On the morning of August 28, we left beautiful Korzok (by the banks of Tso Moriri) to survey Ryul Tso and Chilling Tso, the two most remote - and highest of the high-altitude lakes - that we had chosen to map using our underwater and aerial robots. These lakes are located to the east of Karzok and Tso Moriri and are separated from the lake only by a massif adorned by the peaks of Chamser Kangri, Lungser Kangri and Mentok Kangri. The weather over the last couple of days in Karzok had been largely kind, with bouts of light rainfall and gentle winds. Across the lake, however, angry-looking rainclouds had hung heavy over the Chamser, Lungser and Mentok peaks. Our (second) excellent driver and guide, Thopten, was constantly looking across at the clouds with not quite his usual smile, telling us that the bad weather was where we were headed, and expressing his doubts about the likelihood of us reaching the lakes without any trouble.

Our plan for August 28 was to head north from Karzok and drop off our bags at the monastery at Mahe, where Thopten had kindly asked his friends (the monks) to allow us to stay for a couple of nights, and who had, even more kindly, agreed. From Mahe, we would then head south-east, towards the high-altitude rangelands of the Changthang plateau, where our twin lakes lay. We freshened up at the toilet complex outside the monastery at Mahe, had some tea offered by the monks, and decided to push to the lakes and prayed fervently to the powers that be, for good weather.

The drive to Mahe, on a road lying alongside the Indus, was beautiful, flanked as we were by purple-hued peaks that seemed to made of little more than dirt at times, with patterns that reminded us that this barren land of high passes was once seabed. Marmots ran across the landscape, lugging their bottoms that were weighed down by the fat they were accumulating for the looming winter. Herds of kiang grazed, occasionally regarding us with a glance but not really fazed by the presence of humans at a safe distance. The cherry on the cake, however, were the pair of black-necked cranes we saw on the Indus floodplain, wading for food in the marshy grasses, mere feet beyond the road shoulder!

Passing through hamlets with golden-hued barley fields, the road eventually turned into a dirt track and then just flattened gravel. We paused briefly while a truck, carrying rations to the army camps up ahead, was repaired and then we went up into seemingly pristine hills without any permanent human habitation; and only the occasional military green tent to remind us that we were not the first to venture here. Up, up and into the widest expanse of land I have ever seen. At an an altitude of about 5000 m, we were flanked by towering peaks that appeared flattened by the distance they were at. Ryul Tso spread out before us, its expanse not visible at first because of the complete lack of any gradient in the land. White tents of the pastoral nomads dotted the landscape, mostly Changpas who had been camping at these lands for about three weeks now - pasturing their herds of prized pashmina goat and sheep.

We stopped a while from Ryul Tso. It was afternoon by now and the weather at  these altitudes is extremely unpredictable - we had to work fast. We surveyed the lake rapidly - the drone held up well under the able remote-piloting of Shashank, in spite of the high winds and the rarefied air. Tired, we trudged back to the car to carry on to Chilling Tso, which was still a half hour's ride away. Thopten surprised us all when we got to the car - he had arranged for refreshments. Tashi, a Changpa lady, invited us into her tent - where she served us Maggi, tea, fresh Pashmina butter and curd.

I am not a foodie, and I seldom relish a meal - but this assortment of fresh and fragrant rarities, and the kindness of our hosts who laboured in the harshest of worlds for their food, yet were willing to share it at the slightest sign of need - this will stay with me. Reinvigorated, we headed back into the car and south across the rangelands towards Chilling Tso for another set of rapid surveys.

The weather was becoming increasingly chilly, so we wrapped up work quickly and left for base. We made it back to the monastery in time for a hot meal at the gompa kitchen, and a hastily put-together serradura in a condensed milk tin with a matchstick as a candle to mark the end of our expedition and incidentally, the birthday of our expedition leader and my companion on many a mountain now, our beloved Shanks!