Braving the Zanskar

The notion that one realizes what fear is, when you face death or an extreme life threatening event, seemed a little over the top to me. I didn’t quite buy into the idea, that till you were painted into a corner with the option of fleeing or facing the object of your fear – you wouldn’t quite know what you were capable of.

But some recent events have taught me otherwise. I now know why people do extreme sports – why they jump off cantilevers suspended by one slim rope – why they jump out of helicopters with a parachute bag.
Might qualify as less dangerous (but enough for my appetite of adrenalin) White Water Rafting is what I did in the Zanskar river this summer.

The Zanskar flows through Ladakh in the Northern most provinces of India and is one of the largest tributaries of the Indus. It flows through the rocky terrains in its muddy brown splendor with sky high rock facades on each side, intercepted by boulders which it crashes into creating white foaming whirlpools and then flows along its way. This river isn’t pretty. It’s powerful. It’s strong. And it’s loud.
As our vehicle moved along the rocky mountain with the river flowing through the gorge – I got occasional shivers hearing the sound of the water breaking on the rocks.
It sounded like it could crush steel leave alone human bones. With nervous grins on our face, we alighted on the bank of the river and slipped into our life jackets and helmets.

None of us had done white water rafting before. But strangely, a couple of us loitered ahead and picked up the oars – which prompted the coach to nominate us as the ‘leaders’.
Big word – ‘leader’ – not someone who needs to motivate the group with verbose speeches – simply, someone who would sit on the first seat of the raft and face the waves head-on!!
My stomach churned…I silently waited for the butterflies to settle…questioned my need to be the first one to pick up the oar and look brave – and chastised myself.
There was no going back – the choice was made. The two leaders were chosen, an urban war cry was shouted and we waded into the river and climbed the raft.
Me and Tanu – two women – very different in demographics and statistics (of all kinds) sat in the first seats. We exchanged looks, and gritted our teeth as the coach instructed us on the rowing techniques and how to rhythmically count “1 – 2” as we paddled the boat.

But NOTHING prepared us for the first wave which greeted us into the foaming white conundrum. It seemed nothing less than a tsunami wave to me. It started at a little distance with a surge in the water, grew into a gigantic wave in a matter of seconds, rose like a serpent way above our head and then with one huge crash, landed on the two shivering ladies on the first seat. We literally ‘faced the blows’ head on!!
Our vision disappeared into the watery wall. I gritted my teeth and feigned courage – while the not so adept at theatre let their fear show. I’ll never forget the look on friend’s face who also had her son on the raft. It was a mix of horror combined with regret at deciding to do this dangerous sport, risking not only her, but her son’s existence. The wave post crashing into us proceeded to rush into the raft and inundate it and evoked a collective high pitched scream from all. The scream bounced off the rocky walls and echoed across and amplified the fear.

Post the first hit, it was rough. But we had learnt the much needed art of controlling the expression of fear. Me and Tanu, like two possessed women shouted “1-2” loud enough to wake up the snow leopards in the forests. We paddled the raft and moved it through choppy waters and whirlpools. Cannot take credit away from the coach who guided us through it.

Would it be less brave to accept that setting foot on hard rocky ground post the hour long watery rollercoaster felt like heaven? To add to the sense of drama – the point where we alighted was the confluence of the Blue Indus and the Brown Zanskar – the aquamarine blue Indus mingled slowly into the brown muddy Zanskar creating a vision worth the ride in the raft.

The rafting episode sure was nerve wracking, but I would do it again. And in wilder rapids! Why? Guess my appetite for adrenalin has increased.