Cruising down the highways of Tibet can easily be likened with the highways of life. There is plenty to occupy the mind, to appeal to the peripheries of the imagination; but it’s more profound experiences that really matter. No matter how wonderful the scenery, how amazing the formation of rock, if your heart isn’t there, it’s an empty unfulfilling time. How wondrous the sight that befalls the eye, how amazing the swirling patterns that volcanic layers form. Seeing the spectacle unfold is delightful, yet it holds holds no substance, there is more to life than a slideshow. Sat in a car, watching the scenery unfold, doesn’t fulfill me. I want so much more; I refuse to succumb to the vagaries of mainstream tourism, and so I instead plummet into misery. (Photo: Little Switzerland - Route 318, Tibet)
Who could criticise the bountiful sights that line the highway of Tibet? It’s a country that merits attention, a kingdom of heavenly wonder. The mountains beg to purge your soul of wanton thoughts, enwrap your heart and soothe your soul. This is the land to leave it all behind, forget your worries and heal your hurts. The faithful travel for many a mile to pay homage to the holiest of sites, they prostrate themselves for a thousand kilometers or more on their pilgrimage to the holy capital. I thought it admirable to see the faithful a few hundred km from Lhasa; after two days of travel to still see them heading to the holy city, well, I’m impressed. To see these people taking a few steps forwards then prostrating themselves, for hundreds of kilometers, makes me ashamed of failing to ride my bike the distance. (Photo: Pilgrimage - Route 318, Tibet)
The last thing on my mind was being a humdrum tourist, a rich bitch with more money than sense; Tibet was never about buying my ticket and enjoying the ride. My aim was to live the life, get out there and breath the natural freedom; the environs no government can curtail. But life is never so simple within the domains of Chinese control, they dictate every aspect of life. However far flung the destination, their say so is ultimate. And don’t the tour agents play on this, it doesn’t matter whether or not it’s possible, their say so is final. They play the system, lulling in the unsuspecting tourist and blaming the authorities for their own shortcomings, their own failures to deliver the goods as promised. And they do indeed promise to ends of the world: but delivery is seldom sweet. (Photo: Little Switzerland - Route 318, Tibet)
How many days I’ve been held in suspense amounts to how many days I’ve been travelling since re-entering Chins. The constant promise of camping, the constant failure to comply. My desires were simple yet explicit, I intended to travel the length of Tibet, camping along the way. I was assured this was possible, although neither the guide nor driver would accompany me; they’d retreat to the secure environs of the nearest town or village. The trouble was they wouldn’t even give the opportunity for me to camp at all; once a week was only managed with the greatest of effort. I’m sorry but pitching tent on the outskirts of a busy town doesn’t fulfill my criteria of a tranquil setting; it’s a measure of necessity not luxury, and I intended the luxury of full on natural bliss. (Photo: Homestead - Route 318, Tibet)
Tibet is amongst the most wonderful of places one can imagine travelling through, there is no doubt about that. No two days are comparable, from alpine scenery to arid desolation, it offers the lot. Terraced hillsides spring up in the most inhospitable of places, high altitude springs feed remote villages, veritable oasis of fertility nestle in the driest of hills. The people survive where least expected, along tiny paths threading between plunging drops on precipitous slopes. These are the villages where Han Chinese fear to tread, the living is too harsh for them to contemplate; profit is doesn’t exist, only a pernicious tenacity to survive can endure. The new towns are where the incomers abide, along the newly constructed roads, where passing traffic provides a steady flow of cash. (Photo: Arid mountainscape - Route 318, Tibet)
How delightful it was to awake one morning, to the sound of cows mooing, pigs grunting. On a quiet meadow, in a misty valley, I could escape the trappings of modern life; pretend for an hour or so I’d fond utopia. Of course it was all illusion, before I’d shaken loose the sleep from my eyes my chaperone had emerged, requesting when I’d be ready to make a move. How I wished I could maintain the dream of freedom, pretend I was truly at loose in the spiritual centre of the universe. But no, it was just another Han illusion, a pretense of being at one with nature. In reality we had hot and cold running water, flushable squat toilets, Wi-Fi and cooked breakfast; such is the Chinese sense of adventure. Mind you the pot-bellied pig was quite cute, she even rolled on her side to allow me to scratch her neck. (Photo: Terraced agriculture - Route 318, Tibet)
Oh, the relief of my new guide taking over the proceedings, my initial contact with the tour agency, this was a person who knew exactly what I wanted, a person who promised to deliver the goods. She was certainly better equipped to deal with people, but most important she knew of my insistence to be out there amongst the thick of nature; it had after all been the main selling point of the tour. If the first guy, Shanshan had rejoined the tour I think I would have refused. He was a brainwashed idiot, a fat fool able to do no more than regurgitate facts from the official book of Chinese trivia. Further more, he spoke English in a high class, patronising tone; of course he wasn’t going to enamour old working class Les. (Photo: High altitude road - Route 318, Tibet)
It was so nice to have friendly chatter filling the air, the driver became positively animated, clearly relieved at the new company. It relieved me also, no longer was the journey stifled with awkward conversation; I could stare mesmerized at the rolling slideshow of spectacular scenery without pregnant silence. Accompanied by her boyfriend there was a choice of English speakers to interrogate. And fair play, they were both willing to give honest opinions of the current state of China. Such a shame I had to break the reverie and confess how dissatisfied I was with the tour. Not that the country lacked much in the way of wonderment, only the complete lack of opportunity to grasp it by the balls; to eat, live and sleep amongst the best it had to offer, to savour Tibet’s great outdoors. (Photo: Rocky paradise - Route 318, Tibet)
