The Half A Mile High Club

Among the more surreal experiences of my life I can now add the experience of posing nude for photographs at Everest Base Camp in Tibet. There were ten of us who lined up in the end, clasping a modley collection of rocks, juggling balls, whiskey bottles and national flags in a vague attempt to cover our modesty. It was surprisingly warm for half a mile high, though I don't think that exactly rationalised our actions from the perspective of the bemused local hawkers of Everest jewellery who came zooming up for a gawp on their motorbikes. It really was the most hilarious fun and we've been giggling about it ever since.

Of course the real purpose of our trip was to get a full frontal of Everest, not of each other. In this respect we were incredibly lucky to see a thick mist lift from the mountain as we walked the last 8km up to the camp, revealing the World's highest peak in all its glory. This was apparantly the best sighting in a couple of weeks, as the tail end of the monsoon season effects visibility in the high Himalaya at this time of year. We've certainly had our fair share of rain recently and the effects of this have at times slowed our journey from Lhasa to Kathmandu to a crawl. A large part of the problem is that the grandly titled 'Friendship Highway' linking the countries is actually little more than a dirt track the width of a single vehicle. All along we found ourselves caught up behind heavily overloaded Chinese lorries that were struggling along, and on one occasion had to pitch in to dig out a lorry stuck in the mud and get it moving again with the aid of sand tracks we carry on board. It was beginning to feel like the Tonka team was some sort of international rescue outfit rather than a bunch of tourists.

The compensation was the scenery and the opportunity to use Tonka's roof seats due to our low speed. West of Lhasa our route took us past a string of fascinating Tibetan towns and monasteries, before entering a much wilder and thinly populated area as we approached Shegar, the turn off for Everest. That final drive over a 5200m pass to get to the monastery below Everest was a feast for the eyes, and we took lunch with a panorama of four of the World's six highest mountains as our backdrop. Even the experience later that evening of the World's worst restaurant service at the Government Hotel beside the monastery (we stayed in the monastery guesthouse) didn't dampen the elation of being on the roof of the World. Still, it was odd having waited two and half hours for our food to arrive, to find myself exiting through a window in the dark because the front door was locked and barred with concrete blocks. Shades of 'Hotel California', only with thinner air.

Shangri-la

Well, where to begin? Tibet has well and truly banished all memories of China and given us the lift we needed. It is the most remarkable and fascinating country I've ever visited and Lhasa the most mesmorising city. That is not to hide from the problems the country faces in terms of threats to its self-identity and culture, not least with the opening of a railway to Lhasa in the next couple of years (an astonishing engineering achievement that it is). Already Tibetans are outnumbered by Chinese in Lhasa, yet somehow the Tibetan feel of the place seems not to have been diminished, at least not in the old city, which is alive with burgundy robed monks, brightly dressed pilgrims ringing prayer bells, and the piney smell of incense. This is an intensely religious country and Buddhism provides the focus for nearly all facets of Tibetan life.

The great sites of Lhasa which are being brought back to life after much destruction during the Cultural Revolution are all religious in some way or another. Only the Potala Palace, which was the residence and seat of government of the Dalai Lamas, left me a little cold, feeling like a museum rather than a living place. By contrast, the three great monasteries which ring the city are very much alive, and the opportunity to wander at will and observe the monks in debate, in prayer and in relaxed mood has been a rare privilege. These places are like self-contained villages perched in spectacular settings; in the case of Ganden Monastery atop a mountain 1000m above the river valley that flows into Lhasa. Nonethesless, my favourite site has been the Jokang Temple in the heart of old Lhasa. This is the spiritual heart of Tibetan Buddhism, surrounded by a beautiful 'kora' or processional route called the Barkhor which pilgrims process around always in a clockwise direction. What makes it so special is that it's thonging with people from all walks of life, not simply the monks. It's a heaving crush of pilgrims in the dingy interior of Temple itself, a place in which the atmosphere hangs heavy with the smell of incense and the yak fat used for burning candles. Images of the Buddha in various incarnations abound within, and outside the Temple (though within the complex), a second kora route is entirely lined with prayer wheels which pilgrims spin with their hands as they walk past. Goodness knows how many rolls of film I got through there.

