Trespassing on the roof of the world: Cycling to Lhasa in winter and without a Chinese travel permit

Current Location: Lhasa (Capital of Tibet)

 

 

Highest pass climbed: 5047 m (over 15,000 feet)
Coldest Temperatures in Tibet:
Minus 13 by day
Minus 20 by night

(IF ANYONE HAS FRIENDS OR CONTACTS IN PAKISTAN, KYRGYZSTAN， UZBEKISTAN，TURKMENISTAN OR IRAN， WHO MIGHT BE HAPPY TO MEET ME AS I AM PASSING THROUGH， I WOULD VERY MUCH APPRECIATE IT IF YOU COULD PUT ME IN TOUCH WITH THEM， THANKS VERY MUCH)

“Within Tibet’s long frontiers is to be found one of the cruelest environments on earth. Here, over thousands of years, there evolved a remarkable way of life. On this lofty tableland lived a community isolated from all outside influences. It was denied those amenities and everyday materials, such as wood, which most other societies take for granted. It had to survive one of the harshest climates known to man (one can suffer from frostbite and sunburn simultaneously in Tibet)… until the Chinese invasion [in 1950], their Spartan way of life had hardly changed since the Middle Ages. They had no electricity, no wireless, no clocks or watches, no sewing machines, no modern medicines, no cars or bicycles, nor even the simplest wheeled transport… most Tibetans had no idea such things even existed.”
- Peter Hopkirk, Trespassers on the Roof of the World

The light of a cold full moon gives glimpses of massive snow capped mountains in the distance, whilst on all sides shattered cliffs slip downwards into the dark, churning waters of the Mekong River as it continues its journey south. It is four thirty in the morning here on the Tibetan border, still four hours before daylight and all of China sleeps. But beyond the stillness of the night, three careful figures on heavily laden bicycles can be seen steadily making their way up the narrow dirt road which follows the steep valley.

Occasionally they draw together to hold urgent, hushed conferences, pointing ahead with their gloved hands to the glowing orange lights of the Chinese checkpoint town a little further on. Then they continue, crunching and bumping and scrapping over the stone and gravel road. Around a final corner and suddenly they see (just as they had expected) the bright floodlit checkpoint – a red and white barrier across the road – but half raised and with the guard happily sleeping in his hut. Increasing their pace, in single file, all three duck under the barrier and ride into the town. Silence is broken first by a lone bark, but followed quickly by a cacophony of howls and woofs as all the town dogs decide that what they smelt and heard was certainly not a China man. But no human faces appear, and after pedalling past 4 kilometers of dirty grey houses and rubble strewn side streets, the 3 riders are through the town, under the second barrier and escaping into the comforting emptiness beyond. Half an hour of slow climbing later, as the eastern dawn rises behind them, they stop to smile, dig out the camping stove and boil up some porridge. We were through the first checkpoint and now officially trespassing on Tibetan soil…

If all this sounds rather melodramatic, I should probably point out that it is – we were by no means the first cyclists to attempt the “closed” Yunnan Highway up to Lhasa (though perhaps only a few have done it in winter). Officially foreigners should have a guide, a jeep and permit to travel this road, but even a half hearted Internet search will show up a dozen cyclists who have tried the route before, and there is detailed information on where the Chinese Checkpoints are, and hence where you need to ride at night to avoid being fined our sent back (after all, it would be a real shame to disturb the guard’s beauty sleep with such pointless bureaucracy).

I had spent the previous month riding north from Hanoi – through the lush, misty valleys of the North Vietnamese hill tribes, across the Chinese border, and then up into gradually growing mountains in Yunnan province. During my first week in China I had given myself food poisoning (by eating barbecued intestines on a street stall – not recommended!). The following day, feeling nauseous and exhausted, my mind went wild with feverish imaginings about the road ahead – high altitude riding, sub-zero winds, and cold cramped Chinese prison cells! Thankfully, within 24 hours I had recovered both in body and mood, and so I rode on into provincial capital of Kunming for a pit stop. I have rarely needed to stay in backpacking hostels during this journey (I am so often hosted by kind expats and locals), but I enjoyed meeting some fellow travellers and eating pizza, and was also given a big boost when I received an email from a couple of French Canadian cyclists who also planned to brave Tibet this winter. They were only about a week’s ride ahead of me, so I got back on the bike in hot pursuit!

