Seeing Kangchendzonga is also a milestone for Thomas and me. This means we have seen 8 of the top ten highest mountains in the world. The remaining two mountains, K2 and Nanga Parbat, are both located in northwest Pakistan, and we obviously won’t be heading there right now.

To celebrate the eight, we have put together our own pictorial list of the world’s ten highest mountains, respectfully leaving blank spaces for K2 and Nanga Parbat. We’ll get to Pakistan some day!

French Thomas just left a comment on our blog that monks from Dargye Gompa have been arrested while protesting for their freedom, and he left a link with photos from an online source.

This is terrible news, and we hope the Chinese government will end this nonsense and release our friends.

I’ve always said the San Diego -Tijuana border crossing is the most abrupt, most dramatic border transition I’ve ever experienced. It turns out, there is another…

Driving along the desert roads of the Tibetan plateau, the road peaked just before Nyalam to reveal a spectacular Himalayan panorama and a road heading down, down , down. After what seemed like an unending series of switchbacks, the open moonscape we were moving through gave way to tight canyons that slid their way through the snow-capped mountains. Stone villages and terraced fields clung to the steep cliffs, herds of yaks and goats wandered along the road.

Pema, our driver, carefully navigated the hairpin turns and steep drop-offs as suicidal Chinese drivers blasted past us inches from death. As each passed, Pema would sigh and indicate that they were self-important Chinese officials. I raged at their idiocy and their lack of respect for our lives as well as their own. The dumb stunts the Chinese drivers pulled were infuriating.

Dodging the onslaught of idiot drivers, we eventually wound our way down to Nyalam where we stopped to wait for the caravan to the Nepali border. All cars are required to travel in a caravan in one direction from Nyalam to the border town of Zhangmu along an insanely narrow road carved out of the sheer canyon walls. This road was easily the most spectacular 45 minute stretch of road I have ever experienced (or probably ever will.)

In less than an hour, you drop from desert to pine forest to deciduous forest ending in tropical jungle filled with buzzing, dinging insects! You start surrounded by the Himalayas and end in plummeting gorges filled with ribbon-like waterfalls not unlike the steep gorges in Kauai. At points, the road (which is one solid, permanent construction site) actually passes through waterfalls – the drivers all stopped their cars under the falls to wash the desert dust off the cars. The trip down ends at the border city of Zhangmu, an unbelievable construction clinging to the steep canyon slopes.

After a night in Zhangmu, we rushed down to the border crossing to fight our way through the Chinese bureaucracy to exit the country. The Chinese border station is a shockingly chaotic and embarrassingly confused place with meaningless forms and bored bureaucrats who, after arriving more than an hour late to work, seemed completely uninterested in everything they made us do. (After requiring everyone to fill out declarations that we didn’t have any bird-flu symptoms, there was nobody to collect the forms, so we ended up just stuffing them in our pockets.)

Once we were through the paper obstacle course, we hired a minivan driven by a young woman to drive us across the very long no-man’s land between the borders. As I was contemplating how impressively progressive it was that our driver was a young woman, she hit the gas and our van went flying down the dirt road shooting around hairpin turns dodging pack animals and Tibetan and Nepali traders walking along the terribly neglected road. On several occasions, she came within inches of the roads precipitous edge (much to Thomas’ aggressively voiced distress).

Suddenly, the woman slammed on the brakes and informed us that she could drive no further due to the backup of vehicles waiting to cross the border. Thomas, Irina, Dimitri, and I piled out of the van and walked the remainder of the way down the muddy switchbacks through honking trucks and Chinese buses to the Friendship Bridge, which connects the two countries over a steep river gorge.

The other side of the bridge was a world away. Blocky, functional, Chinese cement boxes gave way to colorful wooden Nepali architecture. Nepali foods and spices permeated the air. Everyone suddenly spoke fantastic English and casually greeted us, welcoming us to Nepal. Smiling, happy faces. All of us felt like we had been transported to the other side of the world. In a drive that would normally last less than an hour, we had gone from desert to jungle, from sand storms to waterfalls, from nomads to the hustle and bustle of the subcontinent.

As in many third world countries, trash management in China, and even more so in Tibet, is a huge problem particularly outside the tourist areas where there don’t seem to be any centralized places for disposing of trash. The more organized municipalities have random piles of trash distributed throughout the town while less organized places are evenly littered with garbage – it is just like living on a dump.

The most shocking examples of trash mismanagement, we encountered in Tibet. Many small settlement do not have any toilets so people relieve themselves by walking a few meters to squat between a herd of sheep and a pack of stray dogs.

