Powdery snow on the mountains over a frozen Pangong Tso Lake, in Ladakh during winters.
I first visited Ladakh exactly ten years ago. This was well before the region became every motor-cyclist’s ultimate destination, part of every traveller’s tick-off list and every holidaymaker’s check-in dream. In those days, tourists were in smaller numbers and Leh had more homes than guesthouses and hotels.
Every winter, we conduct a photography tour to see and capture the glorious landscapes of Ladakh. This is perhaps India’s ultimate landscape photography experience. Travel to the highlands of Ladakh in winter, when Ladakh is at its pristine best — with its snow-clad mountain landscapes, frozen lakes, resilient nomads with their herds of sheep and yaks and endless fields of snow. Explore photography on the roof of India on this mentored photography tour in a season when the earth is covered in a carpet of snow. See details and sign up today: A Snow-filled Winter in Ladakh — Photography Tour
The story is all different now. Ever since a block-buster Indian movie featured the landscapes of Ladakh eight years ago, it has become the go-to destination of hundreds of thousands of people every year. The region has been transformed from a quite mountainous escape to a bustling tourist town of German bakeries, pizza joints and mall-roads!
But all that ends when the summer season makes way to a cold frigid winter in Ladakh. After September, as the temperatures start falling rapidly, shutters are downed on the souvenir shops. Most hotels close for winter and taxi drivers stay home for a few months. But this is also the time when mountains are transformed through the magic of falling snow.
At an altitude of 14,000 to 17,000 feet in the western parts of Ladakh lives a community of semi-nomadic herders that have lived a self-sustained life for millenniums. Despite the new found connectivity with the modern world, they have continued their wandering lifestyle that is essential for keeping their livestock well fed.
My first brush with Changpa nomads happened a decade ago, when I spotted their rebo–traditional yak-wool tents–at a distance on the long road from Manali to Leh. They had pitched tents on the famous Morey plains faraway from the road that made them look like black spots in the landscape. But smoke rising from the cow-dung stoves revealed what they are. Until that time, I had heard time and again that there are no settlements in the highlands on the difficult road from Manali to Leh. I learned few years later that they were not here just for the warm summer months, but continue to live at high altitudes even in winters, braving temperatures of -25C and lower.
Over the years, I had many encounters with Changpa people during my wanderings in the high-altitude Changthang region adjoining Tibet. A few weeks after I first saw their tents, I had an opportunity to wander in one of their settlements in a place of spell-binding beauty. The land they had chosen was carpeted with lush green grass on a kind of soft ground where you relish walking bare foot. Small streams–springs that emerged from gaps in the ground–crisscrossed the fresh landscape. When you looked up, mountains in every direction were adorned with thick cover of snow on their peaks. The skies appeared eternally blue. Yaks, cows, a few sheep that had not made their way up the mountains and a handful of donkeys grazed happily on the tender grass.
It was a beautiful winter afternoon in the highlands of Ladakh, when sun was shining bright and everything was going just the way we wanted. Driving through Changthang plateau at an altitude of 14,000 feet, we stopped at a small village to handover prints to people whom we had photographed during a previous visit. We had a whole lot of photo prints, which meant we had a chance to meet many of the village folks. At this moment, a bunch of curious children gathered to take a peek at the beautiful prints and thus ensued another session to create more prints.
The kids were happy to see the prints we had brought that day. They were excited to be photographed and we were more than eager to freeze those happy faces. At the blink of an eye, they were all ready to show their teeth and say ‘cheeees’ to the camera one by one. Not cheese; they all said Tashi Delek (a Tibetan/Ladakhi greeting, roughly translates as ‘good luck’) to our cameras. I had to be quick to make sure we have them at their enthusiastic best, before they got distracted with something else, and completed the entire shoot in less than five minutes. The energy was high and the bounty of joy showed up in their faces. Here is what we managed to capture.
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