Tibet > The sacred Yamdrok Lake

Today we will leave Lhasa for good, embarking on a long travel day. We are beginning our journey toward the Himalayas, with the highlight being a visit to the base camp. At half past seven, the bus is already waiting outside, and once again we have a new guide. From today, Tamdul will accompany us until the border with Nepal. Normally, you can travel to Gyantse via the northern pass, but that route has been closed for two years due to road construction. Tibetans believe that the Chinese are building a hydroelectric power plant along that route, which is why the road remains closed. This means we have to take a long detour — and not a small one.

Tibet - The large Yamdrok Lake

We first drive from Lhasa to Lake Yamdrok Tso. This lake, with its crystal-clear blue water, is the sacred lake of the Tibetans, situated at nearly 4,500 meters above sea level. The Chinese government has constructed a hydroelectric plant at the lake and uses its water for energy production, causing the lake’s water level to drop by two meters each year. The road leading up to the lake pass is spectacular — over twenty kilometers of hairpin bends and steep drop-offs. Along the way, we pass several cyclists struggling up the incline. From the open bus window, we cheer them on enthusiastically. The climb involves a vertical difference of over one kilometer. When we reach the top, it feels like a fairground. Many minibuses with Chinese tourists have already arrived, and souvenir vendors are everywhere. You can even have your photo taken with a decorated yak or dog. I stroll along the stalls and climb partway up the hill, where it’s quieter and the view is unobstructed. Looking over the lake, it’s hard to imagine that in a few decades it may disappear due to the falling water level. The wind is strong up here, and despite my new windbreaker, it feels quite chilly at 4,750 meters. I head back to the bus and find a spot sheltered from the wind. When everyone has returned, we continue our journey. Because of ongoing roadworks along the lake, we have to drive all the way back down the pass and take the main road to Shigatse.

Tibet - The Kumbum Stupa in the Gyantse Monastery

There’s a shortcut to Gyantse, but it’s not suitable for buses — only for 4x4 vehicles. So today we really have to make a long detour. We stop for lunch along the river. The spot isn’t great — it’s windy and has clearly been used as a toilet stop by others before us. We find a quieter (and cleaner) place and eat our packed lunches. Tamdul tells us that this river is the longest in Tibet and that it originates from Mount Kailash. As we continue, most people doze off. The legroom on the left side of the bus is limited, making it hard to sit comfortably. Fortunately, the driver keeps up a steady pace — until we suddenly have to stop again to avoid getting a speeding ticket. Tamdul explains that police checks have become stricter since a serious accident two months ago. A little after five, we reach Shigatse. The final stretch to Gyantse is another 90 kilometers, and by now I’m thoroughly tired of the bus — and especially the seat. Approaching Gyantse, there seem to be fewer checkpoints, so the driver speeds up, honking loudly as we pass through small villages. It starts to drizzle lightly, and a beautiful rainbow appears on the horizon. From the bus, we all try to capture it between the trees, though the camera’s delay makes it tricky. Still, it helps the time pass faster. Around seven o’clock, we finally see Gyantse in the golden light of the setting sun. The monastery, the stupa, and the fortress rise proudly above the town. We can also see the mountain we’ll be able to climb tomorrow — a summit at 5,050 meters. I’m exhausted after the long day and relieved to arrive at the hotel. I don’t feel like going out for dinner; I just want to rest. While preparing a cup of soup, the electric kettle blows the fuse. The maid, who speaks only Chinese, comes to check the lights. We point to the kettle, but she doesn’t understand. The technician replaces the fuse, and the receptionist — who knows a few words of English — insists there’s “no problem.” When the power comes back on, the fuse immediately blows again. We unplug the kettle and indicate the issue. Another fuse is installed, and we have light again. The receptionist confidently plugs the kettle back in to show it’s fine — but since it’s not switched on, we’re soon back in the dark once more. The technician glares at her before replacing the fourth fuse. Eventually, after boiling water in another room with a different kettle, I finally enjoy my soup and head to bed.