But the worse practice of all is to use the rivers as dump. All the plastic bottles and packaging materials, of which there are an abundance, go straight into the river and get deposited downstream along the riverbeds. This is a major problem and since China is so concerned about making money with occupied Tibet, they had better cause environmental awareness quickly in Tibetans and Chinese alike.

Two days of driving to the Nepalese border and most of it was backtracking via the same route by which we had come. Our 17-day trip was almost over and I knew, we would hit the same spine-crumbling potholes again.

I didn’t expect a lot of excitement going back. Going through familiar terrain, though, provides a chance to relax and let your mind wander. I believe all of us were thinking about the last 15 days as we sat in the car silently driving by herds of Eastern Kiang and watching Lake Manasarovar disappear in the distance.

Tony and I had just talked how lucky we were to have found Dimitri and Irina and how the trip had worked out perfectly, when we got a flat tire. The first one on the whole trip! Luckily, it was right next to a herd of Tibetan gazelle.

Within twenty minutes, Pema and Losang fixed the flat and we continued our trip slowly rumbling along toward the Nepali border stopping once in a while to watch endangered black-necked cranes or to admire the Himalayas peaking out behind the barren Tibetan mountains.

After Nam Tso Lake, which supposedly is the highest fresh water lake in the world, the holy Lake Manasarovar is the highest salt water lake at an altitude of 4550 m (15,000 feet) and a popular Buddhist pilgrimage site. We spent a couple of nights there on our way back from the Guge Kingdom staying at a small guest house situated between the lake shores and the Chiu Monastery atop a small hill.

Manasarovar is a gorgeous, deep-blue lake that reflects the surrounding mountains on its smooth surface. The most stunning of them is Gurla Mandhata which, at 7728 m (25,500 feet), is among the fifty highest mountains in the world. We spent a full day exploring the lake shores, and enjoyed the warm sun after freezing on the Mt. Kailash kora.

Even though the lake shores may look barren and uninhabitable at a first glance, there are plenty of water birds, flocks of ground birds, and the soil is covered with a salt crust interspersed with vegetation giving way to a colorful display.

Guge was an ancient kingdom that once existed in the far west of Tibet about a day’s jeep travel north of Mt. Kailash. Set in a spectacular desert canyonlands, Guge was once a series of prospering irrigated valleys ruled from the monastic fortress complex at Tsaparang and large monastery at Tholing.

Today, the regional center Zanda houses a Chinese military base, testament to the kingdoms proximity to the sensitive Indian border. The monasteries of Tsaparang and Tholing, while still evocative of their previous grandeur, were devastated in the Chinese invasion and the cultural revolution. Wandering the town and surrounding hills, visitors can still find crumbling temples and stupas, ripped up prayer texts, broken Buddhas – all evidence of what has been destroyed. Here the crimes of Chinese are still quite evident.

The entire area is fascinating and frustrating at the same time. Thomas, Irina, Dimitri, and I climbed and crawled through ruins and the eroded landscape. We discovered faded (and defaced) wall murals and crumbling statues. We even found an ancient burial cave with human remains lying freely on the cave floor along with talismans, prayer texts, yak skins, and quite a horrible smell. And yet, we were only able to scratch the surface of this extremely historic area. There is so much to discover, yet free movement beyond Zanda and Tsaparang is limited by the authorities. I would love to spend weeks walking in and out of all the side valleys exploring freely; maybe we will come back some day.

Leaving Kailash, we headed west on the road to Ali before turning off on to some of the worst roads on our journey so far (that’s quite a statement). The jeep tracks snaked their way up into a surreal multi-colored desert mountain range like nothing I’ve ever seen elsewhere.

We spent hours inching our way through sandy riverbeds and rocky slopes. At one point, the car actually did a semi-controlled slide down an incline, which had me clinging to the dashboard. Eventually, the jeep track emerged from the mountains overlooking a huge canyonlands backed by the Indian Himalayas. This was the remote (and stunning) Guge Kingdom.

We drove down into the eroded landscape skirting the edge of the canyon and eventually descended into a side arm of the canyon itself. Weaving in and out of the crumbling towers, the sandy track wound its way to Zanda, a town at the center of the ancient kingdom.

Could I have avoided getting sick by taking Diamox, a drug that can help prevent altitude sickness? I guess not because I actually had taken it. I wasn’t quite sure at first whether the nausea and the sleeplessness were a result of altitude sickness or of the Diamox (whose side effects include those symptoms). When we went to Everest Base camp at 5200 m (17,160 feet), I had a chance to test it out. I didn’t take any Diamox and, after a few hours there, got nauseous again. Damn it! The worst part was that I couldn’t eat anything – and Tony is still talking about those amazing pancakes.

