Khurdopin Glacier

Rationale

The story of the second phase of the Karakoram Anomaly Project (KAP) begins in April 2017, when Mr Waheed Anwar, a member of (previously) FOCUS Humanitarian Assistance (now) Emergency Management, a branch of Agha Khan Agency for Habitat, reached out to Sergiu Jiduc with a rather alarming message: Khurdopin Glacier was surging again and has blocked the Shimshal River, leading to the formation of a dangerous lake! Waheed indicated that Khurdopin Glacier had advanced at an exponential rate over the past couple of weeks and was blocking the valley near (36.3564°; 75.4568). Without hesitation, I contacted my academic colleagues at Utrecht University (Dr Walter Immerzeel), and University of Leeds (Dr Duncan Quincy), who have been studying the Karakoram glaciers (including Khurdopin) and the surging phenomenon in great detail. It became apparent to all of us that the surge event was an extraordinary opportunity to study this strange phenomenon in real time. Thus, we decided to collaborate and assess the phenomena using a series of high-resolution satellite images. This in turn helped us to quantify volumetric changes, surface ice flow velocity and elevation changes on the glacier and thus provide the basis of a science based glacial hazard risk assessment (Figure 1). This collaboration paved the way for the field visit, which is the focus of this grant work.

The next paragraphs will describe the fieldwork and associated activities that were carried out in July 2018 combining both a journalistic and scientific approach to describe key events. For a throughout scientific assessment of the subject matters, please access the dedicated page here.

The motivation for returning to Shimshal was strong: the glacier is surging again, and it may continue throughout the melt season of 2018 and even 2019. We hypothesised that this may lead to the formation of a new dammed lake in Virjerab Basin, which may grow in subsequent years and in turn, could pose threats to downstream settlements and infrastructure in the case of a sudden breach (Figure 2). There was a real urgency about our proposed endeavour. 

Following the paper we published on the topic in the Journal of Cryosphere, we recognised the need for a field visit to confirm some of the observations made from space and gather more visual, geomorphological, hydrological and glaciological data to develop a spatio-temporal story of the inherent changes characterising the surging glacier. We also recognised that the social and policy aspects pertaining to disaster risk reduction in the region have been neglected in the literature and could benefit from a science-based review. Thus, our second goal was to explore indigenous knowledge systems, vulnerability and regional disaster management policy in more detail, using a series of explorative participatory research techniques such as open space technology focus groups, and semi-structured interviews.

The Journey to Shimshal

Our journey started on June 29, early in the morning in Heathrow airport. Here Jeremy Janeczko, Ronald Patrick and Sergiu Jiduc met for the first time as a team to embark on a flight to Islamabad. The airport story is a classic one – overloaded with equipment and supplies we exceeded the baggage allowance by as much as 30Kg (cumulatively for the three of us), which meant charges in excess of £600. Fortunately, we decided to go back to the drawing board and repack our bags, taking a fair deal of equipment with us on the plane including high altitude mountaineering boots, cameras, harnesses and down jackets to lower the weight of the hold bags. Checking in was a very uncomfortable and rather hilarious situation, but eventually the airline representative let us through without further charges, showing sympathy towards our cause. 

In Islamabad we met with our tour operator Ali Muhammad Saltoro as well as two Russian climbers: Sergey Glazunov and Alexander Gukov, with whom we chatted all night while waiting for our domestic flight to Gilgit. I was shocked to find out upon our return to London that Sergey had died on the steep slopes of Latok 1, and Alexander spent a week alone on the mountain, waiting for clear weather in order to be saved. This demonstrates the dangerous and unpredictable nature of mountaineering (see here).

On the flight to Gilgit, I met a group of technical consultants from Germany, who were travelling to Hunza Valley to assess the feasibility for the installation of community based, run-of-river hydropower systems. It seems that the German government under the UNFCC Clean Development Mechanism has been providing technical and financial assistance for the development of micro-hydropower. It comes as no surprise that this is happening. The mountains of Gilgit-Baltistan (Figure 3) have some of the steepest gradients in the world. Glacier melt water tumbles down slopes and cuts through valleys and human habitations, providing sustenance for agriculture as well as potential for energy generation. The Aga Khan Rural Support Programme (AKRSP) has worked with mountain communities to build several micro hydropower plants in Gilgit-Baltistan – all owned and operated by local community organisations. The Germans and Swiss have already perfected mountain hydropower technology, but AKRSP adapted it to the rugged Karakoram landscape and for local manufacture and community-based operation.

