Trekking on ice
I can’t work out why I haven’t been sucked under the ice. Sure, my raised hands are on the edge of a slab that’s at eye level. But why hasn’t the current pulled me under the crust of ice that’s covering the Zanskar River downstream? The air in the watertight rucksack liner on my back must be providing some buoyancy. And I probably have some air trapped in my clothes.
I’ve got to get out of the water. Fast. The air temperature is –30°C this morning, and much of the river is frozen. So the water I fell into when the ice beneath my feet gave way can’t be more than a couple of degrees above freezing. Jeez, it’s cold. Got. To. Get. Out.
After hauling myself half-out of the drink, I’m lying on the floe like a beached whale and catching my breath before kicking free of the water when I hear a familiar crack. The ice I’m lying on splits in half and deposits me back in the river. I’m out of strength, out of time, and out of ideas.
Then I spot Seb. He had successfully crossed the then-frozen river several minutes earlier. It was his footprints, and those of our Zanskari guide and porters, that I had been following across the river when the ice had given way. If I can attract Seb’s attention, maybe he can help.
A cry for help
I was born with a voice as loud as a foghorn. An at times embarrassing asset, its only practical use up until now has been at Craven Cottage, urging on – and at time despairing of – my beloved Fulham Football Club. But at this instant, with the line between life and death growing pencil-thin, it’s the only resource I need.
I shout. But there’s no energy behind my cry for help. The temperature of the water is robbing me of my physical and mental power. I’m giving in to the cold. I’m grateful for having the chance to think about my fiancée and my parents before I slip under. I’ve often wondered how I would die, and this doesn’t seem such a bad way to go. Seb doesn’t hear me, and I watch him walk away.
I consider shouting again. Yeah, why not shout? But then again, why bother? No, I will shout. I do shout. I shout so loudly that had I been at the Cottage, the blast from my vocal cords would have rattled the crossbar at the Putney End.
Seb’s steps falter. He tells me later that he thought he heard something over the roar of the river and turned around. But he couldn’t see anything until his gaze dropped to the valley floor, whereupon he spotted my head bobbing at the surface of the water.
I watch Seb start to shuffle back along the shoreline towards me. When he draws level, he does an incredibly brave thing. He crawls out on his belly across the fractured ice to reach me. His eyes are out on stalks at what he sees. ‘Keep on fighting, mate!’ he yells.
By now, hypothermia has taken hold of me and I’m beyond caring whether I live or die. But I don’t want to disappoint my friend, so I kick and wriggle a little. Seb pulls a lot. Suddenly, I pop out of the water.
As soon as I’m standing on secure ice, the survival instinct kicks in. My clothes freeze instantly, and as I shuffle along the edge of the river towards the rest of the team, it feels as though I’m walking in a suit of armour.
By the time I’m reunited with my friends, it’s a struggle to bend a knee or elbow. My synthetic clothing is tugged off me and for a moment, before I put on my spare set of fleece garments (carried in a different load as a precaution against this very scenario), I’m naked in the Himalaya.
One of the team takes a look at the lower half of my frozen form and quips, ‘I don’t know how much you had down there before you fell in, but there’s not much there now,’ and concern gives way to laughter.
Prepared for a dip
Walking the frozen Zanskar River between the villages of Chilling and Zangla is a lesson in trust, patience, timing and luck. The route along the Chadar, as it’s known locally, also provides a stiff test of your clothing and equipment.
Ensuring that your gear can survive a dunking is important. Only a small percentage of people who trek the Chadar suffer anything more than wet feet. But if you do fall in, a waterproof rucksack liner with a rollover top will ensure that your gear stays dry. And as I discovered, the air trapped inside it can also act as a makeshift buoyancy aid.
Only the foolhardy would ever attempt a traverse of the Chadar without the services of an experienced Zanskari guide who is able to read the river and determine when and where to cross it. That’s because the time of day, the ambient temperature and the appearance of the sun combine to freeze or melt not just the surface but also the edges of the frozen river where it meets sheer rock.
Often, when the river is flowing freely, one can find a walkway of ice that has remained glued to one bank. And in those circumstances, you want to ensure that you’re on the ice-covered side. Along with the guide, you’ll also hire porters, which means that other people will help you carry your equipment and provisions. That’s important if you fly into the gateway city of Leh unacclimatised.
