Page 1
6 Silk Road
Nick Middleton
Notice these expressions in the text.
Infer their meaning from the context.
?? ducking back ?? swathe ?? careered down
?? manoeuvres ?? cairn of rocks ?? salt flats
?? billowed
A fl Awless half-moon floated in a perfect blue sky on the morning we
said our goodbyes. Extended banks of cloud like long French loaves
glowed pink as the sun emerged to splash the distant mountain tops
with a rose-tinted blush. Now that we were leaving Ravu, Lhamo said
she wanted to give me a farewell present. One evening I’d told her
through Daniel that I was heading towards Mount Kailash to complete
the kora, and she’d said that I ought to get some warmer clothes. After
ducking back into her tent, she emerged carrying one of the long-
sleeved sheepskin coats that all the men wore. Tsetan sized me up as
we clambered into his car. “Ah, yes,” he declared, “drokba, sir.”
We took a short cut to get off the Changtang. Tsetan knew a route
that would take us south-west, almost directly towards Mount Kailash.
It involved crossing several fairly high mountain passes, he said. “But
no problem, sir”, he assured us, “if there is no snow.” What was the
likelihood of that I asked. “Not knowing, sir, until we get there.”
From the gently rolling hills of Ravu, the short cut took us across
vast open plains with nothing in them except a few gazelles that would
look up from nibbling the arid pastures and frown before bounding
away into the void. Further on, where the plains became more stony
than grassy, a great herd of wild ass came into view. Tsetan told us we
Chap 6.indd 57 12/6/2024 11:40:18 AM
Reprint 2025-26
Page 2
6 Silk Road
Nick Middleton
Notice these expressions in the text.
Infer their meaning from the context.
?? ducking back ?? swathe ?? careered down
?? manoeuvres ?? cairn of rocks ?? salt flats
?? billowed
A fl Awless half-moon floated in a perfect blue sky on the morning we
said our goodbyes. Extended banks of cloud like long French loaves
glowed pink as the sun emerged to splash the distant mountain tops
with a rose-tinted blush. Now that we were leaving Ravu, Lhamo said
she wanted to give me a farewell present. One evening I’d told her
through Daniel that I was heading towards Mount Kailash to complete
the kora, and she’d said that I ought to get some warmer clothes. After
ducking back into her tent, she emerged carrying one of the long-
sleeved sheepskin coats that all the men wore. Tsetan sized me up as
we clambered into his car. “Ah, yes,” he declared, “drokba, sir.”
We took a short cut to get off the Changtang. Tsetan knew a route
that would take us south-west, almost directly towards Mount Kailash.
It involved crossing several fairly high mountain passes, he said. “But
no problem, sir”, he assured us, “if there is no snow.” What was the
likelihood of that I asked. “Not knowing, sir, until we get there.”
From the gently rolling hills of Ravu, the short cut took us across
vast open plains with nothing in them except a few gazelles that would
look up from nibbling the arid pastures and frown before bounding
away into the void. Further on, where the plains became more stony
than grassy, a great herd of wild ass came into view. Tsetan told us we
Chap 6.indd 57 12/6/2024 11:40:18 AM
Reprint 2025-26
58 Hornbill were approaching them long before they appeared. “Kyang,” he said,
pointing towards a far-off pall of dust. When we drew near, I could see
the herd galloping en masse, wheeling and turning in tight formation
as if they were practising manoeuvres on some predetermined course.
Plumes of dust billowed into the crisp, clean air.
As hills started to push up once more from the rocky wilderness,
we passed solitary drokbas tending their flocks. Sometimes men,
sometimes women, these well-wrapped figures would pause and stare
at our car, occasionally waving as we passed. When the track took us
close to their animals, the sheep would take evasive action, veering
away from the speeding vehicle.
We passed nomads’ dark tents pitched in splendid isolation, usually
with a huge black dog, a Tibetan mastiff, standing guard. These beasts
would cock their great big heads when they became aware of our
approach and fix us in their sights. As we continued to draw closer,
they would explode into action, speeding directly towards us, like a
bullet from a gun and nearly as fast.