We arrived in Gilgit, where we met our guide Sabit, and driver Naveed Sipher (Figure 4). We drove together to Karimabad where we parked for the night. The next day we drove to Aliabad to buy supplies for our glacier exploration including food, gas and missing fieldwork equipment. Here we encountered our first major problem, our No Objection Certificate (NOC) – a permit to visit Shimshal and carry out research activities, had not been issued yet, which meant further delays to an already tight schedule. We had at least two days to spend in Hunza while waiting for this paperwork. We decided to drive to Ata Abad lake - a lake formed in 2010 due to a massive landslide which blocked the flow of the Hunza River, creating a natural dam and burying 20 people beneath it (Figure 5). The rising water displaced thousands of residents and submerged countless villages, fields, and orchards a well as a 19-kilometre stretch of the Karakoram Highway (KKH). This opened up a business opportunity for many boat drivers, providing freight and transportation services across the lake. I remember my first visit to the area in 2015, when our vehicles and almost one tonne of equipment and supplies were freighted in little dinghies and barges across the turquoise waters of the reservoir. 

A new KKH, has been built by joint Pakistani and Chinese entities, comprising a series of tunnels and bridges, which bypass the lake and reduce travel time considerably. Since the inauguration of the new road on September 14, 2015, the economic activities around the lake have changed. The once colourful ‘wooden dinghies and barges’ have been replaced by noisy speed boats and jet skis as the growing middle class of Pakistan increasingly invest into tourism and leisure activities amongst others. 

We acquired our NOC eventually, opening the legal passage to Shimshal. The remote valley of Shimshal is connected to the outside world via a 66km long road carved into a steep gorge. It takes around three-and-a-half hours by jeep over a treacherous mountain road, only opened in 2004, to reach the village after leaving the newly paved KKH at the village of Passu (Figure 6). This road is subject to landslides and is often damaged. Fortunately, our outbound road journey to the village was smooth with no major setbacks other than a near fatal drone crash into the steep granitic walls of the gorge due to strong winds. 

We arrived in Shimshal in the evening of July 3rd (Figure 7). This wondrous village is known for its yak herders - those people that the British mountaineer and explorer, Eric Shipton described as the epitome of "hardihood". About Shimshal and its inhabitants, Shipton wrote:

"The community of Shimshal is remarkable for its isolation and independence of support from the outside world … They are a happy community leading an ideal existence in magnificent surroundings. The country is sufficiently difficult, and conditions sufficiently severe, to foster in the people that hardihood without which it seems to me impossible for mankind to be content" (Blank on The Map, 1938; reprint 1985, 296).

As for Shipton, our adventure was meant to turn a "blank on the map" into a palpable place by travelling through it, and by coming to understand how the people who have lived there for generations perceive and relate to their mountainous landscape and the increasing threats from catastrophic flooding. Shipton, too, found travel in this part of the world an incomparable experience:

"… no experience of mine has been fuller, no undertaking more richly rewarded than those few months among the unknown mountains beyond the crest of the Karakoram. The vast scale of the country, its complete isolation from any source of help or supply, demanded all our ingenuity and a wide range of mountaineering technique. Striving to traverse and understand such a world, and thus to absorb something of its peace and strength, was at once our task and our reward" (Upon That Mountain, 1943; reprint 1985, 450).

The Exploration of Khurdopin Glacier

Without hesitation, we quickly began to organise our equipment for the two-week trek starting in the morning. Unfortunately, Ana Pavalache, our research assistant and experienced mountaineer, was caught somewhere near K2 by bad weather, thus being unable to arrive in time in Shimshal to accompany us on the glacier. This made the exploration quest more difficult as the risk associated with the trek and mountaineering was standing solely upon my shoulders. Jeremy and Ronald, although experienced trekkers and travellers, lacked the necessary skills to tackle the difficult terrain of Khurdopin Glacier. 

To complicate matters even more, community members offering porter services in Shimshal are reluctant to go to Khurdopin because of the inherent difficulty of this surging glacier and high objective hazard. Most porters have families to take care of and are not willing to risk their lives on the unstable glacier. This had some negative repercussions on our endeavour due to the limited availability of experienced high-altitude porters. We only managed to find four very young and relatively inexperienced porters, thus making our mountain quest more difficult and riskier (Figure 8). However, Sabit, our guide, knew the route by heart, and was supportive of our cause. 