At an altitude of more than 3,000 metres, Leh takes some getting used to. And Zanskar is even higher. By reducing the amount you’re carrying, you’ll reduce the physical stress that trekking at altitude has on the body. This tactic – when combined with an effective acclimatisation programme in Leh before departure for the Chadar – can help to reduce the chance of contracting acute mountain sickness.
Insulation is the key
Despite the proximity of the river, waterproof clothing isn’t necessary on the Chadar. If you go for an unintended swim, a waterproof jacket and trousers will be ineffective. And the rest of the time, the low temperatures and wind are best thwarted with a combination of windproof and insulated garments that can be donned and doffed to meet the prevailing conditions.
On the Chadar, the difference between sun and shade can be extreme. I carried a wool hat, sun hat and face mask in my pockets so that I could switch from sun protection to heat retention quickly at the end of the afternoon or when the gorge walls plunged the route into shadow for a few minutes. At night, you may have the opportunity to sleep in one of the caves that line the banks of the Chadar. But you’ll also want a tent for the occasions when bivvying isn’t practical or possible.
On our journey, we took Mountain Hardwear tents. Some members of the party found them frustrating to pitch with frozen fingers. However, I thought the clasp system that’s used to connect the inner tent to the skeleton of poles was quicker to dismantle in the frigid morning air than traditional geodesic designs with threaded pole sleeves.
We used fibre-pile and Pertex overbags around our down sleeping bags. Pile seems to draw moisture out of down insulation while moving the dew point (the point at which sweat vapour condenses or, in this case, freezes) away from the fragile natural insulation. Meanwhile the windproof and snowproof Pertex did a good job of keeping accidental tea spills at bay.
We sent our largest down bag to a specialist manufacturer of pile and Pertex gear to ensure that our custom overbags were cut with a sufficiently large diameter to prevent the down being crushed. Unfortunately, the overbags still turned out to be a little on the small side.
Although blizzard conditions can engulf the Chadar, you would be unlucky not to experience at least a few sunny periods. We ensured that our down bags were easily accessible during lunch stops so that they could be unpacked, fluffed up and dried out. Zanskari porters break out the stoves and cook a meal in the middle of the day, so there’s usually plenty of time to air any items of clothing that have become damp through sweat or contact with the river.
Limited choice
As you can imagine, I wasn’t looking forward to the return trek along the Chadar at the end of our journey in Zanskar. However, until the all-weather road along the gorge is completed, there’s no other way out of Zanskar unless you wait for the snow to melt on the summer-only road to Kargil. And as stunning as this ancient Himalayan kingdom is, a four-month enforced wait in India wasn’t what I had planned for the spring. With a heavy heart, I pulled my rucksack onto my back and followed my friends into the gorge.
Wet feet and frozen feet
I know of no other journey where the two recommended items of footwear are insulated boots and neoprene kayaking booties. The insulated boots need little in the way of explanation. Check that the liners are removable to aid the drying process and consider taking a second pair of liners so that you can increase the chance of having dry insulation around your feet.
Some trekkers take lightweight crampons for narrow sections where you wouldn’t want to slip, but in my experience, the soles on Baffin and Sorel insulated boots provide sufficient stickiness on the river ice for the majority of the journey. On the few occasions when the ice was as smooth as glass and set at an angle, our Zanskar guide filled the skirt of his goncha with sand and sprinkled it across the ice as he walked in order to provide sufficient purchase for our feet.
However, no matter how experienced your local guide is, at some point, the ice will disappear, forcing you to hike shin-deep through water for a few minutes to the next floe or river bank. This is where the neoprene booties come into play.
Although the booties won’t prevent your feet from turning into popsicles, they will delay the speed at which you lose sensation in your lower legs and protect your feet from sharp grit and smooth stones, which could otherwise cause you to lose balance or blood.
Ten of the best
Whether it’s quick-drying underwear, a super-soft merino-wool mid-layer, a length of rope or even a whistle attached to your backpack, choosing the right clothing and equipment for an expedition to the Zanskar River or a similar environment can make all the difference, as Paul Deegan found out. Remember that windproof and insulated garments will be the most useful. And if, like Deegan, you’re unfortunate enough to fall into the water, waterproof jackets or trousers won’t be of much use
Don’t forget…
…a few spare pairs of sunglasses in case any porters or members of your team forget, break or lose theirs
Equipment Editor Paul Deegan has travelled in Zanskar on a number of occasions during summer and winter, often in the company of Seb Mankelow, whose website includes valuable resources on the region. www.mankelow.net
November 2011
I’ve got to get out of the water. Fast. The air temperature is –30°C this morning, and much of the river is frozen. So the water I fell into when the ice beneath my feet gave way can’t be more than a couple of degrees above freezing. Jeez, it’s cold. Got. To. Get. Out.
