Mount Kailas

The next morning we would begin the three day, 32 mile long kora around Mount Kailas. I was a bit groggy and tired from the previous night's activities, but looking forward to the hike nonetheless. The scenery would surely be amazing and it would provide a much needed respite from being stuffed in the back of that Land Cruiser.

While I anticipated the hike to be strenuous, I wasn't too worried.

I've done my share of hiking in China... hiking for 12 hours straight at Tiger Leaping Gorge, scaling altitudes of 5000M+ at Yading, trekking through muddy rice fields in the rain at Longji. And I consider myself to be in decent shape fitness wise, working out on a regular basis and having completed a marathon just two years ago.

Furthermore, we wouldn't actually be climbing to the peak of Kailas, which has never been scaled. We would only be taking a nice leisurely walk around it.

If thousands of third world pilgrims from all over Tibet, Nepal, and India could make this trek every year, malnourished and frail, then how hard could it really be?


A couple hours into the first day, I knew I had grossly miscalculated my abilities.

My head throbbed and lungs gasped for every bit of oxygen it could find in the thin mountain air. Meanwhile "malnourished and frail" Tibetans were bounding along the trail effortlessly.

A Tibetan family, the mother carrying her baby... An elderly monk wearing nothing but robes in the cold mountain air... A small woman with a bag of rice seemingly bigger than she was strapped to her back... All passing us by as we tried to catch our breath.

Most impressive were the pilgrims that were prostrating themselves with every step - getting down on their hands and knees, prostrating themselves flat on the ground as a sign of devotion, crawling forward, and repeating with every step. It takes weeks to make the strenuous trek around Kailas this manner, but we saw dozens of pilgrims going about it undeterred, a testament to their religious faith. They were a bit flustered though when my travel mates started swarming around them and snapping pictures of them as if they were zoo animals.


We plodded along for hours. One of my travel mates, a chain smoker and the least physically fit among us, provided at least some entertainment for the day when she had a mental breakdown and started crying after she fell in the snow and couldn't get up for the umpteenth time. LOL!

We arrived at the guesthouse for the first night at 6 in the evening and collapsed into bed.

At night, the temperature plummeted. Our unheated shack provided little protection from the elements. Despite wearing practically every layer of clothing I had - a shirt and two fleeces, flannel boxers and three layers of pants, two pairs of hiking socks, and a wool beanie - in addition to two blankets, I was awoken by the cold in the middle of the night and could not get back to sleep. I went for a sip of bottled water only to discover it had frozen over.

Setting off early the next morning, we would ascend another 1000M to cross Dolma La Pass, the highest point of our journey at an altitude of over 5600M. Feet numb from the cold and our lungs heaving with each labored breath, we trudged up the icy mountainside at a snail's pace. At increasingly frequent intervals, we would find a comfortable rock to lay on and catch our breath, as our Tibetan guide watched on bemused.


Every so often, we would see a dejected hiker going in the opposite direction, unable to continue, making the "walk of shame" back to guesthouse, where they would take a truck back down to the bottom. Our chain smoking companion likewise did not last long on Day 2 and had to be escorted back to Darchen.

My travel companion, Naz, in her infinite wisdom had brought along her massive North Face backpack packed to the brim with (among other things) her sleeping bag, her makeup kit, and assorted food items to pass out as gifts to random Tibetans. To her credit, she did not complain once, and gallantly trudged her way up the mountainside.

After what seemed like an eternity, we reached the high point of the Dolma-La pass at 5630M (18,470ft). The Tibetans say that in crossing the Dolma-La Pass, you are reborn. That the Tibetan deity Dolma in her infinite compassion absolves you of a lifetime of sins.

I don't know about that, but I do know that walking down a mountain is a hell of a lot easier than walking up one. We continued onward for many hours, walking across rocky mountainsides, frozen lakes and streams, and frozen plains covered with grazing yaks.


As dusk approached, we came upon a Tibetan who had setup some tents along the side of the road for weary travelers. We got the bright idea of staying overnight in one of his tents, figuring they couldn't be any colder than the shack we had stayed at the previous night. This turned out to be an incorrect assumption.

The next day, in the morning cold, we plowed through the final three hours of the hike back to Darchen.

Physically, I was spent. My entire face was sunburned, except for two shockingly pale white patches around my eyes where I had been wearing my sunglasses.

But I was officially sin-free and my mind was at ease. We chowed down on cucumber salad and meat and potatoes at our favorite restaurant with smiles on our faces, as we prepared to hit the road again in a couple hours.