We arrived within sight of Mount Kailas in the middle of the afternoon. We had spent almost 10 days bumping along the jeep tracks of central and western Tibet from Lhasa. The jeep stopped and Samten pointed to a range of hills, far in the distance to our right. One of these was a very high mountain, far higher than the others, its top almost a perfect pyramid, the only one in the range high enough to be completely covered in snow, gleaming pure white in the sun. In front of us, as far as the eye could see, the Barga plain stretched green and interminable to the horizon. To our left, we could plainly see the 8,000 metre peaks of the Indian Himalaya, still hundreds of miles away. To our right, an ordinary-looking range of hills with this perfect jewel mountain, precious snow mountain, mounted in the middle of the hills like a diamond among emeralds.
At the place where we had stopped, there were little dozens of little piles of stones, resting places for the spirits - the subtle consciousness - of the recently deceased. We made our own little pile of stones, just in case one of us needed it, and Mike or Linda was kind enough to donate a crystal from Lhatse for the top. It looked like a miniature of the massive shining mountain we were headed towards. Then we hopped back in the jeep and headed for Darchen, the dump base camp for the Kailas khora (khora = circumambulation of a holy site).
Of course Darchen
was a total dump, nothing more could be expected. The base camp is strictly
seasonal - I don't think anyone lives there outside the khora season, which is
from May through to September. There is a foreigner compound, which is
ostensibly to give the foreigners some extra comfort but which is really to keep
the foreigners away from the locals. This segregation has totally broken down at
Darchen, since groups of bold itinerant Khampa women traders routinely invade
the foreigner compound and many groups of Tibetan pilgrims have moved in to use
the compound's wall as a wind-break for their tents. This chaos is presided over
by a single Tibetan communist-party member who swaggered around collecting
bribes - I mean checking permits - wearing his PLA army tunic open and flapping,
his hat at a jaunty sideways angle on his head. He had a very red face, which
could have been due to the wind, or the consumption of copious amounts of chang
(Tibetan barley beer, which I drank twice and both times got severely
food-poisoned, although my long-time Tibetan guide Samten has the idea I was
throwing up because I was extremely drunk). Most of the time, the Peoples'
Republic of China representative in Darchen (more appropriately known as the
Edge of the World), was asleep.
There were only 3
actual rooms left in the foreigner compound when we arrived, but one of them had
been in use recently as the compound's abattoir, and still had sheep parts under
a chair, a dish of blood on the floor and a strong vile smell. We quickly
discussed the situation and decided that Mike would join Linda and I in one room
(luckily there were 3 beds), and the Tibetans could bunk up as best they could
in the other room (Samten the guide, Loya the cook, Tsering the jeep driver and
Tenzin the truck driver).
The Darchen foreigner compound is really three sets of concrete barracks inside a wall which is about 8 feet high. Since the wall does not have a locking gate, and there are lots of places where it is broken, it really functions as a wind break rather than to keep anyone or anything in or out. There's also a toilet block, or what passes for one in these parts.
One block
(our block) was full of western tourists who were about to start (or had
finished) the circumambulation. The second block was full of Hindu pilgrims from
India, including one orange-robed sadhu who's only concession to the extreme
cold and biting wind was to wear white long-johns under his flowing robe, his
arms and torso bare. The third block was for the Tibetan guides and staff who
belonged to the tourist groups. The same activities took place here regardless
of the time of day - tea drinking, mahjong playing, and tired drivers trying to
rest up from the grueling drive.
The toilet block
was particularly noxious. There was a tiled channel down the middle of this
building, and some divided stalls. This was flushed by a girl with a hosepipe
once a day. If you got there immediately after the flushing, it was acceptable.
Any other time of the day, it was a disgusting place, with piles of
unmentionable in the most unbelievable places. You definitely did not want to go
there after dark, and certainly not without a flashlight.
Camped beside us was a group from Woodside (which is 4 miles from Palo Alto, where Linda and I live). These people were the envy of all because they had a cooking tent with a generator. Instead of eating grimly in the dull glow of candles, their purple tent glowed at night with bright, strong light. They could probably read and play cards inside.
