Text and photographs by Michael McCarthy
June, 2012, Vol. 16, No. 6
Maoist terrorists appeared as we reached 17,500 feet. How untimely, in another half hour of excruciating effort, we would have summited the mighty Gandala Pass. It was then downhill to Shey Meadows, a Tibetan plateau tucked away in the remote corner of northwestern Nepal. I pulled out my digital voice recorder.
“Looks like we are going to be captured,” I said softly.
“No, put away,” cried lama Tenzin. “They see you, they think CIA.”
In 1937, novelist James Hilton wrote the bestseller Lost Horizon, a novel about an imaginary paradise hidden in the Himalayas. He named it Shangri-la. Ever since, determined travellers have been searching for this hidden Himalayan valley, where time supposedly stands still, and peace rules. While few will ever experience heaven on earth, a perfect Himalaya valley does exist, one that feels like Shangri-la. Getting to it, however, remains another matter altogether.
In his classic 1979 The Snow Leopard, master storyteller Peter Matthiessen described how, in search of himself, he discovered this hidden corner of the Upper Dolpo during his spiritual odyssey. Few westerners have followed in his footsteps. Despite the enormous popularity of the book (it remains in print to this day), there is a good reason why so few tourists ever venture to Upper Dolpo; it’s virtually impossible to reach.
In 2009, a truce was declared in Nepal’s seemingly endless civil war, and the region became again safe for tourism. Intrepid travellers, who are willing to pay $70 U.S. per person per day, are welcome to journey to Upper Dolpo. Given the difficulty, few accept the challenge.
Pulling out the extended zoom lens of my Panasonic Lumix, I noted three tiny dots in the distance had grown larger and closer. They appeared to have sprouted two legs, had no packs, and were moving fast. We had journeyed five hard hiking days to reach Gandala pass, followed by ten hours of steady vertical climbing up from our overnight 12,500 foot Black Canyon camp. Eventually, we began staggering more than walking, sitting longer than staggering, gasping more than breathing. Death from altitude sickness, either cerebral or pulmonary edema, is just another danger on the path. Maoists were the most dreaded.
“Psst, put away!” cried lama Tenzin. “They see, they shoot!”
I first read The Snow Leopard and twenty years ago it would never have occurred to me that I would have an opportunity to travel to such an incredible place. When I met Lama Tenzin in San Francisco, and he first spoke of our trekking together to the almost mythical Land of Dolpo to study the last vestiges of pure Tibetan culture left on earth, it still didn’t occur to me that I would follow exactly in Matthiessen’s footsteps. But when we finally arrived at the magic moment on the edge of Upper Dolpo, my mind went blank and self-preservation was my only goal.
The first Maoist arrived. He appeared to be the leader, a wicked-looking kukri swinging from his side and a pistol poking from his shoulder bag. Looking up from my boot, which I had been studying with vague wonder for a long time, I nodded. He said nothing and trudged on towards the pass high above, disappearing into the mist. I sat and wondered; was my journey over, just as I was about to reach my destination?
Most of the year, heavy summer monsoons and winter snows make Nepal’s Upper Dolpo region inaccessible. There is a small window of opportunity in spring and fall to enter, explore and exit, but trekkers must plan ahead to traverse approximately 500 kilometres (300 miles) over one of the world’s most demanding trails. There are few bridges along the route and lashing summer rains turn rivers into raging glacial torrents, making them impossible to cross. Along the trail one must pass legendary Phoksumdo Lake, a place where the trail to Shey hangs off the edge of the cliff. Dangling like a thin necklace above aquamarine waters, the path becomes a challenge to the most intrepid trekker.
Upper Dolpo has no roads, towns, stores, hospitals, and very little food. Locals, who barely survive in tiny villages, grow barley, which they mix with black Chinese tea. Mainly they subsist on yak milk, cheese and meat. Trekkers determined to explore the region must carry all their own food and supplies. The steepness and height to be traversed while carrying loads weighing eighty pounds make it difficult to find porters. Then, there is the danger of the Maoists.
Finally staggering onto the Pass, a ridge at 17,800 feet, we first viewed the wild tableau of Tibet’s plateau. A landscape of torn and jagged peaks extended toward a distant horizon. Among the endless valleys was the invisible land of Shambala, the center of the universe of which ancient Tibetan scriptures speak. We sat down and waited to hear of our fate.
When obtaining our trekking passes to this region, we had been warned of the possibility of capture, so I had hidden 15,000 rupees in my pack as a possible ransom. After a long discussion by lama Tenzin in Tibetan, we reached an agreement with our captors and I handed over all my money to the Maoist captain. We were free to go.
