Trekking Out

Leaving Lhasa for Ganden Monastery, the start of our trek, the taxi broke down repeatedly before getting ouut of town. After lots of pushing and breaking of tow ropes, the drive to the mountaintop monastery was pleasant and scenic. At 15,000', I had to re-acclimate.

We had dinner in a monk's room, cooking our noodles on a yak dung fire in his castle-like perch while I imagined Repunzo letting her hair out of the window. After dinner the "teacher" came to meet us, and we were quite amused by the interactions between student and teacher. The students never came too close, preferrring to be several steps away from him, and maintaining a nervous disposition. A form of respect unlike any that exist in Western culture. The teacher was tall, strong looking, and had an extremely deep voice. He meditates for 8 hours per day, had a great presence, and discussed our cultures through the evening with the translation of one of his students, Goca.

I accepted their hospitality and drank 2 cups of yak butter tea, which was bearable, but may have been the culprit for the heaving I woke in the middle of the night to. Despite little sleep, I felt surprisingly OK in the morning, and we loaded our packs onto 2 ponies and headed over the first pass to the hillside village of Hepu. The buildings were all picturesque stone, with stone-wall pastuers, courtyards, piles of straw, dund drying, dirty-faced, rosey cheeked kids... We stopped at our non-English speaking guide's house for a rest and lunch, met moma, grandpa, and 2 of the 4 kids. All to soon, we headed out of town, following a babbling mountain stream past many grazing yaks, towering peaks, and curious villagers hard at work with the barley harvest. That short stretch felt like a stroll in a wonderland. Time travel. I didn't want to leave.

We hiked up the valley to a green-grass meadow where we camped on the edge of canyon. The views were stunning as the sun set, and we all had a nice evening drinking tea under the stars in the cold mountain air.

In the morning I decided to hike with my friends from our campsite at Yama Do to the top of Shug-la Pass (I love the names), 17,300', then go back to the village of Hepu while my friends continued the long trek to Samye Monastery. It was the last time I would encounter anyone who spoke English until I returned to the capital Lhasa.

On my way down to Hepu I met up with 10 teenage boys and girls in their early stage of the 48 mile trek to Samye Monastery, presumably a religious pilgrimage, and were attempting it with little gear or provisions, hiking through the night. They met up with Michele and Marcos that night, cold and hungry, and continued on after a short rest at their camp.

I walked into Hepu in the dark. Scared of Tibetan dogs, I paid some teenagers to escort me from the edge of town to my new host family, where they gave me a hot meal and a bed in their main room. Moma and 2 sons were sleeping in their camp; a tent in the pastuer 1.5 miles out of town. Grandpa sleeps outside with about 10 blankets and ends the day with chanting by candlelight.

I woke up to find the daughter, Danzilamo, also sleeping in my room. She is tall and cute with an energetic shyness. I thought she was about 16, but she is 22. I helped her with yesterdays dishes and some house chores, then made her breakfast and we sat down to eat with grandpa. She had a great relationship with her grandpa, and it was great to see the family bonds and simplicity of country life. I followed Danzilamo around for the morning like a puppy-dog, but once we went out into the community she disassociated herself with me.

We went out to work the barley post-harvest; getting the grain from the stalk. My role was quickly identified at the end of the line, helping with the back-breaking task of bundling the barley stalks, then carrying them across the field, over a short wall, up a 45 degree ladder (cardio-overload by the time I got to the ladder, gasping for air here at 14,000'), and onto a massive stack of yak food inside a walled pen.

I did improve the process after the communal lunch (the same dish as the prior evening; potatoes, pasta, and yak meat in a heavy cream-stew). The teenage boys, sometimes competing against each other for the biggest bundle, then needing long periods of rest between loads, were open to improvement, and I stationed myself at the ladder. I'd take their load before they stepped onto the wall, then would heave it onto the pile, where a young boy would position and untie it. A highlight of the trip was when grandpa wandered out to watch, and gave a loud GAFAW laugh of approval when I tossed a bundle.

By 3 PM, I was spent, and went to rinse off the sneezy-dust and took a 2 hour nap while everyone else worked another 5 hours. After waking up I stayed in the courtyard with grandpa to avoid any uncomfortably requests to work more, and relaxed as the sun set on the stunning peaks. I though about how I couldn't have had such a great experience if I wasn't alone, and had an appreciation for being single.

The imagery throughout my stay in Hepu was stunning, and the timing for a camera battery failure was ironic. I looked at the bright side of the situation, and relaxed knowing that I couldn't capture anything and didn't feel as much like an outsider pointing a camera at everyone.

The next morning I woke again to a sparrow trapped in the room, which I caught easily and released outside. Releasing sparrows is a buddhist act to symbolize freedom. It was a perfect morning, and while I thought of staying longer, I decided I should either work or leave, and while I loved their agrarian/herding lifestyle, heading back to civilization beat out working in the fields again. My back made a veto vote.

Danzilamo and her horse escorted me back to the road, her horse carrying my pack. There was a fresh snow on the peaks, herds of yak and herders, and 2 quaint villages en route.

Back on the main road I flagger down a pilgrim bus back to Lhasa.