Our other neighbors were a large party of Hindu pilgrims from India. They all looked deeply unhappy, except the sadhu. They were all men, swaddled in the thickest parkas, never setting foot outside without gloves and thick balaclavas. They kept to themselves, except the sadhu, who lit a huge bonfire in the middle of the compound and sat by it throwing ghee into the flames and chanting loudly into the wee hours. I don't know where they found wood.
Separated
by a small stream from the foreigner compound, was the Tibetan encampment. A
seasonal tent city was full of people from all over Tibet, especially the east.
These people had brought every imaginable consumer item with them - ranging from
cans of drink to prayer flags, incense and different kinds of weapons. We went
there on our first day to stock up on cans of drink and snack food.
In between the
foreigner compound and the tent city, there was a row of small houses. I was not
really sure to whom these belonged, since most of the indigenous inhabitants of
the Mount Kailas region are nomadic. They may be the nomads' winter houses. They
seemed to be the popular venues for 24-hour mahjong games.
Darchen's only other attractions are a new monastery being rebuilt by foreign sponsors on the site of the old, destroyed monastery, which in year 2000 boasted a huge library and not a single book. There's also a hospital being built by a Swiss charity, which sadly lacks a doctor. This seems to be a common story with Tibetan charitable projects - it's very easy to raise the money for bricks and mortar, very difficult to support and train people to actually stay there year in and year out and provide service to the people. But I digress.
The
following day, we set off on our first circumambulation of the mountain. It was
a beautiful bright, sunny day. It was cold, but warm in the sun. Unfortunately,
I had started to come down with a cold, but I didn't want to spend more time
doing nothing in Darchen, especially since we still had to travel further west
to Guge, and Linda and Mike had to be at the border on a certain day.
The early part of
the trail was unspectacular, heading a short distance into the Barga plain
before hanging a right to skirt the Darchen monastery. The plain is basically
sandy, with short, stubby, desert-like plants. A little beyond the first
prostration point, the trail entered a beautiful valley. Tall rocky cliffs with
the occasional waterfall were on either side. Down the middle, lush soggy grass.
The sun was shining, there were groups of pilgrims behind us and in front of us;
it was great hiking. We passed the Tarboche - the great pole of Mount Kailas,
the symbolic power-center of the mountain, and also a walk-through stupa. It was
idyllically picturesque and scenic.
By lunchtime, we had reached the monastery of Chuku, perched in the rocks several hundred feet above us. According to the guidebook, it was a 20 minute hike from the stream and small bridge at the foot of the cliff to the monastery. Yeah right! Maybe if you are an antelope or have access to a helicopter. Nevertheless, we set off for the monastery, leaving Samten at Chuku bridge playing with a nomad child. The trail was a series of switchbacks up the cliff face. It took us at least 40 minutes to make the climb, puffing and panting the entire way. By now, my cold was really starting to bother me, so I was pretty happy to reach the little monastery. It was nice but unremarkable. The main image at the monastery is a small white statue of Nangwa Thaye, which I can't remember at all. I do remember the impressive pair of elephant tusks flanking the image, and the postcard-perfect reflection of Kailas in the glass of the bookcase housing the Kangyur. The most memorable incident was when an old man wanted us to pay for a new pair of glasses for him. We declined.
Having rejoined
Samten, we started off again. We weren't even halfway to our campsite yet, but I
was definitely feeling the combined effects of having a cold, altitude, and 10
days sitting in a jeep with little walking. Nevertheless, we soldiered on,
stopping later that afternoon at a nomad's tea tent for a cup of Tibetan tea.
Sometime late in the afternoon, we finally left the lush, green valley and began to climb steadily into more barren, rocky terrain. As the shadows from the cliffs began to get longer, we were still walking, higher and higher towards the heart of the mountain. I was extremely tired. We stopped for frequent breaks, leaning against rocks or sitting on the ground for a few minutes. We could only have walked about 10 miles, but it felt like much more.
[Linda's version: There were some lovely moments on the first day of the kora. For example, picnicing in the sun sitting on the saddle rugs. All through the kora you should mention that you don't see the mountain itself continuously. You are in little valleys and then suddenly you see another aspect of the mountain.]
