25/5/97

Got up a little late, but was off fairly quickly. The receptionist was asleep in bed, so I avoided any awkward questions as I slipped out. I'd selected a route to the edge of town the previous day and though it seemed fairly quiet, but taxi's were prowling about everywhere; one stopped by me fifty metres from the hotel! After that I became cautious, and it took me about a hour to reach the outskirts. I stopped about 200 metres from the checkpoint in some bushes next to the road and watched it for an hour. There wasn't much traffic, but they were still stopping every vehicle. However, I didn't see any patrols, so I skirted the barracks to the west, and then started walking parallel to the road, concealing myself whenever a vehicle approached in the drainage "ditch", and by dawn at five am or so I was out of sight of the checkpoint.

From six onwards, plenty of trucks appeared, but none of them wanted to stop for me; indeed they would cross the road to avoid me. I was aware that there was another checkpoint 30 k from the town, but it was assumed to be there to check cargoes only, not passengers. As the Yanks say, current information is hosed! Finally, a Muslim Chinese on a walking tractor with four teenaged boys on the trailer stopped for me, and I started off for Lhasa at the humungous speed of 20 km/h. We passed a village on the left after half an hour, and just as the road entered the mountains proper there was a building that was obviously a checkpoint, situated 50m to the west of the cliff the road skirted. I gestured to my driver " we're going straight through?". He nodded, and I lay down in the back of the trailer, and with his sons (?) sitting around me we carried straight along the road. We motored through and after going up a small rise and round a bend I could sit up again. Two down, three to go, provided I didn't die of altitude sickness in the meantime!

We had hardly gone another 50 m before a fuel tanker rounded the bend behind us and immediately screeched to a halt. The driver shouted down "Lhasa?"; my luck appeared to be holding, and he was just as happy to take me to Wenquan. I shook hands with the tractor driver and waved him off, and started negotiations with the truckers. Eventually a figure of 250Y was agreed, and the second stage of my magical mystery tour started. My driver, a man of about thirty, had his own business; consisting of the tanker and a general cargo truck that followed behind us, and they made the round trip between Golmud and Lhasa once a week. I got the impression that they got about three weeks off a year, which counts as a hard life by any standards. Perhaps the monotony of this made them immune to playing the same tape of Chinese pop over and over again. It's my fault really, I should have brought a couple of compilation tapes myself; after family photos, they're indispensable.

The road slopes gently up along a large riverbed, and after about 100k we pull into a truckers cafe. At this point we've ascended to about 4200m, but I notice no ill effects, apart from the general bewilderment of my companions as I check the altimeter and then my heart and respiration rates. I had started off with rates of 60 and 12 respectively, and now they were 66 and 13. After an hour there we carried on to the top of the first pass, the Kunlun Shankou at 4800m, where the rates were 75 and 15. I then decided that altitude wasn't going to affect me that much after all.

Once we had reached the pass, we began an endless run over over a hilly plateau. There were mountains around us, but for the most part they were rounded affairs just a couple of hundred metres higher than ourselves. Habitation seemed extremely sparse, with just a few shepherds in view. The road itself was very "wavy" which restricted your speed to about 40-50 km/h, and after we had passed through the first of what was to become an endless series of roadwork's you could soon see why. The Chinese road builders are mostly men in their late twenties to thirties, usually supervised by Army engineers, and their road building methods were a little basic. Essentially, some large rocks are piled up on the ground, then whatever covers the local area is piled on top of that; it could be gravel or just earth. Finally, tarmac is laid on top of a thin layer of hardcore. If the local area is rocky, the road is smooth. If the local area is grassy, the road disintegrates rapidly.

Along the way, I saw several Army convoys, who all waved at me happily. It appears that the Army and the PSB have little in common, as our one sight of a policeman had the drivers mate pushing me down onto the floor! We also passed through an Army base that had a road leading off into nowhere from it; I think I now know the approximate location of all those ICBM bases in Quighai! Further on, I had a demonstration of just how thin the air is round here. We were stopped by some road builders, who then dynamited a culvert about 400m ahead. I could hardly hear anything!