So what does that mean? It seems like, I did suffer from altitude sickness, with or without Diamox (I pretty much ruled out food poisoning or such because we all shared the same meals). After this “scientific” experiment, I decided to not take Diamox as a preventative anymore because I felt it didn’t do much for me (of course, for all I know, I could have been much worse off). I did, however, keep it in mind as treatment for severe altitude sickness. Luckily, after our Everest trip, I never got sick again – not even after going over the 5600 m (18,400 feet) pass during the Mount Kailash kora. I guess I finally acclimated.

If you didn’t read it, check out my posting on altitude sickness Running Out of Air

Oooh, I’m sore! I slept so deeply last night, it’s amazing anyone could wake me up this morning. Who knew you could sleep so well in an adobe refrigerator? Actually, after the winds, the snow, and the extreme cold yesterday, this simple monastery felt like a luxury resort.

Our last day on the kora was an easy one. Losang had already walked down to Darchen and Dimitri and Irina had left ahead of us, so Thomas and I were on our own most of the day. We followed a long glacial valley for several hours taking in the beautiful mountain scenery and braid-like river below the trail. Our porter, who didn’t speak any English or Chinese, had found an old pilgrim to walk with; we could see them both further down the winding path.

Since we were not in a rush, we sat down on some boulders and watched the river below. We explored mani walls, Tibetan rock carvings, stupas, and such along the way. The sun was shining and the walk was a breeze, nothing could have been more of a contrast to crossing Drolma-La Pass.

After several lazy hours, we walked out of the valley with magnificent views of the holy lake Manasarovar in the distance and the soaring mountain Gurla Mandhata rising up behind. We passed through a small, stone Tibetan village, which appeared to be completed deserted at midday. In the distance, large herds of yaks were moving across the plains below us. It was definitely a National Geographic’s moment.

As we moved out of the village, we could see yet another mani wall in the distance with a body lying in front of it. (It reminded me of the exhausted Tibetans at the pass.) As we approached, we could see the body was our porter and that he did not appear to be moving at all. Lying awkwardly on the dusty ground, his neck appeared to be twisted around pinned in against the lower portion of the wall. Terrified that he had dropped over dead, we hurried over towards him. There was absolutely no movement – our fear mounted. Suddenly, at the last moment, his head popped up staring cluelessly at us, his goofy smile breaking the tension. He pulled himself up , and we walked back to Darchen together, very relieved that we hadn’t killed him. (Seriously, the backpack didn’t contain that much.)

Back in Darchen, Thomas, Irina, Dimitri, and I celebrated our success over Sichuanese food at a hole-in-the-wall in the center of town. After 3 days of instant noodles, it felt like pure luxury!

Up early to beat the mountain winds, which pick up before noon. We had a very restless night last night sleeping at 5000 meters (16,500 feet). I woke up in my sleeping bag feeling like I was suffocating. We were all absolutely freezing, even with our sleeping bags and two 4-inch thick Tibetan blankets each. I also had stomach issues all night, which I attribute to the appalling Tibetan hygiene rather than altitude sickness. (Don’t ask me how I know it was hygiene, I don’t want to get graphic.)

The weather situation was very unclear. Kailash peak was in clouds, but the Drolma-La Pass seemed clear, so our guide Losang said we should go for it. At first, we were all colder than hell, but as we pushed forward, we heated up enough to be comfortable.

The trail across the pass, which is usually clear enough that trekkers don’t need guides, had disappeared beneath a blanket of fresh snow. We felt extremely happy that Losang had decided to borrow those shoes from his friend and come with us on the trek. (Official Tibet guides often wait for trekkers at the base of the mountain in Darchen.) Since Losang was an ethnic Tibetan, he had completed the kora numerous times and was very motivated to do the kora again himself as each Kailash kora completed brings him one step closer to enlightenment. His experience at Kailash allowed him to easily guide us through the snow-covered boulders up the steep mountain slope.

The trail, which is usually snow-free during the pilgrimage season, was hard-packed snow from all the pilgrims doing the kora. But recent snow fall had filled in the sides effectively rendering the trail invisible. If you stepped too far left or right, you fell off the hard-packed trail into the soft side snow, suddenly stuck up to your knees. (Thomas and I were both very grateful for the knock-off North Face Goretex pants we had bought in China!!!) Thomas seemed to have the uncanny ability to see where the hard-packed trail was, so I stayed close behind him.