I won't bore
you with how hard it was to eventually drag myself into the campsite, but it was
very tiring. I don't remember any details about how the tents were put up, what
we did, I only remember discussing with Linda that I now had a bad cold and I
wanted to stay in that camp for one day to recover. Since Linda agreed with that
plan, I went to tell Samten of the change of plans. As I remember the
conversation, it went something like this:
Me: Samten, I am really sick, I have a bad cold and I want to stay here one day to recover. I can't get over the pass easily with this cold.
Samten: One day?
Me: Yes Samten, just one day to recover. It doesn't matter, we have enough time, I made Gyurme (the tour organizer) build one extra day into the itinerary in case something like this happened.
Samten: [long pause] we cannot stay here
Me: why not, isn't it allowed?
Samten: Because tomorrow is a full moon.
Me: What?
Samten: We need to make offerings at the top of the Drolma la on the full moon,
there's more merit.
Me: Are you serious?
Samten: It's very important.
Me: OK.
Outmanoeuvred again. Of course he was right, we'd come all that way, it was perfectly correct and proper to make the offerings on the right day. Then I had to explain this explanation to Linda. I can't exactly remember, but I think she just accepted it too.
[Here's
Linda's version of these events: As I remember, Samten was already as sick as
you in Darchen and Loya also had a cold. According to my notes it was because
the cook tent got soaked one night. Anyway, when we suggested staying an extra
night at the first kora campsite, it was more for Samten's benefit than yours
(though you may have thought it more tactful to tell him you were the one that
needed the rest). Incidentally, it had snowed a little that first night.
You have condensed three conversations
into one. You told Samten that night we wanted the rest day. The next morning
when I woke up I said "He must not have understood you. They are saddling
the yaks", so you went to his tent to discuss the matter and came back
saying "He says we can do whatever we want". However, just before
breakfast the yaks had not been unsaddled and you reported that when you saw
Samten he said "Do you feel better now? Can we go on?" Then the rest
of the conversation took place as you reported it. When you told me about it you
said "Well, I'm a Buddhist too" and I thought "These people are
all crazy but it's not my problem"]
So
after a cold, restless night during which I was barely able to breathe and
swallow, we set off the next morning in the crisp clear air for the Drolma la
pass, the most important piece of the Kailas khora. The trail started innocently
enough, picking its way through the boulders similar to the day before. But
Linda and I soon realized that Samten was having a lot of difficulty, even more
than us. He was coughing violently, which could have indicated altitude sickness
as the lungs filled with fluid; but we decided he just had a touch of chest
infection (just!), so we insisted that he ride the horse that day. I should add
here that we had a yak-driver and 3 or 4 yaks hauling our camping equipment
around the mountain. The yak-driver had also brought a horse, a pretty but surly
beast which nevertheless came in handy on this day.
As the day heated up, we started to climb into, and then out of, the first of numerous ravines that we crossed that day. These were typically about a mile across, with their floors strewn with huge boulder fields that we had to scramble across. It was fairly treacherous going, and my lower legs were soon tired from the effort of walking across these things. By mid-morning, we'd reached the cemetery, a place where one leaves a piece of clothing or hair as a representation of the moment of your death when you have to leave behind your body and all your worldly possessions. Linda left her hat, but I didn't have anything I thought I could leave, so I pulled a few hairs out and left them. Near this place, there's a place where Tibetans dig small holes in the ground looking for images that manifest in the earth. There are also small pits full of a gray-colored earth - this is the flesh of dakinis, and is eagerly collected.
It
must have been just before lunchtime that we reached the foot of the Drolma la
pass. Above us, we could see the pass stretching upwards as far as we could see,
a wall of rock and scree. Tiny black ant-like figures were arranged along the
trail at intervals, heaving their way upwards. It was a very impressive sight,
and I had a little doubt that I actually had the strength to get up it. But on
we trudged, Samten riding the horse (Tibetans ride up hills and walk their
animals down), Linda and I walking 5 steps then stopping to lean against a rock
and gasp. By now, we were higher than I had ever hiked before, since the top of
the pass is 18,500 feet. Black spots rolled around in front of my eyes, and I
felt nauseous. But I had no choice except to keep going, stopping every couple
of yards to gulp air into my lungs in a vain effort to supply my fading brain
with oxygen. At every resting place, Tibetans surged past us, carrying babies,
bedding, sacks of flour … only their sweaty faces showing how great an effort
it was even for them. We overtook a mixed European and American group about
halfway up. They looked too soft for this, in their brand-new color coordinated
North Face gear, and their telescopic walking sticks. Their Sherpa guide was the
only one who looked close to comfortable, and they had sent him back down the
mountain to retrieve someone's water bottle. Someone in the group was throwing
up and didn't think he could continue. Anyway, I thought I was close to death
until I heard and saw this group, and realized that actually Linda and I were
doing ok. We actually made it up the pass in about 50 minutes, 10 minutes
quicker than the guidebook.
