Niharika Singh Dalal, a PADI-certified rescue diver and an off-road enthusiast, embarked on an extraordinary journey from Gurgaon to Leh to participate in the Ladakh Marathon. She arrived days in advance to acclimatise to the altitude and was determined to bring along her loyal golden retriever, Theia Singh Thomas. Dalal and Theia hope to make this trip a yearly pilgrimage. In the first part of her travelogue, she described the journey to Leh. In this second part, the adventure continues after their arrival.

　　It took us three days to travel from Gurgaon to Leh, divided into three parts: day one was from Gurgaon to Manali, day two was from Manali to Jispa, and day three was from Jispa to Leh. We planned to stay in Leh for 18 days because of the Ladakh Marathon and the Outback Festival, so we wanted to book an affordable place to stay.

　　I made a reservation at a highly-rated hotel on Booking.com. I spoke with the person in charge of our stay several times. When I inquired about parking, I mentioned that I drive an Isuzu, and he assured me that plenty of parking was available and that dogs were welcome. There is also a garden where our dog can walk. The location was perfect, just a minute's walk from the main market.

　　Unfortunately, this was a prime example of how photographs on booking websites can be misleading. After a long journey and not feeling my best, we arrived at the narrow alley's entrance leading to a homestay. The parking space was barely large enough to fit a small car. I had to manoeuvre my truck for about 20 meters to get it out.

　　Our stay was similar to any other budget accommodation, except the promised garden was just a small 5ft by 5ft patch of grass. The lady who owned the house didn't seem pleased to see our dog and repeatedly suggested we find another place to stay. Eventually, the gentleman who managed the house escorted us to another hotel owned by his relative in Choglamsar, a settlement on the outskirts of Leh.

　　Feeling tired and hungry, we hopped back into the truck and drove to this hotel with our pet in tow. While we didn’t mind staying in Choglamsar, we realised it was located in the heart of the village, making driving to Leh daily with Theia impractical.

　　We began reaching out for assistance, and my friend Sam, who was travelling with Theia and me, contacted Stanzin, the owner of The Kaal in Skara, Leh, through some acquaintances. He welcomed us, and we were grateful for a place to stay for the night. Little did I know that Theia and I would love this hotel. It would become our home for the next 12 days, and we would come to know the staff by their first names.

　　Theia and I met Stanzin during our last trip to Leh when we visited The Kaal to drop off a friend who was my riding partner at the time. The adventure and motorcycle community in that area is small, and it felt like everyone knew each other. This made me feel safe and at home at The Kaal. As a mother, my first instinct is to find a comfortable environment for my child to eat and sleep, which allowed me to relax and sleep peacefully.

　　With only seven days until the Ladakh Marathon and a furry companion in tow, I had no idea how much I had taken on. My coach, monitoring my progress remotely, had put together a specific training programme I needed to follow in the lead-up to the marathon.

　　The Kaal's kitchen kindly prepared boiled chicken with vegetables for Theia, and every morning at breakfast, her highness was given two boiled eggs. The hotel features a lovely green outdoor space, which was a blessing for us. I couldn't take Theia for extended walks around the village due to the pack of mountain dogs surrounding Skara village. While mountain dogs are beautiful, they are very territorial. With an urban dog in their territory, I wouldn’t risk being attacked by a group of them. Instead, we used the hotel's green space as our doggy gym.

　　I would make Theia chase her pink rubber ball every morning and evening for half an hour. The mother-daughter duo became part of the hotel entertainment for other guests. Fortunately, most of the visitors at The Kaal are explorers, bikers, truckers, or travellers. This community is filled with dog lovers, and Theia knows how to charm everyone around her. We didn’t need to excuse ourselves from any part of the hotel; in fact, it was the opposite. People approached us to pet Theia and to ask what it was like to travel with a dog.

