It was difficult to persuade the driver to take me to Pangong Tso. The weather had turned bad at night. The unrelenting snowfall had covered Tangtse village with a thick layer of snow. The road to the lake becomes impassable in such weather. I wasn’t willing to give up as yet. With a little bit of luck and a lot of courage and careful driving, we just might reach there.
The driver agreed on the condition that we’ll turn around if it gets too risky to push on. Well, as long as he was willing to at least try.
The road was barely visible. It was a stretch of white from the mountains on one side to the frozen brook on the other. Steadily we trudged along, through utterly silent spaces, all the time hoping to make enough traction and leave tracks for the return journey. It was still snowing and driving would be tougher on the way back.
The lake presented itself in a completely different view from previous evening. Large frozen portions had partially melted and violent waves in the lake were tossing huge chunks of ice. Unyielding wind blew through the white-out, as if urging me to partake in this exquisite yet extreme vista and be on my way, while I still can. The driver’s anxiety notwithstanding, I was here. No matter how harsh, but the place was exclusively mine, albeit for that short allowance of time while one could bear the piercing cold and be eager enough to photograph it.