Messing about the River

'The raft is the biggest lifejacket on the river,' says our team leader confidently during the safety briefing before we set out on a whitewater rafting expedition down the Zanskar River. When you're stuck is a rapid under an overturned raft, that's not quite how you see things but maybe now isn't the time is mention such a trifling concert.

  We're in Zanskar, one of the highest inhabited regions in the world, and a region of Ladakh, often known as "Little Tibet". Our group is made up of 18 rafters and six kayakers who have travelled from far and wide to this remote area to embark on a self-contained multi-day journey along the Zanskar River, a north-flowing tributary of the mighty Indus

Most of our group assembles in Leh, the largest town in Ladakh, where we spend a couple of days acclimatising at 3,500 metres and visiting a few Buddhist monasteries, before beginning our three-day ride to the put-in point on the Stod River, one of the Zanskar's main tributaries. We drive west to Kargil, then turn south to enjoy a scenic journey up the Suru Valley, from where we admire the spectacular view of the towering snow-capped Nun Kun Massif, more than 7,100 metres high. Finally, the road takes us over the Pensi La, a 4,400 metre-high pass - the gateway to Zanskar.

Our colourful flotilla of four rafts, nine kayaks, and one cataraft sets forth on unassuming waters the next morning. The first two days on the river are fairly calm, with only a few grade II/III rapids to tackle. On the third day, the landscape takes on a beguiling change - the sheer walls of the valley begin to slowly close in on us, as we paddle our way into the 'Grand Canyon of Asia'.

The roar of the river, as we approach a newly developed grade IV rapid, is electrifying. I'm transfixed by a gargantuan wave right ahead of us, when I hear our guide shout "Get down". Sadly, those words were not followed by "and boogie". Everyone in our raft immediately crouches down inside as the water hit us straight up, followed by two more swells from either side.

That afternoon, we make camp in a gorge below a village but early next morning, we're back on the river, and soon come to a point in the canyon where the opposing walls are almost close enough to kiss each other. The section of the river that flows through this six-metre slice is known as 'The Constriction'.

Our guide barks commands on entering the tight rapid, as the swift current carries our raft to the left side of the canyon. I jerk my head on hearing a rather disconcerting clang, and learn that our guide's left oar has hit the rock wall, and has been swept away by the torrent. Now the left side of our raft is literally being pushed up against the rock face by the powerful current, and we're beginning to slide upward. Everyone on the right jumps across the raft to the other side to prevent the boat from tipping over. Unfortunately, we're not fat enough. Then we flip.

Flipping like that isn't too scary. Being trapped underneath the raft after flipping is terrifying. The rational thing to do when you're underwater and can't breathe is to shut your mouth. I don't behave rationally and swallow what seems like half the river. After a lifetime, but in reality is probably only 10 seconds, I surface.

Two of us who didn't manage to grab on to the safety line that ran around our raft are pushed towards the left side of the gorge again, as our vessel disappears downstream. Another raft crosses us, its members wildly shouting and gesticulating for us to let go, which I reluctantly do, and we we're finally rescued.

We soon stop at an incredibly scenic spot for lunch, by an aquifer that reaches a break in the surface, where the water cascades down the staggered canyon wall. I'm still too shell-shocked by my supposed 'near death' experience to fully enjoy the magnificent backdrop.

Our last day, the river continues to amaze with colossal wave trains and powerful eddies. We pass through the inconspicuous confluence of the Zanskar and the Indus, and arrive at the take-out point, fondly bidding adieu to our endearing blue rafts.

An hour later, we're back in Leh. I survey the stark mountains one final time on my way to the airport the next morning - the stunning landscape I've grown so accustomed to, the exhilarating exploits and of course, the wonderful people I've shared this unforgettable odyssey with, will all be sorely missed. Not only have I been fortunate enough to have been a part of the world that not many know of, I've seen it doing something that not many would even dream of.