So you can
imagine, that reaching the top felt really good. I didn't have any breath to say
anything, but the Tibetans greeted their arrival at the top, and that of others,
with wild cries of delight, "Kiki, Laso, Lha Gyalo!", "The gods
are victorious!". One guy even let loose with a "Free Tibet" and
"Long Live the Dalai Lama" which I'm sure you can only get away with
at 18,500 feet on a mountain at the edge of the known world. I sat down on a
convenient rock, and watched as Loya, Samten and Tenzin struggled with the huge
string of prayer flags we'd carried up with us.
[Linda adds: You might mention
that the night before we had written the names of our loved ones on the prayer
flags. Of course I didn't write many, thinking I would do it on our rest day.]
We then all stood in a circle and threw tsampa (barley flour) in the air, before annointing each other on the shoulder with a smear of the same tsampa. We tried to burn incense and tsampa, but the wind was so fierce it was impossible, although we did manage some good smoke briefly. I tried to read the prayer to Manjushri that I'd brought with me, but my brain was so starved of oxygen I couldn't read - or rather couldn't make sense of - the Tibetan characters; so I read it in English instead. The Tibetans laughed at me -- Manjushri only understands Tibetan and Sanskrit, they said, Manjushri no speak Inchi. Arrival at the top of the Drolma la is the symbolic rebirth after the symbolic death in the cemetary below.
After
about an hour, it was time to leave. The trail down was steep and rocky, through
an endless boulder field. It was also on the sheltered side of the mountain, so
there was a lot of ice and some patches of snow. My ankles were sore and painful
at this point from the constant ankle-rolling of walking on curved surfaces. I
made a mental note to get high-top, ankle-support hiking boots next time.
At the bottom of
the pass there was another nomad tent, this one stocked with room-temperature
cans of soft drinks. We dispatched Samten to buy cokes ("Do they have diet?
Can you ask if they have caffeine-free") and sat on the grass, only mildly
turned off by the piles of trash littering the tent environs.
From the nomad tent, that night's campsite was allegedly nearby. The trail led through another lovely valley, this one broader than the one before the Drolma la, with a larger stream - almost a river - running through the middle. We had to cross from time to time as the trail disappeared on one side of this stream and started again on the other side. Eventually, we came to another nomad-run tea tent. We were very tired at this point, so we sat down again for a cup of tea. We began to chat with some American tourists. It turned out they ran some kind of a web site where people could post their adventures and get in touch - good for the long-term travelling community I suppose. Touring through Tibet without a guide, they didn't seem to know too much about the country or what they had seen - such a shame. They handed out their business cards with their website address, which seemed a totally incongruous thing to do at the foot of Mount Kailas. Our time at the tea tent was marred slightly by a developing scene between the tent owner's cute little daughter and her father. I think she ignored him or didn't hear him when he called her; in retaliation, he hurled a rock at least 15 yards, hitting her hard on the head. She started to cry, he yelled abuse. Not a pretty demonstration of Tibetan parenting skills.
As
evening fell, we finally saw our familiar green and blue tents. They were much
further than Linda and I, and apparently Samten, had expected. The story was
that the grass was better for the yaks. Screw the paying tourists and their
aching legs. Nevertheless, it was a great campsite, sheltered from the wind,
with a premium large toilet rock at an optimum distance from the tent. I
hurriedly inspected it for writing or images, just to make sure my toilet wasn't
some special holy site. I can't remember much about that night; I was so tired I
think I slept like a log for about 12 hours.
The next day, my
cold was back, worse than before. I think the exertion of climbing over the high
pass had pretty much finished my immune system. I was coughing, my throat was
sore, my nostrils and the skin between my nose and upper lip were all badly
chapped and raw. To add to the misery, my lips were also dry and cracked. I was
not a pretty sight. Still, we were supposedly close to Darchen, on the final leg
of the journey, so there was no stopping now.