The roadwork's had delayed us several hours, so it was nearly 7 pm by the time we reached Tutuo Hayan, the first town of any consequence we had come across. It was even smaller than I thought it would be; probably about 500 people in total, and we didn't stop there anyway but sped on. Night fell about 9 pm, and soon afterwards a blizzard started. It was looking like Wenquan was out of the question for today, and we finally stopped at a truckers stop at midnight, where we all dipped into a communal meal of rice and mutton, plus copious amounts of green tea. I then bunked down in the cab, while the others trooped off to their rooms.

View from back of walking tractor; wondering how long it will take to get to Lhasa like this!	A river that paralleled our route up to the Kunlun Shankou
Road works in Quighai	Two locals at a truck stop

26/5/97

I woke up with a mild headache, but nothing too bad, especially for 4700m. I had expected the others would be in a mad hurry to get going, but in fact we started about 10 am, and then only to move 200m down the road for breakfast! Just before midday, we started climbing again through the slush to what was supposed to be the highest town in the world at 5100m.

Well, what can I say, they weren't telling the truth there. Wenquan is actually more like 4950m, and to call it a town would be to slander most other habitations. It's a few concrete barracks and low houses, and very desolate. The former made me very cautious, and I decided that any stay was going to be short. I approached one of the houses and asked for some tea. It proved to be occupied by a family who seemed astonished to see me, although on reflection this is hardly surprising. They immediately put the kettle on and served me- salt tea! I suppose they might have been part Mongolian, although I must confess I forgot to try any, but they were very friendly, so much so that when I left the young man of the household insisted on presenting me with a white prayer scarf. This was very generous as the most I could muster was a signed postcard of Wells.

I trudged out of town as inconspicuously as possible, and 2 k further on started hitching. For half an hour or so I was studiously ignored, even by the truck with five Tibetans in the back under an awning, and it began to look like I was fated to cross the Tanggula Shankou on foot, but a Dong Feng stopped and agreed to take me to Amdo for 50Y. This truck was fairly crowded with two drivers, an old man and a teen aged boy that the driver stroked repeatedly; I never found out whether this was because he was his son or for another reason! We were just approaching what I thought would be the top of the pass when we rounded a bend and saw a very large traffic jam. This made me a little suspicious, so I asked the driver if it was a police checkpoint. He nodded!

This seemed a disastrous development; how could I avoid a checkpoint here, what with wide open terrain and in the middle of a snow field to boot? Leaving my rucksack behind, I went forward to see if I could see where the checkpoint was. There was a tent by the road with a policeman standing outside about a kilometre ahead, and at the rate we were moving we should reach them at dusk, which gave me some hope. Evading to the east across the snow field was obviously out, so I decided to try my luck ascending the hill to the west to see if it was practical to go that way. The first fifty metres were fine, but as I approached the top I developed a splitting headache and my face muscles started twitching randomly. I staggered back down to the truck and sat down for ten minutes, which seemed to alleviate the symptoms, but I think this was a warning on the part of Mother Nature; I had ascended less than 36 hours ago, and I should be more careful! Pity about the checkpoint; I'd have to try to slip through another way, something that was nearly blown as dusk approached, when a PSB officer ran down the line of trucks towards us, shouting at the drivers. I made myself inconspicuous, but was horrified to see the driver gesture towards me and ask him a question. I was lucky; the policeman waved away the driver as if to say "don't bother me now" and carried on down the line. I was also furious with the driver, who could have just kept quiet. I left the truck for a while until the policeman had run back the way he had come.

As night fell, the temperature fell rapidly. I had lent the old man my sleeping bag, which was probably a mistake as I then got no sleep at all, being too busy shaking with the cold. One thing kept me warmer in spirit at least; further recces on my part had shown no sign of a police checkpoint, or of any other policemen. Every two hours the driver would wake up and run the engine for five minutes to stop the fuel freezing.

