authentic eateries, there’s the economical, yet deliciously spicy food at the Ladakhi Himalayan Kitchen.

Our first day in the saddle was a brief outing, which was kept intentionally short to allow us some more time to acclimatize before we climbed further up. The idea was to visit three monasteries close to Leh, spend some time there, have lunch and come back to our hotels and relax to be prepared for our ascent to the daunting KharDung La pass the next day. 

Now there are quite a few monasteries around Leh, and if you’re into history, arts, culture and architecture, there’s quite a lot to assimilate here. The monks still live by the guidelines laid out by their teachers, and their disciplined ways of life are something each one of us would benefit from. 

The most popular of them all, and the largest is the very well known Thiksey Monastery. Situated atop a hillock, about 19 kilometers from Leh, the Thiksey Monastery stands tall above the rest of the landscape. The grand structure resembles the Potala Palace in Lhasa, and is the largest gompa in central Ladakh. Situated at an altitude of 11,800 ft in the Indus Valley, the monastery has a separate set of buildings for female monks. The twelve-storey complex is a museum of sorts too, and houses artifacts, statues, wall paintings and swords. A 49 feet high statue of Maitreya, the largest such statue in Ladakh, is another highlight here. 

The gorgeous Stakna monastery, sitting atop a hill right next to the Turquoise waters of the Indus river was visited next. It’s a vantage point, offering fantastic views of the mountains in the distance, flatlands, and some other hillocks with other monasteries atop them. I was intrigued to see some artificial plantations in the otherwise barren valley ahead. Upon asking the locals I was informed that there’s been an effort to afforest the barren lands, though greens in this desert are a controversial topic and some believe that it isn’t entirely suited for the ecosystem. Greenery in some places attracts clouds and rain, causing flash floods and damage. I was also intrigued by the fact that the vegetation was rather monotonous, and most trees looked identical. The green landscape is dominated primarily by only two species I was told  – Poplar, which is the tall one and Willows, which is short, shrub-like one.  

The next stop was the Hemis Monastery, also known as the hidden monastery, as unlike the other monasteries which make themselves visible from a distance, the Hemis is nestled away in a valley and doesn’t reveal itself until you’re up close. Located at a distance of about 45 km from Leh, the monastery hosts the annual Hemis festival, which honors Padmasambhava.

The short ride to the three monasteries also gave me a chance to get familiar with the Honda CB350 RS, which was to be my ride for the rest of the trip on the Himalayan altitude and terrain. The engine runs vibe free, the torque is available from the very bottom of the rev range and the seating is just about perfect for my liking. I knew I wasn’t going to tire on this machine even if I had to ride for hours. The suspension is well set up, and everything feels sturdy as a rock. No squeals or squeaks, no beats missed, and while there always will be some loss of power as you climb to such high altitudes, there weren’t any signs of the motorcycle panting. The 350 single was turning over bends with great poise, and whatever small rough patches I encountered on the otherwise well paved surfaces leading up to the gompas, it took in its stride rather well. I was a little skeptical whether the slightly committed stance would allow for saddling, but as I tested it, there was no problem, and I was able to ride the pegs rather comfortably. Right then! I was well equipped to tackle the tough Himalayan terrain. Or was I? 

Mild symptoms of AMS had started kicking in by the time I climbed down the Hemis Monastery. This was probably down to the fact that I climbed up a tall set of stairs rather enthusiastically, and the advice I ignored about complete rest for the first two day had started to gnaw at my backside. the sense of indestructibility I had until now was somewhat melting down. I knew I had screwed up. By how much, I would find out soon. 

In the meantime, our stop for lunch at the Ladakh Sarai, a sprawling hotel and restaurant serving authentic local fare will always have a happy place in my memory. Fantastic Ladakhi fare which is prepared using ingredients which are largely grown by the resort owners themselves, ensures quality and freshness. The farm-to-table themed open air restaurant has a dreamy setting with mud structures and canopies which warps you back in time, making you feel as though you’re sitting in a quaint little village from medieval times.

The food, of course, is to die for. A lazy afternoon with some fabulous food, great company with a crisp, cool Himalayan air filling our lungs and bright white tufts of clouds sailing over the blue sky made for an experience which is simply unforgettable. Everything, and I mean, everything that was served was delicious. If you want a great dining experience, I would highly recommend this place. Visit during the day for the best experience. A hearty meal made me feel better. I hit the sack early that evening, as the call time was quite early the next morning. 