　　Godzilla Village and Mr. Miyagi

　　Sam and I needed to head to the Marathon Expo to pick up our BIB numbers from The NDS Memorial Stadium, about five to ten minutes away from The Kaal, depending on morning traffic. As a rookie runner, this was only my second time registering for this prestigious marathon. I never imagined that after a year and a half of running, I would sign up for a 21k at such a high altitude. The Ladakh Marathon is the highest marathon globally, at elevations ranging from 11,500 to 17,618 feet. During the run, I would be exposed to a maximum altitude of approximately 11,700 feet.

　　My running route differed from Sam's because he was completing a 42-kilometre race, while I only ran 21 kilometres, which passed through Saboo village. Cold sweat trickled down my back as I remembered that I had only visited Saboo once before. The terrain was quite hilly, making this run challenging. After returning to the hotel, the run path lingered in my mind throughout the day. I decided to take a drive with Theia to explore Saboo village. If you are driving to Saboo from Leh, you'll find this Mars-like hill town on your left-hand side. I never expected that this modest community, home to about 400 dwellings, would grow to such a monumental scale in my imagination.

　　Yes, the run was going to be challenging because there were several climbs along the way. I even overheard a few veteran runners mention that this year's 21k course was more difficult than the 42k. However, when I spoke with my coach, who I like to think of as a younger version of Mr. Miyagi from the movie "Karate Kid," he politely advised me, "Do your own work and don’t pay attention to what others are saying."

　　My coach, Siddhant Chauhan, often emphasises the importance of balance with his own words, echoing Mr. Miyagi's wisdom: “Better learn balance. Balance is key. Balance good, karate good. Everything good. Balance bad, better pack up and go home. Understand?”

　　Laughing Monks Must Hold On To Their Cameras

　　I started waking up at 5 am to walk Theia, feed her, and then go for my practice runs. She has become so accustomed to my running routine that I never feel guilty about leaving her. As soon as I take off her harness, she jumps into bed and pretends to sleep. I leave her watching Gilmore Girls on my laptop. Since I’ve been enjoying the show lately, it has become a familiar background theme for her.

　　One morning after training, I decided to take Theia to Thiksey Monastery. During my previous visits, I had noticed mountain dogs around the monastery, but I wasn't sure if they allowed pets inside. Sam also decided to join us, so the three of us loaded back into the truck. During office hours, the drive from Skara to Thiksey takes about 45 minutes, although minor traffic jams can occur on the Leh-Manali highway. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that Thiksey Monastery welcomes pets and has no entry fee. Unfortunately, humans aren't so lucky.

　　I've always wanted to bring our late dog, Rio, to Thiksey. After Rio passed away, my husband and I visited Thiksey to pray for him. At the very least, our younger child would have the chance to experience it in person. I had visited Thiksey several times before. This ancient site was established in 1433 AD. Now, I was experiencing it as a dog mom through our dog, Theia.

　　I know that monks are fond of animals, and I believe many of them adore dogs. One monk even offered to take Theia for a walk, but my spoiled child refused to let anyone except her mom and dad hold her leash. I think she sensed the monk's disappointment and jumped up to give him a kiss. In the excitement, she accidentally knocked his phone out of his hand. Thankfully, nothing broke, and even the monk laughed about it.

　　Dogs are allowed in the monastery but not in the main temple, so we stood outside the Buddha temple, asking for blessings. It was a beautiful moment, surrounded by Buddhist hymns, the Lamajis (monks), and stunning views of the Stok Range and the Indus River. Over the next few days, Theia and I went on many drives, and our hotel began to feel like home. We both enjoy a set schedule and every day after training, I would plan an adventure for her.

　　The Defenders of Kada Pasad

　　One day, we drove all the way to Gurudwara Pathar Sahib. I visited the gurudwara in 2023 and felt a deep spiritual connection. I really wanted Babaji to bless my little furball. I knew we wouldn’t be allowed inside the gurudwara, but we could pray just outside its walls, and that would suffice. Moreover, the drive from Leh to Pathar Sahib is breathtaking. The Lamas of Ladakh built Gurudwara Pathar Sahib in 1517 to honour Guru Nanak, who visited the region during his third Udasi (spiritual journey). The gurudwara is named after the stone (pathar) that bears Guru Nanak's imprint

