Mystery of Skardu’s Smoking Mountains
By Dr. Attarad Ali
University of Baltistan, Skardu
Residents of Skardu’s Kowardu area were rightly alarmed when pale, smoke-like plumes were seen repeatedly rising from a steep mountain face this summer. What looks dramatic from a distance column of white or grey rising from a rock cliff and billowing into the clear blue sky is, on careful scientific inspection, most consistent with a gravity-driven rock failure that produces a dense cloud of fine rock particles (often called “rock flour” or a powder cloud). The photograph taken at one of the events shows a very steep, bare, and highly jointed rock wall with a fresh light-coloured scar; the dust plume is narrowly focused on a single chute and expands as it ascends and mixes with ambient air. This pattern a localized source on a fractured cliff and a powder cloud that rises even when no strong winds are felt, is exactly the kind of signal produced when blocks detach and disintegrate while falling or sliding down a very steep face. In mountain ranges like the Karakoram and Greater Himalaya, persistent freeze–thaw cycles, intense solar heating on clear days, fast glacier retreats that undercuts slopes, and permafrost degradation all increase rock mass instability; these processes weaken joints and rock bridges until a small perturbation produces a rapid collapse. As the rock fragments abrade and collide during descent, they generate fine particles that form visible clouds; importantly, the collapsing mass itself injects air and fines upwards, so observers below may perceive a “smoke” column even in calm surface conditions. Large powder clouds from dry rockfall have been documented elsewhere and are not a sign of volcanism, they are erosional and mechanical in origin, not magmatic or thermal.
While dry rockfall is the most plausible single explanation for the Kowardu plumes, a thorough scientific assessment considers several alternative or complementary mechanisms because rural communities deserve a full accounting of risks and certainties. One alternative is venting of subsurface gases (principally CO₂ or CH₄) along faults and fractures. Deeply circulating groundwater or trapped gas pockets can, under pressure changes, release pulses of gas that entrain fine sediment and create buoyant columns; this phenomenon has been recorded in non-volcanic settings elsewhere (for example, CO₂ emissions and localized soil gas vents around Mammoth Mountain in the U.S., which have been monitored by USGS for decades and are associated with magmatic CO₂ release at depth, not with lava flows at the surface). Although gaseous venting at Kowardu is less likely given the absence of strong gas odours, animal die-offs, or thermal anomalies reported so far, a short survey with portable CO₂ and CH₄ meters would quickly confirm or rule out gas-driven entrainment at the source and should be one of the first field tasks if the plumes continue. Another possibility, because the plume is white and dust-like, is clandestine human activity; quarrying, blasting, or mineral processing, which in remote mountain areas can create sudden dust columns that appear to come from “no one.” Drone reconnaissance and comparison with historical satellite imagery (Google Earth, Sentinel archives) are simple, rapid ways to detect new access tracks, spoil heaps, or benches consistent with quarrying operations. A meteor airburst, a small meteoroid that explodes in the atmosphere and lofts surface dust or produces microscopic spherules is a lower-probability explanation but cannot be ruled out without sampling: meteor airbursts often leave characteristic glassy micrometeorites and magnetic metal grains (Ni–Fe) in the fallout, and eyewitness reports of a bright flash or sonic boom provide important corroborating evidence. Finally, rare but real thermal processes, such as spontaneous combustion of carbon-rich strata (coal or organic shales) can generate smoke, but in the local geology around Skardu there is no known shallow coal seam or industrial-scale carbon-rich substrate that would sustain long-term burning; where such phenomena exist elsewhere (Centralia, Pennsylvania; long-burning coalfields in India), they produce continuous smoke, heat signals, and often long-lived surface subsidence, which are not present in this case.