After hauling myself half-out of the drink, I’m lying on the floe like a beached whale and catching my breath before kicking free of the water when I hear a familiar crack. The ice I’m lying on splits in half and deposits me back in the river. I’m out of strength, out of time, and out of ideas.
Then I spot Seb. He had successfully crossed the then-frozen river several minutes earlier. It was his footprints, and those of our Zanskari guide and porters, that I had been following across the river when the ice had given way. If I can attract Seb’s attention, maybe he can help.
A cry for help
I was born with a voice as loud as a foghorn. An at times embarrassing asset, its only practical use up until now has been at Craven Cottage, urging on – and at time despairing of – my beloved Fulham Football Club. But at this instant, with the line between life and death growing pencil-thin, it’s the only resource I need.
I shout. But there’s no energy behind my cry for help. The temperature of the water is robbing me of my physical and mental power. I’m giving in to the cold. I’m grateful for having the chance to think about my fiancée and my parents before I slip under. I’ve often wondered how I would die, and this doesn’t seem such a bad way to go. Seb doesn’t hear me, and I watch him walk away.
I consider shouting again. Yeah, why not shout? But then again, why bother? No, I will shout. I do shout. I shout so loudly that had I been at the Cottage, the blast from my vocal cords would have rattled the crossbar at the Putney End.
Seb’s steps falter. He tells me later that he thought he heard something over the roar of the river and turned around. But he couldn’t see anything until his gaze dropped to the valley floor, whereupon he spotted my head bobbing at the surface of the water.
I watch Seb start to shuffle back along the shoreline towards me. When he draws level, he does an incredibly brave thing. He crawls out on his belly across the fractured ice to reach me. His eyes are out on stalks at what he sees. ‘Keep on fighting, mate!’ he yells.
By now, hypothermia has taken hold of me and I’m beyond caring whether I live or die. But I don’t want to disappoint my friend, so I kick and wriggle a little. Seb pulls a lot. Suddenly, I pop out of the water.
As soon as I’m standing on secure ice, the survival instinct kicks in. My clothes freeze instantly, and as I shuffle along the edge of the river towards the rest of the team, it feels as though I’m walking in a suit of armour.
By the time I’m reunited with my friends, it’s a struggle to bend a knee or elbow. My synthetic clothing is tugged off me and for a moment, before I put on my spare set of fleece garments (carried in a different load as a precaution against this very scenario), I’m naked in the Himalaya.
One of the team takes a look at the lower half of my frozen form and quips, ‘I don’t know how much you had down there before you fell in, but there’s not much there now,’ and concern gives way to laughter.
Prepared for a dip
Walking the frozen Zanskar River between the villages of Chilling and Zangla is a lesson in trust, patience, timing and luck. The route along the Chadar, as it’s known locally, also provides a stiff test of your clothing and equipment.
Ensuring that your gear can survive a dunking is important. Only a small percentage of people who trek the Chadar suffer anything more than wet feet. But if you do fall in, a waterproof rucksack liner with a rollover top will ensure that your gear stays dry. And as I discovered, the air trapped inside it can also act as a makeshift buoyancy aid.
Only the foolhardy would ever attempt a traverse of the Chadar without the services of an experienced Zanskari guide who is able to read the river and determine when and where to cross it. That’s because the time of day, the ambient temperature and the appearance of the sun combine to freeze or melt not just the surface but also the edges of the frozen river where it meets sheer rock.
Often, when the river is flowing freely, one can find a walkway of ice that has remained glued to one bank. And in those circumstances, you want to ensure that you’re on the ice-covered side. Along with the guide, you’ll also hire porters, which means that other people will help you carry your equipment and provisions. That’s important if you fly into the gateway city of Leh unacclimatised.
At an altitude of more than 3,000 metres, Leh takes some getting used to. And Zanskar is even higher. By reducing the amount you’re carrying, you’ll reduce the physical stress that trekking at altitude has on the body. This tactic – when combined with an effective acclimatisation programme in Leh before departure for the Chadar – can help to reduce the chance of contracting acute mountain sickness.
