14-Day Chartered Tour of the Great North Line in Ngari, Tibet
D1-D3 (Sept 6-8, 2012), Nanjing-Lhasa, departed Nanjing at 22:16 on Sept 6, took train T164, arrived in Lhasa after 11 p.m. on the 8th, stayed at Balangxue Hotel.
D4 (Sept 9), Lhasa-Qüxü-Nagarzê-Gyantse-Shigatse, stayed at Xingkai Lake Hotel.
D5 (Sept 10), Shigatse-Sakya-Lhatse-Gyirong Valley, stayed at Beifang Hotel.
D6 (Sept 11), Gyirong Town-Saga, stayed at Xianghao Luxury Hotel.
D7 (Sept 12), Saga-Lake Manasarovar-Lake Rakshas Tal-Darchen, stayed in Darchen.
D8 (Sept 13), first day of the Kailash kora (circumambulation) from Darchen, stayed at Drirapuk Monastery.
D9 (Sept 14), second day of the Kailash kora, stayed in Darchen.
D10 (Sept 15), Darchen-Zanda, stayed at Eji Family Guesthouse.
D11 (Sept 16), Zanda-Guge Kingdom-Toling Monastery-Piyang Site-Shiquanhe, stayed at Hengyuan Hotel.
D12 (Sept 17), Shiquanhe-Rutog-Lake Pangong Tso-Shiquanhe, stayed at Hengyuan Hotel.
D13 (Sept 18), Shiquanhe-Gê'gyai-Gerzê, stayed in Gerzê.
D14 (Sept 19), Gerzê-Tso Chen-Lake Zhari Namco-Lake Tangra Yumco-Wenbu South Village, stayed at Wanghu Hotel.
D15 (Sept 20), Wenbu South Village-Lake Dangqung Co-Wenbu North Village-Nyima, stayed in Nyima.
D16 (Sept 21), Nyima-Lake Siling Co-Lake Namtso-Damxung, stayed in Damxung.
D17 (Sept 22), Damxung-Yangbajain-Lhasa, stayed at Balangxue.
D18 (Sept 23), visited Tibet Museum, Drepung Monastery, stayed at Balangxue.
D19 (Sept 24), wandered around Lhasa, stayed at Balangxue.
D20 (Sept 25), visited Samye Monastery, Trandruk Monastery, stayed at Balangxue.
D21-23 (Sept 26-28), took train T166 departing at 11:30 a.m. for Nanjing.
Ngari in Tibet, known as the roof of the world’s roof, is the place closest to the sky on earth. Anyone with a bit of outdoor knowledge understands that Ngari is one of the most challenging routes, second only to traversing the three great uninhabited regions of Lop Nur, Hoh Xil, and Qiangtang. We chose this route not for religious beliefs, nor for a survival challenge, but purely for the paradisiacal scenery all along the way. A person lives at most thirty-some thousand days in a lifetime; spending about twenty of them to travel through Ngari, breathe its thin air, and feel its raw, desolate beauty, is something not to miss in this world.
Taking the train to Lhasa is absolutely a great-value option. Not only can you enjoy the magnificent landscapes of the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, but you can also start acclimatizing to the altitude. Of course, for the first thirty-odd hours there was nothing to see outside the window, so with nothing else to do, I just slept and slept and slept. After the train passed Golmud on the morning of Sept 8 at 8:30, the scenery along the way began to brighten up, and the altitude climbed higher and higher. Altitude sickness crept up on me without notice—my lips turned purple from lack of oxygen, and I had a splitting headache. I had to persevere, because experience told me that it takes a few days of suffering to adapt to the plateau.
By 8 p.m., the train arrived at Nagqu. When I got off to stretch, my lips were already blue from hypoxia, but my traveling companion Faye looked like she was doing pretty well.
After two days and two nights of travel, the train finally reached Lhasa around 11 p.m. on the 8th. Since the train was two hours late, our chartered driver waited faithfully at the exit and eventually took us to Balangxue Hotel (standard room 100 yuan).