These shaggy monsters, blacker than the darkest night, usually
wore bright red collars and barked furiously with massive jaws. They
were completely fearless of our vehicle, shooting straight into our path,
causing Tsetan to brake and swerve. The dog would make chase for a
hundred metres or so before easing off, having seen us off the property.
It wasn’t difficult to understand why ferocious Tibetan mastiffs became
Sketch of Mount Kailash
Chap 6.indd 58 12/6/2024 11:40:18 AM
Reprint 2025-26
Page 3
6 Silk Road
Nick Middleton
Notice these expressions in the text.
Infer their meaning from the context.
?? ducking back ?? swathe ?? careered down
?? manoeuvres ?? cairn of rocks ?? salt flats
?? billowed
A fl Awless half-moon floated in a perfect blue sky on the morning we
said our goodbyes. Extended banks of cloud like long French loaves
glowed pink as the sun emerged to splash the distant mountain tops
with a rose-tinted blush. Now that we were leaving Ravu, Lhamo said
she wanted to give me a farewell present. One evening I’d told her
through Daniel that I was heading towards Mount Kailash to complete
the kora, and she’d said that I ought to get some warmer clothes. After
ducking back into her tent, she emerged carrying one of the long-
sleeved sheepskin coats that all the men wore. Tsetan sized me up as
we clambered into his car. “Ah, yes,” he declared, “drokba, sir.”
We took a short cut to get off the Changtang. Tsetan knew a route
that would take us south-west, almost directly towards Mount Kailash.
It involved crossing several fairly high mountain passes, he said. “But
no problem, sir”, he assured us, “if there is no snow.” What was the
likelihood of that I asked. “Not knowing, sir, until we get there.”
From the gently rolling hills of Ravu, the short cut took us across
vast open plains with nothing in them except a few gazelles that would
look up from nibbling the arid pastures and frown before bounding
away into the void. Further on, where the plains became more stony
than grassy, a great herd of wild ass came into view. Tsetan told us we
Chap 6.indd 57 12/6/2024 11:40:18 AM
Reprint 2025-26
58 Hornbill were approaching them long before they appeared. “Kyang,” he said,
pointing towards a far-off pall of dust. When we drew near, I could see
the herd galloping en masse, wheeling and turning in tight formation
as if they were practising manoeuvres on some predetermined course.
Plumes of dust billowed into the crisp, clean air.
As hills started to push up once more from the rocky wilderness,
we passed solitary drokbas tending their flocks. Sometimes men,
sometimes women, these well-wrapped figures would pause and stare
at our car, occasionally waving as we passed. When the track took us
close to their animals, the sheep would take evasive action, veering
away from the speeding vehicle.
We passed nomads’ dark tents pitched in splendid isolation, usually
with a huge black dog, a Tibetan mastiff, standing guard. These beasts
would cock their great big heads when they became aware of our
approach and fix us in their sights. As we continued to draw closer,
they would explode into action, speeding directly towards us, like a
bullet from a gun and nearly as fast.
These shaggy monsters, blacker than the darkest night, usually
wore bright red collars and barked furiously with massive jaws. They
were completely fearless of our vehicle, shooting straight into our path,
causing Tsetan to brake and swerve. The dog would make chase for a
hundred metres or so before easing off, having seen us off the property.
It wasn’t difficult to understand why ferocious Tibetan mastiffs became
Sketch of Mount Kailash
Chap 6.indd 58 12/6/2024 11:40:18 AM
Reprint 2025-26
s ilk r o Ad 59
popular in China’s imperial courts as hunting dogs, brought along the
Silk Road in ancient times as tribute from Tibet.
By now we could see snow-capped mountains gathering on the
horizon. We entered a valley where the river was wide and mostly
clogged with ice, brilliant white and glinting in the sunshine. The trail
hugged its bank, twisting with the meanders as we gradually gained
height and the valley sides closed in.
