Ground Reality vs Satellite Roar: Former Forest Officer Contests ‘Exaggerated’ GLOF Fears in Lahaul-Spiti
SHIMLA/KEYLONG: Amid the growing alarm raised by satellite-based studies, including the recent IIT Roorkee paper warning of heightened Glacial Lake Outburst Flood (GLOF) risks in the Himalayas, a strong counterview has emerged from the ground—literally.
Former forest officer and Himalayan field veteran B.S. Rana, who has spent decades traversing remote glaciers and high-altitude lakes of Lahaul-Spiti and adjoining regions, has termed many such satellite-driven assessments as “misleading, exaggerated and divorced from ground realities”.
Rana argues that several institutions are flagging Himalayan glacial lakes as “dangerous” purely on the basis of Google Earth imagery and remote sensing outputs, without physical verification.
“Such reports create panic but do not always reflect the actual hydraulic behaviour of these lakes,” he says.
Ghepan Lake: A Case of Overstated Threat?
Citing the much-hyped Ghepan Lake in Lahaul, Rana recalls that nearly 20–25 years ago, leading institutes had projected an imminent outburst threat, making national headlines. However, his repeated field visits tell a different story.
According to Rana, Ghepan Lake holds relatively limited water volume. Meltwater from the rapidly retreating Ghepan Glacier drains out smoothly from the lake’s southwest end.
Large quantities of muck and boulders have accumulated both inside and below the lake, forming a natural buffer that effectively dissipates hydraulic pressure.
“The lake is far more stable than it is made out to be,” he says, adding that greater danger actually lies in nearby fractured glaciers, which could collapse directly into streams without warning.
Chandertal, Surajtal: ‘Zero Danger’
On Chandertal, Rana dismisses GLOF fears outright. “Chandertal is completely safe,” he says, pointing instead to a lesser-known and remote lake—Gaang Tso, located 8–10 km uphill near Samudra Tapu—as a feature that remains poorly studied due to inaccessibility.
Surajtal, near Baralacha Pass, is also “not dangerous by any standard”, Rana maintains.
Parechhoo: Not Even a Lake
Rana also takes issue with repeated references to the “Parechhoo Lake” in scientific literature. “Parechhoo is not a lake at all—it is a river flowing along the India–Tibet border,” he clarifies.
Recalling the catastrophic floods of July 2000, Rana says the devastation across the Sutlej and Indus basins was triggered by unprecedented rainfall across the Tibetan Plateau—not by any artificial intervention, as was speculated in the media at the time.
He recounts narrowly escaping disaster during a scientific expedition near Tso Moriri when the entire plateau flooded after intense overnight rainfall.
Other Lakes: Small, Stable, Safe
Rana asserts that several other lakes often clubbed into GLOF-risk inventories—Neelkanth, Deepaktal in Lahaul, and Bhrigu, Dashaur, Dainasar and Fungni Mata lakes in Kullu—are small, stable and pose no threat.
“These high-altitude lakes are ecologically beautiful and hydrologically benign,” he says, cautioning against branding them as hazards without field validation.
Vanishing Lakes Tell a Different Story
Interestingly, Rana flags the case of Tso Kar, a large lake on the route to Tso Moriri, which has shrunk dramatically into a marshy landscape over time.
“Clear shoreline markers show it once held much more water. Something significant must have happened in the past to drain it,” he notes, adding that the area is now frequented by Tibetan wild asses (Kiangs).
Call for Ground Assessment
While not dismissing climate risks outright, Rana stresses that satellite studies must be supplemented with rigorous ground surveys before issuing sweeping warnings.
“The Himalayas cannot be understood from computer screens alone,” he says.
His assessment serves as a reminder that GLOF discourse needs balance—between technology and terrain, models and mud, satellites and soil.