We originally planned to set out the next morning, but because we had to wait for a companion to join, we postponed departure to noon sharp. During the morning, we stocked up on four oxygen bottles, a box of biscuits, a box of apples, a box of cucumbers, a box of Nongfu Spring water, three packs of sachima (sweet rice cakes), and a jar of wet wipes, totaling 222 yuan.
At noon we ate at Zhulouji Maocai Shijia, ordering bok choy, water spinach, scrambled eggs with tomato, and eggplant, spending 80 yuan. After lunch we set off by car. The road conditions were good, but we had to keep our speed down because Tibet enforces interval speed checks, but unlike the expressway interval timing in inland China, here the first checkpoint records your entry time, and the next checkpoint checks your arrival time. As a result, on hidden stretches before checkpoints you often see vehicles pulled over killing time.
Two and a half hours after departure, we reached Gambala Pass. The driver stopped voluntarily, and we got out and made a beeline for the three mani stone piles draped in khatas and prayer flags. Tibetans like to hang prayer flags at mountain passes because the wind blows through the flags, which are usually printed with scriptures, making a fluttering sound as if chanting sutras. There’s a proper order for hanging prayer flags: blue, white, red, green, and yellow from top to bottom, never reversed, because the five colors symbolize five natural phenomena—sky, auspicious clouds, fire, rivers, and earth respectively.
Not long after descending from Gambala Pass, we arrived at Yamdrok Yumtso, one of Tibet’s three great sacred lakes. Yamdrok Yumtso, shaped like a coral branch, means “turquoise lake above” in Tibetan. Under the sunlight, the lake water takes on a distinctive turquoise hue, set against the permanently snow-covered peak of Noijin Kangsang, making the scenery extraordinarily beautiful.
Yamdrok Yumtso is a rich natural “fish reservoir,” said to hold over 800 million kilograms of fish. Many Tibetans practice water burial after death, so Tibetans generally do not eat fish, nor do they allow Han Chinese to catch fish from the lake. Combined with abundant plankton and rich fish food, it has become a paradise for fish. The plateau naked carp teeming in the lake can fetch over 100 yuan per catty on the black market; if fishing were permitted, what a GDP it would generate!
For the next hour and more, we drove along the shore of Yamdrok Yumtso. By around 5 p.m., we reached the Karola Glacier.
Since I had visited the Karola Glacier before, this second encounter didn’t stir the same excitement as the first. You don’t need to trek over mountains and rivers to see the Karola Glacier—it lies just a few hundred meters from the roadside. The massive glacier descends from the misty summit all the way down, crystalline and faintly blue, carrying a hint of chill. Due to years of dust from the road, the glacier appears stratified in black and white, but under the sun, its upper half gleams like an enormous inlaid diamond on the mountainside, sparkling.
After hastily snapping a few photos, we drove on to Gyantse Dzong (Zongshan Castle). Gyantse Dzong is famous for its history of resisting the British. In 1904, when British troops attacked Gyantse, the Tibetan defenders held the castle in a heroic but ultimately doomed defense due to inferior weapons. All the resisters chose death over surrender, jumping off the cliff and writing a glorious yet tragic chapter. Today, to commemorate those anti-British heroes of a century ago, the Gyantse Dzong Heroes Monument now stands in the square below. The film Red River Valley, starring Ning Jing, was based on this historical event.
Pelkor Chode Monastery, near Gyantse Dzong, is a well-known monastery in Tibet. While exploring the castle, we noticed many pilgrims circumambulating, though it was unclear if they were going around the dzong or the monastery.
A little past 8 p.m., we arrived at our lodging for the night: Xingkai Lake Hotel outside Shigatse (standard room 110 yuan). Dinner was at a home-style restaurant nearby, where we ordered shredded potatoes, eggplant, bok choy, and twice-cooked pork, spending 100 yuan. In the evening, we signed the charter agreement with the driver. This charter trip used a Toyota Land Cruiser at a daily rate of 1200 yuan, with the driver covering fuel, parking, and tolls; on top of the charter fee, we also paid the driver's meals and accommodation.