Bogged down truck, approaching Wenquan	It's not exactly interesting
But the locals are fun	Tanggula pass, and the worst traffic jam I've ever seen

27/5/97

It was four in the morning when a couple of lorries in front of us started up and turned on their lights. When a couple became ten I attempted to wake the driver, but the Mandarin for "excuse me, but we're going to be overtaken if we don't get going right now!" unfortunately escaped me. I woke the co-driver, but though he unquestionably knew more Mandarin, he was no more successful in getting the boss up! He finally woke when the first of fifty trucks roared past hooting. Sadly, an attempt to start the engine proved that we had waited too long since the last warm-up; the engine spluttered and died after five seconds. The driver and co driver grabbed some old driving gloves, jumped outside and disassembled the fuel filter, dipped the gloves in and then lit them. Waving them under the fuel lines while holding them with a pair of pliers, the co driver was berated by the driver for presumably not getting him up in time. I made the latter extremely annoyed when I stopped him punching him too; now he's "lost face" and will be looking for a way of getting back at me. By the time we had got the engine started, we were only able to move forward about 100m along with the other laggards, some of which had the equivalent of roaring log fires underneath their fuel tanks; I stayed away from those!

Thankfully, there was no sign of the police as we progressed up the pass and at midday we were finally past the roadwork's, having taken about 20 hours to go 5k. We had beautiful sunshine to the top of the pass, then I was into Tibet proper with the highest pass (5180m) behind me. The next 50k were uneventful, and I was dropped off at Amdo at the bridge leading over the river. About twenty Tibetans were waiting there and they set to teaching me Tibetan with enthusiasm for the next 20 minutes. I enjoyed myself so much I completely forgot to ask where the local police station was, so when they pointed to the yellow building just across the river I had a small heart attack! I then quickly took refuge in a small cafe on my side of the river, and discovered I was extremely hungry. The owner was a Nepali Tibetan who spoke a little English, and we swapped notes on Nepal. Finally, six o'clock rolled past, and a gaggle of PSB officers streamed out on the dot and dispersed. Just then, a sleeper bus arrived, which seemed like a gift from God; I now had plenty of "cover". Unfortunately, the town is just as much of a dump as my travel writer acquaintance warned me about a month ago, and my hopes of seeing something unusual were dashed. I can also award Amdo with the title of "Worst Public Toilet Anywhere"; the floor was covered with dried... I'll let you imagine it. Suffice it to say that a picture of it carried about your person would prove far more effacious than Immodium.

I was now faced with a choice; should I stay in Amdo in the hope of finding something interesting but with the risk of running into nice men in dark green uniforms, or should I try to get a lift to Nagqo immediately in the hope of being able to bypass the town and it's attendant checkpoints (one before and one after the town) tonight. The schedule for the latter looked very tight, but the toilets decided the matter; I was leaving! I climbed a small hill just out of town where I discovered that I didn't have constipation after all, and 3 k later an extremely old truck took pity on me and agreed to take me to Nagqo for 30Y. About eight pm we pulled in behind a bus at some roadwork's, and the driver suggested that I get a lift with them. Perhaps he was tired of my knee stopping him from changing gear! Anyway, I jumped out and ran up to the bus where my appearance caused a small riot. After letting me on, the mixture of Chinese and Tibetan passengers insisted that I should pay nothing at all since they were going to drop me off short of the town anyway; perhaps they were enjoying all the excitement. Anyway, I settled down in the back with a quartet of Khampa's, and we all compared our knives. Swiss army models don't rate much here, but they were soon asleep, and I struggled to stay awake so I could count the kilometre markers and therefore know when I should be dropped off; nowhere near the checkpoint!

