Tibet (III)

Richard W. Frank

Tibet (III)

Hero shot with Kailash in the background

All the pictures that I had seen did not do the lady justice as we spent the next four days skirting her flanks. There was not a sign of snow or other pilgrims except an eccentric Japanese cyclist. After two days of ascent we reached the Drolma-la and celebrated with water and half a smashed Snickers from Lhasa. Life is good. The rest was all downhill and we left so jazzed that we decided to walk the 35km to Lake Manasarovar instead of waiting for a ride. A local mutt decided to join us on the excursion. Felt like Tom and Huck. The full moon that had lit up Kailash for us led the way to the lake while the stars were absolutely beyond description. Why am I always hard-core when there is no one around to see?

The lake was a revelation as was the hot springs at Chiu gompa. A wonderful place for laundry, walks, and rampant sloth. At Barkha Toni and I said our goodbyes after three weeks of constant commiseration, and we waited on opposite sides of the village for rides: her to Kashgar and I back to Lhasa. She had kept me grounded during the endless hours on the road and having a sense of humor almost as bent as mine kept me amused at the fundamental absurdity of our situation. Toni had been on the road for 10 months and helped me get back in the swing of things (Thanks again for the dumplings, girl).

The three days spent on the side of Lake Manasarovar waiting for non-existent traffic was therefore a change as I was forced to keep myself and my new pet rock Leopold amused. I had long ago finished Rushdie's "Midnight's Children," my one book, and the only reading material I had besides my little used shampoo bottle was my LP and phrasebook. In my boredom (when I wasn't fighting the local pack of rabid Cujos) I managed to memorize several hundred words of practical Tibetan: I don't understand, I don't want any more chang (yak butter tea, thugpa, tsampa), where is that lazy driver, etc.

Locals

My luxurious accommodations for three days

Finally, I got a free ride to the next town Paryang eleven hours away. This was a trip on which I learned the difficult logistics of relieving oneself out the back of a rapidly moving and bouncing truck in the sub-zero morning while wearing gloves and seven layers of clothing. Thank God there was no one to see me trying to be hardcore. On arrival I realized why the ride was free-we were still 70km from town, and my truck was loading the heavy machinery from another stranded in a sand dune. This was not the most pleasant of news as I only had three packs of biscuits, two bags of instant noodles, and some yak butter for the two day walk to the next adobe hut.

The next day I tried to look resolute setting out and was lucky enough to be invited into a nomad's yak-hair tent for a feast of a dinner: a bit of yak spine (hours of enjoyment), tsampa (roasted barley flour), and butter tea. Their baby replete with dreads to make Bob proud kept me amused with an insatiable curiosity (as most Tibetans had) about my rather large US 13 size boots. All the better to kick your dog with, my pretty, aaahhhaaa...I had been gone for too long.

The singing dung truck picked me up the next day.

"Men make their own history, but they do not make it just as they please." -Karl Marx

The rest of the journey back to the Friendship Highway went rather smoothly as I raced to get back to call my mom for her birthday on November 9th. On 12:30 that morning on a beautiful paved two lane highway 41km from Lhasa I had to cash in some of that good Kailash kharma. My truck was part of a four vehicle convoy from Lhatse, and it had been having problems since we started at 8am. Hadn't eaten all day in expectation of arriving in Lhasa except for some biscuits and tea. I had lost way too much weight in Ngari and was looking forward to Tashi's cheesecake and baozi dumplings with a religious fervor. Must have, must have!

To Tibet (IV)

Back to World Trip #2 Back to Tibet (II)

Of course, we were stranded in Yanhutso for almost three days as Godfather dropped his load and went to pick up another for Ali. The brown and green glass of the broken bottles did catch the afternoon light in an attractive way and the dogs only wanted to eat humans in the predawn hours. Patience is a virtue only when you run out of other options.

Eventually we did arrive at Ali at 5am on the 19th with Toni reeling from the effects of some bad yak. We definitely needed to re-supply our Nescafe, chocolate, and our travel batteries. The power station had the first hot showers since Lhasa, and I washed away 1,700km of amazingly pervasive road dust (darn, that hadn't been a tan). Wasn't this supposed to be the Land of Snows?

The border area with India and Nepal swarmed with PLA troops and allegedly missiles pointed at Delhi. At least we were able to get some Great Wall wine and decent Sichuan. Not that we would need the energy because we proceeded to sit on the side of the barren Southern Route for the next three days trying to make it the last 300km to Kailash.

The bustling Ali Market

Then two quick Land Cruiser rides landed us within sight of the mountain itself. We bounced the last km with a Texan M.D. and an eccentric Lonely Planet writer in native dress singing along to Merl Haggard and eating some heavenly PB&J. Surreal is a word that pops up often in my travels.

Keeping busy while waiting for a ride

Lake Manasarovar

Playing with the self timer at dawn

At Drolma La Pass (5630m)