However, perhaps even more than the great architectural treasures of Tibet, it is the people themselves who provide the focus of our fascination. All of us on the trip have been madly snapping photographs of the people, who to a considerable extent continue to wear brightly embroidered traditional clothing, sport exotic headwear and jewellery, and who so often have the most appealing faces, frequently creased and lined from hard lives lived under an intense Himalayan sunlight. En route to Lhasa we stumbled by chance on a rural horse racing contest and were able to wander at will attempting to communicate with the local families as the only non-Tibetans present. Another amazing experience.

Where we have experienced some difficulties has been with altitude sickness. The three day journey from Golmud takes you over a series of passes between 4800 and 5100m (higher than Mont Blanc), and never drops below 4000m until you are literally about to arrive in Lhasa. Camping at such altitudes we all felt the effects of headaches, breathlessness at night, and in some cases nausea too.

For much of the way the landscape of the Tibetan Plateau is absolutely desolate. I've never seen a place where the absence of life is more apparent. Settlements are few and far between and the main sign of life is the occasional circling vulture, and the ever present sight of the new railway line. Even the hills seem low, so that apart from the altitude sickness symptoms it often doesn't feel that you are especially high. And then you cross the final 5100m pass half a day from Lhasa and everything changes. The mountains are suddenly soaring and snow-capped, the valleys are green and cultivated with barley crops, mud and stone built villages with flat-roofed houses dot the landscape, and herds of shaggy haired yaks are everywhere to be seen. It makes for a breathtaking scene, and those in the know tell us that things are only going to get more beautiful as we head out of Lhasa on the Friendship Highway towards Nepal.

...And I haven't even mentioned the cricket yet! It was another nail-biter for the English passengers, this time in Lhasa desperately checking our mobiles for text messages. At least we had a decent signal. Graeme, Andy and I are now so frustrated at missing the action that we're researching accommodation in Kathmandu with access to satellite television so we can finally get to see some of the Fourth Test. Surely the Nepalese are cricket lovers!

Almost Tibet

What a difference a truck makes. You should have heard the cheer when Riki walked into John's Cafe Bar in Turpan after an 18 hour drive through the night to catch up with the group. As if by magic, he coincided his arrival with that of Andy, who having lost his passport on the Karakorum Highway had had to fly to Beijing from Kashgar to get another one. He got a big cheer too. However, the biggest cheer was saved for late the following day when the news came in that England had won the Second Test by a remarkable two run margin. We'd been getting updates by text every few minutes and when we'd heard the Aussies only needed five to win there was a nasty 'oh no, here we go again' moment that came over a few of us. It's amazing that you can be in one of the most desolate spots on Earth and get the result beamed in virtually the moment the match is over. Drank some beer that night.

The onwards journey from Turpan has not been without problem. We lost a morning because a crucial bridge had been washed out in the rain and had to execute a major detour to get through. That meant the following day's drive to Dunhuang turned into a 12-hour epic through unforgiving semi-desert and we lost the opportunity to spend time in the town. Nonethless, we did make sure the following morning to visit the nearby 1000 Buddha Caves, which contain the finest examples of Buddhist art in China dating from the 3rd to 14th centuries. There are more than 250 caves with paintings and statues, and the quality and condition of the surviving work is quite simply astonishing. I've never seen anything of the like before and am surprised they survived the Cultural Revolution, not to mention a visit from the pilfering British archaeolgist Sir Auriel Stein in 1907 (though he did make off with a significant cache of ancient documents). At last, this was a Chinese visit that exceeded expectation.