Descending with alacrity, in three hours we arrived at the legendary meadows at 15,000 feet (5,000 metres), its Buddhist gompa (temple) standing guard like some medieval castle over the precious little valley. I sat down next to a prayer wheel described in The Snow Leopard. It felt like I was in a dream. Eventually I staggered to my feet to wander dazedly. Was this truly Shambala?
Shey is a no larger than a dot on the map, and maps of this remote region are virtually non-existent. There are no tourist attractions to explore aside from the little gompa temple, which is closed most of the time. There are no accommodations of any sort, aside from a few stone huts in which one solitary monk has lived in isolation for decades. Entertainment consists of attempting to breathe steadily or trying to find successful ways to create a fire to heat a freeze-dried meal.
So why in the world would Matthiessen name Shey Meadows as a paradise on earth, a virtual Shangri-La? Herders from nearby villages come to graze their beasts and to search for yarchigumba, a magic mushroom said to cure cancer among other illnesses, an herbal remedy that sells for astronomical prices to Chinese buyers. Aside from that, there is nothing here, no reason to risk life and limb to reach such a faraway place.
But the beauty of the landscape defies description. In all directions around the valley snow clad peaks exceeding 25,000 feet (8,000 meters) pierce a deep blue sky. Shey may be the highest inhabited village in the world. Here, in the midst of a world of wind, rock, snow and ice, a tiny green meadow somehow clings to the edge of survival. Yaks, goats and sheep grazed peacefully, and I wandered through it in a dream-like state.
I sat by a small stream that flows through the tiny valley. Crossing the stream was a small bridge and water-driven prayer wheels endlessly turning as they send prayers to the gods. It was identical to the description in Matthiessen’s classic book described. Truly, it seemed like heaven.
Prayer flags blew above a giant field of inscribed stones. Over thousands of years, pilgrims had carried these stones over the Himalayas. Standing above the field was the gompa, and above it towered the mighty Crystal Mountain, the harmonic center of the Buddhist universe.
I walked up to the gompa, expecting to find it locked, but an old woman, spinning wool, sat on the steps. When Matthiessen visited Shey Meadows, the gompa had remained locked. He regretted that he never got access. But during my visit, a gatekeeper had the keys to the temple, and she stood up to open it. The ancient dusty door creaked open, and I breathlessly ventured inside.
The building was dark, the only light coming from one small window. The ceiling was covered in prayer flags. The gatekeeper lit a small candle and placed it on the altar, where I noticed five Nepali rupees (10 cents) had been left. It appeared that the small offering to the gods had been left years ago.
I took off my boots. Fishing around for a crumpled 1,000-rupee note I had kept in my sock for emergencies, I put it on the altar. Her eyes grew as big as the drum she was holding. In the morning we would venture into the furthest reaches of the wilderness of Upper Dolpo.
Those lucky few that have, the will, determination, and endurance to reach this magical place will understand the ancient lesson that at the heart of Matthiessen’s masterpiece of travel literature. Truly, as he wrote, “It’s the journey and not the destination that really matters.”
If you go:
Trekking companies in the Nepal’s capital of Kathmandu will arrange a journey to Upper Dolpo. Daily flights on Buddha Air depart Kathmandu to Pokhara and Nepalganj in western Nepal. Yeti Air bush planes, sometimes grounded by fog, fly to Lower Dolpo. There is a tiny airstrip at 8,000 foot Juphal, the gateway to the trek to Dunai, then on the Upper Dolpo.
The fee for a pass into Shey Phoksumdo is $70 per person per day. Porters and horses can be hired in Dunai, the only village, located in Lower Dolpo. It takes a minimum of one month to trek round trip to the Upper Dolpo.
The only accommodations during my visit were a “guesthouse” in the village of Karang, a week’s hike from Dunai. Tents, sleeping bags and all food and medical supplies should be brought from Kathmandu. Satellite phones can be rented at a very high price from trekking companies, but the possibility of a helicopter rescue at this elevation is remote.
Photos:
The trail around Phoksumdo Lake, on the route to Upper Dolpo.
Field of prayer stones at Shey Meadows.
Monastery – This ancient building above 16,000 feet may be the highest inhabited building in the world.
Shey gompa – The Buddhist temple stands on a hill above Shey Valley.
Author and sherpa – Trekkers to Upper Dolpo must cross four passes of 18,000 feet (6,000 metres) each.
Shey Meadows – The entire valley and meadows is less than a mile long.
Gandala Pass – At 18,000 feet, this pass is one of the highest in the Himalayas.
Shey Village – The population of Shey is 4 people, swelling to a few dozen in the summer.
Yak – These shaggy beasts love to graze at the highest possible altitudes.