On the trek

From Shigatsie, Tibet May 17.
We leave Shigatse tomorrow and have our last communication with the outside world for the next 16 days. Of those 16, 10 will be trekking and 13 will be camping, and for five of them we will travel by our Toyota 4-wheel-drive Land Rover, and two will be what is euphemistically called “basic” hotel. I have no clue what that means, but my mind does consider some of the possibilities
We’re all filled with a little trepidation and a lot of excitement to finally get to the portion that drew us to this trip. We leave the other group tomorrow morning, and if we had opted for that trip things would be a lot easier, but the five of us are really looking forward to getting started. The trepidation comes from just how we will react to the extreme altitude and general health of the group. Colds have been rampant in both camps. In our group, Tony has had one for five days, I got mine yesterday, and even Manoj, that veteran of dozens of treks has caught the bug. Luckily, Carol has remained healthy and, like always, is taking good care of herself.
It’s hard though, weather extremes mean that you can be overly dressed one minute and severely underdressed the next. We all try to do the “layering” thing, but there’s only so much you can do when it comes to donning thermal underwear.
Our two-day overland here to Shigatse has really been an adventure. We awoke yesterday morning to a snowstorm in Lhasa, which gave us both a thrill and a sense of “Uh-oh” this could be a portent of things to come.
Because of highway construction, our journey took us 11 hours over mostly very rough terrain. We called it the “11 hour flight with severe turbulence.” By the time we arrived in Gyangtse at 7 p.m. we were severely spent but full of wonder as the “Road” took us to places that we never would have seen. We had three snow storms, rain, full sunshine where we went down to tee shirts, went over three passes in excess of 16,000 and past some of the most beautiful and desolate terrain we have ever seen.
We passed pilgrims prostrating themselves all the way to Lhasa. They make about 8 feet of progress with each prostration. They have a small rock in their hands which they place on the ground at the point where their arms are extended. They then walk to the spot of the rock, go to the ground, pick up the rock, stretch out, and start the process all over again. The pilgrims we saw were a full 60 miles from Lhasa. At the end of the day they mark the spot where they finish, and pick up at that point the following morning. It takes literally months in many cases. I’m afraid that I’d be rolling the rock a little forward each prostration to speed up the process. I guess that’s why I’m not very spiritual.
It’s barley planting time on the plateau, and everywhere people are out tilling the fields as they have done for hundreds of years with their yaks and wooden plows. Two yaks to a yoke, and each animal is brightly embellished with colorful ribbons and flags. We even saw some that had the Chinese flag on them, and were told, “Well, they’re colorful,” No political significance here. Land is privately held and everybody has their own little plots. In some areas there were literally hundreds of people in an area no bigger that 20 acres, each family planting their own little piece of the world. Any arable piece of ground was being prepared, even pieces as small as 10 feet wide by 30 feet long.
Barley is the only thing planted in the hinterlands. The people exist on a diet of barley and yak products, milk, butter, and limited amounts of meat. They do, in fact, butcher goats and sheep, but yak is the main meat product. The butchering is done by a class of society which is more or less a butchering caste, since Buddhists don’t believe in killing, period.
The yak also provides a winter source of heat and fuel. They take the yak dung, mix it with straw, pat it into circles about the size of Frisbees, slap it up on to the wall of the house, and when it dries, they stack it in mounds, put a covering of mud on top to protect against rain, and it’s ready to go when needed.
Going over the passes you couldn’t help wonder how anybody could exist out in these conditions, but there would be a tent made of spun yak hair which served as home and hearth for the herders of the area.
We stopped for a picnic lunch, and as always happens no matter how isolated, it seems that there are people in the area. Women, men, and children appear as if from nowhere. They gather around to watch, simply because it is such a different sight for them. Jillian, the 13- year-old doing the year-long trip with her parents, asked if we could share our food with them, and was told no. She couldn’t understand why since they looked very poor. She was unable to accept the fact that just because they look poor by western standards, they aren’t. They have sufficient food, good shelter, a spiritual faith, and family both close and extended. She could only see that in her MacDonald’s,-Nintendo eyes, they were deprived. Manoj tried to explain to her that to give them food would only spoil them. They would come to expect it of other groups coming through the area, making it difficult for them as well. They didn’t beg or show need, they were just curious. That’s not to say they don’t have a hard life, but they are not wanting. She could only see that she would feel deprived if she were in that situation.
Some areas looked very Gobi-like, full of sand dunes and, except for the high mountains around, could have been Mongolia. Then that scene would disappear as we climbed to a pass in a blustery snow storm. Prayer flags adorn the passes and are quite colorful. Weaving our way down into the valley we passed a fairly sizable village of a couple of thousand people with a one-way road snaking its way through the center. One of our vehicles met another coming the opposite, and they had to do some backing up until there was room to pass.
These villages seem frozen in time - no electricity, horse and buggy are the main method of transportation, and people live in little more than adobe-type huts which have probably stood for centuries. I wonder how many people in even more isolated villages never come into contact with the “Modern” world, as we call it.
Today is Buddha’s birthday, and because of that I got to see one, well actually three of the things I really wanted to see in Tibet, the sand mandala. In these cases they were being made of barley flour, but none-the-less, they were beautifully intricate designs. They were quite large circles, about 10 feet in diameter, and while not completed, they would soon be finished and literally swept in nonexistence, as an example of a central concept of
Buddhist thought, the impermanence of everything.
And so we have reached that point to which I mentioned at the beginning, we head to the high mountains. Excited, unsure, but ready. Here’s hoping that we come back on the other side and I’ll be happy to be back in communication with my world. I know that some of you will be wondering how we’re doing, and to that end, I’m carrying my laptop. I have three batteries for writing every day and will send something upon our return to Katmandu on the 2nd.
In the meantime, Love to all, and happy trails.
Carol and Jim