We visited the
tiny monastery of Zutrul Phuk, a cave monastery associated with Milarepa. I was
not in the mood to enjoy this excursion, suffering from the effects of cold.
[Linda adds: According to my notes
Samten made a donation so we could light butter lamps at Zutrul Phuk. I can't
swear to it though. I know we saw a Milarepa cave and he left cookies there as
an offering].
After the
monastery we plodded on, the trail taking us up and down , around corners and
through streams. Eventually we began to climb a steep trail on the side of
jagged red rock cliffs. The stream which had idled beside us since the foot of
the Drolma la now became a river - fast and roaring, the kind canoeists like. It
was very pretty, but I hardly had the strength to enjoy it. I was having
difficulty breathing, due to my cold, and was starting to fall further behind
Linda and Samten. I think they realized it was best just to leave me to plod
along at my own pace, and soon I was hiking quite far behind them, preoccupied
with the heavy effort of breathing.
It was around
lunchtime that we suddenly found ourselves approaching the tent city which
formed the eastern edge of Darchen. It looked very unfamiliar from this
direction, but soon we were surrounded by tents, then houses, then we crossed
the stream and suddenly we were turning into our concrete compound. Mike was
there to greet us, looking healthier and fitter than he had so far in the trip.
We had a brief discussion, but I unsociably could think of nothing except
sitting down and resting, so I think I stomped past everybody making a bee line
for our room. Once I was in the room, I miraculously revived (I probably took a
large dose of whatever strong medicine I had in my things).
The first thing we did was wash. There's a special technique to washing when hot water is scarce, you only have one or possibly two bowls, and you have body, hair and clothes to wash. The most important thing is body and hair. You wash your body, then use the dirty water to wash your hair. You only use clean water for rinsing, which you then use to wash the next part. After about an hour, we had half-clean clothes strung around the room drying, and half-clean bodies in fresh clothes. It was great. I think we even had some lychee juice left over from our sortie into the tent city three and a half days before.
You
would think that having nearly died on the mountain, we would have called it a
day. But we did not. We had a day's rest, drove to Chiu Gompa and looked around
Lake Mansarovar, and then Linda had an idea. She wanted to do it again.
Apparently, it had all been too easy. How about doing it in one day?
[Linda's version: After the kora you had a day of rest at Darchen while Mike and I hiked up to Gyandruk Monastery. You had lost your voice. Then we went to Thirtapuri (I think you have mistakenly called it Chiu Gompa at times). From there, we went to Toling, and spent a couple of nights, so we had a week of R & R, some at lower altitude before deciding on the second kora. The idea did not hit me until we drove past Kailas on our way back to Chiu Gompa. We stopped to look at it and there had been a lot of snow. Tsering said "the mountain is dressed in white like it's getting married" and Samten said "there must be some bad people up there causing this bad weather".
There
was an article in the Chronicle Travel section a week ago about the moment in a
trip when the adventure seems to be over and you are just going home. That was
the feeling I had at that moment - that all the fun was over. I also had an
intense desire to go back to the mountain.]
Tibetans
routinely make 1-day khoras of Mount Kailas. They even have a special word for
it, which translated means "running like a dog". They can easily
accomplish a khora in 2 days and even this is considered a little decadent; only
westerners need 3 days. They think we are soft. They think we are incapable of
circumambulating the mountain in 1 day. They think the luxurious western
lifestyle makes us too weak for such feats. They may be right. It was originally
my idea anyway (yeah, in the comfort of my own living room back in Palo Alto).
What the hell.
We told Samten, and to my surprise he offered no opposition. He was probably thinking of an extra 24-hours of marathon mahjong. He was probably relieved to know that we didn't expect him to come with us. So, later that day, we drove back to Darchen with the intention of starting our circumambulation about 2am, which would give us 16-18 hours of walking time to cover the 33 miles of the circuit. That sounds like a long time, but the altitude and the difficult, rocky terrain would slow us down.