Packed with food for two weeks, scientific equipment and camping gear, eight people made their way towards Khurdopin Glacier: Ronald, Jeremy, Sabit, myself and four young porters. The approach to the glacier was quite difficult: loaded with 20kg of gear each, we crossed arid mountainous terrain, while being exposed to anomalously high summer temperatures (Figure 9). Water and thirst was a recurring thought for all of us and in a sense, this marked the start of our personal affair with water.

We arrived in the evening in a camp called Char Char, after crossing the terminal moraine of Yazghil Glacier – a spanner like body of ice, and the interminable Shimshal River floodplain. Our porters quickly made fire and started cooking chapattis and brewing tea with their improved stove system comprising a flat slate and whatever wood they managed to find in this desert. After taking some time to rest, Jeremy, Ron and I took the DJI Phantom 4 drone for a test and flew it over the dammed section of Shimshal River. We wanted to explore how far and how high the drone could fly. About 5-6km in the flight and several hundred meters high in the sky, the little UAV encountered strong winds, as well a series of signal failures, which coupled with a software error led to a malfunction in our camera systems and GPS navigation. For a few minutes we thought we had lost it, however, we managed to reconnect our remote control and bring it back. 

The next day we crossed the lowest section of the heavily debris-covered ablation zone of Khurdopin( Figure 10). Compared to 2015, when I first explored this glacier, the 7-9km wide snout was this time a complete ‘hell’ to cross. Overwhelmed by numerous crevasses, tall ice cliffs, moving debris and heavy packs, our progress was slow. The glacier has changed a lot since 2015. The irregular thickening with wave-like zones of higher ice moving down the glacier, and continuous sections of ice cliffs rising steeply to the glacier surface and overriding some glacier margins are very apparent and suggestive of a pronounced surge event.  

We reached the second camp at Pass Helga late in the evening (Figure 10). This camp is situated under the tall northern terminal moraine of Khurdopin, a relatively flat and sediment-rich area, which is usually flooded by the waters of the dammed lake. Back in 1960, a three km wide lake completely inundated this area. It was so large that it took 6 days to drain during a GLOF event which completely destroyed parts of the Shimshal Village. The event is still fresh in the minds of many of the elderly. We pitched our tent in between the debris remains of a previous GLOF, just under a large moraine breach. Again, the thick surge front was visible. Looking through the breach, tall ice cliffs could be seen, whereas in 2015, the level of the glacier was so much lower that you had to descent down several tens of metres to reach the ice. 

The next morning, we woke up to a rainy, cloudy and cold day. However, equipped with media and surveying equipment we marched towards the ice dam to assess the situation. We soon found the start of the eastern dam which measured 45m in height. The Virjerab River is still dammed by the glacier however no lake is present. The river is draining subglacially through a visible large crack in the ice. Unless floating ice blocks this meltwater channel, the chance for new dangerous lakes to form this melting season are low.

We returned to the camp, packed our equipment and continued our trek to the next camp called Chiririn, situated 17km further up the eastern lateral moraine of the glacier. This day was the wettest of the whole expedition, which proved a challenge for our photogrammetry work. Nevertheless, we managed to do our first GNSS survey in a place called Shilm, photographing the contact between the ice and the moraine. Our focus was to understand the recent changes and movements, and what the glacier surface looks like. The focus was on crevassing and possible lakes and areas between headwall and ice and ultimately develop a three-dimensional spatial story of the glacier. 

The next two days were straightforward, reaching a high point at Dr Ahsan Camp (Figure 13). However, while we were approaching this camp, we saw our porters and guides come down the path, without carrying any backpacks. When we crossed paths, Sabit told us that they were returning to Shimshal because they had run out of food. It was late evening and I was not sure how they would reach the camp below before dark. But I guess I underestimated the fitness of the locals. The discussion was quite tense, but we had no choice. We were abandoned just when the trek was transforming into a mountaineering quest: the beginning of the challenging glacier traverse was about to start – and this is where the knowledge of our porters would have been most useful. Without a choice, we paid the porters for their services up to this point and signed an agreement, which indicated that Sabit would return 4-5 days later with another porter to help us bring down the equipment to Shimshal. I was sceptical whether this would happen but decided to have faith in Sabit and his word. 

