Luckily, I
managed to get the weekend off from work – albeit with a lot of pleading - to
go with Candy on her work outing to Kāngdìng. Yes, that’s right; we were
heading back to that gateway into Tibetan Sichuan and namesake of the popular
Chinese love song. But this time we were prepared with sun cream!
It was an
early (but thankfully cool) start as we all ascended the bus and I could tell
all of Candy’s interns were just as excited as I was to head out to “Tibet”. I
just had my fingers crossed that there wouldn’t be a repeat of last time -
where the police attempted to turn me away from entering the Garzê Tibetan
Autonomous Prefecture - and ruin everyone’s trip!
*
Not a
single mishap or problem at all (which brought a huge sigh of relief from me!)
although bureaucracy reigned supreme. Upon reaching Lúdìng 泸定 – the site of the famous Communist victory over the Nationalists during
the Civil War and one that most Chinese school kids are taught about – all
foreign passengers had to get off the bus, passports and most importantly visas
at the ready to be checked and scrutinised. Much to the chagrin of the Chinese
passengers whom had to wait for all the multiple forms to be filled in – cue
lots of annoyed tutting! (I cheekily grinned and waved at them as we got back
on the bus).
I wasn’t
here just to have fun however. I was here to help Candy and her colleague Subin
accompany and show the interns around Kāngdìng town itself. From the favela like
houses that are built on the side of Mt.
Jiǔlián (Jiǔliánshān九连山) - where our fantastic little hostel was nestled away - to strolling down
the rapid Zheduo River and onto the People’s Square, where we watched the locals
dance once the sun set – and even some of the interns got involved too! Before
finally heading out to the town limits to the aptly named Yak Bridge; where the
locals sell all things… yak, which
is not a place for the weak stomached traveller.
For Candy
and me, it was a much more different experience from the previous time we
visited Kāngdìng. Less of a police presence meant that I could relax a lot more
and the town felt less tense. Along with the relatively warmer weather,
compared to the Baltic weather we braved and endured at the end of March, our
trip was a much-welcomed relief escaping the heat and humidity of Chengdu’s
summer! (At that point, Chengdu had been reaching as high as 38-40 degrees!)
(Pretending to be a student again for the weekend...)
*
The
following morning, we had another early start again as we set off from Kāngdìng
to head to Tǎgōng 塔公. Tǎgōng -
Lhangong in the Tibetan language -, like Kāngdìng, is situated in the ancient
Kham region and is home to beautiful grasslands, devoted monks and Tibetan
nomads with their thick-coated yaks. Tǎgōng felt very different town from
anywhere I’d visited or experienced here in China and maybe even Asia! The town
itself wouldn’t feel out of place nestled somewhere in the Peak District or
Derbyshire Dales back home; with its grey-stoned and rustic-feeling
country-style houses which lined the tiny one-road settlement, along with its
friendly and welcoming atmosphere. This unfettered window into the Tibetan
people and culture is a far fetch from the hubbub of Chinese cities with their
towering and domineering apartments and glass façade sky rises.
Just swap out the fields filled with sheep and cows for the grassy
slopes with the furry and beastly yaks with the odd chorten or two (chortens are
Tibetan stupas).
(Tibetan chorten)
Tǎgōng town
was built around the monastery there, which was originally chosen due its close
proximity to the sacred and majestic Mt. Yala (5,820m) Yǎlāxuěshān 雅拉雪山. This impressive peak can be seen in the distance glittering like a
golden pagoda in the sun and is a stunning contrast between the grasslands and
snowcapped foothills. If only I could paint, it would have made a spectacular
landscape! It’s easy to understand why the monastery is one of the most revered
sites in Tibetan Buddhism and also has an impressive collection of over 100 chortens to be proud of too.
The magnificent
grasslands (cǎochǎng草场) were almost worlds apart from our previous to the enormous plateau.
Whereas on our previous trip, Mùgécuò 木格措was blinding
white with winter snow, Tǎgōng was a deep green and very pleasant to the eye.
Yaks still roamed wildly though, the prayer-wheels still span zealously but
eerily without human interaction and the brightly-coloured prayer flags still flapped in the
winds high up on the Plateau. The grasslands themselves are immensely huge and
an expanse to behold. With an area of over 700km2 and at an altitude
of 3900m high, it’s amazing how something with so much natural and unspoiled
beauty – the landscape would be artist’s dream – is so empty and silent.
(Mt. Yala 雅拉雪山 towering over the Tagong Grasslands)
Leave me
with a decent book and let me pitch up a tent. The seemingly endless and
breathtaking grasslands are an escapist’s and wanderlust’s fantasy.
On some of
the hillsides dotted around the grasslands were these huge Tibetan phrases and
mantras, which are sometimes accompanied by the Mandarin equivalent – although
the Communist Party slogans which also dot the landscape often ruin the Tibetan
aesthetic.
*
For the
interns, and most travelers coming from the east, this was the first chance to
encounter yaks; Tibetan herders’ and farmers’ most important and treasured
livestock.
Yak meat is
probably best described as “beef-like” but different; less fatty and very
tender. (I’d like to try a yak-burger at some point!) Yaks here are not just
important in Tibetan culture but are also central to the Tibetan way of life. From
the yak dung that fuels stoves and fires to yak hair, which is woven into those
much-needed blankets for the cold winter months. Tibetan nomads – now
unfortunately few and far between – even have tents made out yak hair, which
unbelievably are water-resistant! Tibetans have a waste not, want not practice
when it comes to the yak. During the summer months, yaks produce copious
amounts of milks which is then used to make the staples of Tibetan cuisine;
sour yogurt and yak butter tea. You’ll be hard-pressed to find vegans here on
the Plateau.
*
If you
asked anyone who went on the trip, I think they’d be hard-pressed to disagree
with me that we could have aimlessly wandered around the grasslands for hours
on end. Just roaming without a care in the world, and admiring the natural
scenery and beauty that our eyes beheld, and forgetting about the daily grind
of work and life that was waiting for us all back in Chengdu for those brief
precious minutes.
And with a
quick click of the fingers, the daydream bubble burst and it was time to head
back with heavy hearts.
But not
before a quick stop to climb to the summit of Mt. Zhéduō 折多山, which in Chinese translates to “lots of wind” – and the mountain
definitely lived up to its name! Standing proudly at 4298m (14,101 ft.) high,
it was the highest point I’ve ever been in my life (besides being on an
airplane obviously). While the view was almost non-existent – as were gazing
into deep white clouds – and the reverberating sound of the flapping Tibetan
prayer-flags almost deafened my ears, it was definitely an experience to be up there
and have almost no intrusion from the outside world. It was just us, the
clouds, the wind and the multi-coloured prayer-flags standing (almost) on top of the
world!
(Descending into the clouds on the way down from Mt. Zhéduō 折多山)
*
Candy and I
said it before, and we stuck by it, so we’re going to say it again; we will be back to the
Tibetan Plateau – sooner rather than later – and hopefully there’s a nice
steaming cup of bo-cha (butter tea sūyóuchá 酥油茶) and a yak
burger waiting for us on our return!
(To read about our first trip to this amazing yet hidden part of old "Tibet" and Kangding, read our previous blog post here - http://laowaiontour.blogspot.com/2018/06/on-plateau.html)