[Linda adds: You may mention that we did invite Mike to go with us, but he declined. We had 15 minutes to pack, while Loya boiled eggs for us. In case anyone should actually be inspired to try it based on our experience, you should also mention that we started out wearing all our warm clothes, which we then had to carry later. Of course, we knew we could sleep in a monastery if we had to. Loya also gave us a bunch of cookies & pancakes & odious chocolate bars. I planned to leave them in Darchen but ended up carrying them.]
We actually woke up about 1am, and hurriedly stuffed the few things we were taking into our packs - in my case, some Balance bars, water and a flashlight, waterproof and very little else. We set off through the compound gate and turned right towards the first prostration point. We followed the compound wall for a short distance and then turned towards the monastery. As soon as we passed the monastery, we thought we would easily see the trail heading into towards the first prostration point and the valley. Instead, we completely lost the trail and ended up stumbling out into the Barga plain. At first we tried to use our flashlights to find the trail, but the plain was covered with knee-high prickly plants, which made it impossible to detect any kind of a path. We fell and stumbled into dry streambeds and into clumps of these plants. I was beginning to think it was hopeless when suddenly I saw what looked like a bare thread of trail glimmering behind us in the intermittent moonlight. Actually maybe Linda saw it first, I can't remember. We had overshot the trail, and so by turning back towards Darchen, we suddenly found ourselves back on the path. It had been a close call.
We reached the first prostration point and had some water. It was a cloudy night, and so it was pitch black everywhere. We could just identify the trail in what light there was, since it glowed slightly lighter in color than the surrounding bush. Still, there were plenty of rocks and ravines which made night-time hiking treacherous. We headed on towards the valley entrance, the tarboche and the two-legged stupa that we remembered from day one of our previous circuit. I was expecting bright moonlight to erupt from behind the clouds at any minute. Instead of that, heavy clouds scudded past, completely obscuring the moon except for brief flashes when bright white light lit the landscape.
The next close call was when we entered the deep valley where Chuku monastery is perched on the side of the cliff. Suddenly, instead of trail beneath our feet, there was soggy marsh. Unable to see, we had wandered away from the trail and managed to walk into the stream that went down the center of the valley. From what we remembered, we thought if we went to the left, we'd quickly get out of it. So we went to the left, but still the footing was wet and muddy. So we went straight ahead, to the right, whereever we went, we could not seem to find a dry passage out of the marsh. This went on for some time, until eventually we did find the dry trail again. Both my feet were wet, which was not the way you want to start a 35 mile hike, but there was nothing to be done, since I had not brought dry socks with me. So one we pushed.
It was while hiking this valley that we began to experience what a spooky place this could be. At no point did I feel frightened, but we were seeing increasingly bizarre things along the way. Linda thinks we were hallucinating due to lack of sleep, altitude and fatigue. Continuously, I thought I saw groups of people or yaks in front of us or beside us; but there was never anything there. I saw rocks that appeared to glow white (a refraction of the moonlight?) and one that I thought was adorned with electric fairy lights. At one point there was a light, which I thought was being carried by a person, which disappeared as soon as we got close. It was all very weird, and seemed very real at the time. I prefer to think that we had wandered into the playground of the pleasure beings, and they were toying with us.
[Linda's
version: I don't think the moon came up for hours. The mountain did seem to
shine when we could see it. The first hour or two on the trail we saw genuine
pilgrims carrying lights. It was only later that we had the hallucinations.]
