Crossing Lake Khövsgöl with Women on a Mission, Feb-Mar ’26
Lake Khövsgöl stretched before us. Seven women, converged on a frozen expanse for a brief but transformative journey: a crossing of the lake’s 160 km of fractured ice. The wind was sharp, the air bitter, the ice like a mirror of silver and shadow, shards like glass catching the pale Mongolian sky. We began a passage. We stepped into another dimension.
At -40°C, the world simplifies. Survival and safety take precedence. Beyond shielding our fingertips from frostnip, every small detail was amplified, as if our senses had been sharpened by the cold: the icy sting of air inside nostrils, the crunch of steel studs on brittle ice, the delicate crystals forming on eyelashes. Our breaths vanished before they could fog. The cold seemed to swallow everything unnecessary, leaving only the essentials of life and motion.
We had come to northern Mongolia from different countries, backgrounds, and life journeys, drawn together by curiosity, by challenge, and by the pull of adventure and how it forges connection in ways nothing else can.
I had pictured Lake Khövsgöl as a flawless sheet of glass. But as we traveled north, the autumn warmth had left its mark. Locals spoke of shifting patterns, perhaps hints of global warming. The ice had formed, fractured, refrozen, and cracked again. Smooth expanses gave way to ridges, rough plates, and jagged seams where the lake had heaved and settled. When we finally stepped onto its surface, we began navigating a frozen mosaic, and each step became a negotiation with a wild and shifting world. Where to cross cracks? Was the ice to broken or rough to walk over? How and where best to go?
We moved across the lake in different ways: I rode a hand-trike, a new Inspired Cycle Engineering (ICE) machine, while the others walked, pedalled a mountain bike, or, when the ice allowed (rarely), skated. The ICE trike was an enabler for a journey that once would have seemed entirely out of reach. I sensed the delicious taste of freedom. The energy and beauty of the ice tingled my senses and penetrated deep within. I sat quietly on the trike, in a peaceful space, and listened to the millenia-old waters boom in haunting echos beneath the lake’s vast, frozen surface…the ice, in all its eminence, moved me to tears.
Every ounce of energy was devoted to staying warm. Even a moment of exposed skin stung sharply, and the difficulty in performing the simplest acts of survival was a stark reminder of how fragile we are: and the systems we take for granted. The comfort and convenience of modern life was stripped away. I wore so many layers of clothes to protect my paralysed, sensation-lacking body, paranoid about frostbite or cold injury, that I could barely move. The basics – warmth, water, shelter, sanitation – suddenly the main event; a reminder that at home we tend to live in ways that send us into a state of unconsciousness. We can forget what matters, and what to be grateful for.
Our Mongolian support team kept us safe. Their knowledge of the lake and their silent competence in brutal conditions was comforting. We admired their skills, their simple yet perfectly adequate equipment, use of natural furs and locally sourced food and materials. They worked hard to leave no trace, diligently collecting our pee and solid waste in bags, tying it to the back of a vehicle to freeze and be disposed of away from the risk of contaminating nature.
Each woman on our team carried her own story. Some were rebuilding lives after upheaval, others exploring what their next meaningful step might be, all discovering what our bodies and minds could endure in extreme conditions. One story stood out: my teammate Danika Gilbert and Samana, a young Afghan refugee she had worked with through her non-profit Hamdeli. In Kabul, Danika had taught Afghan girls to hike and climb the mountains. After the Taliban returned in 2021, she helped many escape and rebuild their lives, coordinating evacuations, raising funds, and continuing to support dozens of women and families navigating entirely new worlds.
Moving side by side in the vast wonderworld of the icy lake, listening to those stories, the spirit of resilience felt alive. The mountains had once given those girls space to dream; now, far from home, their courage and Hamdeli’s support had breathed life into those imaginations. Shared adventure seems to do that. I always return with a greater freedom from the chains of modern anxiety and ruminations of mind, imbued with more dreams, connection, and possibility.
Samana, now training as a marine, sent this message on return home: “I’m at home. We crossed the lake. We faced the cold, the cracks, the long days and we did it together. What we accomplished on Lake Khövsgöl was more than an expedition for me. It was resilience, courage, and women empowering women. So honoured to be with you all.”
On return to everyday life, what stays with me is simple: beyond gratitude for my electric blanket and hot shower, I celebrate that when feminine energy converges with respect and shared purpose, extraordinary things become inevitable.
Note: I choose the phrase “feminine energy” not to define women or men, but to describe a way of being. It is soft, strong, nurturing, powerful, intuitive, collaborative, and attentive. It fosters connection. We all carry it within us, and when honoured, it reveals the depth, resilience, and transformative potential in everyone.
THANK YOU to all in our very special team, to WOMEN ON A MISSION for the project and all you do, to ICE trikes for their new handbike I rode, and CLINISUPPLIES for helping people like me live life freely, and supporting our film-maker John Baikie to join us. Thank you to all my team mates, Valerie, Karine, Claire, Danika, Samana, Anna, and to our Mongolian support team.
Meanwhile, Pia Guarch Pinel, the young daughter of one of our team, created a song about our journey. Please enjoy the evocative song and images, and if you are interested to support the work of Women for Women International, the charity we are supporting through this Women on a Mission expedition, your donations are welcome at https://www.justgiving.com/page/karen-darke?utm_medium=FR&utm_source=CL