 

 

Climbing and descending through a series of passes and cascading river valleys, I was now riding at over 3000m and for the first time since Japan in 2005 I was above the snowline. As I climbed for the out of the Yangtze River valley, I felt a little like Robinson Crusoe as I spotted bicycle tyre tracks in the snow in front of me, and then in mid-afternoon saw two encouragingly heavy laden touring bicycles leaned up next to the road. It was great to meet Ben and Gen – a young couple who have been on the road for over a year, riding back to Quebec from New Zealand (www.2rouespourvoirlemonde.com) .

 

On our first night together, realising that night would fall before we made the high pass, we camped  in an abandoned herders hut. Around a warm bonfire we exchanged stories from the road and discussed strategies for getting through the obstacles lying ahead. For the vast majority of my time on the road I have been on my own, so it was a very welcome change to be riding in company. In addition, Ben and Gen had a refreshingly unhurried approach to their ride, so for the next two weeks I would enjoy early camping and nice long lunch breaks! We were at almost 4000m, and yet looking out of the stone doorway that night we were humbled by the vast self-assured peaks rising icily all around us – as James Hilton describes it, Tibet is a land where the mountains are on top of mountains. Below meanwhile, the white of snow gradually merged into the scrubby rock faces before dropping into an unseen river valley. In the following weeks we would not just be making one or two big climbs but crossing many major watersheds – which meant that each of our 8 ascents over 4000m passes would be followed by another massive descent to yet another river (the Yangtze, the Mekong, the Salween, and the Brahmaputra being the most famous).

A few days ride later and we reached the official border town and made our heart thumping night crossing described above. After this we found we could relax a bit more, and it seems that as long as you are not in the town itself, the police cars on the road were happy to ignore us.

The Tibetan people along the road we met were bemused and friendly, goading their pack horses up the steep tracks, tending their yaks and goats, hanging around their houses and villages. Sun scorched, smiling faces smudged with dirt and a tatty assortment of dirty woolen, cotton and fur clothing, the Tibetan people live a hard life in an environment which we can scarcely imagine. A few days later as I spotted women washing clothes in an icy stream, I realised why their their clothes were never clean . Hot water and soap are things I too easily take for granted, and I have been greatly appreciating my hot showers here in Lhasa this week.

 

 

 

 

As well as being in awe of their environment, it is hard not to be impressed by their cheerfulness – we found ourselves being invited to join communal picnics of Yak Tea and smoked meat; we stayed one fascinating night in a monastery where the monk enthusiastically rode my bike around the courtyard and used his mobile phone to get in touch with his friend who spoke English.

 

 

Our campsites were some of my favourite ever – perched amidst pine trees overlooking vast panoramas of silhouetted peaks; in warm, green valleys next to clear, rippling rivers.

 

We were also thankful for the unexpectedly friendly weather – with hardly any snow even at over 5000m, though the temperatures still dropped to minus twenty at night and we were certainly gasping for breath and fighting for every kilometre of progress at this altitude (in comparison, Mont Blanc is Europe’s highest peak at 4804m, Mount Fuji is 3776m, and Kilimanjaro is 5886m).

After almost two weeks with Ben and Gen I decided to press on alone as I needed to go a little faster (I have a date to keep in Delhi), so I waved them goodbye at our pleasant stream side campsite, and headed on alone.

