A Visit to the Himalayas

Standing on the crest of an ancient hill, I gaze out over the vast expanse, immediately immersed in the timeless tranquility of the Himalayas. This mountain range, covering 1,500 miles of terrain, stretches from Pakistan to Bhutan and into the northern Indian state of Uttarakhand where I look out over the surrounding village. This region is among the most biodiverse in the world; from the striking crimson of the Great Burnet to the soothing blue of the Himalayan Blue Poppy, vibrant flowers sit in valleys alongside towering glaciers, forming ecosystems that are as essential as they are breathtaking. As I take in the landscape, I can’t help but gape. 

However beautiful its natural wonders, the Himalayas are not immune to the effects of climate change. Global warming — the long-term rise in Earth’s temperature — poses an immediate threat to this delicate environment. Recent data estimates that temperatures in the region have increased by 2.5℃ and are projected to go up by as much as 9℃. 

These dramatic temperature changes will have catastrophic consequences for the area’s inhabitants. Glaciers are melting, natural disasters are becoming both more intense and less predictable, and reduced precipitation threatens to make the region uninhabitable for local species. Reliant on Himalayan agriculture, rural communities are also susceptible to these devastating effects, which is then exacerbated by their geographical isolation. 

Glacier melting, a direct result of rising temperatures, is devastating ecosystems worldwide and is a significant consequence of climate change. The Himalayas are home to the Gangotri Glacier in the Hindu Kush Himalayan region, a crucial water source for Asia’s massive river system. These rivers support around 2 billion people across the continent by supplying drinking water, irrigation, and food. Nearly 25% of the global population depends on Himalayan ice caps, including the Gangotri Glacier.

However, the Gangotri Glacier, currently 18.7 miles long, has been retreating since 1780. Recent studies show its retreat significantly quickened after 1971, having receded 850 meters in the past few decades. As glaciers like those in the Hindu Kush region shrink, excess meltwater pours into rivers below, causing devastating floods to nearby communities and habitats. If global warming continues to accelerate, Himalayan glaciers could lose up to 80% of their volume by the end of the century, leading to catastrophic flooding on an inconceivable scale.

What’s more, rising temperatures in the Himalayas are also increasing the frequency and severity of natural disasters, most notably droughts and monsoons. The intense heat evaporates surface water, creating challenges for irrigation and agriculture that local communities depend on. The excess water vapor then fuels powerful monsoons, while the increased atmospheric heat boosts wind speeds in tropical storms.

The changing frequency of droughts and monsoons not only poses immediate threats to local farming communities, but it also disrupts the predictable weather patterns they rely on. As in the United States, where I live, Himalayan communities — both human and animal — adhere to a familiar seasonal cycle. Winter is the cold and dry season, lasting from December to February; spring, the mild season, stretches from March to May; summer, the monsoon season, runs from June to August; and fall, the mild and dry season, covers September to November.

As these patterns shift, ecosystems struggle to adapt, often devastated by unexpected natural disasters. Farmers cannot predict crop conditions or prevent the damage caused by erratic storms and dry spells, leading to unplanned food and water shortages that only inflame the region’s poverty.

Similarly, rising temperatures have drastically reduced precipitation in the region. In the Northern Indian state of Himachal Pradesh, snowfall was down by a staggering 31% in the first few months of 2024. This trend is expected to continue. With the changing climate adding an element of uncertainty, reduced rainfall and snowfall make agriculture even more uncertain in the face of droughts and monsoons.

Standing on that breathtaking mountain in Uttarakhand, I was oblivious to the environmental threats that loomed over the landscape. It seemed serene, almost perfect. Almost perfect, except for the ashen yellow grass curling at the edges of the terrain; almost perfect, except for the browning crops just beyond my line of vision.

Now, knowing the devastating impact of rising temperatures, I recognize the subtle indications of a much larger issue. The extended winter — the dry season — caused by increasing temperatures had delayed the arrival of spring, accounting for the yellowing hillsides. Recent floods, or perhaps just reduced rainfall, left the fields of these agriculturally dependent families barren.

Worst of all, I recognize that it’s the actions of people like me, living in communities similar to my own in North America that have contributed to the empty stomachs of these Himalayan communities. The rural people of the Indian Himalayas consume a fraction of what we do in our capitalist society. It is our practices that increase fossil fuel emissions and global temperatures accordingly. 

In the past year alone, emissions worldwide reached an astounding 36.8 billion metric tons of carbon dioxide—equivalent to the weight of 100,822 Empire State Buildings. At these levels, the rise of global temperatures is inevitable, and its impact on vulnerable communities remains insufferable. 

Aware of the devastating and disproportionate impact of global warming on communities around the world, we must strive to improve our consumption habits. If not for the region’s beautiful biodiversity, then for the people who live in the isolated communities whose fate is precariously tied to our heedless lifestyles.

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