The exhausting climb became much harder when the winds kicked in early. The sky changed from clear blue to dark clouds and back within minutes. Gale force winds whipped snow into our faces – it felt like you were being hit with tiny splinters of glass. Of course, whenever the clouds swept in, the temperature dropped dramatically making the whole thing that much more difficult.

At one point, as we topped a small ridge, we saw what looked like lifeless bodies lying on the boulders. It turned out to be several exhausted Tibetan pilgrims lying on rocks regaining their strength. (Tibetan pilgrims usually attempt to complete the entire 52 km (83 miles) kora in one single day!) The pilgrims were wearing thick sheep skins with the fur inside. Many of the women had painted the outer skin with beautiful multi-colored abstract designs, which once again reminded me of Native Americans. As we passed, the bodies started stirring and the pilgrims ended up joining us on the trail up to the pass. We all moved inch by inch trudging through the snow surrounded by a panorama of jagged stone peaks. Kailash peak was partially visible as dark clouds moved over the summit. It really was one of the most dramatically beautiful moments of my life, all intensified by the spectacularly severe weather conditions and the pilgrims walking beside us.

Strangely, moving up to the pass neither Thomas nor I had any problems with altitude sickness despite the fact that we were much higher than we had ever been in our lives. Irina and Dimitri, who have far more mountain experience than we do, moved on ahead with Losang leaving Thomas and me to follow their path through the snow.

In a moment of stupidity, while stopping to go to the bathroom, I laid my gloves down on the path. Stupid!!! Propelled by a huge gust of wind, my gloves suddenly shot through the air landing in a pile of boulders twenty yards away. I can’t convey how terrified I was because the temperature was well below freezing and the extreme winds made the cold even more of a threat. Thomas screamed bloody murder at me for my stupidity and then disappeared down the path ahead. I tried to walk in the direction of the gloves, but I suddenly plunged into a deep patch of snow and couldn’t move forward. As I climbed out of the snowy hole, my icy hands freezing in the cold, I heard Thomas yelling, “I found them. I’ve got them.” He had walked further down the path and climbed into the boulders from behind. I don’t think I have ever been so relieved in my life.

Gloves back on and hands warming, we continued up the trail stopping to rest and take in the phenomenal snowy wilderness. After another hour and much endurance, we finally reached the top of Drolma-La Pass 5,600 meters (18,400 feet). It’s the highest place by far that either Thomas or I have ever been, and this record is likely to stay unbroken for some time as there are not many opportunities for people to get higher without serious mountaineering experience.

We thought the hardest part was behind us, but we were very mistaken in that assumption. Moving further along the pass, a new snow-covered valley opened up below us accessible only by a ridiculously steep iced-over path. I thought back to the rumors that the German who had died had fallen to his death. I wondered once again if that rumor had been correct. We slowly slid down the trail often on all fours. A beautiful, green alpine lake lay down below us ringed in by spiky white peaks.

The strength of the winds continued to increase as noon approached whipping up clouds of snow. At one point climbing down the trail, Losang stopped to tell me something. While we were talking, a strong gust of wind knocked him right off his feet. Laughing, clearly shocked by the conditions himself, he pulled himself up and gestured to keep moving. We trudged to the bottom of the trail and began to cross the valley. At times, the gusts were so overwhelming that we all had to stop moving and wait for the winds and stinging shower of glass-shard-like snow particles to stop. During this period, I did not take any pictures because I was afraid of damaging my camera, but Thomas did manage to snap the picture below, which shows a pilgrim with me and Losang in the background as we are just reaching the end of the trail arriving at the valley floor. It is one of the only pictures which conveys how extreme the weather became.

But the challenges just kept coming. Weaving our way along the path of pilgrim footprints, we began to walk over sections of an iced-over river that braided through the valley floor. The snow made it difficult to tell if you were walking on dirt or the river. After what seemed like hours of slipping and sliding and hopping from rock to rock over the river, we plopped ourselves down behind a huge bolder to shield ourselves from the endless wind. Losang had gone ahead once again to look for Irina and Dimitri, so we were on our own. We refueled ourselves on chocolate bars and a can of Coca Cola we were dragging along for emergencies. Just as we were finishing, another trekker and her guide showed up and informed us that we were still two to three hours from the next monastery – I didn’t know whether to punch the guide in the face or burst into tears. I have never been so exhausted in my life, but somehow the chocolate and Coca Cola gave me enough energy to keep going.