Left alone on the moraine, tired and confused, Ron, Jeremy and myself pitched the tent in a previous lake bed and called it a night. We woke up early the next morning motivated to assess the situation: we were alone, with plentiful food and equipment and a good weather forecast; what is the most logical thing to do under these circumstances? - continue the expedition of course! Thus, we packed lightly, taking only the most necessary items and began our alpine exploration of the upper reaches of Khurdopin Glacier.

A couple of hours later we reached the confluence of Khurdopin with a steep westerly-flowing tributary glacier – the point to descend onto the glacier (Figure 14). We scanned the glacier for quite some time for a suitable route, although we were aware that the perspective would quickly change once we are amongst ice cliffs and crevasses. The plan was to reach the middle of the glacier and walk the medial moraine until the confluence of the two tributaries making up Khurdopin. Here we would traverse back onto the eastern lateral moraine, negotiating the lower reaches of the Khurdopin until arriving at a hanging camp called Quadrat, after a guide from Shimshal. 

Descending the steep moraine was a dangerous challenge. Every five minutes there was some form of rock avalanching, with vehicle size boulders tumbling down the steep moraine and making our presence there looking more like a Russian roulette game. Speed was of the essence, and we quickly descended onto the glacier without any major incidents. From here, we walked through a maze of ice cliffs, meltwater channels and crevasses until we reached the medial moraine where we camped for the night on top of a neighbouring ice tower.

The next day we continued our quest, approaching the steep ice fall. It was very hot and already many of the dry channels we walked through yesterday were filling up with meltwater. At noon we reached a relatively flat and open area, characterised by a complex web of meltwater channels and small lakes. Some of this water disappeared into the depths of the glacier through a few bottomless moulins. 

We made good progress in this less hazardous terrain, enjoying the good weather and documenting our ascent with our cameras. After lunch, we entered the maze of ice features again, as we slowly progressed towards the ice fall (Figure 15). We soon found ourselves riding narrow icy ridges and jumping over unfathomable crevasses again. Unfortunately, we failed to find a suitable ice bridge to transition back onto the lateral moraine and decide to attempt a direct route through the middle of the ice fall. After an inhumane experience on Yukshin ice fall in 2015, I felt pretty confident to tackle this less menacing terrain. While I strongly embraced this view, my other team members, Jeremy and Ron, felt less confident about this new quest. Nevertheless, we gave it a try and reached a high point just under 5000m, where a crevasse the width of Oxford Street separated us from safe ground. We camped on top of a serac, in an area which seemed to be an old avalanche debris cone – a discovery, which gave ‘much peace of mind’ to my slightly ‘less confident’ team members (Figure 16).

Early next morning we woke up to a beautiful sunrise and decided to descend, as going up was too dangerous and unpredictable. After all, if our guide Sabit did manage to return within four days, we should at least try and meet him where we agreed. The descent was relatively incident free, and we took some time to film and take photographs of the environment. We camped again near the medial moraine and enjoyed a double cooked freeze-dried dinner each!

The next day we climbed back onto the treacherous moraine via a very steep line, avoiding miraculously a few tumbling boulders. Four days since we first walked on this glacier and I can say without hesitation that despite taking similar outbound and inbound routes, the glacier was completely changed. The once dry channels between the ice cliffs were full of raging meltwater and the river coming down from the westerly flowing tributary glacier was impossible to cross. Nevertheless, we found a small bridge near the ice margin and returned to the relatively safe ground of the moraine crest. 

While crossing a series of unstable debris cones, I noticed a series of footsteps, which were neither mine nor Jeremy’s nor Ronald’s. A few hours later, I observed silhouettes in the far distance. Initially I thought I was hallucinating due to the extreme heat, but eventually I realised that it was two people walking towards us. Half an hour later, I bumped into Sabit and Ana! I couldn’t believe my eyes, not that Sabit managed to return in less than four days, but that Ana came all the way from K2 to the upper reaches of Khurdopin. The shock on Jeremy’s and Ronald’s faces was even more pronounced.

And so, we all returned to Shimbick Camp (Figure 17) where we met the rest of the porters, including one which not only spoke excellent English but was extremely knowledgeable about the environmental changes affecting Shimshal. He was also a very skilled storyteller, entertaining us every evening with stories about Shimshal.

The return journey was more relaxed and thus we took the opportunity to carry out the rest of the GNSS and photogrammetric activities. Excluding a severe food poisoning episode, which almost completely compromised Jeremy, our return to Shimshal was event-free and quite pleasant! On July 14 we were back in Shimshal Village where we met Federica Chiappe.