And now we are poised ready for Tibet, which for one and all is the holy grail of this part of the trip. Perhaps appropriately, we're staying in a Chinese mining town called Golmud which has the feel of the last town before the edge of the World. In a sense it is, for tomorrow we cross a mountain pass at almost 5000m to enter the Tibetan Plateau and what is geographically and historically (though not politically) Tibet. It's still a three day drive to get to Lhasa and the other great sites, but we have things to do en route and a lot of bushcamping to fit in, something we all enjoy infinitely more than staying in souless Chinese hotels. Can't wait!

A Hard Rains A Gonna Fall

Here we are in Turpan, the hottest and one of the driest places in China, and it's pissing it down. This is only supposed to happen once every ten years, so I'm wondering if we have a rain god in our midst. Yesterday we visited an ancient abandoned Chinese city built of mud brick which has survived thus far due to minimal rain erosion opportunities in this part of the World. It may not be looking quite so sprightly today I suspect.

China continues to be a challenge to the spirit and morale of the group despite its many fascinating aspects, and there is no doubt that the journey along the Northern Silk Road from Kashgar to Turpan has been the least rewarding section of the entire trip. Of course this is the outermost reaches of China, and Xinxiang is a province which is economically backward and ethnically divided compared to other parts of the country. No doubt the Silk Road was always a challenge by this route; a long and arduous camel trek from oasis to oasis, crossing massive stretches of a waterless moonscape on a road squeezed up against the foot of the arid Tien Shan mountains by the forbidding mass of the Taklamakan Desert (which means 'Go in and don't come out'). We haven't really penetrated the desert ourselves, so it presents itself to us at its fringes as a shimmering, scrubby and utterly flat expanse of nothingness. My craving to get in amongst rolling sand dunes must wait until Dunhuang unfortunately. Instead, we've had long and hot days sitting on a Chinese bus, relieved only by a string of forgettable modern Chinese cities and interchangeable, souless hotels. Our guide has been a source of constant frustration though I'm pleased to say we're finally shot of him. I suspect things might have been different if we'd had Tonka and the freedom to bush camp, but the ridiculously long delay at the border continued right up until yesterday. Even now Riki is frantically driving across 1000km of China to catch up with us here, hopefully tomorrow.

Turpan is a place of statistical interest more than actual interest, though it's by far the best of our stopping off points since Kashgar. As well as being the hottest place in China, it is also situated near to the second lowest place on the Earth's surface, and is reputedly the city furthest away from the ocean. It hardly warrants city status to be honest, but it is certainly surrounded by a series of interesting ancient sites, and it is home to a 2000 year old subterranean irrigation system which the tourist board like to trumpet as one of the three wonders of ancient China. It did seem a little odd to be sitting under grape trellises for lunch yesterday in a lush and fertile valley in a place where it hardly ever rains.

Nevertheless, my favourite place in China remains Kashgar, which had a super relaxed atmosphere that fitted our mood well after the trials of the days before. The Sunday Market was impressive though most agreed it wasn't as sensational as all the guide book hype would suggest. The Chinese have broken it into two parts and introduced a level of organisation which has reduced the appealing chaos of old. Still, it remains a sight to see and I was in seventh heaven when I strolled into the hat section of the market, making off with a total of nine new ones for my collection from Kashgar!

The food in Xinxiang has been a highlight for me. It's become a bit of a joke that whatever I order it will end up involving green chilli peppers somewhere along the line, but actually it's been a pleasant change and surprise to have spicy food to eat. I even managed to get an excellent cup of coffee at a Chinese buffet restaurant we took by storm the other night. However, I've decided to draw the line at tasting the garden pea flavoured ice lollies they have for sale here.

Nightclubbing remains as amusing here as elsewhere in Central Asia. Last night a few of us ended up at 'The Mars Bar', where it quickly became clear that the local style of dancing involved proceeding in a stately fashion and in an anticlockwise direction around a circular dancefloor, preferably clutching a partner to keep you company. We had a lot of fun doing the conga against the tidal flow in a clockwise direction to the total mystification of the locals.