The turns became sharper and the ride bumpier, Tsetan now in
third gear as we continued to climb. The track moved away from the
icy river, labouring through steeper slopes that sported big rocks
daubed with patches of bright orange lichen. Beneath the rocks,
hunks of snow clung on in the near-permanent shade. I felt the
pressure building up in my ears, held my nose, snorted and cleared
them. We struggled round another tight bend and Tsetan stopped.
He had opened his door and jumped out of his seat before I realised
what was going on. “Snow,” said Daniel as he too exited the vehicle,
letting in a breath of cold air as he did so.
A swathe of the white stuff lay across the track in front of us,
stretching for maybe fifteen metres before it petered out and the dirt
trail reappeared. The snow continued on either side of us, smoothing
the abrupt bank on the upslope side. The bank was too steep for our
vehicle to scale, so there was no way round the snow patch. I joined
Daniel as Tsetan stepped on to the encrusted snow and began to slither
and slide forward, stamping his foot from time to time to ascertain
how sturdy it was. I looked at my wristwatch. We were at 5,210 metres
above sea level.
The snow didn’t look too deep to me, but the danger wasn’t its
depth, Daniel said, so much as its icy top layer. “If we slip off, the
car could turn over,” he suggested, as we saw Tsetan grab handfuls
of dirt and fling them across the frozen surface. We both pitched in
and, when the snow was spread with soil, Daniel and I stayed out of
the vehicle to lighten Tsetan’s load. He backed up and drove towards
the dirty snow, eased the car on to its icy surface and slowly drove its
length without apparent difficulty.
Ten minutes later, we stopped at another blockage. “Not good, sir,”
Tsetan announced as he jumped out again to survey the scene. This
time he decided to try and drive round the snow. The slope was steep
and studded with major rocks, but somehow Tsetan negotiated them,
his four-wheel drive vehicle lurching from one obstacle to the next. In
so doing he cut off one of the hairpin bends, regaining the trail further
up where the snow had not drifted.
Chap 6.indd 59 12/6/2024 11:40:18 AM
Reprint 2025-26
Page 4
6 Silk Road
Nick Middleton
Notice these expressions in the text.
Infer their meaning from the context.
?? ducking back ?? swathe ?? careered down
?? manoeuvres ?? cairn of rocks ?? salt flats
?? billowed
A fl Awless half-moon floated in a perfect blue sky on the morning we
said our goodbyes. Extended banks of cloud like long French loaves
glowed pink as the sun emerged to splash the distant mountain tops
with a rose-tinted blush. Now that we were leaving Ravu, Lhamo said
she wanted to give me a farewell present. One evening I’d told her
through Daniel that I was heading towards Mount Kailash to complete
the kora, and she’d said that I ought to get some warmer clothes. After
ducking back into her tent, she emerged carrying one of the long-
sleeved sheepskin coats that all the men wore. Tsetan sized me up as
we clambered into his car. “Ah, yes,” he declared, “drokba, sir.”
We took a short cut to get off the Changtang. Tsetan knew a route
that would take us south-west, almost directly towards Mount Kailash.
It involved crossing several fairly high mountain passes, he said. “But
no problem, sir”, he assured us, “if there is no snow.” What was the
likelihood of that I asked. “Not knowing, sir, until we get there.”
From the gently rolling hills of Ravu, the short cut took us across
vast open plains with nothing in them except a few gazelles that would
look up from nibbling the arid pastures and frown before bounding
away into the void. Further on, where the plains became more stony
than grassy, a great herd of wild ass came into view. Tsetan told us we
Chap 6.indd 57 12/6/2024 11:40:18 AM
Reprint 2025-26
58 Hornbill were approaching them long before they appeared. “Kyang,” he said,
pointing towards a far-off pall of dust. When we drew near, I could see
the herd galloping en masse, wheeling and turning in tight formation
as if they were practising manoeuvres on some predetermined course.
Plumes of dust billowed into the crisp, clean air.
As hills started to push up once more from the rocky wilderness,
we passed solitary drokbas tending their flocks. Sometimes men,
sometimes women, these well-wrapped figures would pause and stare
at our car, occasionally waving as we passed. When the track took us
close to their animals, the sheep would take evasive action, veering
away from the speeding vehicle.