Brewing tea with a blowtorch on the Tanggula	Top of the Tanggula pass, 5180m
PSB building at Amdo	Amdo from above

28/5/97

I thought I had 20k to go at 0030 when the bus rounded a corner and I saw the checkpoint straight ahead of us! The bus stopped with a squeal of brakes and the door opened as I frantically pulled on my rucksack and climbed over the piles of bedding in the aisle. As I came up to the door the conductor stopped me, and we stared at each other. A few seconds later he gestured that I should lie down in the back. I asked him how much he wanted for sparing me a 20k hike and a river crossing in the dark; he said 100Y. I considered things briefly, then thought what the heck, and lay down in the back. Blankets and a couple of bales of wool were piled on top of me, and we drove up to the checkpoint.

The door opened, and I heard two people enter and start talking in Chinese. One of them shone a torch towards my position and at this stage I felt that my heart could probably be heard in Beijing! Though that wasn't logically a problem, I was having real problems controlling my breathing at 4500m. However, after two minutes the policemen left and the bus raced off; so fast I was bouncing completely off the seat every ten seconds. The idea must have been that the faster they got to the next checkpoint the less likely the people at the first were to phone them and ask them to do a better job of searching the bus! Anyway we stopped again ten minutes later. This time, they only stayed on the bus a minute and we were off. Thirty seconds later we stopped. One of the Khampa's said "Laowai, OK, OK", and I sat up to find everyone wreathed in smiles. I looked towards the conductor and asked "Lhasa?". He nodded, asked for another 100Y, and we sped off. Now it was four down and one to go!

The bus driver was a bit of a maniac, like most you meet here. For about 100k we had a race with a sleeper bus, that had it's amusing moments when it sped past us on pit stops; the driver would usually end up dragging someone with their trousers half-way down back to the bus so we could speed on. I managed to get some sleep at last, but the ride ensured that I spent most of my time staring up at the stars. This being the first clear night I had had, it was a revelation. There seem to be far more here than at home and they were incredibly bright. About five am we started a descent, and as the sun came up I was motioned down below the level of the windows; presumably we passed through the last (and probably asleep) checkpoint here. From what I could see we descended into a large valley then sped past light industrial buildings. Finally we stopped at 7-05 am. I sat up to see the passengers getting their luggage and getting out, and the conductor smiled at me and announced "Lhasa!". I tumbled out, and shook hands with a few people and looked around. Nothing seemed familiar, but the driver took my arm, pointed and said "Potala". I waved goodbye, and set off down the street, and 100 metres further on there it was; I had made it. It had taken me about 78 hours, and I had been very lucky, but I had been smart as well, and had thoroughly enjoyed my little escape and evasion exercise!

After five minutes of self congratulation, I remembered I'd had only 8 hours sleep in the last three days, so I trudged off to where I hoped I would find the Snowlands hotel. I was signed in, and then got my gear together for a much needed shower. As I walked across the courtyard, who should I see but the travel writer I'd last seen on the UB to Beijing train. He looked at me strangely for a moment, then remembered me. "You were right" I told him. "Amdo IS crap!".

As more people got up, I saw that Gideon and Gal had made it too. They appeared very late, looking like death; they'd got in at 2 am after a continuous 56 hour bus journey with one 20 minute stop. In fact they had just got their rice at the stop when the driver tried to drive off without them! They'd had terrible trouble with the altitude too, especially when trapped on the Tanggula. I gently reminded them that perhaps they should have done more training than staying an extra hour in bed in the morning- at times I do like to crow! Anyway, we then went off to breakfast.

Gideon and Gal agreed that banana pancake was definitely called for, so we dived into the first backpackerish place we found and attempted to have some. An hour later we were still waiting and I had gone to sleep, but I felt very hungry once something was plunked down in front of me. Once we had finished, we had a quick look around Lhasa, but the prospect of more sleep seemed more attractive. Once the evening rolled round, we managed dinner, then went back to bed. Pity about the karaoke club across the road!
Back to frames- if you're not in them already!
© Rupert Fiennes 1998