Hurry to Ladakh while you can still walk on the glaciers

Ladakh is located in Northern India, in the Himalayas - famous for its remote mountainous beauty, and its culture and history closely related to Tibet.

For a lazy office worker like me, winter trekking on the Himalayan peaks has never been on the bucket list.

However, the following quote from my tour guide and inspiration urged me to pack my backpack and go to Ladakh (India) in the middle of a harsh winter, with snow flying in the cold wind like a knife:

"The road to the small villages of Zanskar is nearing completion. Crossing the glacier to the valley - a centuries-old tradition - will no longer exist. Global warming is also causing the ice to thin and the snow to melt on the sacred mountains."

Guns, Lutang Five-Color Flag and Julley Ladakh

Ladakh greeted us with chilly winds whipping around the arid valleys surrounded by white mountains and strict security checks at the airport.

Uniforms and guns were everywhere. People were rushing to get their luggage in the bitter cold, just like in a science fiction movie where humans landed on Mars to explore a new habitat.

But the guns did not bring too much oppression or suffocation. In contrast to their dusty and unapproachable appearance, the soldiers guiding us through the immigration paperwork were quite friendly.

Winters here are really harsh, especially when there are strong winds. Very few tourists visit Ladakh at this time.

We stopped in Leh town for a day to acclimatize to the altitude, before setting out to explore more remote, isolated lands.

Winter in Leh sees few tourists. The streets are deserted; shops and hotels are closed with newspaper taped to their windows to protect them from the winter sun and cold.

When spring comes, this town is bustling with people and vehicles. But in the minus ten degree cold like when I arrived, this place returns to its original state: free, wild, mysterious, sincere, rustic and full of pure vitality.

A dry and cold Ladakh with glaciers

In the middle of the newly built Leh-Ladakh market, a few local people sat on the ground, displaying their agricultural products for sale, turning prayer wheels and fingering rosary beads. Packs of fat, furry dogs curled up and slept scattered everywhere.

Particularly memorable to me were the bustling teenagers who emerged from the monastery after the afternoon service, wearing Converse, looking handsome and fashionable, but wearing a heavy silver earring with coral or turquoise on their left ear, and wearing the traditional robes their ancestors wore hundreds of years ago in a deep crimson color.

Ladakhis hang Lungta flags in their homes, on tall trees, on high mountain peaks or in lakes to pray for peace, wisdom and compassion.

Leaving town and heading towards the high mountains, we visited two ancient monasteries of the Leh region: Thiksey and Matho.

The road to the monastery was lined with colorful Lungta flags fluttering in the wind.

Monasteries or Gompas – meaning “solitary places” in Ladakhi – accurately reflected my first impression of the place. The monastery is isolated from villages, nestled amidst towering snow-capped mountains and glaciers in the distance.

But hidden in that silence, the warm flame of life still burns.

The major monasteries in Ladakh are often located in isolated areas.

Gyalson, our local guide, is from a village near Matho Monastery. He has been coming to this monastery since he was a toddler and now the monastery is like his home. He led us into the kitchen behind the monastery, where the lamas often sit around the stove in winter, as naturally as a child inviting a friend to his house.

Behind the cold wind-proof curtains, under the white poplar ceiling, in front of the crackling fireplace, the Lamas sat leisurely on the window sills.

They chatted intimately, asked about our health, introduced us - the rare visitors at this time of year - to the monastery and the historical culture of the land, and occasionally took the time to refill our steaming cups of tea.

And despite the cold weather, there was no shortage of families bringing their children to the monastery to pray. They played and ran around the monastery in their thick cotton coats, as innocent as a flock of lambs of all colors, their cheeks flushed with highland pink, their eyes sparkling with light, squinting every time the children laughed heartily and waved loudly "Julley!" to us.

The greeting "Julley!" means hello, goodbye and thank you, along with the Lungta prayer flags sending messages of peace with those sacred mantras that followed us throughout our journey to explore Ladakh; on the lips of nomadic children, old shepherds, road workers...; on bridges over rushing rivers, mountain slopes, roadside guard stations, roofs of Rumbak, Chunpa, Urutse villages... and on the top of Umling La pass at 5,883m - the world's highest new road for motor vehicles.

Cross the mountains, see snow leopards and fluffy Manul cats

To reach the isolated villages in the deep valleys, we crossed mountains and hills that were sometimes dry and sometimes covered with snow, steep cliffs that made us feel precarious just standing there, frozen rivers and streams, bare bushes,... The landscape changed with each step we took.