The next morning looked rather depressing. Things looked ominous from the very beginning, as we started our journey to conquer Khardung La, and then move further towards Nubra Valley. The sky was densely overcast, and there was a mild drizzle. The news from Khardung La wasn’t very bright either with a chance of snowfall. The light drizzle soon turned into a shower and before we knew it, the mountains flanking the road were clad in a layer of snow. A military check post at South Pullu won’t let the traffic move any further as the conditions higher up were even more treacherous with reports of foot-high snow covering the road. The group took a halt at a small dhaba, and waited to see if the weather relented. For a couple of hours, a group of 23 riders and members from the Honda team and filming crew were housed inside a dark, yet cozy little structure. 

Introductions happened, stories were exchanged, some laughs were shared and for the three hours for which we waited, some new bonds and friendships were formed. After endless rounds of omelets, maggi, coffees and chai, the unpleasant news of the authorities refusing to allow any traffic further up was conveyed to us. We turned around and started our descent back to the hotel. We were a mere 14 kilometers short of the world’s second highest pass. It was disappointing, but the conversations and friendships we won more than made up for the loss. 

This would be an opportune point in the story to share some pointers about the riding gear that you need to carry, while in Ladakh, and a few other things you need to be careful about. The weather in the Himalayas is highly unpredictable, so it’s always advisable to travel in gear that can handle both cold and water. Waterproof gloves, pants and boots are essential. A raincoat that covers your riding jacket is also absolutely necessary, especially if you are traveling during the fag end of monsoon or during early winter. In case you get stuck with inclement weather, do not attempt to ride if the weather is cold or if it’s raining or snowing. The sub zero temperatures, along with the wind chill factor can cause more damage than you think. While cold, fever and body aches can be the more common outcomes, if you’re not careful, you might even end up losing a finger or two owing to a frostbite.

If you don’t have appropriate gear, or the funds to buy it, make sure you have surgical gloves, some polythene bags, rain pants and a basic rain jacket at the very least. Put your gloves on only after you have put the surgical gloves on, so that your fingers are protected against wetness and wind. Cover your feet in polythene bags before putting the shoes on to keep them dry. These are all makedo arrangements, if you really get stuck in a situation. Riding is a rather expensive hobby and weather appropriate gear is a worthy investment if you’re serious about it. Make sure your helmet has a pinlock visor, and buy gear which comes with liners offering some protection against the elements, even if you’re not going with the top-drawer stuff.

The third riding day was picture perfect, with the sun shining bright, and the cool air inviting us to go out and have a riot of a ride. As we rode out of Leh, I realized how fast this once tiny little town is expanding. The area it covers seems to be increasing at a rapid pace, with new construction visible at all the outskirts. Hundreds of new buildings are coming up, and with it comes traffic, dust and pollution. So if you are riding in or around Leh, you would probably not find it to be the dreamy little paradise you expected it to be. There is noise, traffic, dust and pollution, and since the air by itself is thin and clear, the pollution hits your senses even more intensely. Add to it the fact that the spent fumes from exhaust aren’t as well burnt as in lower altitudes, which makes them carbon monoxide and smoke heavy, creating a nauseating affect whenever you trail a truck or pass an oncoming bus. The experience riding out of Leh, from an air pollution perspective is the complete antithesis of what a commoner would expect.

We were to climb the Mighty Chang La, the 3rd loftiest mountain pass in the world. And it isn’t called mighty without a reason. While the roads for the Khardung La and the Umling La passes are properly tarred and are generally in a good shape, the route leading up to Chang La is still quite rugged. And at 17,888 feet, there’s barely a 400 feet difference between Khardung La and Chang La. The longer, more circuitous route, bad roads and heavier traffic, especially if it has snowed, makes Chang La a much tougher challenge to conquer than Khardung La. 

Now the thumb rule to stay well while climbing up mountains states that you shouldn’t climb more than 1000 meters or 3000-3500 feet in a day. You should also keep sipping water through the ascent, not exert your body, and carry proper medication if things begin to go south. In my case, I was climbing from 11500 feet to near 18,000, and at a rapid pace. Though I didn’t realize that it could hit me (very) adversely then. I didn’t carry water along to keep sipping, and was being overly enthusiastic, which resulted in exaggerated, heavily exerting body movements. Big mistake. 