The next morning we set off at 7 a.m. and reached Sakya Monastery by 9:30. Outside its square walls, a constant stream of pilgrims circled the monastery. Unlike the common Gelugpa monasteries, Sakya Monastery belongs to the Sakya school, and its walls are painted with red (symbolizing Manjushri), white (symbolizing Avalokitesvara), and blue (symbolizing Vajrapani)—hence the Sakya school is popularly known as the “Flowery Teaching.”
Sakya Monastery comprises South and North monasteries. The North Monastery was founded in 1073, and the South Monastery was built in 1268 following the wishes of Dharma King Phagpa. The South Monastery still houses many precious relics, and its murals are the most exquisite in all of Tibet. Because of these rich and beautiful frescoes, Sakya Monastery is also called the “Second Dunhuang.”
During our visit, we saw many worshippers, each carrying a thermos in one hand and one-yuan or one-jiao notes in the other. They opened their thermoses to add butter to the lamps before each statue, then laid down a banknote. They moved from statue to statue, devout and sincere. Even the stray dogs here seemed touched by Buddhism, quietly observing the tourists as if forgetting their instinct to forage.
We left Sakya Monastery at 11 a.m. and headed for Lhatse county, where we had lunch at a Sichuan restaurant in town. We ordered scrambled eggs with chives, seaweed and pork rib soup, pan-seared chili peppers, and vinegary cabbage, 80 yuan. After lunch, we crossed Gyatso La Pass, which also serves as the entrance to the Mount Everest National Nature Reserve. A huge reserve sign stood across the road, and countless prayer flags fluttered in the wind. From Gyatso La, on a lucky day, it is said you can see a lineup of four peaks over 8,000 meters—Everest, Cho Oyu, Lhotse, and Makalu—a sight unparalleled anywhere in the world.
A short while after passing the Lu Lu Checkpoint, we entered the Shishapangma Reserve. After paying the 65-yuan-per-person entry fee and a 40-yuan vehicle permit, we drove on through increasingly spectacular landscapes.
We also met warm-hearted Tibetans along the way.
Pelku Tso, a must-pass lake on the road to Gyirong, lies serenely with its blue waters contrasting with the brownish ground all around. In the distance, the snow-white Shishapangma reflected in the lake, creating a picture of pure beauty. This is the largest lake in the Shigatse region.
The next 80 kilometers to Gyirong were brutally rough, with roadwork everywhere. It took us nearly four hours to reach Gyirong by 9:45 p.m., where we checked into Beifang Hotel (standard room 100 yuan). Dinner was dumplings bought downstairs for 50 yuan for 2 jin.
At only just over 2,000 meters above sea level, Gyirong made our two days of altitude sickness vanish instantly; I felt completely revived. The next morning, I first visited Paba Monastery. Dawn comes late in Tibet—it doesn’t fully light up until after 8 a.m. When I arrived, the sky was not yet fully bright, and Paba Monastery was shrouded in mist, adding a hint of mystery.
Because of Tibet’s proximity to India and Nepal, there has been extensive cultural exchange among the three regions historically, which is reflected in the architectural style of Tibetan monasteries. Paba Monastery, though small, stands as a testament to Sino-Nepalese cultural exchange. It is said to have been built to house a Buddha statue brought by the Nepalese Princess Bhrikuti, and it features clear Nepalese architectural influences. The structure has four tiers that diminish as they rise. A row of prayer wheels lines the outer walls for pilgrims to circumambulate, the outer walls are painted with exquisite murals, and the front steps bear depictions of the Eight Auspicious Symbols of Buddhism.
After visiting the monastery, we returned to the hotel for breakfast, then set out to hike to Nai Village.