Placing the Kowardu event in a regional and global context is important: mountain landscapes are rapidly changing under climate pressure and human use, and this summer has been unusually warm across Pakistan, with amplified impacts in high-altitude zones. Pakistan’s mountain systems feed major river basins and host thousands of glaciers; recent reporting and regional assessments have warned that accelerated glacier melt and extreme monsoon rains are contributing to flooding and slope instability across the country. The combination of unusually high summer temperatures, rapid glacier retreat that exposes fresh steep rock faces, and repeated diurnal heating on clear days creates ideal conditions for thermally induced local updrafts and for the progressive weakening of rock via freeze–thaw and meltwater infiltration. The scientific literature on the Karakoram and adjacent ranges shows a complex picture, the so-called “Karakoram anomaly” documented in earlier decades (where some glaciers were stable or advancing) has been subject to re-evaluation and recent studies indicate that mass balance trends are becoming more negative in parts of the Karakoram, suggesting an overall increase in glacier vulnerability and more frequent exposure of unstable rock slopes as ice retreats. These changes are not abstract: they translate into measurable increases in slope failure frequency and new rockfall source areas above human settlements and infrastructure. For Pakistan as a whole, recent extreme hydro-climatic events, including accelerated glacial melt and intense monsoon rainfall have produced catastrophic flooding, which international reporting and relief agencies have tied to the worsening compound climate risks affecting millions; these same drivers magnify the chance that seemingly “odd” phenomena such as repeated dust plumes are symptomatic of broader system instability rather than isolated curiosities.
The scientific toolkit for diagnosing the Kowardu plumes is well-established and should be deployed in a phased but decisive way. First, rapid field reconnaissance is essential: geo-located photographs, a detailed witness log (time, direction, sound, any flashes), and three labelled samples (fresh plume deposit, upslope source, and a background control) form the baseline data. A simple magnet test on the coarse residue can rapidly detect metallic meteoritic fragments or machine-derived metal dust. Next, an immediate drone survey mounted with high-resolution RGB imaging (and thermal if available) should map the source scar, reveal any new access routes or spoil, and produce an orthomosaic for later change detection against historical satellite imagery. Within days, portable seismic and infrasound sensors even a small, temporary array can detect impulsive signals that accompany rockfall, blasts, or airbursts; many small collapses generate micro-seismic pulses that are not perceptible to people but are diagnostic in instrument records. Parallel to these on-site steps, lab analyses are crucial: grain-size distributions (laser particle sizing and sieving), optical microscopy, X-ray diffraction to identify mineralogy, and SEM/EDS imaging to search for glassy micrometeorites or spherules will distinguish aeolian desert dust, mechanically produced rock flour, and meteoritic input. Geochemical screening (XRF or ICP-MS) can detect unusual Ni/Fe enrichments or trace-element patterns that point to an extra-terrestrial source or to sulphide-rich mineralization; isotopic fingerprints (Sr–Nd) are the gold standard for unequivocal provenance attribution if distant desert dust or specific ore bodies are suspected. Finally, atmospheric back-trajectory modelling for the dates and times of observed plumes (e.g., using NOAA’s HYSPLIT) complements on-the-ground work by determining whether air masses came from known dust source regions (Taklamakan, Thar, or other loess deserts), although for the Kowardu photos the plume morphology and source-scar geometry point much more strongly to local material injection than to long-range aeolian deposition. For context, modern studies of dust emission and vertical dust towers over arid source regions, such as detailed remote-sensing and field observations from the Taklamakan Desert show how thermal convective vortices and strong surface heating can loft fine dust hundreds of metres high, forming columnar features that, in satellite imagery, can be mistaken for smoke or steam; such atmospheric dust processes are a useful analogue for how locally generated rock flour might be carried aloft by thermally driven updrafts even in otherwise calm weather.
From a hazards management perspective, the Kowardu phenomenon should be integrated into a formal Hazard–Vulnerability–Risk Assessment (HVRA) for the area. The HVRA is not a single test but a framework: first identify the hazard (episodic dust-producing rockfalls and powder clouds), quantify the probability and expected magnitude (estimate detached volume, frequency of observed events), and then map exposure (villages, grazing land, the Karakoram Highway corridor, water intakes, electricity infrastructure) and vulnerability (health sensitivity of the population, dependence on pastureland, community emergency response capacity). Risk is then evaluated as likelihood × consequence: repeated events producing PM10/PM2.5 spikes over inhabited areas create a non-negligible public-health risk (acute respiratory irritation; increased cardiovascular stress for at-risk groups), an economic risk to agriculture (dust deposition on orchards and winter crops), and a transport safety risk (reduced visibility on mountain roads). Practical HVRA metrics include PM2.5 and PM10 monitoring (deploy low-cost sensors such as PurpleAir for rapid baseline data), simple dust-deposition traps (for g/m² per event) to estimate eroded mass, and time-lapse camera triggers or acoustic sensors to quantify event frequency. Thresholds should be defined for action; for example, if plume events exceed X occurrences per month, or if PM2.5 exceeds national/WHO guidance by Y percent during a plume, then pre-agreed response protocols (road closure, community alerts, distribution of masks, temporary water intake shielding) are triggered. Where slope instability is confirmed and threatens settlements or infrastructure, short-term measures (controlled closures, exclusion zones, rockfall nets or deflection berms where feasible) and longer-term mitigation (slope scaling, rock anchors, revegetation of talus aprons) should be considered.