We were to conquer Chang La, and make our way to the scenic Pangong Tso. En route, we took a few stops, including one at a nondescript food outlet serving tea, coffee, maggi and egg omelets. Should have gone with the safer choice of Maggi, but I opted for fried egg, and the oil didn’t agree with me. The sickness didn’t kick in immediately, though, and I enjoyed my moment under the sun for a little while, with a kerchief covering my face and filtering out the harsher rays. As I lay on my back basking in the crisp Himalayan air for about 15 minutes on a rock, facing the sky, I felt as though I had been warped into a different universe altogether. 

I also stumbled upon an Israeli doppelganger of Sacha Baron Cohen, aka Borat, namely Raav who was following the same route as us. I also met an enthusiastic group of riders from Rajasthan and Haryana, who acknowledged that they followed Motoroids. To know that they were not regular bikers, yet had taken care to invest in basic riding gear was heartening. 

As we moved further from this point, I started experiencing Ladakh in its true colors, sights and sounds. The picture perfect landscape kept changing, enchanting me with its outworldly beauty. Ladakh is essentially a desert, but even so, how every turn opens a new vista, a new landscape, a new experience is astounding. I observed that the mountains are broadly either reddish brown, or gray in color, which by itself can look monotonous. However, nature’s trick is to shade these mountains with patches of cloud shadow, which adds contrast and layer to the picture, which along with the bluest of the blue skies and patches of whitest white clouds makes the scenery come alive, and look like nothing else on the planet.

Sometimes you’re just riding over fragments of rocks and suddenly you see a sea of gray dust for as far as your eyes can see. And then, after the very next turn you have a river flowing next to you, with patches of dull green shrubbery, flanking the turquoise shade of the waters. An hour after riding through a myriad of landscapes, I realized that we had started our ascent to the Mighty Chang La. 

It snowed the previous night, and Chang La ensured that we didn’t miss the good old adventure that climbing up a Himlaayan pass used to be when the roads were still almost completely unpaved. Previous evening’s snowfall had brought the traffic to a halt and long convoys of military trucks which were held up until now were slowly making their way down. Along with the fresh ice on the surface, and the nauseating smoke coming out of the vehicles’ exhaust, which on occasion was completely black, or worse completely white made our lives inside the helmet quite miserable. On a few occasions the plumes of smoke spewed out by trucks were so big and dense that I got completely blinded for a few seconds.

Some of the lesser experienced riders were also finding it difficult to find traction on the slippery surface, where any amount of extra throttle input would lead to a wheelspin and a potential fall. Quite a few of the riders took a fall, and the seasoned ones who helped them get up and get astride their steeds exerted their bodies more than they should have and developed AMS symptoms. One could never leave a biking buddy behind though. 

While the climb up was a snarl for most, I managed to reach the top along with the lead group, and the swift ascent, in my case, played its part in inducing heavy AMS symptoms. The snow covered peaks, and the whitewashed valleys were the visual highlight at the Chang La peak. It is generally not advised that you spend too much time at the top of a mountain pass, as the air is the thinnest there. Unfortunately, having been one of the first to have reached the top, I spent quite a while before the entire group regathered, and the lack of oxygen at near 18,000 feet would turn the rest of the ride into a disaster for me. A while later, as the group regathered, we started our descent. 

A funny incident involving two riders exchanging their same coloured bikes by accident, and one of them thinking he lost his saddle bag somewhere along the way created a once serious, and later hilarious situation. I had developed AMS symptoms by now, but it didn’t occur to me that I should drink water.  With some really inviting twisties on our way downhill, the ever intent biker inside me ensured I made quick work of climbing down. What that meant was, by the time we reached Durbuk, the designated place for a halt, tea and snacks. I had a throbbing head and nausea which was demanding me to immediately unmount the bike and carry on the rest of the journey in a horizontal state. I never take medicine, though, and I don’t give up, until my body is dysfunctional. And so I carried on.

The route from Durbuk, all the way to Pangong Tso was mostly a broken patch with no tar, dusty surface, landslides slowing down the progress and arguably the toughest terrain of the entire journey. I kept it slow, took deep breaths, but despite some nice beautiful landscapes along the way and the sight of some cute little marmots, the journey was agonizingly painful to put it mildly. 