The hike to Nai Village is not too strenuous—a warm-up, we thought, for our upcoming circumambulation of Mount Kailash. Nai Village sits atop a mountain, reachable only by a rough zigzagging road that ordinary vehicles find hard to manage. To enjoy its beauty, you have to hike. As the winding road twisted upward, a young guy we met pointed us to a shortcut that could save about a third of the distance. Laughing, we followed a path through chest-high shrubs at the foot of the mountain, soon plunging into dense pine forest. After a very easy hour’s climb through the woods, we emerged onto the main zigzag road.
After another 45-minute walk along the road, we finally reached Nai Village at the summit. “Nai” in Tibetan means “seat,” implying “a holy place blessed by the deities,” and it is hailed as heaven on earth atop the snowy mountains. Viewed from a high vantage point, Nai Village resembles a giant roc spreading its wings. According to legend, the feng shui of the positions of the two wings was superb, ideal for habitation, so later settlers lived on each “wing,” gradually forming the two natural hamlets of today. The village on the left side going up sits higher, while the one on the right lies in a flat valley. I visited the left-side village; time was short, so I didn’t go to the right-side one. The villagers were very warm, not at all bothered by my photos—in fact, they were quite happy to pose with me. The children were adorable, the younger ones almost all with two long runny nose streaks under their nostrils, and their clothes were noticeably stained, suggesting economic conditions were rather poor.
The mountaintop here is a wide, flat expanse with a sizable pasture. It’s said that when Guru Rinpoche (Padmasambhava) passed through here on his missionary journey to Tibet, he found Nai Village an open and level place subtly backed by snowy peaks, a true feng shui treasure, so he stopped here to meditate.
The peaks were wreathed in cloud and mist. Looking down from Nai Village, the valleys were also cloaked in clouds, yet right here at Nai, the sky had cleared and the sun shone brightly—truly uncanny.
When returning from Nai Village, to save time for everyone, I ran downhill the whole way. It took less than 50 minutes, but the constant braking on the descent caused a blood blister under my toenail, which later took several months to grow back. At noon, we headed to Gyipu Grand Canyon. After about ten minutes’ drive, we came to a suspension bridge—the entrance to the canyon. The bridge floated delicately above the canyon, about sixty meters long and one and a half meters wide, with a vertical drop of roughly 250 meters to the valley floor. The bridge was draped with pure white khatas and multicolored prayer flags. Walking across, the bridge swayed and wobbled, and the Gyirong Zangbo River thundered through the cliffs below, a bit intimidating. While I was taking photos, a motorcycle with a child riding pillion zoomed past, seemingly with no concept of fear.
Crossing the bridge, we followed a winding stone path, and Gyipu Village, hidden among green hills and lush trees, came into view. Perched on a gentle slope of a verdant mountain ridge, it felt like a mystical fairyland. There are only a dozen or so households, all of Nepalese descent, who still keep Nepalese customs. It is said they are descendants of the retinue who accompanied Princess Bhrikuti when she journeyed to marry Songtsen Gampo. Strolling through the village, we occasionally saw chickens and dogs wandering leisurely, and children’s curious, lovely faces. Everything was so harmonious.
Looking up, we saw an azure sky painted with cottony clouds. Wildflowers bloomed everywhere, fresh and fragrant. Barley was heading in the fields—everything looked like an oil painting. Beyond the village, we walked for another ten minutes or so; the surroundings grew quieter. Reportedly, a few more hours’ walk would bring you to Nepal. Short on time and unsure of the path, we had to turn back the way we came.
We had lunch at Dayi Hotel in Gyirong Town: fish-fragrant eggplant, mapo tofu, wood ear mushroom with sliced pork, and lettuce tips, totaling 105 yuan. We departed at 2 p.m. and arrived in Saga by 7 p.m., staying at Xianghao Luxury Hotel (standard room 90 yuan). Despite its name, the “standard room” meant shared public bathrooms and no shower facilities—a bit uncomfortable for those of us used to city life. Dinner was at the Chongqing Sichuan Restaurant: shredded potatoes, sour broth pig trotter, pan-seared peppers, and steamed eggs, 110 yuan. After dinner, Faye and I took our toiletries to a nearby public bath. Unlike inland bathhouses with communal tubs, this one had individual cubicles, which protected guests’ privacy.