After endless river crossings and a lot of bitching, we finally spotted a pilgrim tea tent on the other side of the river. One last very precarious river crossing and we finally had shelter from the wind. A few cups of salted black tea and a half an hour warming up in the tent provided us with enough energy to walk the last hour to Zutul Puk Monastery.

When I got inside our cold adobe room, I collapsed on to the bed and lay there for 15 minutes without moving. I have never been so exhausted in my life. Did I enjoy it? Absolutely! I think the extreme weather conditions made passing Drolma-La that much more amazing. The dramatic clouds, snow-covered mountains, the pilgrims wrapped in sheep skins – it was, perhaps, the single most intensely spectacular day of my life. It really did feel like a religious pilgrimage!

Continue reading Mount Kailash – Day 3.

Our first day on the Kailash kora was full of ups and downs to say the least – and I’m not talking about the trail. It all started at 9 AM when our porter showed up and quit!

Losang, our guide, shifted into emergency mode and desperately combed the small town for anyone available. At 11 AM, he showed up with a scrawny, frail, old man whom we immediately hired because we had no other options. We needed a well acclimatized local to help us carry our things as well as to guide us over the snow-covered pass. This was doubly important as Losang was not going to come with us because his shoes were not good enough to walk through deep snow. Guide hired and ready to go, we all grabbed our bags and left immediately – a very late start for our first day which included a trek of 20 km (12 miles). As we headed up the hill behind Darchen, it quickly became clear that the porter wasn’t going to make it with the backpack packed the way it was, so we each took some of his load into our daypacks to help him.

We were a bit stressed because of the late start and the fact that we were terrified that our porter was going to drop over dead, but once we came up over the first ridge and saw a massive circle of prayer flags backed by the full view of Kailash, our worries were suddenly forgotten (for the moment). Passing the impressive collection of prayer flags, we oohed and aahed as we entered the stone canyon that marks the beginning of the kora like some colossal stone gate. You really feel a sense of awe as you approach the exceptionally unique mountain, which is one of the holiest pilgrimage sites for Buddhists, Hindus and Bon worshippers. The path was lined with mani piles and mani walls including stacks of yak skulls (many of which had also been engraved with Tibetan prayer texts). We passed stone stupas, smaller collections of prayer flags, and our first monastery perched on a steep cliff overlooking the trail. It was all absolutely magic… until we saw the cars.

Cars… driving up the riverbed below us. How could anyone be driving cars up the holiest pilgrim path in Tibet?! We assumed it had to be Chinese tourists as Tibetans would never drive in such a holy place. Or perhaps, Chinese military following up on their bombing of the 10 meter (30 foot) Buddha, making sure Tibetans weren’t carving another “unauthorized” statue somewhere in the cliffs. We bitched and complained, we mourned the loss of Tibet. Boy, did we feel like idiots when we discovered the truth.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, our guide Losang appeared on the path ahead of us.

“Hello,” he said, offering no explanation of his presence.

“Losang, what are you doing here?” we asked totally confused by how he had suddenly materialized ahead of us on the trail.

“I guide cars up river,” he answered in broken English, “someone die crossing mountain pass. He is German, too. Cars go to take body. I get good shoes from friend and come to find you, to make sure you can be safe crossing mountain. There is much snow.”

We stood there, unsure what exactly to say about the discovery that the cars were actually going to pick up someone’s body. Then it sank in that the person had died crossing the pass we were heading for. We walked on silently reflecting on what had happened, questioning what we should do next.

After about a half an hour, we saw a group of people walking towards us, quite unusual as they were walking the kora counter-clockwise (a big taboo in Tibet). It was a group of European hikers who had heard about the German’s death and had decided to turn back. This really started to make us nervous. After another hour, the cars drove back by us carrying the man’s body back to Darchen. There was another man sitting in the back staring out the window. We discovered from Losang that this was the man’s brother. We stood back silently watching the cars drive by us on the narrow path. I can’t tell you how incredibly strange we felt as the dazed brother’s eyes glided over us. I felt so horrible for him.

But we walked on. The landscape was so other-worldly, so spectacular that is compelled us to continue. Kailash, such a unique mountain, is like a monolithic slab of stone, or perhaps, an ancient pyramid ravaged by the extremes of the Tibetan climate. The mountain exudes a sense of natural spiritual wonder, which has made it such an important pilgrimage site. In Tibet, the land of mountains, Kailash is by far the most important, surpassing all others including Lhotse, Cho Oyu, Xishabangma, and even Everest.

