Travel Destination » Travel to Tibet

TIBET
‘Adventure travel’ is a form of recreation for people who want to get away from the security of the modern world and into a great unknown. It implies excitement, risk, challenges and even hardship. Those who embark on such trips are looking for special experiences; but also following a dream of exploration and discovery from a time when much of the world was unknown, and it was possible to see places no-one had ever seen before. In the early twentieth century, the magnificent, forbidden Himalaya had an irresistible fascination for the adventurers of the time. Remarkably, in much of this beautiful but inhospitable world little has changed, and the enterprising traveller who is prepared to forego the trappings of the modern world can still get a sense of what it must have been like to be the first to lay eyes on the wonders

LHASA THE ‘LOST’ CITY
A significant drawcard in my decision to return to Tibet had been revisiting Lhasa, a city I had last seen in 1984. 1 was in for a disappointment. Now, with wide boulevards and new buildings and factories, the transformation of the old Tibetan capital into just another Chinese city is almost complete. Fortunately, the mighty, all-seeing visage of the Potala continues to survey the profound changes below, but even this unique World Heritage Site is being crowded out by a retinue of hideous plate glass and concrete hotels that jostle for position around the apron of the palace. Insensitively placed advertising signs such as a Mobil Oil billboard right in front of the building also significantly detract from the spiritual power of the Potala. Sacred lakes and traditional picnic spots both in front of and behind the Potala have been concreted over or laced with a maze of metal railings that, to me, signify the rigid omnipresence of Chinese control. The hulk of a jet fighter propped up in the plaza opposite the palace for children to play on serves as a reminder of who wields the big stick around here.

On the positive side, the widely documented repression of the Tibetan people and their culture, which has taken place over the last decades, now seems to be over. The Tibetan language is again being taught in schools, at least in junior grades — though with seven out of ten Lhasa residents now Han Chinese, Mandarin dominates secondary and tertiary training, making it near impossible for Tibetans to compete for the better jobs unless they learn Chinese. While the powerful Chinese military presence is kept well hidden, perhaps it is the strident civilian economic invasion of the capital that will prove more deadly to Tibetan culture in the long term. The struggle to possess Tibet’s soul seems vastly one-sided.

Inside the main chambers of the Potala, and on the perimeter of a new square constructed in front of the supremely holy Jokhang temple, surveillance cameras maintain an ever-watchful eye. Many residents have been forcibly evicted from their homes to make way for the square that is, in part, intended to facilitate rapid police deployment to combat protests against Chinese occupation. Remarkably, despite brutal reprisals, these still occur annually around the Barkhor circuit near the Jokhang. Even in the inner sanctum of the Potala itself guides place a finger across their lips then point to audio recording devices when questioned as to why the portraits of the Dalai Lama have been removed even from his own throne room. There is also evidence that Tibetans caught with an image of the Dalai Lama would be jailed, while tourists face deportation if found handing his portrait to a Tibetan by way of thanks for some courtesy.

In the footsteps of a legend
1 decided to return once more to Tibet with a long-time climbing friend, Peter Cleary. We wanted to experience something of Mallory’s all-out search for access to the North Col, to retrace his route into the then-unknown Kangshung and Kharta glaciers which drain the remote and still rarely-visited eastern side of Everest. Our sojourn was not intended to be a complete re-enactment of our predecessor’s journey. For a start, our approaches to Everest could not have been more different: Mallory and Howard-Bury had walked all the way to the Tibetan Plateau from Darjeeling in British India, a gruelling trek with pack horses which took several months. In complete contrast, Peter and I were able to drive — in luxury — in a matter of days from Kathmandu to Lhasa, exchange our tourist visas for a mountain permit, hire Tibetan staff, then set off with a Landcruiser and baggage truck on our own small expedition. Lured by the prospect of exploring some of Everest’s best-kept secrets and seeing the glorious vistas through Mallory’s eyes, we decided to start our trek in Kharta village. In Mallory’s day, this area was a complete unknown and even today it is still very rarely visited, in marked contrast to areas of the Rongbuk Glacier which are now becoming crowded with expeditions. Interestingly, as we approached Everest, I was rereading Captain John Noel’s Through Tibet to Everest which relates his own trek towards the mountain in 1913. With remarkable foresight, he predicted that one day ‘tourists’ would be taken up Everest and even be lowered onto the summit from a ‘hovering aircraft’.

We departed from Lhasa, retraced our route through the townships of Xigatse and Xegar, and finally branched off into the Qomolungma Nature Reserve, which surrounds Everest. Then we bumped and ground our way over the narrow, water-worn track down to Kharta. The village, a cluster of stone houses surrounded by ripening crops of barley and wheat, is nestled in a lovely valley. It overlooks the narrow defile of the Arun Gorge, where the powerful Arun River, on its tortured path down into Nepal, cuts a deep slash through the Himalaya. After a night sleeping in Kharta’s impressive little power station, Peter and I climbed up to visit the new Kharta gompa.