Kare Waterfall by the Gyirong road
The next morning we set off early, stopping for lunch at a Mianyang restaurant in Paryang. We ordered potato beef stew, pickled cabbage, and other dishes, spending 130 yuan. During the meal, our driver, Master Li, suggested we take a shortcut straight to Darchen that day, which could save about 300 yuan in sacred mountain and lake entry fees. We got carried away and agreed. Later, we realized that the saved admission was not worth it at all. Because we didn’t spend a night at Lake Manasarovar, we missed the most beautiful views of the sacred lake and Mount Kailash.
Abandoned vehicle beside the road
When we reached Lake Manasarovar, it wasn’t an optimal viewing spot; not a single tourist or local was around, just the four of us alone, running about on the vast lakeshore with no buildings in sight.
Lake Manasarovar is the freshwater lake with the greatest water clarity in China. Its name means “invincible, victorious” in Tibetan, a sacred lake with strong religious significance. Every summer and autumn, large numbers of devotees from India and Tibetan areas come here on pilgrimage, bringing the old and the young, to bathe in the holy water and purify their souls.
Lake Manasarovar is regarded by Hinduism, Buddhism, and others as the center of the world, alongside the sacred Mount Kailash. It is the “Jade Lake of the Western Paradise” referred to by the Tang Dynasty monk Xuanzang in his Great Tang Records on the Western Regions.
On the shore, there was a spot heavily draped with prayer flags—the only thing marking its distinctiveness as the sacred lake. It seemed the heavens noticed our disappointment and gave us a small compensation. Suddenly, a light drizzle fell over part of the lake under the bright sun, in the sunlight creating a seven-colored rainbow just above the lake surface—an extremely rare and marvelous sight.
We lingered by the lake for about an hour, then headed to the ghost lake adjacent to Manasarovar—Lake Rakshas Tal. “Rakshas Tal” means “poisonous black lake” in Tibetan. Its deep blue water is saline, so there are no plants, no livestock around; it’s lifeless and gloomy. Unlike the calm Manasarovar, Rakshas Tal is said to whip up waves even without wind. Indeed, we witnessed this phenomenon: wave after wave crashed onto the shore, giving it the feel of a sea.
Leaving Rakshas Tal, we drove toward Darchen and arrived before sundown. Accommodation in Darchen was very basic; we stayed in simple plank cabins at 105 yuan per night. Dinner was at Old Chen Sichuan Restaurant, where we splurged a bit, ordering a large plate of chicken and “three delights from the earth,” spending 240 yuan.
Darchen is a small town that has grown up around the kora. Groups of foreign tourists can be seen on its streets, attracted by the sacred status of Mount Kailash in world religions; pilgrims come here year after year.
The recent film Paths of the Soul brought the niche topic of mountain circumambulation from outdoor circles into the wider public eye.
The so-called kora is simply walking a circuit around Mount Kailash, the main peak of the Gangdise Range. “Kailash” in Tibetan means “mountain of the spirits.” It is a holy mountain recognized by Hinduism, Bon, Jainism, and Tibetan Buddhism. This is the bodhimanda of Shakyamuni, hailed as the center of the world. In the Tibetan Year of the Horse, it is said that one kora equals ten in ordinary years, so each Horse Year sees a peak in pilgrimage.
Every year from May to October, the kora season, large numbers of devotees from India, Nepal, and Tibet come to circumambulate. The full circuit typically involves a 55-kilometer trek. Many Tibetans complete it by doing full-length prostrations. In recent years, more and more inland Chinese hikers have also joined the kora.
Although the kora route is barren with virtually no supplies, the trail is very well-trodden. We didn’t hire a guide or porter, but shouldered two days’ worth of food and water ourselves, leaving most of our heavy luggage in Darchen. At 9 a.m., we set out traveling light.
