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Hello everybody,

 

We are over the pass, into the Spitivalley. We went from the Tso Moriri lake (4500m), over the Parang La (5600m) to Kiber (4200m). Thus a very high hiking…

 

Some impressions:

 

A lake with all the colours of blue, cold and salty. Heath, a late summer makes the first days of the hiking sweaty. Altitude headaches. Some people take a dive in the freezing lake and grasp for air.

After the lake a rocky plain, we drink water by the litre. We see wild donkeys who take a long hard look at us, just like we do with them, from a safe distance… Marmots! Friendly animals who give the deserted valleys something cosy.

It gets colder after a few days. Hats, scarves, gloves,… Many layers.

Camping: bed tea in the morning, a bowl of warm washing water, eating-tent with smiling cooks, they take such good care of us.

Altitude sickness, fatigue and headaches put me (Ulrike) on a horse for a day. A heavenly experience, enjoying without sweating, balancing over small ledges along deep gorges, rugged rocks, slopes, plains. Not looking at your feet at every step but eyes fixed on the horizon. We are crossing an area not for humans: 17 people (10 hikers, 2 guides, 3 cooks, 2 grooms), 15 horses and all of our equipment.

Crossing icy rivers on sandals. The freezing, swift-flowing water around your bare feet makes you sick.

It is snowing, by dawn the whole camp is white. Fresh snow on the mountains. That distant peek is were we are heading.

After a long day’s march we drink hot soup to get the inner man back on temperature. We are spoiled with rice, lentils, potatoes, cauliflower, delicious sauces, pizza, French fries, cake, popcorn, fruit salad. Scooping up full plates and passing them on.

The pass… We are starting. Well wrapped up, sunglasses, sun block. Meditative walking, higher and higher. Follow your breath, follow your feet. It helps if you trust on it that the mountain will take you up. Rising… over the glacier, in the snow… 5600m!

At the top there is a harsh wind. Triumph! Prayer flags flutter our welcome. We hang some more. We take pictures. The air is thin here, only half of the oxygen that we are used to, it makes us high. Over the pass you seem to be looking at the whole of the Himalaya. Our guide says “thousands and thousands of peaks”. It is moving, overwhelming. This is a place were heaven and earth touch. From here the prayers on the flags flutter into the world. Om mani padme hum… (May all living creatures be freed from suffering).

Once at the other side of the road the strong wind is gone and you can bask in the sun. We do not want to descend to rapidly, we cannot say goodbye to all the peaks.

Down, in a totally different region, other cracks in the rocks, bushes as dots and balls in the scenery. In a deep cut valley, a 1000m below, is our camp. As usual our strong horses, grooms and cooks are waiting for us and are busy with tents, pots and pans. The kerosene stove is already burning…

The last hours of climbing and descending. We know the rhythm well by now, we are used to the altitude. This time we sleep in the green patchwork valley between the yaks, dzo’s, donkeys and sheep, a cattle paradise against the flank of the great, brown mountains.

Kiber, our final destination. A guesthouse, a bed, a terrace. Now our muscles know it is over, they get lazy and sore. A final feast in the eating-tent… set in front of the guesthouse. Saying goodbye to our loyal men is not easy.

Yesterday we left Kiber behind us and travelled by bus to Ki gompa. This is a great and ancient monastery of the Tibetan Buddhism. Here we could experience the calm life rhythm of a hundred monks.

We explored dark, secret chambers full of ancient drawings of strange Buddhas. The Dalai Lama once slept here. Crooked stairs, dark corridors and low doors give this place a magical character. There are candles burning, should the electricity fall out.

In the fabulous black kitchen, including giant witches’ cauldrons, we helped to pod peas and cut vegetables with giant knifes for all the inhabitants and the visitors of the monastery. The fire is stirred up with halve tree-stumps above which the cauldrons are simmering. Kneading dough is full body job with the risk of almost disappearing in the giant bowl. The funny and kind chef and his assistants kept us working lively.

The temple is a place of colourful ribbons, incense, waggling monks, brightly coloured pillars, singing, tinkle and drums. It is a true gift that we could stay there and experience all of this from up close.

This morning, upon the blowing of the shell, all small monks came rushing into the temple with their funny monkey tricks for the morning prayer and breakfast. Unfortunately we had to hurry to the bus of eight o’clock who would take us to Kaza, the place with internet…

Greetings,