Insulation is the key
Despite the proximity of the river, waterproof clothing isn’t necessary on the Chadar. If you go for an unintended swim, a waterproof jacket and trousers will be ineffective. And the rest of the time, the low temperatures and wind are best thwarted with a combination of windproof and insulated garments that can be donned and doffed to meet the prevailing conditions.
On the Chadar, the difference between sun and shade can be extreme. I carried a wool hat, sun hat and face mask in my pockets so that I could switch from sun protection to heat retention quickly at the end of the afternoon or when the gorge walls plunged the route into shadow for a few minutes. At night, you may have the opportunity to sleep in one of the caves that line the banks of the Chadar. But you’ll also want a tent for the occasions when bivvying isn’t practical or possible.
On our journey, we took Mountain Hardwear tents. Some members of the party found them frustrating to pitch with frozen fingers. However, I thought the clasp system that’s used to connect the inner tent to the skeleton of poles was quicker to dismantle in the frigid morning air than traditional geodesic designs with threaded pole sleeves.
We used fibre-pile and Pertex overbags around our down sleeping bags. Pile seems to draw moisture out of down insulation while moving the dew point (the point at which sweat vapour condenses or, in this case, freezes) away from the fragile natural insulation. Meanwhile the windproof and snowproof Pertex did a good job of keeping accidental tea spills at bay.
We sent our largest down bag to a specialist manufacturer of pile and Pertex gear to ensure that our custom overbags were cut with a sufficiently large diameter to prevent the down being crushed. Unfortunately, the overbags still turned out to be a little on the small side.
Although blizzard conditions can engulf the Chadar, you would be unlucky not to experience at least a few sunny periods. We ensured that our down bags were easily accessible during lunch stops so that they could be unpacked, fluffed up and dried out. Zanskari porters break out the stoves and cook a meal in the middle of the day, so there’s usually plenty of time to air any items of clothing that have become damp through sweat or contact with the river.
Limited choice
As you can imagine, I wasn’t looking forward to the return trek along the Chadar at the end of our journey in Zanskar. However, until the all-weather road along the gorge is completed, there’s no other way out of Zanskar unless you wait for the snow to melt on the summer-only road to Kargil. And as stunning as this ancient Himalayan kingdom is, a four-month enforced wait in India wasn’t what I had planned for the spring. With a heavy heart, I pulled my rucksack onto my back and followed my friends into the gorge.
Wet feet and frozen feet
I know of no other journey where the two recommended items of footwear are insulated boots and neoprene kayaking booties. The insulated boots need little in the way of explanation. Check that the liners are removable to aid the drying process and consider taking a second pair of liners so that you can increase the chance of having dry insulation around your feet.
Some trekkers take lightweight crampons for narrow sections where you wouldn’t want to slip, but in my experience, the soles on Baffin and Sorel insulated boots provide sufficient stickiness on the river ice for the majority of the journey. On the few occasions when the ice was as smooth as glass and set at an angle, our Zanskar guide filled the skirt of his goncha with sand and sprinkled it across the ice as he walked in order to provide sufficient purchase for our feet.
However, no matter how experienced your local guide is, at some point, the ice will disappear, forcing you to hike shin-deep through water for a few minutes to the next floe or river bank. This is where the neoprene booties come into play.
Although the booties won’t prevent your feet from turning into popsicles, they will delay the speed at which you lose sensation in your lower legs and protect your feet from sharp grit and smooth stones, which could otherwise cause you to lose balance or blood.
Ten of the best
Whether it’s quick-drying underwear, a super-soft merino-wool mid-layer, a length of rope or even a whistle attached to your backpack, choosing the right clothing and equipment for an expedition to the Zanskar River or a similar environment can make all the difference, as Paul Deegan found out. Remember that windproof and insulated garments will be the most useful. And if, like Deegan, you’re unfortunate enough to fall into the water, waterproof jackets or trousers won’t be of much use
Start the slideshow (10 pictures)
Don’t forget…
…a few spare pairs of sunglasses in case any porters or members of your team forget, break or lose theirs
Equipment Editor Paul Deegan has travelled in Zanskar on a number of occasions during summer and winter, often in the company of Seb Mankelow, whose website includes valuable resources on the region. www.mankelow.net
November 2011
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