We passed nomads’ dark tents pitched in splendid isolation, usually
with a huge black dog, a Tibetan mastiff, standing guard. These beasts
would cock their great big heads when they became aware of our
approach and fix us in their sights. As we continued to draw closer,
they would explode into action, speeding directly towards us, like a
bullet from a gun and nearly as fast.
These shaggy monsters, blacker than the darkest night, usually
wore bright red collars and barked furiously with massive jaws. They
were completely fearless of our vehicle, shooting straight into our path,
causing Tsetan to brake and swerve. The dog would make chase for a
hundred metres or so before easing off, having seen us off the property.
It wasn’t difficult to understand why ferocious Tibetan mastiffs became
Sketch of Mount Kailash
Chap 6.indd 58 12/6/2024 11:40:18 AM
Reprint 2025-26
s ilk r o Ad 59
popular in China’s imperial courts as hunting dogs, brought along the
Silk Road in ancient times as tribute from Tibet.
By now we could see snow-capped mountains gathering on the
horizon. We entered a valley where the river was wide and mostly
clogged with ice, brilliant white and glinting in the sunshine. The trail
hugged its bank, twisting with the meanders as we gradually gained
height and the valley sides closed in.
The turns became sharper and the ride bumpier, Tsetan now in
third gear as we continued to climb. The track moved away from the
icy river, labouring through steeper slopes that sported big rocks
daubed with patches of bright orange lichen. Beneath the rocks,
hunks of snow clung on in the near-permanent shade. I felt the
pressure building up in my ears, held my nose, snorted and cleared
them. We struggled round another tight bend and Tsetan stopped.
He had opened his door and jumped out of his seat before I realised
what was going on. “Snow,” said Daniel as he too exited the vehicle,
letting in a breath of cold air as he did so.
A swathe of the white stuff lay across the track in front of us,
stretching for maybe fifteen metres before it petered out and the dirt
trail reappeared. The snow continued on either side of us, smoothing
the abrupt bank on the upslope side. The bank was too steep for our
vehicle to scale, so there was no way round the snow patch. I joined
Daniel as Tsetan stepped on to the encrusted snow and began to slither
and slide forward, stamping his foot from time to time to ascertain
how sturdy it was. I looked at my wristwatch. We were at 5,210 metres
above sea level.
The snow didn’t look too deep to me, but the danger wasn’t its
depth, Daniel said, so much as its icy top layer. “If we slip off, the
car could turn over,” he suggested, as we saw Tsetan grab handfuls
of dirt and fling them across the frozen surface. We both pitched in
and, when the snow was spread with soil, Daniel and I stayed out of
the vehicle to lighten Tsetan’s load. He backed up and drove towards
the dirty snow, eased the car on to its icy surface and slowly drove its
length without apparent difficulty.
Ten minutes later, we stopped at another blockage. “Not good, sir,”
Tsetan announced as he jumped out again to survey the scene. This
time he decided to try and drive round the snow. The slope was steep
and studded with major rocks, but somehow Tsetan negotiated them,
his four-wheel drive vehicle lurching from one obstacle to the next. In
so doing he cut off one of the hairpin bends, regaining the trail further
up where the snow had not drifted.
Chap 6.indd 59 12/6/2024 11:40:18 AM
Reprint 2025-26
60 Hornbill I checked my watch again as we continued to climb in the bright
sunshine. We crept past 5,400 metres and my head began to throb
horribly. I took gulps from my water bottle, which is supposed to help
a rapid ascent.
We finally reached the top of the pass at 5,515 metres. It was marked
by a large cairn of rocks festooned with white silk scarves and ragged
prayer flags. We all took a turn round the cairn, in a clockwise direction
as is the tradition, and Tsetan checked the tyres on his vehicle. He
stopped at the petrol tank and partially unscrewed the top, which
emitted a loud hiss. The lower atmospheric pressure was allowing
the fuel to expand. It sounded dangerous to me. “Maybe, sir,” Tsetan
laughed “but no smoking.”