My first day alone again was the day the weather turned. I began climbing what I thought would be a straightforward 4,500m pass, but as I did so a blizzard swept over the valley and in the last few kilometres before the top I found myself alarmed by the windchill and snow all around me. There were still a few cars on the road, and passing the big cluster of prayer flags (found at the top of every Tibetan pass), I bumped down through the snow into the next big valley, trying to get as low as possible before nightfall. As it began to get really dark I discovered to my dismay that I had somehow managed to lose my head torch, and so on my first night on my own again, I spent a miserable dark night in my tent-  camping next to a Yak skeleton in a village rubbish dump (where no one answered my knocks on their doors). I ate cold oatmeal for dinner and slept ruefully, regretful at having left my new found friends behind.

The next day, down on the valley floor the temperature was getting warm again (up to 20 degrees – an extraordinary contrast), and for the next week I carried on alone – through a couple more “police” towns at night, and over several more very high passes. On one very special evening, as I climbed another very icy, windswept pass, I prepared to put my tent up behind a small hill as I was fed up of getting caught out in the dark. This pass, although again very high (4600m), was fairly gentle and flat, and I had been surprised to notice that even at this extreme height, there seemed to be lots of Tibetan people wondering around – with their dogs, yaks, goats and horses. I could not imagine where they all lived as their were only one or two houses near the roadside, but a few minutes later I was to find out. A cheerful, weatherbeaten man who was walking purposely down the road saw me collecting water from an unfrozen spring, and after we had chatted to each other or a few minutes (each in our own language!) he indicated that I should come and stay with him. It was by now almost dark and getting very cold, so this sounded like an excellent idea. I followed him as he strolled across a frozen river and up a small hillside next to the road. With the help of a few local chaps, we pushed the bike up the hill, and at the top I was amazed to see a whole cluster of houses – invisible from the road, which were dug out of the ground and covered in earth. They reminded me of the Bilbo’s house in the Shire. Stooping through a low doorway into the darkness, I immediately found a whole host of eyes staring at me through the gloom – not humans, but yaks and goats. Someone took me by the hand and led me on into the family room – with one hole in the roof to let light in and smoke out, the whole family slept here next to the fire.

 

They cooked up a hearty meal of fried vegetables and rice, and for dessert gave me dried fruit, homebrew, and yak butter tea (which they mix in noisy wooden didgeridoo like contraptions). It was a very simple home -there were a few pots and pans hung up on the wall, and a few sacks of food sitting in the corner, and they did have a couple of car batteries to power their single light bulb and radio, but I was grateful that, for now at least, the greatest culture killer of all had not yet arrived – the TV (though from the many satellite dishes that can be seen in bigger Tibetan settlements, I fear it will not be long before even the remotest Tibetans have one). Nights such as this are always a privilege, though it is frustrating (continually) on this journey not to be able to speak local languages. This family (as with all Tibetan families I encountered) had a little shrine to various Lamas and Buddhas, and the father even indicated that he had made a pilgrimage to Lhasa. Pilgimrage to Lhasa is a very sacred activity for Tibetan Buddhists – the really devout ones (who I would meet on the road a few days later) do not just walk, but they bow and touch their head to the ground for every pace they take, meaning the whole journey can take months or even years.

(see this pilgirms blistered forehead)

As a Christian on this journey, it has often been interesting and challenging (and at times alarming) for me to see how different people worship or show dedication to their gods… at the same time, there are aspects of other religions which earn my admiration and respect, and there are certainly some worthy similarities in ethics between the world’s major religions. However I think it is important to make the point too that whilst there are some similarities between the major religions, there are also a lot of very basic differences, and that the popular western notions that “all religions are the same� or even that “all religions lead to one God� are neither respectful nor helpful to the billions who do take their distinct religions seriously around the world. One of my goals for the remainder of this journey, as I travel through many of the great religious heartlands of Asia, is to try and gain greater understanding of these other religions – in particular Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam and Judaism… it will be an interesting time!
 
