The Land that Time Forgot

 Published in Unlimited Magazine June 2005

“Thus it will remain one of the last places to be brought close to civilisation. Its scenery is unsurpassed and awaits the lover of nature, but he must pay the price”

Joseph Rock 1923

As the deep crushing sense of panic settled in my chest, Nimas’ broad grin beamed down at me. He reached forward to offer me a hand as I wriggled through the narrow tunnel in which I seemed to be irretrievably wedged, and with a strength that belied his small size, plucked me out like an orange pip. These were the sacred caves of the Gongga Monastery, high in the Daxue Shan Mountains, and a safe passage through them supposedly proved the purity of heart of the intrepid tunneller. Nima slapped me on the back, wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me off, feeling somewhat fraudulent, through the mystical forest towards the sun-dappled Monastery.

In the far west of mainland China lies a region in which the legends and myths of the local Tibetan people seem altogether believable. It is a landscape of incredible mountain ranges, deeply forested ravines and wide expansive grasslands. It is here that the four mighty rivers of Asia, the Tsangpo, Salween, Mekong and the Yangtze all pass within a whisker of each other, carving out deep canyons before snaking their way off to the opposite ends of Asia. Amongst the giant mountain ranges that separate these watersheds is the Daxue Shan, towering to 7500m and revered as the home of the Gods. We had come to this mountain wonderland in search of unclimbed peaks and had found a land and a people to be entranced by.

Politically Chinese but culturally Tibetan, the Daxue Shan defines the eastern edge of the ‘Roof of the World’, the mighty Tibetan Plateau. Averaging more than 4000m above sea level, the Plateau and its surrounding ranges are the result of the colossal geological forces unleashed when the Indian Subcontinent ploughed on its tectonic conveyer belt into the rest of Asia. Like shock waves frozen in time the Daxue Shan and its neighbouring ranges provide a border between two worlds. To the west is the unending expanse of Tibet, a lonely, dun brown rolling hillscape, while to the east the land drops into the humid, frenetic basins of Chinese Sichuan. It is a meeting point of landscapes and of cultures.

Driving south-west from the capital of Sichuan, Chengdu, we experience this transition in a single day. After the oppressive, grey cloud of the lowland basins, the clear twinkling stars and fresh, mountain air above the ravine of Kanding is a blessed relief. Snuggled into the northern end of the Daxue Shan, Kanding has been a major trading, and at times warring, centre between the Tibetans and Chinese for centuries and this is still evident in the everyday street scenes. Chinese dancing in the square is watched with amusement by the weathered looking Tibetan nomads, in town for the day to sell a Yak or two at the colourful open air butcheries. Noisy Chinese shops jostle for space with the steaming luxury of thermal hot springs and the tranquillity of the local Buddhist Monastery, personally commissioned 350 years ago by the Dalai Lama V.

The Daxue Shan has been this way since time immemorial but as a Westerner the ability to travel here is a relatively recent luxury. In the early twentieth century, the European fascination with Tibet had just begun to reach these eastern borderlands. The impenetrable landscapes, as well as the ferocious reputation of the local people guaranteed an enduring isolation which botanist-adventurers such as Joseph Rock, had only just begun to peel back when world events slammed the door shut. The Japanese invasion, followed by battles between the Communists and the Kuomintang, and the eventual formation of Mao’s’ Peoples Republic of China, sealed the area off from the outside world ensuring the continued mystique of these ancient valleys and soaring peaks. It was not until the 1980’s that a few intrepid Backpackers began making forays into the regions outer edges, and it is only now that the inner sanctums are becoming accessible either to adventurous solo travellers or, increasingly, to pioneering travel companies.

After a wonderful dinner of Yak lungs and other Sichuan delicacies we leave the hustle of Kanding behind and arrive in the small village of Laoyulian. Here begins our journey back in time. Not much seems to have changed here since medieval times, except perhaps for the occasional beaten up old car that splashes through the muddy lanes. We are shown to the house of the village headman Dorje, where we will stay the night and are quickly embraced in the warmth of his family. Although something of an entrepreneur and one of the wealthier men in the village, Dorje’s house is a picture of simplicity, a testament to the Buddhist teachings which infuse every aspect of the Tibetan peoples lives. Yak butter tea, a sweet, greasy mixture, and Tsampa, a barley floor dough which is the staple diet, are followed by a prolonged planning session by the light of the single electric bulb. The following morning the courtyard slowly fills as horses and their drovers materialise from the fog. A cheerful chaos, punctuated by laughter and shouting ensues before, several hours later, our pack train begins its slow, jingling journey into the western valleys of the Daxue Shan.

Our horse propelled trek is the lazy-mans way to complete half the ‘Khora’ or pilgrims circuit around Gongga Shan, the mighty monarch of the range. To circumambulate this deeply worshipped peak, either by foot, or preferably, by prostrating oneself endlessly in the dust, is a revered Buddhist practise. Our route heads up the Zoexi Valley, over the 5000m Biuxi La Pass and down the gorgeous Moxi Valley, taking in the western, more remote half of the circuit. Open yak pastures dotted with the strange beasts that fulfil every conceivable purpose for the hardened locals, are mixed with shrubberies that turn into a kaleidoscope of autumn colours during our stay.  Further south we ride our sure footed steeds through a twisted, moss draped forest that is Tolkenesque in its strangeness. Fairies and elves no longer seem so fanciful and it is fitting that our horsemen talk of the Mugua or Yeti, in hushed tones.  The path here finally leads to the incredible Gongga Monastery and its selective caves. This is the place time forgot, a place of tangible agelessness. Through the gently drifting conifer-smoke, multi-coloured prayer flags flutter goodwill to the world, lamas mumble incantations unchanged for centuries and the devout smear yak butter on ordained boulders for the birds to carry to heaven.

Trekking in the Daxue Shan is a journey into another culture and another time. The pace of life is a tonic, while the surrounding landscape is quite literally jaw dropping. But it is the people with their quick smiles, their open warmth and quiet humility that you will remember the most. They have so little, but laugh so much. They have much to teach us.

This trek can be organised by the Sichuan Adventure Travel in Chengdu. Our mountaineering expedition was kindly supported by W.L Gore, Macpac, Bivouac, Suunto and others. More information is available on www.summitfootprints.com and www.adventurechina.f9.co.uk