From where we stood, I saw what looked like a massive area of salt deposits. One of them pitched in to say that it’s ice. I argued that the temperature had not dipped that low that the river would freeze to ice. It really wasn’t that cold, and there simply wasn’t an explanation for that yellow-white mass to be ice. We decided to walk over and find out who’s right.
A few hours into walking down the valley, the four trekkers were completely silent. The jokes had died down and hunger had begun to set in. We still had our raincoats on. It was drizzling and the fingers had begun to get a bluish tinge. Little One was totally exhausted. “I don’t really care to know if it is salt or ice, you know…” she had almost given up when Mowgli took a stick, ran down the valley a little further. He thrust the stick into the ‘salt deposit’, broke a piece, washed it in the stream and handed it over to her. “Ice… Salty ice!”
Now, there’s an argument completely settled.