Returning to Tibet… in contrast to the simple, earthy and devout Tibetan communities, another noteable aspect of Tibet in 2007 is the Chinese presence in the form of newly built towns and ubiquitous military camps all along the road. This feels both out of place and irritating. The Chinese invaded Tibet in 1950, justifying the military campaign as a “liberation” even though the majority of the Tibetans did not and do not (by all accounts) want Chinese rule. Tibet has at times been a part of the 3000 year old Chinese empire, but the Chinese have certainly been arrogant and inhumane of their treatment of Tibet since 1950. In 1959, as the 14th Dalai Lama fled into exile, the Chinese troops shelled a popular uprising in Lhasa and subsequently imprisoned or executed thousands of dissenters. A little over a decade later in the Cultural Revolution, many monasteries were destroyed and Buddhists persecuted. The Chinese have since then have been encouraging large scale immigration of Han Chinese into the region, so the Tibetans themselves are virtually outnumbered in their own land (some say this is already so). Incentives are offered to Tibetans to fly the Chinese flag over their house, and the newly opened train line brings ever more tourists and settlers to teem through the streets of the capital. The Dalai Lama described the Chinese as committing cultural genocide on the Tibetan people, and in the long run the tourists could well do more damage than the Red Guards
to the Tibetan way of life.

At the same time as all this complaining about the Chinese, I think it is also important (especially for those who over-romanticize Tibet’s earlier days) to remember that life for the Tibetans before 1950 was also extremely harsh. The life expectancy was just 37 years old, and the rule of some of the earlier Dalai Lamas was verging on tyrannical, with most of the people living as virtual slaves under their rule (building sumptuous palaces, etc). The Dalai Lama now seems to believe that Tibet cannot regain complete independence, but hopes autonomy within China might be possible… in any case, the issues are complex, the story is sad, and (as always) there are no easy solutions.

So, after 4 weeks of fairly tough riding in Tibet, I finally pushed on over a last giant pass and down a broad windy valley and at last into Lhasa itself. It feels good to have made it to another major landmark city – I think I am more exhausted than I realise. Although my progress each day seems negligible, when I look at the map I see I am making very significant progress home wards.

-Recently I have spent quite a bit of time revamping my website with lots more photos (especially of Tibet) and new posts with FAQS and so on. Please do have a look or pass on my site to people you think might be interested to follow my progress.

-Many thanks for your prayers, emails and kind donations to help children at risk through Viva Network. Although part of the reason for this ride is just for fun and adventure, I am also endeavouring to support the crucial work of Viva Network for the millions of children around the world who daily suffer and die quite needlessly. Please do go to www.justgiving.com/cyclinghomefromsiberia to see how much I have raised so far, or to donate to them.

Best wishes and God bless,

Rob
Extras:

For those interested in Tibet, I really recommend the travel book by Peter Hopkirk “Trespassers on the roof of the world” – about how Tibet closed her borders in the nineteenth century and tried (for a long time successfully) to keep the European explorers out. Here is a good quote depicting the quite extreme punishments meted out on disloyal servants back in those hard days: “If the [European] gatecrashers were determined to get in, the Tibetans were equally determined to keep them out. The dreadful retribution meted out to a Tibetan official who had unwittingly given assistance to one such intruder is grim proof of this. He as arrested, imprisoned, flogged, then flung – still living and with his hands tied behind his back – into the Tsangpo. The hands and feet of his servants had been cut off, their eyes gouged out, and they were then left to die in agony. Furthermore the official himself, a high-ranking lama at the head of a monastery, was condemned posthumously to eternal damnation – a punishment more to be dreaded than death by a devout Tibetan Buddhist. When, soon after his execution, his [alleged] reincarnation appeared in a small boy, the child was callously abandoned. Frontier officials who had let the intruder past the check-point were also severely punished, and nineteen year later two other men who had been implicated were still in chains in a Lhasa dungeon.”

…and a Psalm I have really enjoyed recently, amongst all the big hills and mountains and valleys:

PSALM 121
I lift up my eyes to the hills-
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip-
he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD watches over you-
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all harm-
he will watch over your life;
the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.
www.cyclinghomefromsiberia.com