Social Innovation
Meet the team making man-made glaciers for drinking water
In the Himalayan mountains, a local engineer creates ice structures to ensure villagers have drinking water all year round. Ice Stupa Project volunteer Simant Verma writes about his adventure.
The taxi turned towards Phyang, a small village in the Ladakh mountain desert on the Tibetan plateau, with nothing but barren desert on either side. In front of me lay miles of broken road and snow-clad towers jutting from the ground like a scene from another planet. A few minutes into the ride, a tall white cone of ice sitting at the base of a hill some 500 metres away caught my attention.
I could see tiny black dots moving around at its summit and, as I got closer, I realised those specks were people. Minutes later, I got out of the taxi, only to stare in awe at the 24-metre tall structure of ice, or ice stupa as it is famously known, right in front of me. I had to squint against the reflection of the ice’s bright white surface. To my side was a small building with a slanted plastic sheet for a roof, a solar heated house which was to be my temporary home.
I wondered where I would find Surya, who had invited me on this project. “Hey, I am here,” a voice yelled out. I looked around before spotting him calling me from the ice stupa.
Ice Stupa Project
© Ice Stupa Project
This was not my first visit to Ladakh. Three years previously, I’d been climbing with friends and we’d reached the summit of Golep Kangri in the Himalayas. Although the expedition, which saw us walking knee-deep through snow for hours was nerve-wracking, it helped me to form a strong connection with the region. I hoped to come back. The following year, my friends repeated the same expedition and found the mountain devoid of snow. This set me on a journey. I wanted to understand the impact of a warming world and what role humans play in it all. Many months later, at a work-related event, I met Surya, who was involved with the Ice Stupa Project. I knew instantly that I needed to be part of the experience.
Ladakh is a mountain desert at over 3,000 metres high. With average rainfall as low as 50mm per year, civilisation in this brutally cold region has been possible only because of the water that comes from the many glaciers that surround it. In fact, locals say that the size and population of a village is dependent on the size of the glacier situated on top of it. One of the primary sources of income in Ladakh is agriculture, which lasts for only five months, given that the soil freezes in winter and temperatures are not conducive to farming.
Decades ago, natural glaciers started receding – the massive change was down to developing climatic conditions. Since these glaciers had receded higher up, even when spring started, temperatures weren’t high enough to cause them to melt, leaving agricultural fields dry during crucial months. “Drang-Drung, probably the largest glacier in Ladakh, has retreated roughly 200 metres in the last five years,” Thupstan, a member of the Ice Stupa Project team recalls. A changing climate has led to an erratic water supply and frequent cloudbursts. Thus, water isn’t there when it’s needed but is available in late spring when the sowing time has passed.
The ice formations are something to behold
© Stupa-2
As agriculture has taken a down-turn, the villages are no longer an attraction for local youth, who are starting to seek employment opportunities elsewhere.
“The city of Leh is exploding with the added pressure of tourism, plus all the locals are moving there, and further afield, to find employment, while our villages are imploding with only the oldest generation left behind to take care of whatever is left of our agriculture,” Sonam Wangchuk explained to me. The 51-year-old local with silver hair and an infectious smile is a mechanical engineer by trade. In 2013, he invented and built the very first ice stupa here in Ladakh – and in doing so, changed the life of thousands in his community.
Sonam Wangchuk has changed the lives of thousands in his community
© Ice Stupa Project
The first person to address the problem of retreating glaciers was Chewang Norphel in the late 20th century. He constructed a wide, sloping diversion canal through a narrow stream and built check dams on it to reduce the flow of water and form a thin layer of ice in winter. It would melt when the temperatures increased in spring. Unfortunately this construction was riven with problems. Since these were horizontal ice formations, the surface area of the glaciers was too big, so the entire glacier was exposed to the sun’s heat and would melt very quickly. The fields would be left with a substantial dry period before the natural glaciers started melting. These constructions also required constant maintenance and a north-facing valley to shade them from the sun.