Concrete recommendations for authorities and scientists follow logically from the diagnosis and HVRA tools. Immediate actions (within days) are: dispatch a small reconnaissance team with a drone and gas detectors; collect and courier representative samples to a university or national lab for granulometry, XRD and rapid XRF screening; begin PM2.5 monitoring at sensitive receptor locations; and secure the nearest access route(s) to prevent accidental injury from rockfall. Short-term actions (weeks) include deploying a few temporary seismometers/infrasound stations, conducting detailed photogrammetric surveys to measure the scar and compute detached volume, and obtaining recent PlanetScope/Sentinel imagery for change detection. Medium-term measures (months) involve a full HVRA, installation of early-warning sensors (tiltmeters or geophones) on persistent unstable blocks, community preparedness training, and consideration of engineering mitigation for critical assets. Long-term priorities must address root causes tied to climate and land use: systematic glacier and permafrost monitoring (to predict new rockfall source exposure), aggressive catchment-scale afforestation and slope-stabilizing revegetation programs where eco-feasible, and strict enforcement against illegal quarrying that would otherwise aggravate slope instability. Funding mechanisms such as international climate adaptation programs and disaster-risk-reduction grants (which now increasingly focus on mountain glacier retreat and GLOF risk) can be tapped to finance these measures; planning documents and project pipelines should prioritize multi-hazard resilience because glacier retreat drives both hydrological change and slope destabilization simultaneously. For comparison and to strengthen technical design of interventions, international case studies (e.g., remote sensing and thermomechanical modeling of powder-cloud-producing avalanches, large permafrost mega-slumps in Siberia that produce dusty collapses, and long-term gas-monitoring programs at Mammoth Mountain) offer methodological templates and practical sensor choices that can be adapted to local logistics and budgets.
Finally, clear and empathetic public communication is essential. Scientific nuance must not be translated into equivocation in public messaging: based on the photographic evidence, the regional geology, and the absence of volcanic precursors (seismic swarms, thermal anomalies, persistent gas emissions), the most probable explanation for Kowardu’s visible plumes is mechanical collapse of highly fractured rock producing powder clouds and not an emergent volcano or lava emission. Conveying this message, however, should be paired with remedial steps and community protections so that residents understand that the phenomenon is being investigated and that practical mitigation and monitoring are underway. Health advisories, simple guidance to stay indoors during visible plumes, use face coverings for vulnerable people, and secure water supplies from visible dust deposition are low-cost, effective immediate measures. Concurrently, establishing a reporting hotline, training local rangers or shepherds to document events (time-stamped photos, basic witness questionnaire), and coordinating with district disaster management and national geological organizations will create the institutional pathway needed to move from emergency observation to long-term risk reduction. While invoking spiritual and communal resilience is culturally important and often comforting, and I join the community in wishing for protection and ease, the technical path to safety here is clear: rapid field sampling, drone mapping, short-term seismic monitoring, gas screening, PM monitoring, integration into an HVRA, and a blend of structural and ecosystem-based mitigation measures underpinned by climate-adaptation finance.
In sum, the Kowardu “smoke” episodes are alarming but explainable. They represent a symptom of accelerating geomorphic change in a warming high-mountain environment: faster glacier retreat, increased thermal stress on rock faces, and more frequent exposure of steep, jointed cliffs that are primed for brittle failure. The photographic evidence and geological reasoning make a dry rockfall / rock-avalanche with powder-cloud formation the leading hypothesis, while targeted field tests (gas meters, magnet tests, microscopy of samples, seismic/infrasound) will rule in or out other possibilities such as clandestine blasting or meteoritic input. If confirmed and acted upon with the HVRA-style approach outlined above, the risk to people and livelihoods can be reduced. For the people of Skardu and the wider Gilgit-Baltistan region, this event is also a reminder that climate change is not only about long-term ice loss: it changes the stability of the very slopes that communities depend on. Protecting glaciers and forests, improving early-warning systems, and investing in local geological capacity are investments in human safety as much as in environmental stewardship. May the authorities move quickly, may the scientific teams arrive equipped, and may the people of Kowardu be kept safe and informed through every step of this investigation.