My headache soon cleared as we careered down the other side
of the pass. It was two o’clock by the time we stopped for lunch. We
ate hot noodles inside a long canvas tent, part of a workcamp erected
beside a dry salt lake. The plateau is pockmarked with salt flats and
brackish lakes, vestiges of the Tethys Ocean which bordered Tibet
before the great continental collision that lifted it skyward. This one
was a hive of activity, men with pickaxes and shovels trudging back
and forth in their long sheepskin coats and salt-encrusted boots. All
wore sunglasses against the glare as a steady stream of blue trucks
emerged from the blindingly white lake laden with piles of salt.
By late afternoon we had reached the small town of Hor, back on the
main east-west highway that followed the old trade route from Lhasa to
Kashmir. Daniel, who was returning to Lhasa, found a ride in a truck
so Tsetan and I bade him farewell outside a tyre-repair shop. We had
suffered two punctures in quick succession on the drive down from
the salt lake and Tsetan was eager to have them fixed since they left
him with no spares. Besides, the second tyre he’d changed had been
replaced by one that was as smooth as my bald head.
Hor was a grim, miserable place. There was no vegetation
whatsoever, just dust and rocks, liberally scattered with years of
accumulated refuse, which was unfortunate given that the town sat
on the shore of Lake Manasarovar, Tibet’s most venerated stretch of
water. Ancient Hindu and Buddhist cosmology pinpoints Manasarovar
as the source of four great Indian rivers: the Indus, the Ganges, the
Sutlej and the Brahmaputra. Actually only the Sutlej flows from the
lake, but the headwaters of the others all rise nearby on the flanks of
Mount Kailash. We were within striking distance of the great mountain
and I was eager to forge ahead.
Chap 6.indd 60 12/6/2024 11:40:18 AM
Reprint 2025-26
Page 5
6 Silk Road
Nick Middleton
Notice these expressions in the text.
Infer their meaning from the context.
?? ducking back ?? swathe ?? careered down
?? manoeuvres ?? cairn of rocks ?? salt flats
?? billowed
A fl Awless half-moon floated in a perfect blue sky on the morning we
said our goodbyes. Extended banks of cloud like long French loaves
glowed pink as the sun emerged to splash the distant mountain tops
with a rose-tinted blush. Now that we were leaving Ravu, Lhamo said
she wanted to give me a farewell present. One evening I’d told her
through Daniel that I was heading towards Mount Kailash to complete
the kora, and she’d said that I ought to get some warmer clothes. After
ducking back into her tent, she emerged carrying one of the long-
sleeved sheepskin coats that all the men wore. Tsetan sized me up as
we clambered into his car. “Ah, yes,” he declared, “drokba, sir.”
We took a short cut to get off the Changtang. Tsetan knew a route
that would take us south-west, almost directly towards Mount Kailash.
It involved crossing several fairly high mountain passes, he said. “But
no problem, sir”, he assured us, “if there is no snow.” What was the
likelihood of that I asked. “Not knowing, sir, until we get there.”
From the gently rolling hills of Ravu, the short cut took us across
vast open plains with nothing in them except a few gazelles that would
look up from nibbling the arid pastures and frown before bounding
away into the void. Further on, where the plains became more stony
than grassy, a great herd of wild ass came into view. Tsetan told us we
Chap 6.indd 57 12/6/2024 11:40:18 AM
Reprint 2025-26
58 Hornbill were approaching them long before they appeared. “Kyang,” he said,
pointing towards a far-off pall of dust. When we drew near, I could see
the herd galloping en masse, wheeling and turning in tight formation
as if they were practising manoeuvres on some predetermined course.
Plumes of dust billowed into the crisp, clean air.
As hills started to push up once more from the rocky wilderness,
we passed solitary drokbas tending their flocks. Sometimes men,
sometimes women, these well-wrapped figures would pause and stare
at our car, occasionally waving as we passed. When the track took us
close to their animals, the sheep would take evasive action, veering
away from the speeding vehicle.