The bone-chilling cold, thin air and long walks on steep terrain are a "test" of both the health and resilience of trekkers.

And with each step I took, the mumbled chants of Tashi, Gyalson’s local brother, stopped. The steady chanting only stopped when he replaced it with a timed chant as we trekked over the 4,900m Ganda La in a snowstorm.

When trekking in the snow, you should not stop to take pictures, not laugh or talk loudly and should drink warm water to stay strong.

Returning to Ho Chi Minh City, I sometimes still remember the mornings camping by the river, waking us up to the sound of snow pounding on the tent roof and Tashi's mysterious chanting mixed with the constant rumbling of the icy water flowing down from the high mountains into the valley.

I remembered the mantra "An Mani Padme Hum" that Tashi patiently taught me to recite 108 times while holding my rosary beads in the middle of a snow-covered pass, when we stopped because a snow slide had blocked the road.

Remembering the moment he smiled innocently and gave me the precious Bodhi rosary that he had worn with him for many years. A simple and pure giving that made even the petty urbanite like me startled.

A minute stop to see the Himalayas drenched in snowstorm

In these villages hidden behind towering mountain ranges, tourists from all over the world flock to seek a chance to see the snow leopard, known as the "Ghost of the Himalayas".

Snow leopards usually live in the highlands. In summer, they are active in tree branches in grasslands and mountains at altitudes up to 6,000m.

In winter, snow leopards move lower, hiding in the snow. However, the snowfall is becoming more erratic and less frequent than before, making it difficult for snow leopards to camouflage themselves and easily be spotted by prey, leading to food shortages and a decline in their numbers.

The journey takes us through the most remote areas for a chance to see some rare wildlife.

Our group was extremely lucky tourists - according to a British wildlife enthusiast who had spent two days in the Rumbak valley without seeing a snow leopard. We had just arrived when we had the opportunity to watch a family of three snow leopards waking up and moving along the mountainside under the golden afternoon sun shining on the white snow.

We were a lucky group to not only have the opportunity to see snow leopards, but also see herds of blue sheep (Bharal) wandering on the mountainside; see herds of yaks running on the plains causing dust to fly like sandstorms, eagle owls, red foxes, a wolf leaving the herd,.. and a fluffy Manul cat in the Hanle wilderness.

Yak herd running on the plains

The Manul or Pallas's cat is a small wild cat native to the grasslands and scrublands of the Himalayas, Tibetan Plateau, Tian Shan and the mountains of Southern Siberia. With its long, dense coat, it is well adapted to the cold continental climate of areas with little rainfall and a wide range of temperatures.

However, Manul cats are very sensitive animals and are especially sensitive to changes in the environment. Therefore, in the face of current global climate change, Manul cats are quickly falling into the list of endangered animals.

Cat Manul photographed with a telephoto lens

Stanzin, 20, an apprentice and errand boy in our group, is a tourism college student in Leh, and is concerned about climate change and urbanization that are destroying ancient, remote villages.

Nestled among the vast snow, the white mountains reaching up to the sky is the village of Chilling also covered in snow and a crystal clear, fast flowing semi-glacial river.

The village is a combination of small monasteries and stone houses, ancient willow trees. The scenery is beautiful and peaceful like a dream.

All the hustle and bustle and pressure of the city seems to stop at Leh airport, and the villages seem to be on the edge of modern life, as if at the end of the world.

It is the remoteness, the poetic yet majestic beauty of the snow-capped mountains, the frozen rivers and the generosity and hospitality of the people that make Ladakh so special and magical.

The snowfall on the pass makes the villages completely isolated.

“Now that this land at the end of the world is becoming more accessible, what impact will increased tourism and climate change have on Ladakh? And what should Ladakhis do about it?” That question kept echoing in the young Stanzin’s mind.

The Ladakh people, as well as the Mong, Dao, Thai, Lo Lo... in the high mountains of Vietnam, are constantly struggling between developing the local economy and preserving the national cultural identity, the most rustic and pristine beauty.

Tourism provides a much-needed boost to local communities' incomes, but on the other hand comes increased pollution from traffic and waste.

Along with that is a huge concern about climate change that is sweeping away the natural landscape, causing rivers that seemed to flow forever to disappear.

Will there come a day when we will no longer have the opportunity to walk on the snow-capped mountains of the Himalayas?

Source: https://tuoitre.vn/voi-den-ladakh-khi-con-duoc-dao-buoc-tren-nhung-dong-song-bang-20240412124514246.htm