Inspired by Chewang Norphel’s work and to tackle these problems, Wangchuk and his team came up with the idea of building a cone of ice. The idea for the ice stupa came to him several years ago, one morning late in May, while he was driving in Ladakh. To his surprise, he spotted a piece of ice hanging from under a bridge. “I realised it was not the temperature that was causing the ice to melt away, it was the effect of direct sunlight,” he says. After many failed attempts, as he fondly recalls, he and his team of local students were able to arrive at a working model of the conical ice stupa. Since this cone would grow vertically up towards the sun, less surface area would be exposed to the sun’s rays and hence it would hold water efficiently until June, till the natural glaciers would start to melt. “We use high-school level science here,” says Wangchuk. “Gravity builds pressure in the pipe, while the sprinklers distribute the volume of water. The droplets, when exposed to minus 20-degree air, freeze to take the shape of a cone.”
Each 18m stupa can hold roughly 1.5 to 2 million litres of water
© Lobzang Dadul
The conical structures could be placed right next to the villages where water was needed. Each 18-metre stupa has the capacity to hold roughly 1.5 to 2 million litres of water. In the winter of 2016-17, the team was able to store roughly ten million litres. Each spring, the meltwater from these stupas is used to irrigate 5,000 trees planted by villagers to start the process of greening the desert. Apart from water conservation, the stupas attract thousands of tourists to the village, boosting their local economy.
It was time to get to work. I put all my layers on: buff, cap, sunglasses and gloves. The temperature had fallen to -10°C. Surya instructed me to help him put wire, thorny branches and nets on the ice stupa. “These act as a nucleus for ice to form around,” he explained. “When water from the fountain sprinkles onto them, a layer of ice forms overnight. In addition, the dripping water forms stalactites, exponentially increasing the amount of ice over many days.”
That night over dinner with Wangchuk, I witnessed how his face would light up while he devised solutions to multiple problems at once. The team was also in the process of experimenting with a cheaper method of building horizontal artificial glaciers by cutting steps into the valley. These would store winter water in the form of ice while breaking the flow of an oncoming flood. A solution which could save many lives and resources in the village downstream. Wangchuk calls this a “win, win, win, win situation!”
Rising up from the ground, the glacier's resemble works of art
© Ice Stupa Project
The next day started early. Surya and I decided to thread the south face of the stupa. He put on his crampons and started climbing on the treacherous ice. As we began to add the threads, Surya noticed a huge gap right under his feet. “First of all, we should put more branches here, or the weight of the ice will make it collapse without a base underneath. Please go and get some branches.” He pointed to a distance 20 metres away. I dutifully walked back and forth carrying heavy thorn-covered branches until all the gaps were properly filled, every step proving twice as hard in the high altitude. I was relieved when team leader Shara called us in for lunch. Gasping for air, I took tiny steps on the slippery ice back to our base where we would gather for our meal.
Later, the ten local team members plus Surya and I sat down to dinner. Everyone was upbeat, making jokes about the day’s work. “How can you be so chirpy after all the hard work you do every day in such cold weather? Where does your energy come from?” I asked. Mingyur, co-team leader, answered: “You’re looking at it upside down. These nights we spend joking with each other are what give us the energy to get out and work in -10°C in the mornings. It’s not easy, but it’s our way of life here.” I smiled at him. It all made sense.
On my last night, I decided to brave the cold to get a last view of the ice stupas in all their glory. Similar to a volcano, a massive fountain of water erupts from the top of the sculptures, flowing through the pipes straight down from the glacier. The freezing air temperature crystalises the water droplets as they hit the ground, adding to the stupa’s cone. With the droplets sparkling in the moonlight, this impressive spectacle of nature made me proud to have witnessed an ingenious idea that has taken shape in one of the most inhospitable regions of the world. Two tall ice structures as a symbol of ecological healing and a world adapting to its situation.
Simant Verma
© Ice Stupa Project
Wangchuk and his team are in tune with the rhythm of their changing environment; now with these structures of ice they have found a way to hold on to their culture and way of life.
About the writer:
Simant Verma, 23, is a mountaineer and admirer of all things outdoors. He now works full time as a project manager of the Ice Stupa Project in Ladakh. He has previously worked with rural communities, training them in beekeeping and sustainable honey harvesting, as part of India Fellow, a social leadership programme