Winter In May

When we awoke the next morning, we found all of the surrounding mountain tops to be caked in snow. A late evening rainstorm had passed, leaving low, overcast skies in its wake. Without the resplendent sunshine of the day before, Tibet seemed darker and more forbidding. Setting off from Lhasa in the early morning hours, we made our way northwest to Lake Namtso, the largest lake in Tibet and the highest salt water lake in the world. The 200-kilometer drive took about four hours and vaulted us to a peak altitude of 5,190 kms (15,000 feet). We found the pace of the drive to be a bit unusual. Phuntsok explained that we had to register at several Chinese government checkpoints along the way. In so doing, we would receive permission to continue provided that we arrived at the next checkpoint within a specified timeframe. This often led us to pull over to the side of the road to kill time so as to not arrive at the next milestone too early. The other alternative would have been to just drive slower, but that proved to be an anathema to our noncommunicative Chinese driver. When we arrived at Lake Namtso, we were a bit disappointed that the weather hadn’t cleared. As a result, the lake appeared as a dark, grayish-blue expanse instead of the sparkling emerald hue it takes on in bright sunshine. By the lakeside, we managed to snap a few pictures of the magnificent surroundings in between the waves of Chinese tourists exuberantly mounting sad Tibetan yaks with harnesses threaded through their nostrils. As it turned out, we were fortunate to see and capture what we did when we did. Within minutes of walking back toward the car, the skies opened to unleash a downpour of hail and snow. We quickly ducked into a small family-run restaurant for lunch. Once inside, an unusually-lightheaded Vik took the opportunity to inhale some oxygen while Kaberi took inventory of the locale. The restaurant was housed in a medium-sized tent supported by two large poles and boasted a small burner, a few tables, and a charming family staff of four adults and three kids. For lunch, Vik wanly ate ramen noodles while Kaberi gamely followed Phuntsok’s lead to order yak meat with capsicum and rice. We both sampled the yak butter tea which to us conveyed both the taste and consistency of salty, concentrated chicken stock. On our return, about ten miles away from the Lhasa outskirts, we spied a group of four Tibetans on pilgrimage. The group was distinguished by its commitment to doing a full body prostration with every step. From Phuntsok, we learned that Buddhist pilgrims are not allowed to spend money during their journey, and must depend on the generosity of local townspeople or simply sleep on the side of the road. Apparently, some pilgrims travel with a small cart of provisions. In such cases, they will push the cart ahead, backtrace their steps to complete the necessary prostrations and repeat the process all over again, and so on. Within five minutes of our passing the pilgrims by, a heavy rain began to fall, leaving the four cold and wet souls to persevere with the ultimate demonstration of their faith.