As the day wore on, the winds picked up whipping snow off the tops of the surrounding peaks, perhaps foreshadowing what lay ahead. From time to time, we stopped to take refuge from the strong winds in pilgrim tea tents refueling on salted black tea, butter tea, or instant noodles. Eventually, the canyon trail curved gently around to the northern face of the mountain, known as the Emerald Face, where we came to our end destination for day one, Dira Puk Monastery.

Later that evening, as we sat around the yak dung stove warming ourselves, we tried to get as much information as possible about the German’s death and the conditions at the pass. Some said he had died of altitude sickness, others said he had fallen due to the strong winds, still others said he had had a heart attack. At times, it sounded like his death was a freak accident, at others it sounded like a direct result of the weather.

After considering the situation, Dimitri, Irina, Thomas and I have decided to attempt the pass, but we are going to be respectful of the weather conditions. If it looks too dangerous, we’ll head back. We aren’t the only ones to attempt the pass, there are other foreigners and many Tibetan pilgrims who are going as well. Hopefully, everything will be much clearer tomorrow.

Continue reading Mount Kailash – Day 2.

Darchen itself is a pit with the exception of some culinary highlights (like the little Chinese restaurant up the hill.) The first thing we had to do was find out about the trekking situation. Although, we’ve seen military camps outside of Darchen, we are not aware of any army presence in town. Locals are telling us that everything is fine. What a relief – it looks like we can leave tomorrow! The only worry we now have is the weather.

We spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for our 3-day walk around Kailash. While we were loading up on junk food, Losang, our guide, was trying to arrange a porter (because the hike was going to be strenuous at those altitudes even without luggage.) We had decided to take as little gear and clothes as possible and split one porter between the four of us.

Then, Losang came back with the porter(s) – two giggling teenage girls in flip flops who had never done anything like that before. What was going on? As it turned out, there was a shortage of porters because of the snow on the pass. Normally, one can choose between a porter or a yak but, apparently, yaks can’t cross the pass in the snow. Consequently, all the porters had been hired while all the yaks were happily grazing the meadows.

Having those unexperienced girls carry our stuff was out of question. Tony went out to search for a porter himself and eventually found a teenage boy who had done the kora many times. Before we finally agreed on the deal, we had him try on the backpack to see if he could manage the load. He hesitatingly agreed but then assured us that everything was OK. Great! We are all set and ready to leave early tomorrow.

Because it was freezing cold and very windy (not the best of combinations), we decided to stay in the house rather than in the tent which was violently shaking from the gusts. Desperate to warm ourselves, we all collected around the yak-dung stove trying to warm up while the windows were covering over with ice crystals and the sheep outside with frost.

Sitting there shivering, it suddenly dawned on us that this could all be for nothing. Our big goal is Mt. Kailash, but will we be able to go there with all the military around? I guess, we’ll know more by tomorrow.

We’ve been bumping up and down for days on dusty roads (or lack thereof) heading for Mt. Kailash. Each day seems like an epic journey in its own right, winding our way up over mountains, across desolate lunar landscapes, down through canyons to grasslands filled with herds of yaks and sheep. We drive straight through rivers and streams hoping the water won’t flood into the car. We inch along steep mountain roads and spin our wheels trying to get the car over landslides that have covered the road. This is the Tibet I dreamt of when I was a teenager!

For days, we have been driving along the Himalayas past the big names such as Makalu, Lhotse, Everest, Cho Oyu and Xishabangma. But equally stunning are the mountains whose names Losang, our guide, does not know. Huge snow covered peaks erupt from the grasslands or sprout out of desert dunes. Huge sapphire lakes sit in middle of the desert. The sky is so bizarrely blue – it looks almost fake!

There are few people here in western Tibet, only small junction settlements and occasional nomads. At one point as we were bumping down one dirt road, a Western woman came running up to us out of nowhere. We stopped and rolled down the window and she said, “Hi, we are biking across Tibet and we have run out of water. That lake down there is salt water, so we can’t use that. Do you have any water?” Almost out of water ourselves, we all poured what we had in one empty bottle and handed it over to her. More importantly, Losang explained to her that certain small inlets off to the left contained drinkable water.

Perhaps, the most magnificent thing we discovered along the road was a huge plain with a surreal landscape of wind-swept dunes and aquamarine lakes all backed by the Himalayas. I have never seen anything like it before – absolutely incredible!

In Chinese folklore the high plateaus of the mystical Far West have always been strongly associated with heaven. Now, I know why.