Pics: Michael Martin, Heike Bogdanski und Herbert Schwarz ; Text: Heike Bogdanski

Transcription

1 Journey to the Home of the G ods

2 Tibet Anyone who wants to go to Tibet better be ready to rise to the challenge, because a journey there stretches any person, their motorbike and their equipment to their limits. Heike Bogdanski and Herbert Schwarz were there, in the home of the gods. Pics: Michael Martin, Heike Bogdanski und Herbert Schwarz ; Text: Heike Bogdanski The reports of holy mountains, living gods and a peaceful religion have created this myth that surrounds Tibet. Tibet; the sound of its name alone leaves you longing to go. There, on the roof of the world, where the earth is at its most remote, is Mount Kailash, the holy mountain of Tibetans. The site of supernatural forces and the embodiment of the divine in an earthly form, Mount Kailash has been a destination for Buddhist pilgrims for a long time. Herbert and I do not quite know what to expect. The information on this part of the world that we have received so far could hardly have been more conflicting. At least we have permission, which allows us access. It seems a long time since we left Delhi, the starting point of our journey. We did not encounter any problems during the journey out of India; it could even be described as friendly. In Kathmandu, we met Michael Martin and Elke Wallner, who wanted to film and photograph the journey with us and we now stand together in Kodari at the border.

3 A ford at 4,000 meters of altitude can be not only wet and demanding, but cold too. A slow customs official leads us from one office to the next for one stamp after another and then finally the gate to the Friendship Bridge opens, leading the way into Tibet. We are expected there by our minders, who are assigned to every tourist entering Tibet. Our guide is called Dawa, a Tibetan; he and his colleagues will drive behind us in a jeep. A lorry with fuel supplies and provisions is also coming along. After a night at a hotel in the Tibetan border town of Zhangmo, we set off to scale the "Roof of the World". From Zhangmo, the route is continuously uphill, initially along forested slopes, but after a while the air becomes too thin for the vegetation. Then we reach the first pass, the Tong-La, 5,120 metres high. We are out of breath, not only due to the altitude, but also because the unlimited panoramic view is breathtaking. The body is forced to adapt to the altitude in a hurry seven hours later I feel light-headed and sick. Altitude sickness. But anyway, we must all get through this, because the rest of the journey will take place at over 4,000 metres of altitude. The tracks are good, so there's no need for us to constantly keep our eyes on the gravel. In the evening, we ride across the plateau of Tingri, from where we can see the peak of Mount Everest in the sunset. This turns out to be the last pleasant moment before a terrible night. We stay in a pleasant guest house in Tingri, but the altitude sickness takes its toll. Headaches and sickness keep forcing

4 me out of bed. The next day, our intended destination is Lhaze. To get there we must traverse the 5,220 metre-high Jia Tsuo La. In Ngamring, we rent loud and generally awful digs; without a toilet and without food. Because of this, we do not get onto our bikes in the best of moods the next morning. But the mood improves with each kilometre; it even becomes euphoric in the evening. Today we want to camp and enjoy the peace and quiet. Unfortunately, strong winds start blowing and the tents our companions have brought with them are not up to this weather. We have no other choice than to retreat to a guest house. On the way to Paryang, the trail gets worse and worse with deep holes, ruts and occasional patches of sand that we have to struggle through. We ride according to our GPS, always in a north-westerly direction, and hope that we can find the main trail again. Nowhere else do people live closer to heaven. But touring in the Himalayas is demanding for both man and machine. The friendliness and curiosity of the Tibetan people charms visitors. From Paryang, our destination, Mount Kailash, is already within our grasp. This evening, we will hopefully be able to view its snow-covered peaks for the first time. The last pass still separating us from Mount Kailash is the Mayum La. During the ascent we watch for the fluttering prayer flags which indicate the top of the pass. But nothing of Mount Kailash can be seen from the highest pass of our journey, at an altitude of 5,217 metres. It is only 90 kilometres later that we reach a small hill with the bikes and there it is. However, the snow-covered summit of Mount Kailash looks out across the horizon unspectacularly. We continue to Hor, from where, due to Chinese controls, we can only proceed as a group in the car. We approach Mount Kailash. The summit protrudes 6,714 metres into the sky, visible from far afield. For three days, we stay at Darchen, at the foot of Mount Kailash. We go on small excursions, explore the giant city of tents

5 that has formed around Darchen, watch the pilgrims arriving from their kora and wait for the Saga Dawa festival that takes place on the night of a full moon. The birthday of Buddha is on the 15th day of the fourth month of the year. Thousands of pilgrims are there when the Tarboche, a nine-metre high pole, is pulled down to be decorated with prayer flags. Mount Kailash towers majestically in the background. Prayer notes are thrown into the air, accompanied by joyful shouts from the pilgrims, until the area is strewn with the coloured sheets. It is said that wind horses carry the printed wishes across the land. In the meantime, the people are getting more and more excited and before we have grasped what that is all about, a deafening cheer breaks out around us. The Tarboche is raised and we join the flow of the mass of people to the foot of the pole to watch the ceremonies. Music from archaic instruments and the cheers of the pilgrims can be heard throughout the festival proceedings. People wearing masks surround the Tarboche; a horde of nomads on their horses race around this central point of the kora, shouting loudly. It is the climax of the ceremony. We carry on to Lake Manasarovar. In the Tibetan story of creation, Tibet was created from the sea and this lake near Mount Kailash has thus been a place of worship since time immemorial. The land between the holy mountain and Lake Manasarovar is seen as the seat of the gods. The tranquillity of the lake contrasts sharply with the chaos on Mount Kailash. We drive around the mountain where the Chiu Gompa monastery is located and arrive at a hot A tent in the expanse of the plateau always generates attention. The Tibetans soon become aware of such lodgings and are happy to drop in for a chat.

6 A tour through Tibet is also a tour in the shade of mountains up to 8,000 metres in height. spring, the water of which is fed into a small bathing house. The tiled bathtubs are a little slimy and the water that runs out of a pipe the width of a finger smells of sulphur. But we haven't had a proper wash for a long time, so this bathing house is paradise for us. Outside it is snowing when we make the journey back to Hor, where the motorbikes are waiting for us. The next morning, we depart for the base camp on the mountain of all mountains, Mount Everest. The weather will vary between snow, wind and sunshine for the next 200 kilometres. From one pass, we can see the Peikutso, a giant saline lake, the blue of which competes with the sky as it sits alone on a plateau. To the south, the Shisha Pangma stretches 8,012 metres into the sky. mountain. A few tea tents, some rubbish bins, and that's it. Nevertheless, the view of Everest itself is extraordinary and we only ride back once the summit has retreated into the depths of the clouds. On the last evening, we cast another look at the Himalayas. The rays of the setting sun bathe the snowy peaks in an orange light. One by one, the summits disappear slowly into the twilight. Like scenes from a dream world our experiences in Tibet remain in my head. But the stresses and strains of the journey have slowly faded from my memory. The base camp of Mount Everest is desolate, much like the barren landscape around it. We sense nothing of the myth that surrounds this