By about 6.30am, we had just about hiked this valley and had begun to climb towards our first campsite. It is absolutely true that the darkest (and coldest) hour is just before dawn. Since the moon had set and the sun hadn't come up, everything was pitchy black. Our flashlights were useless. Despairing again that we had lost the trail, and worse had inadvertently wandered onto the inner khora circuit, we decided to sit down and wait until dawn gave us a little more light. By this time, we had been walking in the dark for about 5 hours. I pulled on all my waterproof stuff, and sat down to wait. The ground was of course very cold. But I was so tired that I lay down and despite the cold seeping up from my rocky mattress, I could easily have gone to sleep. Maybe I would never have woken up. But, Linda was getting uncomfortably cold and wanted to walk. But where? We argued briefly, and then came to a mutual agreement that we would break my number one rule of hiking (always go forward, especially if you are lost), and turn back to see if we could recognize a landmark from the previous circumambulation. This we did, and to our relief started to see bands of Tibetans (real ones this time) striding through the grey light also doing their khoras. They gestured frantically for us to turn around, since it's very bad (unless you are a follower of the Bon religion) to do the khora anticlockwise. We decided to ask if we were on the right track. I stopped a nomad couple and asked, in my best Lhasa Tibetan, "khora chenpo chig, kabar do", which I thought meant "where's the great kora circuit?". The nomad woman corrected (incorrectly) my Tibetan grammar "do ge" she said. Then they looked totally blank. I tried again. This time the man made a big but incomprehensible sweeping gesture with the arm that was not holding his prayer wheel, turned and went on, his wife striding after him. He obviously had no idea what I was asking. Then we stopped a larger group of Tibetan men, also striding along. I asked the same question. They laughed heartily at something I'd said and then went on, ignoring us. Finally, at 7.30am, a young western man appeared, on his own, walking fast like a Tibetan. I was overjoyed and very surprised to see him. He spoke English! He was planning a 2-day, but he wanted to explore some of the side valleys. I was tempted to ask for his name and phone number; was he married? did he want to be? He confidently explained that we weren't lost at all, we were on the right trail, we just had to keep following the others. What a relief! I was secretly gratified because I'd thought all along we were on the right trail. Ha!
So armed with knowledge, we strode on confidently, the grey dawn showing the detail of rocks, cliffs, mani stones, which before had been hidden by the dark. We actually hiked on to a spot near our first campsite. Another western group was camped there now, and they were just waking up. What a bunch of wussies. We could see their Sherpa cooks making pancakes and steaming cups of tea. We sat down nearby and had a balance bar and some water. I was already a little pooped. Plus, my back was aching, a product of carrying a lot of stuff in my flimsy non-hip-strap-supported backpack. Always suffering! What did this mountain have against me?
I actually abandoned some of my balance bars at this point, since the weight was too much for my back. I was hoping some Tibetans would pick them up, but Linda thought they would not know they were food; or worse, would assume they were offerings. So I am sorry, Kailas, that I littered you with discarded Balance bars.
From this point, through the cemetary, to the foot of the Drolma la, the hiking was actually easier than the first time. We both knew that there would be lots of boulders, and a long gruelling climb, so we were expecting it. We reached the foot of the Drolma la about 11am I think, and set about climbing its switchbacks as best we could. Again, it took about 50 minutes to get to the top. This time, we didn't hang around on the top in the bitter wind. We had a brief rest, and then set about the tricky climb down.
At the bottom of the pass, beyond the snow, the frozen lakes and the hard, rocky climb down, the same tent selling cans of lukewarm Coke was beckoning. We sat down for our first long rest of the day, and had some Balance bars and M&Ms (no hiker should be without them). This was really nice, because although it was beginning to get a bit chilly, it was still warm in the sun. After about 40 minutes of rest, we stiffly got up and began the long return journey to Darchen.
[From Linda's notes: we reached the Indian guesthouse at 8:30 and ate breakfast. Reached the top of the Drolma La at 12:30, you were ahead. Reached the tent with the cokes at 2:00. Started to hit the wall at 4:00.]
It was during this last 15 miles that we really began to feel the effects of walking so far and for so long. We began to drag, being physically unable to march at the brisk pace we'd maintained on the first half of the circuit. We would manage to walk at a decent pace for a short while, then quite suddenly we'd find ourselves involuntarily slowing to a snail's pace. It was strange. Tibetans would overtake us, and then we would overtake them a short while later; we weren't the only ones feeling the effects. We dragged ourselves along like this for about 10 miles. I was starting to get a headache, which could have been altitude, but I suspected simple dehydration. I'd already finished all my water, and so she kindly mixed up some gatorade and iodine tablets which she'd brought (Linda had actually hauled 2 bottles of water, which must have weighed close to 4 pounds, over the 18,500 feet pass). She also gave me some M&Ms, which are some kind of a wonder-pill when you have really used your glycogen reserves and starting to "hit the wall". But on we went, stopping and sitting down on a regular basis. Eventually, we stopped even getting off the trail to sit down, just flopping there right on the trail. Seeing us flopped, Tibetans would also sit down for a while. At one point, there were 9 people sitting on the trail. We gave them all a piece of our chocolate. They seemed very happy with that, and made lots of gestures encouraging us to keep going.