We passed nomads’ dark tents pitched in splendid isolation, usually
with a huge black dog, a Tibetan mastiff, standing guard. These beasts
would cock their great big heads when they became aware of our
approach and fix us in their sights. As we continued to draw closer,
they would explode into action, speeding directly towards us, like a
bullet from a gun and nearly as fast.
These shaggy monsters, blacker than the darkest night, usually
wore bright red collars and barked furiously with massive jaws. They
were completely fearless of our vehicle, shooting straight into our path,
causing Tsetan to brake and swerve. The dog would make chase for a
hundred metres or so before easing off, having seen us off the property.
It wasn’t difficult to understand why ferocious Tibetan mastiffs became
Sketch of Mount Kailash
Chap 6.indd 58 12/6/2024 11:40:18 AM
Reprint 2025-26
s ilk r o Ad 59
popular in China’s imperial courts as hunting dogs, brought along the
Silk Road in ancient times as tribute from Tibet.
By now we could see snow-capped mountains gathering on the
horizon. We entered a valley where the river was wide and mostly
clogged with ice, brilliant white and glinting in the sunshine. The trail
hugged its bank, twisting with the meanders as we gradually gained
height and the valley sides closed in.
The turns became sharper and the ride bumpier, Tsetan now in
third gear as we continued to climb. The track moved away from the
icy river, labouring through steeper slopes that sported big rocks
daubed with patches of bright orange lichen. Beneath the rocks,
hunks of snow clung on in the near-permanent shade. I felt the
pressure building up in my ears, held my nose, snorted and cleared
them. We struggled round another tight bend and Tsetan stopped.
He had opened his door and jumped out of his seat before I realised
what was going on. “Snow,” said Daniel as he too exited the vehicle,
letting in a breath of cold air as he did so.
A swathe of the white stuff lay across the track in front of us,
stretching for maybe fifteen metres before it petered out and the dirt
trail reappeared. The snow continued on either side of us, smoothing
the abrupt bank on the upslope side. The bank was too steep for our
vehicle to scale, so there was no way round the snow patch. I joined
Daniel as Tsetan stepped on to the encrusted snow and began to slither
and slide forward, stamping his foot from time to time to ascertain
how sturdy it was. I looked at my wristwatch. We were at 5,210 metres
above sea level.
The snow didn’t look too deep to me, but the danger wasn’t its
depth, Daniel said, so much as its icy top layer. “If we slip off, the
car could turn over,” he suggested, as we saw Tsetan grab handfuls
of dirt and fling them across the frozen surface. We both pitched in
and, when the snow was spread with soil, Daniel and I stayed out of
the vehicle to lighten Tsetan’s load. He backed up and drove towards
the dirty snow, eased the car on to its icy surface and slowly drove its
length without apparent difficulty.
Ten minutes later, we stopped at another blockage. “Not good, sir,”
Tsetan announced as he jumped out again to survey the scene. This
time he decided to try and drive round the snow. The slope was steep
and studded with major rocks, but somehow Tsetan negotiated them,
his four-wheel drive vehicle lurching from one obstacle to the next. In
so doing he cut off one of the hairpin bends, regaining the trail further
up where the snow had not drifted.
Chap 6.indd 59 12/6/2024 11:40:18 AM
Reprint 2025-26
60 Hornbill I checked my watch again as we continued to climb in the bright
sunshine. We crept past 5,400 metres and my head began to throb
horribly. I took gulps from my water bottle, which is supposed to help
a rapid ascent.
We finally reached the top of the pass at 5,515 metres. It was marked
by a large cairn of rocks festooned with white silk scarves and ragged
prayer flags. We all took a turn round the cairn, in a clockwise direction
as is the tradition, and Tsetan checked the tyres on his vehicle. He
stopped at the petrol tank and partially unscrewed the top, which
emitted a loud hiss. The lower atmospheric pressure was allowing
the fuel to expand. It sounded dangerous to me. “Maybe, sir,” Tsetan
laughed “but no smoking.”
