c u on top - satyabrata dam

I get innumerable requests to feature global warming (GW) issues in my blog. While it is heartening to know that so many of my readers and friends are aware of GW it is also a difficult task to write about this complex phenomenon along with its vast and highly debatable data for normal readers. Any GW expert is more likely to use jargons and scientific formulas, historical data, pie-charts, etc to drive his point home, to the complete befuddlement of his audience at large notwithstanding. My idea here is to break it down into digestible and delectable morsels for all of you, any of you in a manner that even a child who is not a prodigy can grasp and understand and act upon in any manner possible. GW issues are vast and involve each of us, including the mute animals, insects, fishes, all our geological features, landscapes… anything and everything that resides within the geo-magnetic influence of the Earth and in the cryosphere in particular. Which could tantamount to say that even you ...

For me a mention of South America always conjures up visions of some of the finest mountains and glaciers in the world. It is my single most favorite continent on Earth and if not an Indian I would have definitely wished to be a South American; a Peruvian or an Argentinean to be more specific. The largest and most voluminous natural feature of South America is certainly the Andes range of mountains. The Andes run almost the entire length of the continent’s western edge starting from Venezuela to Chile and Argentina passing through Columbia, Ecuador, Bolivia and Peru. It is nearly 7500 km long and averaging around 250 km at its widest. Towards the south it is often referred as the Patagonia sub-range. During my several journeys to the continent I have covered quite a bit of this massive mountain range, which is home to some of the finest and most technical mountains on Earth. Topographically the longest mountain range in the world can be divided into Northern, Central and Southern parts...

I wake up with a start. The tiny tent is swinging gently, brushing against the rock every now and then. A strange sound permeates into the wild night. Switching on my headlamp I look at my companion sleeping peacefully on the space-starved floor. I know there’s nothing but empty air beneath us. My Suunto (watch) says it is 1.20 am with inside air hovering around 14 C below zero. It’s in mid July, right in the heart of winter of Southern Hemisphere. The swing of our tent tells me that a buffeting gale has us in its grip. Nearly 3000 ft vertically above ground is a very exciting place to be, though not necessarily a comfortable one… certainly not for what I have in mind. If any observer could even see us from ground, stuck as we are like a fly on that massive face of rock and ice, rearing up like the raised hood of a serpent into the dark sky, he is certain to wonder if this fly is ever going to fly or fall away. I smile to no one in particular as I gaze again at my supine companion. Wi...