Finally, a descent down a hill and the subsequent ascent through a broken road showed us the first glimpse of the divinely beautiful Pangong Tso. I soaked in the sights, with the sun still shining bright over the mountain, letting the beautiful lake shine and glitter in the most brilliant shade of blue. 

Just because I was excited didn’t mean I was well. But I took a chair and soaked in the sights until the sun went below the mountain and took some of the charm away from the massive water body, which also happens to be the largest saltwater lake in the world. 

Our hotel was about 20 kilometers from the point where we stopped for snacks and beverages. Ideally, I should have headed straight to the hotel, and the bed. However, even with a throbbing head, weakness and severe nausea, I couldn’t stop myself from going off the tar and descending down to the banks of the beautiful lake and experiencing it up close. 

We were staying in a hotel situated on the banks of the Pangong Tso. While my heart wanted me to muster all the remaining energy and will I had, and drag my behind to the pretty lake, my brain told me otherwise. I let sense prevail, and hit the sack to get some rest for a couple of hours. Once up again, after a hearty meal I felt better. 

It was dark, and I wasn’t feeling fully well, but to spend some time on the lake’s shore under a starry night was on my list, and I would ensure I checked it off anyway. I walked down to the banks of the lake once the sun went down and experienced its sounds and sights with stars shining bright above me. I spent some time sitting on the rocks next to the lakes, listening to the sound of the waves splashing against the rocky banks as the freezing cold Himalayan air tried to tell me I was a complete nutcase. I took some long exposure images of the lake too. After a while, I decided to climb my way back up to the hotel. In no time, I realized I had committed another foolery. At such altitudes, especially for the tourists, any physical exertion can do severe damage. You have to keep your movements extremely limited. I had just started feeling better after a severe bout of AMS and the climb up to the hotel had brought the bearded headache back. By the time I reached my room, there were monsters partying inside my cranium. I wanted to stay up till late and experience the light show of the stars but decided against it, as the veins inside my head were pulsating with threatening intensity. I had to ensure I was fit to ride again the next day. 

A good night’s sleep fixed me and I was raring to go. We had ample time in the morning to experience Pangong Tso in all its glory up close. And so I did. 

We started late and traced our way back to Burduk, which was the dusty broken patch. But surprisingly, with the AMS symptoms gone, I loved my time saddling and going fast over rocks. Once past Burduk, the quality of the roads and the landscape simply turned around. A little more than an hour into the ride, I stumbled upon some of the most beautiful valleys I have ever seen. Greens pastures with rivers carrying mineral rich water, made the landscapes appear as though it was painted to depict some middle age folklore. 

I have never seen wild horses graze and run so freely. And for the precious few minutes I sat next to the river and watched the beasts about their business will be remembered fondly by me forever. 

The ride ahead towards Agham was a deeply satisfying one too. We started off with cliffs on either side of the road and a river running alongside with the fastest ones amongst us riding briskly in a file formation, literally carving our way through the canyons. I felt like I was in a state of trance, swaying side to side with the road. Every now and then we would come across kilometer or so long rough patches, offering an eclectic mix of challenging riding conditions, adding to the memorable experience. 

We made quick time to Agham, where a beautiful bungalow turned into a restaurant served us freshly prepared food which was simple, yet light and delicious. 

The road ahead led us on to the stunning Wari La pass. While the climb to this less used road connecting Pangong Tso to the Nubra Valley is relatively unpaved and challenging, I thoroughly enjoyed my way up, starting from the back of the bunch and going full throttle in the first two gears (no, you can’t engage third, as oxygen is sparse, the climb is steep and if you shift into a higher gear the bikes are simply going to die on you) and making my way to the front of the group. 

Unlike Chang La, where the snow on the road made riding difficult, reducing traction, the climb up to Wari La had snow only on the flanks, offering some beautiful views and making every moment of tbe climb a properly enjoyable and memorable one. 