We didn't know it at the time, but within 5 miles of Darchen we were being monitored by the thoughtful Samten and Tsering our driver. They had actually managed to drive a couple of miles onto the khora circuit. They asked the Tibetan pilgrims if they had seen us - two western women, completing a khora. Yes, the Tibetans said, they'd seen us. We were very tired, walking slowly, we probably would not make it back before dark! In fact, we were only about 5 miles away, so we would have made it. Somehow, Samten managed to persuade a pilgrim to walk the wrong way on the khora and find us. He did, discovering us in one of our chocolate and recovery parties on the road.
Does one of you know a little Tibetan? he asked (in Tibetan of course). Yes, I said, I know a little Tibetan. Then he said something that I didn't quite grasp, but I thought he was saying that our guide was waiting for us with the jeep a short distance away! This made me feel very excited. Although I had wanted to walk into Darchen, I was so pooped at this point that I was happy to abandon that idea. We got up and managed to walk as fast as we had all day. I kept expecting to see a jeep around every bend in the road; but each one just opened up to another stretch of trail. But suddenly, we rounded a bend and instead of endless river and ravine, I could see an inverted triangle of flat Barga plain between the cliffs. I knew this meant we were near the end. Round the next bend I saw a man dressed in western clothes, silhouetted against the sky, apparently waiting at the next bend. I thought it was Samten. But then the man disappeared, and I was not sure. We walked a bit faster. When we got to the next bend, the trail (finally) went down! And there, at the bottom, was a white jeep with 2 figures leaning against it. Our jeep! With Linda right behind me, I practically ran down the slope towards it. I was so happy to see Samten I think I actually grabbed his arm - being British and a self-styled Tough Cookie physical displays are not my thing. They both looked immensely happy to see us, and not a little relieved. They gave us a coke each. It tasted so good. Without further ceremony we jumped in the jeep and sped off across the Barga plain towards Chiu Gompa and the hot springs.
The complete Kailas khora has never been accurately measured, but it's usually thought of as 35 miles. Linda and I walked about 33 miles of it. It took us 18 hours. The elevation at the start is about 15,000 feet, and the high point at the top of the Drolma la pass is about 18,500 feet. Although I'm sure some westerners have done it, I've never heard of any other westerners who have completed a khora in one day. So if you know of someone, let me know.
[Linda's
last words: We have to do this again.]
The Cast of Characters:
Travellers:
Mike Deliman
Linda Smith
Sally-Ann Rudd
TIST (Tibet International Sports Travel) staff:
Samten (guide)
Loya (cook)
Tsering (jeep driver)
Tenzin (truck driver)
and
Gyaltsen the yak & horse man
Miscellaneous persons that we met along the way
Year 2000 Kailas pilgrims
The Khampa women at Darchen
The young Bonpo boy who spent hours looking at the pictures in my guidebook
Woodside
Gypsy Journals
The European guy who showed us the right way on the mountain
Jungle John
Assorted gods, demi-gods and pleasure
beings
The gompa keeper at Zutrul Phuk
The Darchen representative of the Peoples' Republic of China
... may all your lives be long and happy!
Since the events described in this trip, Sally-Ann has been back to Tibet once, for another interesting trip to remote places which she hasn't written about yet; Linda has been to Mongolia and is about to go to Bhutan. We don't know where Mike has been, if anywhere.
Darchen, the
Mount Kailas basecamp. We stayed in the block on the left, end-on to the camera.
Mike is seen walking towards us on the left. Kailas is visible in the
background.
The
beautiful valley at the start of the Kailas kora. Note the stream on the left
which appears to wander all over the valley floor during the night. Kailas is
visible on the right.
Kailas
seen from the east side. Note the cairns adorned with discarded clothing. Also,
note the huge loads these Tibetan women are carrying. These women are probably
from Dege, which is a little to the north of the Mount Kailas region.
Glacier
near the start of the steep trail leading to the Drolma la pass.
Kailas
from the north side. This photo was actually taken in the late afternoon close
to our first campsite.
Tiny
hillside monastery of Zutrul Phuk
Towards
the end of the khora
Mount
Kailas in the distance, from the southwest.