　　According to the legend, Guru Nanak was meditating near the Indus River when a demon from a nearby hill attempted to crush him with a huge boulder. However, when the boulder touched Guru Nanak, it melted like wax and became as soft as cotton. The demon was astonished by this miracle, realized his mistake, and apologized to Guru Nanak, eventually becoming his disciple. The Lamas who witnessed this event preserved the boulder and built a gurudwara around it. This gurudwara is revered by both Sikhs and Buddhists, who worship the boulder as a symbol of Guru Nanak. The Indian Army maintains the gurudwara, and soldiers regularly perform Sewa (selfless service) there.

　　We parked across from the gurudwara's wall. I stood outside with Theia for about ten minutes when one army personnel noticed us. I explained that we were travelling as a mother-daughter duo and that I was in Leh for the marathon. By then, a few other soldiers had joined him. Theia, true to her nature, leapt around and greeted them with kisses and high-fives. They kindly offered to take care of Theia while I went inside to pray, but I knew she would feel anxious without me, so I politely declined their generous offer. Instead, I walked back and forth along the gurudwara's wall, soaking in the magical atmosphere.

　　After five minutes, an Army soldier approached us with two pouches of Kada prasad. I was surprised, but it was heartwarming to witness such kindness. I felt genuinely grateful in that moment.

　　Marathon D-Day

　　The day of the marathon arrived, and more than my concerns about the run, I worried about leaving Theia alone in the hotel room for over four hours. I woke up at 3 AM because I knew I needed to walk Theia before heading to the stadium.

　　Saboo village now felt like an old friend. By the marathon day, I had completed numerous practice runs and drives to Saboo with Theia. Its dry mountains seemed pleased to see me, and on the day of the run, I felt as if they were smiling at me.

　　While everyone else was celebrating at the finish line, I picked up my medal and hailed a cab back to the hotel. My way of celebrating is to make Theia wear my medal and marathon T-shirt, as we do this after every marathon. It’s our special little tradition.

　　The Secrets Of Hemis Gompa

　　One of my best decisions during this trip was taking Theia to Hemis Monastery. Few things are cuter than a Golden Retriever Lama handing out admission tickets to visitors. Let me explain. I was uncertain where to leave Theia and wanted to check if any local dogs were inside the monastery. The parking lot was far from the entrance, and it was too hot to leave her in the car.

　　The monk at the ticket counter offered to watch her as he noticed my bewildered expression. He must have had wonderful energy because she jumped onto his seat and settled beside him. After I finished my reconnaissance, I saw people posing for pictures with my fur child, calling her a "monastery dog" or "monk dog." Theia seemed to be thoroughly enjoying her new role as a Lama-dog.

　　Hemis Monastery, which predates the 11th century, has an intriguing history.

　　In 1894, Russian journalist Nicolas Notovitch claimed that Hemis was the source of an otherwise unknown gospel titled "The Life of Saint Issa, Best of the Sons of Men." In this work, it is stated that Jesus travelled to India during his "lost years." According to Notovitch, this manuscript was preserved in the Hemis library and shown to him by the monks. His Sherpa guide translated the text for him, and Notovitch’s version was translated from Tibetan to Russian. However, historians generally consider Notovitch's evidence to be fabricated.

　　In 1921, Pandit Swami Abhedananda claimed to have read the same manuscript and published his account of viewing it after visiting Hemis. Following Abhedananda's death, one of his disciples went to the monastery to inquire about the documents and was informed that they had disappeared.

　　As we stood at the gate of the Hemis Temple, the head lama emerged and found great amusement in a furry ball positioned at the entrance. He petted Theia’s head and said something as he walked down the temple stairs. The other lamas told me that he blessed her.

　　I could fill a book with stories from this trip, but the most important one is about the journey I took with my daughter. It was a trip that strengthened our mother-daughter bond.

　　Before we embarked on this adventure together, Theia and I already had a strong connection. After spending twenty days as a team, exploring one adventure after another, we are now inseparable. It's hard to tell who needs the other more. May we live to tell many more tales.