If the climb up this sensational road was memorable, the climb down has to be one of the most liberating, blissful and uplifting times I’ve ever had aboard a motorcycle. The descent down the Wari La is through tar roads which are immaculately well paved. Far away in the distance, you have the fantastic view of some of the most beautiful snow capped Himalayan peaks in sight, making the experience a properly exotic one. The gradient is sharp which creates a challenge for the skilled rider. The ride down includes scores of bends of a wide variety, including sweeping curves, to some really tight hairpins, making it a thorough test for a keen rider’s control on the bike. The tricky bit here is that every corner has some really fine sand sitting right in the middle of the road. One wrong move and you’d be seen tumbling down several hundred feet. 

During the descent from Wari La, our lead rider got possessed by the speed demon and a bunch of four of us riders broke away from the rest of the group by a mile and a half. We rode down the pass in the most dangerously enchanting manner possible. I could feel a proper rush of blood through my veins and that of a double espresso dose of dopamine through my head. 

And just when we thought we were pushing ourselves a little too hard to comply with the health and safety protocol, we decided to skip a bunch of loops and took a dive into a dangerously steep downhill slope consisting only of sand and rocks. As we rolled down the hill, with first gear engaged and going down uncontrollably over some really hazardous bumps with the engine at the edge of its tolerance, gravity overpowering engine braking and the front suspension wailing for mercy, we figured we’ve had some of the best moments aboard a motorcycle yet.

The rest of the ride was brisk, but what happened during our descent from Wari La would have that one hour etched in our memories forever .

We eased into Leh for the rest of the ride, and a jubilant evening, with every face wearing a wide smile was proof that there’s no better route to happiness than the one taken aboard a set of two-wheels.

A word about the motorcycle as well. While there are other makers who organize such rides on a regular basis, the instances of motorcycles breaking on the riders is quite common during such rides. The legendary Honda build quality, engineering and adaptability to a rugged environment and terrain was on full display during the Sunchasers event. Of the 23 motorcycles which participated in this expedition, not even a single bike had any issues whatsoever. Despite the air being thin, the motorcycles offered appreciable performance for their cubic capacity and power output. Quite a few motorcycles took a tumble as well, but each one soldiered on with no serious damage sustained. There were zero instances of overheating or loss of power, despite us wringing the neck of our machines for the most part. While not custom built for rugged, high altitude terrain, the CB 350 RS that I was riding responded fabulously to the innumerable broken patches and rocky surfaces which one would like to think would require a proper ADV. At no point did I find the ground clearance to be lacking, and some really long, viciously punishing stretches were disposed of with disdain by the humble Honda. The handling was on point too, and with its fabulous weight distribution and superbly setup suspension, the CB350 showed commendable poise, balance and character on the road for a motorcycle which isn’t exactly meant to be ridden fast. The CB350 is up for a challenge, on or off the road when the conditions demand it. Sure, the front suspension is firm, which helps its dependable handling when you lean it hard, and feels like it could have done with a little more softness or travel when off the road, but doesn’t once whimper when you throw it at the rocks. As soon as off the road, I was almost always saddling it, and it took even the toughest challenges in its stride with aplomb. 

Another great thing about the motorcycle is its fabulous seat and the flawless rider triangle. Despite spending long hours on the motorcycles, sometimes at a slower pace, which often was the case with the newer riders who were trailing the pack, not a single rider complained of tiredness or any aches. Seasoned riders would know how important a factor it is, and how a badly built seat, a jarring suspension or a bad rider triangle can rattle your joints in no time. The CB 350 RS simply excelled in that department, and not once did I feel fatigued on the saddle. It’s vibe free, and loaded with truckloads of torque right at the bottom of the barrel, allowing effortless acceleration. To top it all, with its sorted dynamics and decent performance, it’s engaging and exciting too for a wide majority of riders. If a motorcycle can perform with such trouble free character at such high altitudes, it will, everywhere else as well. As a cherry on top, it sounds fantastic, and looks like a million dollars for someone who wants a big, metallic, classic look for his machine.

I didn’t find the peace and solitude that I was hoping to stumble upon once again. It had been fourteen long years since I first visited Ladakh and experienced spirituality. Nonetheless, I quenched my senses with some amazing visual treats, made some fantastic new friends and had some of the best times ever aboard two wheels. I’m back to base now, but the Himalayas beckon, and the lure of exploring new lands, meeting new people and living new experiences shall take me back to the enchanted realm called Ladakh much sooner this time. 

The post Searching spirituality aboard a CB350, Ft Honda Sunchasers first appeared on Motoroids.