Over the Mountains
Dodging landslides and deadly torrents on the road to Nam-tso Lake by Tomas Gutierrez
I had one goal on my latest trip to China-to enter the country by a way I hadn't before. So I settled on flying to Kathmandu and going overland via the Friendship Highway to Lhasa and my ultimate destination, Nam-tso Lake.
In spite of visa restrictions at the border, I was surprised how easy it was to arrange-all I had to do was tag along with a few other backpackers. It would turn out to be the easiest part of the entire trip. The monsoon had lasted longer than usual and it was still raining for much of my time in Kathmandu. It wasn't long before I realized just what a bit of rain could do in the high Himalayas.
We set off at dawn for the Chinese border, but it was barely midday when the mini bus stopped. A monsoon-induced rock slide blocked the road ahead. They had managed to flatten a path and, although it could not support vehicles, we could at least walk across and flag down buses and jeeps two kilometers down the road.
The landslide was inconvenient, but the walk gave us ample time to appreciate the scenery. We were traveling up a deep gorge leading into the mountains. On one side of the road, mountains towered over us almost vertically, so high you couldn't be sure if what you were seeing was the peak or merely an overhang. On the other side, the valley dropped several hundred meters straight down. The rains had brought out a verdant carpet of emerald-colored bushes and the mountain sides were streaked with hundreds of cascades of frothing rain water. It looked like a ribbon of living green marble stretching up and down the valley.
Those of us who believed all obstacles would be as easy to cross soon learned better. One of the streams pouring down the mountainside was now pouring over the road ahead of us, and although they looked small on the other side of the valley, the one ahead was almost 30 feet wide and a meter deep.
I was at the edge of the flow when the lorry ahead decided to risk crossing, passing through without mishap. Before he had reached the other side, I was startled by what sounded like another truck moving quickly towards the torrent. I turned in time to see my bus almost at the edge of the water and at full speed. I didn't hesitate. I sprinted over and reached the bus just as it entered the water.
For a split second I thought I would not make it, that I would end up washed over the edge, a shrieking, spluttering insect tumbling down several hundred meters of waterfall. Luckily I leaped through the open door and scrambled aboard just as the water came up to my knees. The water gushed in through the door and sloshed over the floor of the bus and then flushed back out again as we reached the other side. I resumed my seat, my trousers dripping wet and everybody staring at me. That night I dreamed about falling.
The border town of Zhangmu in Tibet is a single road lined with restaurants and beauty parlors. At sundown, the color of the town changes from the white of mountain mist to pinks and reds. The only sight of note is the graveyard of the Martyrs of the China-Nepal Highway, a somber reminder that the road was built largely by hand and with little technical advice.
We awoke at 4 a.m. the next day to embark on the next leg of the trip, only to be halted a couple kilometers outside of town: The road was completely blocked by another landslide, this one not climbable. We prepared to bivouac in the jeeps when I heard a yell, followed by a deep rumble. Remembering the landslide, and imagining what it would be like to be stuck under one rather than to the side, we were alarmed. Even though it was loose rocks from the existing slide, it was clear we would not be moving anytime soon.
We ended up spending four days in Zhangmu. Every day the town became a little more crowded as travelers and freight arrived only to be trapped between the border and the slide. By day the travelers claimed the restaurants-playing cards and sipping beer; by night the town belonged to the truckers and their favorite establishments. Finally the road was cleared and we continued the ascent toward the Tibetan plateau. The verdant green of Nepal gave way to the browns and grays of the mountains tipped with crisp, blue-white snow. The highest point of the Gyatso-la pass, 5,220 meters, was so gentle it looked almost as if we were just driving over some hills, but the mountains towering around us and the thinness of the air reminded me just how high we were.
We soon passed into the Yarlung Valley, the most fertile part of Tibet where Tibetan culture originated. Golden stacks of freshly harvested wheat and banks of yellow and lilac flowers now contrasted with slopes rising over the Yarlung river. Hamlets turned into villages and, eventually, cities. Finally we arrived in Lhasa, where we were greeted by more tourists than people seen during the entire trip.
After the crowds in Lhasa, I boarded the bus to Nam-tso Lake with trepidation. The bus turned out to be one of several and for two hours a day the camp site next to the lake becomes a sea of tourists competing to take cute photos on yaks. Luckily most of the tourists do not stray far from where they are dropped off and leave by mid-afternoon, unwilling to face nights in tents with no heating or electric light. They don't know what they are missing.
The shores of the lake are covered in pebbles built up into hundreds, if not thousands, of foot-high piles representing mountains. Beyond them, the lake stretches into the distance, a glowing turquoise surpassing even the Caribbean. The light-unfiltered by clouds, pollution or even much air-glistens off the water and shines on the towering Tangula and Nyenchen Tangkhla mountains which ring it. The snow-capped peaks behind you gradually become undulating hills, almost leveling to a plain at the edge of the water. The water is so smooth that the mountains behind are mirrored flawlessly.
The journey from Kathmandu to Tibet was not easy. There were times when I was tired, angry and scared of plummeting into valleys or being crushed by falling rocks. However, my two days at Nam-tso made everything worth it. Combine this with the stunning Himalayas and the experience of passing through Tibet without the tourist bustle of Lhasa and you have a potent mixture. On the road from Nepal to Tibet lays a beauty and spirituality which cannot be captured by photographs or described in books, but must be seen and experienced first-hand.
Along the Way
The Friendship Highway is 1,000 kilometers of cliffhanging road, connecting Kathmandu and Lhasa. Here's five places to stop and smell the roses.
Nyalam | 3,750 meters
Visit Milarepa's Cave where the 11th century Buddhist mystic lived in meditative isolation as penance for killing his uncle.
Rongbuk | 5,000 meters
This is your best vantage point to gaze upon Everest, 80 km in the distance. It's also the jump-off point for Everest base camp.
Shigatse | 3,900 meters
Tibet's second largest town is the seat of the Panchen Lama. Check out the Tashi Lumpo Monastery, founded in 1447. Its main statue is made of 275 kilograms of gold and measures 26 meters in height. The buildings were virtually untouched by the Cultural Revolution.
Gyantse | 3,800 meters
Check out the Peklor Chode Monastery, founded in 1418, where you'll find the Kumbum stupa. Hike up behind the stupa for spectacular views of the valley.
Lake Yamdrok | 4,800 meters
One of T ibet's most sacred lakes covers more than 600 square kilometers.
Adventures Within Reach organizes week-long Land Cruiser trips for US$1,490 per person (does not include airfare), www.adventureswithinreach.com
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