Road Trip from Leh to Lamayuru: Gompas, Goats, and the Guitar Solo That Broke the Sky

Rand Blimes
May 17
4 min read

Updated: Jun 16

Monastery on rocky cliffs under dark, stormy skies with towering mountains in the background. The mood is dramatic and somber. — Dramatic late afternoon lighting at Lamayuru

This is part of a series that describes the road trips we took from Leh. This post covers our visiting Pangong Lake. The other posts in the series are:

Day trip to the south of Leh (Takthok, Chemrey, Hemis, Thiksey, and the Shey Palace)
Overnight trip to Pangong Lake
Getting from Pangong Lake to Turtuk
Turtuk Village

You can also find a post with a little bit of background on the Ladakh region here.

The prices to hire car and driver for these trips and many others are set by the Leh Taxi Union. You can find current prices at their website.

Green sign reads "Time is money but life is precious" with mountains and green trees in the background, under a partly cloudy sky. — Street signs throughout Ladakh encourage drives to slow down and be safe

Road Trip from Leh to Lamayuru

Sitting in a car all day, looking at some of the world's most stunning scenery is pretty hard work. And that is exactly what we had done in our first day trip out of Leh.

So we rewarded ourselves for our grueling schedule by taking a couple days off. To just chill in Leh. We wandered a bit. We drank hot lemon-ginger-honey-mint concoctions. We ate pastries and meatballs.

Then we packed our bags, zipped our jackets, and hired a car for an overnight road trip from Leh to Lamayuru Gompa.

And just like that, we were off—out of Leh, into the mountains, and along the sacred spine of the Indus River.

The Road and the River

There are road trips, and then there are Indus River road trips. The road to Lamayuru snakes through sharp valleys and switchbacks like a ribbon trying to unspool itself in high-altitude wind. But I hardly even noticed the mountains.

Because I was watching the river.

There’s something about great rivers—ancient, mythic, messy with meaning—that always gets me. And the Indus? Civilization itself had flowed out of the Indus back when humanity was still young. The current that once carried empires and now carried cold, snow-fed water past stupas and stone.

I sat with my forehead against the window for long stretches of the drive, watching that water twist and coil, feeling the weight of history rise from it like steam. I barely looked up.

At one point, our driver pulled over, and together, we made our way down through scrub and stone until we stood at the river’s edge. I knelt, filled my little travel bottle with Indus water, and sealed it tight. I carried that bottle, carefully shepherding it across much of the world, for the next five months until I returned home. That bottle now sits on my shelf, right between similar bottles from the Amazon and the Cape of Good Hope. It is part of my own little museum of waters I’ve met, each one still swirling inside.

Basgo Gompa: Stillness in Ruin

Our first stop was Basgo Gompa, a weathered fortress rising from dusty slopes like a forgotten watchtower.

It was utterly, gloriously deserted.

We wandered through empty courtyards and hollow chambers, past prayer wheels and shadows. It felt like time had stepped out for a bit, and left the place waiting quietly. Technically, Basgo is still an active gompa. Practically, no one was home.

And that made it perfect. Just us. The wind. And silence.

Bagso Gompa with prayer flags on a rocky hill against snow-capped mountains and cloudy sky. Brown and white tones dominate the scene. — Bagso Gompa

Likir Gompa: Stillness in Snow

From Basgo, the road climbed. And so did the beauty.

Likir Gompa, with its towering Buddha statue and saffron-hued halls, sat against a backdrop of jagged, snow-laced peaks. It too was quiet. Another benefit of early-season travel: the gompas feel like gompas—not museums. No tour groups. No selfie sticks. Just the squeak of a spinning prayer wheel and the gentle snap of prayer flags in the breeze.

Golden Buddha statue on ornate pedestal under a blue sky with clouds at Likir Gompa. Vibrant patterns and nearby traditional building enhance serenity. — Buddha statue at Likir Gompa

Alchi Gompa: A Masterpiece Too Far?

Person in blue jacket and red shoes stands in a stone archway, gazing at distant mountains. Rugged stone walls form a narrow passage. — Daughter 2, wandering the alleys of the gompa

We made a quick stop at Alchi, home to some of the most famous Buddhist murals in Ladakh.

It was spectacular.

But also? We were tired. The kids were tired. Even the grownups were starting to run low on gompa-adrenaline. There’s only so much wonder the human soul can absorb in one day, and by the time we stepped back into the car, we were starting to feel a little gompa fatigued.

We pushed on to Lamayuru.

Lamayuru: Monastery Meets Mountains Meets Pink Floyd

Lamayuru washed that gompa fatigue away. How could anyone get tired of this?

Lamayuru Gompa is tucked into a jagged amphitheater of stone, with cliffs like fangs rising behind it. The town is small, with stone walls and sleepy livestock and that high-altitude hush that settles over the Himalayas.

Our driver had arranged a homestay as part of the overnight package. It was simple, warm, and came with bonus livestock behind the house. We wandered a little, played with the animals, took our requisite “wow, we’re actually here” photos, and then had dinner with our host family.

That night, everyone else retreated to their books and beds. But I wasn’t done yet.

I grabbed my tripod, popped in my earbuds and cued up Pink Floyd’s Animals, and climbed to a spot where I could see the monastery, backed by the mountains, and the evening sky that started to grow pink. And there I stood—watching the last light bleed from the rocks while I listened to the most beautiful bit of rock music ever—the slow, harmonized guitar solo in “Dogs.”

Words can't express how perfect that evening was for me. But I will never forget it.

Lamayuru Monastery perched on rocky hill against backdrop of jagged mountains. Colorful sunset sky with pink and blue clouds creates a serene mood. — Sunset at Lamayuru Gompa (cue the Pink Floyd)

Morning in the Mountains

At sunrise, I got up early and stepped into the kitchen. The woman who ran our homestay was already up, tying her shawl and heading out to milk the family cow. She smiled and waved me along. I didn’t milk anything, but I did breathe in the cold, butter-scented air and felt something like quiet satisfaction hum in my bones.

We had breakfast. We packed. We climbed back into the car.

And then we turned back toward Leh—Because travel, our hearts were a little fuller, our minds a little quieter, and our camera memory cards very nearly full. And also . . . because David Gilmore.