My headache soon cleared as we careered down the other side
of the pass. It was two o’clock by the time we stopped for lunch. We
ate hot noodles inside a long canvas tent, part of a workcamp erected
beside a dry salt lake. The plateau is pockmarked with salt flats and
brackish lakes, vestiges of the Tethys Ocean which bordered Tibet
before the great continental collision that lifted it skyward. This one
was a hive of activity, men with pickaxes and shovels trudging back
and forth in their long sheepskin coats and salt-encrusted boots. All
wore sunglasses against the glare as a steady stream of blue trucks
emerged from the blindingly white lake laden with piles of salt.
By late afternoon we had reached the small town of Hor, back on the
main east-west highway that followed the old trade route from Lhasa to
Kashmir. Daniel, who was returning to Lhasa, found a ride in a truck
so Tsetan and I bade him farewell outside a tyre-repair shop. We had
suffered two punctures in quick succession on the drive down from
the salt lake and Tsetan was eager to have them fixed since they left
him with no spares. Besides, the second tyre he’d changed had been
replaced by one that was as smooth as my bald head.
Hor was a grim, miserable place. There was no vegetation
whatsoever, just dust and rocks, liberally scattered with years of
accumulated refuse, which was unfortunate given that the town sat
on the shore of Lake Manasarovar, Tibet’s most venerated stretch of
water. Ancient Hindu and Buddhist cosmology pinpoints Manasarovar
as the source of four great Indian rivers: the Indus, the Ganges, the
Sutlej and the Brahmaputra. Actually only the Sutlej flows from the
lake, but the headwaters of the others all rise nearby on the flanks of
Mount Kailash. We were within striking distance of the great mountain
and I was eager to forge ahead.
Chap 6.indd 60 12/6/2024 11:40:18 AM
Reprint 2025-26
s ilk r o Ad 61
But I had to wait. Tsetan told me to go and drink some tea in Hor’s
only cafe which, like all the other buildings in town, was constructed
from badly painted concrete and had three broken windows. The good
view of the lake through one of them helped to compensate for the
draught.
I was served by a Chinese youth in military uniform who spread
the grease around on my table with a filthy rag before bringing me a
glass and a thermos of tea.
Half an hour later, Tsetan relieved me from my solitary confinement
and we drove past a lot more rocks and rubbish westwards out of town
towards Mount Kailash.
My experience in Hor came as a stark contrast to accounts I’d read
of earlier travellers’ first encounters with Lake Manasarovar. Ekai
Kawaguchi, a Japanese monk who had arrived there in 1900, was so
moved by the sanctity of the lake that he burst into tears. A couple of
years later, the hallowed waters had a similar effect on Sven Hedin, a
Swede who wasn’t prone to sentimental outbursts.
It was dark by the time we finally left again and after 10.30 p.m.
we drew up outside a guest house in Darchen for what turned out to
be another troubled night. Kicking around in the open-air rubbish
dump that passed for the town of Hor had set off my cold once more,
though if truth be told it had never quite disappeared with my herbal
tea. One of my nostrils was blocked again and as I lay down to sleep,
I wasn’t convinced that the other would provide me with sufficient
oxygen. My watch told me I was at 4,760 metres. It wasn’t much higher
than Ravu, and there I’d been gasping for oxygen several times every
night. I’d grown accustomed to these nocturnal disturbances by now,
but they still scared me.
Tired and hungry, I started breathing through my mouth. After
a while, I switched to single-nostril power which seemed to be
admitting enough oxygen but, just as I was drifting off, I woke up
abruptly. Something was wrong. My chest felt strangely heavy and I
sat up, a movement that cleared my nasal passages almost instantly
and relieved the feeling in my chest. Curious, I thought.
I lay back down and tried again. Same result. I was on the point
of disappearing into the land of nod when something told me not to.
It must have been those emergency electrical impulses again, but
this was not the same as on previous occasions. This time, I wasn’t
gasping for breath, I was simply not allowed to go to sleep.
Chap 6.indd 61 12/6/2024 11:40:18 AM
Reprint 2025-26
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