This article was published in Trino Magazine, Dhaka. At the end of this story is a slideshow of images, presented at the Open Show, Bangalore.
A sense of excitement overtook me as soon as our pre-dawn flight took off from Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi. I could see the first hills of the giant Himalayan Mountains once we were up in the sky, even before we left behind the crowded concrete boxes of Delhi. The sky above the jagged mountain ridges had already taken a gentle shade of orange, announcing the beginning of a beautiful day.
It was the third week of January and the air was nippy as we departed from Delhi. We were a small bunch of mountain-enthusiasts heading to Ladakh that day, ready to brave the super-freezing temperatures in Leh with a wish to walk side-by-side along the mountain people of Zanskar Region on a river that freezes during in the winter months.
Other than our tour leader Manish Lakhani who was a veteran of Zanskar, none of us had an exposure to cold and arid winters in Ladakh. But warned well in advance and armed with sufficient information, we had boarded the flight with down jackets, multiple layers of clothing and thick boots that could help us land in -20C weather.
As I looked out from my plane’s window nearly half-an-hour a later, first rays of sun were striking the mountain peaks while the valleys and glaciers were still in shade. Flying at a height of 10,000 meters over the mountains that stood higher than 6,000 meters, it appeared as if we were flying dangerously close to ground level. It almost felt as if we could open the windows, let a hand down and touch some of the snowy peaks right below.
It was a quick and sharp landing in Leh with a jolt of breaking in the runway that is tucked away between the mountains. Indus River, seen from the top, was all frozen but for a few cracks where its deep blue colours disturbed a white blanket. It was -13C in Leh, but with our layers of clothes and insulation, it did not seem harsh.
The first day’s camp after descending into the river and walking the first mile.
Two days later, we were struggling down a scree-slope nearly 60km from Leh as we descended into the Valley of Zanskar River. The river surface was frozen, but a strong current flowed underneath and kept us weary of encountering thin ice that could break and take us down. In places where the ice-shelf was broken, the deep-blue waters of Zanskar flowed invitingly, looking so beautiful that I would jump into it without much thinking, but for its forbiddingly frigid temperatures. The waters were so clear that every pebble was clearly visible even at a depth of ten feet.
The first ten minutes on the ice-shelf, it was as much falling on ice as it was walking. But in some time, we were getting used to our brittle chilkat shoes, got better at gauging the ice surface and managed to stay on two feet for longer periods. I myself prided in remaining literally infallible for a larger part of the trip until I came crashing in a relatively dangerous terrain on a steep slope.
Walking on the tiny strip of frozen Zanskar River, next to the blue flow.
For the next five days, we treaded over the frozen waters everyday, waking up to a miserably cold morning everyday and packing all our stuff with great pain using our numbing hands. Our spirits would lift the moment we were on the ice-shelf, or Chadar, as it is popularly called. Our bodies would warm up as we walked and our spirits dulled by the night’s dipping temperature would get uplifted by the brilliant mountainous landscapes and the gurgle of Zanskar’s flow.
All along the way, our tour leader Manish would chant one mantra that the ‘chadar is unpredictable and changes every hour’. We would see powdery snow along the path one moment which would morph into rock solid slippery ice a little later. Sometimes we would be walking on perfectly good ice covering the river, only to encounter after some time just a thin patch of good ice on which we had to tread dangerously. The hardest hour of the trek was when we were trapped for a day at the bottom of a gorge with a completely broken Chadar, leaving no choice but to spend the night close to the river and hope for things to get better next morning.
Where the ice was thin, we had to go over the slopes. It was more difficult at some places, and at one point in time we had to spend a night wherever we were, hoping for the ice to form next morning.
Just like the condition of ice varied, the scenery kept changing by the hour and by the day. Sometimes we would walk along a narrow valley that would suddenly open up widely at the confluence of streams. Waterfalls would appear occasionally along the way, which dumped their waters straight into the river in summer months but were completely frozen and stuck to the wall in these cold winters.
The bright sheet of snow and the blue waters were the only things that stayed constant with us all along. Sometimes emerging from a thick blanket of snow, the current carried tiny crystals of ice that floated on the river. My ‘aha’ moment of the trek came when I saw these crystal forming a bunch of crystal-lilies at a place where the water swirled at a corner, forming a small gathering of gently rotating discs of ice-crystals.
We encountered difficult times along the way when there was no ice in stretches and we had to find way through the slopes. These were the times when our infinitely agile and unbelievably strong Zanskari Porters came to our help. They would simply lift us on the shoulders and take us across shallow waters, so that we escaped the cold bite of the river. On precipitous slopes, they would climb up first, setup ropes and then belay us up carefully.
It is not just on the ice that our porters worked hard. They would march ahead and set our tents ready at the campsite before we arrived. On reaching a camp, we could always look forward to settling down in our comfortable tents with a hot cup of tea. Everything worked like a clock and we had things ready in our hands even before we needed it – be it something as important as a delicious dinner or a mug of hot water for freshening up in the morning. The porters and kitchen staff would pack the equipment and leave a campsite much after us in the morning, but would march ahead in no time to set things up for us at the next camp. Chadar Expedition would be much difficult without their heroics.
As we got closer to Padum, the valley widened and allowed us to walk over the slopes, leaving the river bed.
After six days of walking on the river, we reached the wide open valleys where civilization flourished once again and small villages dotted the mountain landscape. In here, for the first time during the trek, we left the river and walked along the slopes; we kept the tents folded and enjoyed the warm rooms in Zanskari Houses; we spread out from being huddled at the edge of the river and played soccer with the children in the villages. In two days that we spent in the open terrains of Padum, we forgot the ruggedness of the terrain and mingled with the smiling faces around us. But soon, it was time to go back. It was time to retrace the tough path on the ice within the confines of Zanskar’s steep mountains on either side of us.
Just like it used to be during the trek from Leh to the depths of Zanskar, Chadar kept changing and continued to throw challenges at us everyday on the way back. But time and again, our porters were there to lead from the front in the hour of difficulty. Weather gods too did their best and ensured that we had a smooth journey for a large part of our way back. It is thanks to the porters and good weather that we made it to Leh safely and in time to catch our flights home. As we took another quick flight over the mountain peaks enjoying the views below, we carried many fond memories – of smiling faces, enduring porters and breathtaking views that kept our company all through the expedition.
Below is a slideshow of images, presented at the Open Show, Bangalore on Chadar Trek.
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Posted in Jammu and Kashmir, ladakh, mountains, rivers, trek
Tags: chadar expedition, chadar trek, ladakh, zanskar
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