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Hunza Valley in the moonlight. PHOTO: EXPRESS
HUNZA:
Every winter for decades, the pool in front of Aleena Gul’s house in Pakistan’s Hunza Valley has been transformed into an ice rink, framed by the jagged peaks of the Himalayas and the stone walls of Altit Fort. This year it was not like that.
Gul can see the swimming pool that doubles as a hockey field from his bedroom. For years, he would wake up at dawn, lace up his skates and walk straight out his front door onto solid ice.
After four years away from college, he returned eager to play again, but found himself waiting for winter to come.
“There is a big difference between 2018 and now,” said Gul, 21, captain of her team and one of the first women in Hunza to play the sport.
In the mountains of northern Pakistan, winters come later and behave unpredictably. Cold snaps are shorter and freeze-thaw cycles are unstable.
In the broader Hindu Kush-Himalaya region, scientists report fewer extreme cold events and shorter snow seasons; what locals call a “snow drought,” when the snowfall doesn’t let up.
The change is visible in Hunza. Data compiled by WeatherWalay, a climate analysis platform, shows that average winter precipitation has fallen about 30% since the late 2010s, recording four consecutive years below normal.
Some recent winters have also been 2 to 3°C milder, so there is less snow to support the ice. Unlike European resorts with artificial snow, the Hunza tournament relies entirely on natural ice. In a valley that relies heavily on tourism, winter sports now depend on a climate that no longer follows the old rhythms.
For eight seasons, Altit Pool has hosted the Karakoram Interlude, a community-run tournament that attracts teams from across northern Pakistan and extends the tourist season beyond the summer.
In good years, the track shines under the floodlights, spectators lean over the stone parapets with cups of tea in their hands, their breath rising in white clouds.
This year, organizers prepared the track as usual, pouring water at night and smoothing the surface by hand to allow temperatures below -20°C to set the layers. “We stayed up until 3 in the morning trying to help it freeze,” Gul said.
“We are doing everything we can.” In 2024, “we start to see a sudden change in weather patterns like snowfall, freezing levels and overall temperatures,” said Sadiq Saleem, 31, president of the Altit Town Management Society and founding member of the SCARF youth organization, a pioneer of ice hockey in the valley.
Fine puddles formed where the blades scraped the ice. Small cracks extend beneath the surface. Organizers pressed their palms against the ice, checking the flex and listening for cracks.
“We worked on this field for a week,” said Naseer Uddin, 34, co-founder of SCARF. “But when the sun came out strong, it ruined everything.”
The opening ceremony was held under floodlights, but organizers warned that the track was too fragile to accommodate entire teams. Only the captains stepped forward to reveal their jerseys alongside the sponsors, fearful of the thinning ice.
The traditional opening night friendly match was cancelled.
chasing the cold
There was little time to argue with the weather. In a matter of hours, organizers walked the streets of Altit, calling players and knocking on doors.
The tournament was moved nearly two hours north to Sost, one of the last cities in Pakistan before the Chinese border, where the colder air offered a better chance of having enough ice. They had done this before.
Two winters ago, when the Altit pool also did not freeze, the ice on Sost, about 2,800 meters (9,186 feet) above sea level (about 300 to 400 meters higher than Altit), held firm.
This year, that solution also failed. For Gul, it was like chasing a season that kept going backwards.
At Sost, the runway was on an exposed stretch of valley floor near the Khunjerab Pass, beneath steep, wind-cut ridges that funneled cold air from even higher elevations. And although the surface was firmer than Altit’s pool, some parts were thin. Players tested it cautiously before compromising its weight.
Winter can’t pay the bills.
It’s not just the players who feel the tension. Unpredictable winters have an impact on cafes, guest houses and transport operators. Smaller unheated guesthouses struggle because pipes freeze, shut off water, then thaw and refreeze unpredictably, increasing the risk of explosions and costly repairs.
Globally, fewer and fewer regions can reliably host winter sports as temperatures rise. In Hunza, a district of less than 100,000 people, residents face that reality without artificial snow or cooling systems… and without certainty.
Winter has long been quieter than summer in Hunza, but residents say erratic snowfall, flooding and impassable roads deter visitors who come in search of snow-capped peaks and frozen lakes, just as the Karakoram Interlude had begun to attract travelers from across Pakistan and beyond.