And that is all I’ve wanted to do, to appreciate the true nature of this fabulous country. I wanted to sleep amongst the hills, by the lakes, gazing at snowy peaks from the shelter of my tent. There’s no taking away the marvelous scenery I’ve passed through, the huge smiles and well wishes hailed from the roadside. Tibet is amazing, the mountains beyond belief, the people lovely. But sat in a car, viewing it all from the comfort of a metal box, it’s sorely lacking. It’s never like this on a bike, and the only chance of recreating the experience was to be under canvas. Going from town to town, hotel to hotel, has failed to hit the mark. If only, oh if only, the powers that be opened the world to allow me to open my heart fully. What a lovely place the planet could be, if only! But we can’t live with if onlys, we have to make do with what we’ve got. What a bummer! (Photo: Rocky gorge - Route 318, Tibet)
Cruising down the highways of Tibet can easily be likened with the highways of life. There is plenty to occupy the mind, to appeal to the peripheries of the imagination; but it’s more profound experiences that really matter. No matter how wonderful the scenery, how amazing the formation of rock, if your heart isn’t there, it’s an empty unfulfilling time. How wondrous the sight that befalls the eye, how amazing the swirling patterns that volcanic layers form. Seeing the spectacle unfold is delightful, yet it holds holds no substance, there is more to life than a slideshow. Sat in a car, watching the scenery unfold, doesn’t fulfill me. I want so much more; I refuse to succumb to the vagaries of mainstream tourism, and so I instead plummet into misery. (Photo: Little Switzerland - Route 318, Tibet)
Who could criticise the bountiful sights that line the highway of Tibet? It’s a country that merits attention, a kingdom of heavenly wonder. The mountains beg to purge your soul of wanton thoughts, enwrap your heart and soothe your soul. This is the land to leave it all behind, forget your worries and heal your hurts. The faithful travel for many a mile to pay homage to the holiest of sites, they prostrate themselves for a thousand kilometers or more on their pilgrimage to the holy capital. I thought it admirable to see the faithful a few hundred km from Lhasa; after two days of travel to still see them heading to the holy city, well, I’m impressed. To see these people taking a few steps forwards then prostrating themselves, for hundreds of kilometers, makes me ashamed of failing to ride my bike the distance. (Photo: Pilgrimage - Route 318, Tibet)
The last thing on my mind was being a humdrum tourist, a rich bitch with more money than sense; Tibet was never about buying my ticket and enjoying the ride. My aim was to live the life, get out there and breath the natural freedom; the environs no government can curtail. But life is never so simple within the domains of Chinese control, they dictate every aspect of life. However far flung the destination, their say so is ultimate. And don’t the tour agents play on this, it doesn’t matter whether or not it’s possible, their say so is final. They play the system, lulling in the unsuspecting tourist and blaming the authorities for their own shortcomings, their own failures to deliver the goods as promised. And they do indeed promise to ends of the world: but delivery is seldom sweet. (Photo: Little Switzerland - Route 318, Tibet)
How many days I’ve been held in suspense amounts to how many days I’ve been travelling since re-entering Chins. The constant promise of camping, the constant failure to comply. My desires were simple yet explicit, I intended to travel the length of Tibet, camping along the way. I was assured this was possible, although neither the guide nor driver would accompany me; they’d retreat to the secure environs of the nearest town or village. The trouble was they wouldn’t even give the opportunity for me to camp at all; once a week was only managed with the greatest of effort. I’m sorry but pitching tent on the outskirts of a busy town doesn’t fulfill my criteria of a tranquil setting; it’s a measure of necessity not luxury, and I intended the luxury of full on natural bliss. (Photo: Homestead - Route 318, Tibet)
Tibet is amongst the most wonderful of places one can imagine travelling through, there is no doubt about that. No two days are comparable, from alpine scenery to arid desolation, it offers the lot. Terraced hillsides spring up in the most inhospitable of places, high altitude springs feed remote villages, veritable oasis of fertility nestle in the driest of hills. The people survive where least expected, along tiny paths threading between plunging drops on precipitous slopes. These are the villages where Han Chinese fear to tread, the living is too harsh for them to contemplate; profit is doesn’t exist, only a pernicious tenacity to survive can endure. The new towns are where the incomers abide, along the newly constructed roads, where passing traffic provides a steady flow of cash. (Photo: Arid mountainscape - Route 318, Tibet)
How delightful it was to awake one morning, to the sound of cows mooing, pigs grunting. On a quiet meadow, in a misty valley, I could escape the trappings of modern life; pretend for an hour or so I’d fond utopia. Of course it was all illusion, before I’d shaken loose the sleep from my eyes my chaperone had emerged, requesting when I’d be ready to make a move. How I wished I could maintain the dream of freedom, pretend I was truly at loose in the spiritual centre of the universe. But no, it was just another Han illusion, a pretense of being at one with nature. In reality we had hot and cold running water, flushable squat toilets, Wi-Fi and cooked breakfast; such is the Chinese sense of adventure. Mind you the pot-bellied pig was quite cute, she even rolled on her side to allow me to scratch her neck. (Photo: Terraced agriculture - Route 318, Tibet)
Oh, the relief of my new guide taking over the proceedings, my initial contact with the tour agency, this was a person who knew exactly what I wanted, a person who promised to deliver the goods. She was certainly better equipped to deal with people, but most important she knew of my insistence to be out there amongst the thick of nature; it had after all been the main selling point of the tour. If the first guy, Shanshan had rejoined the tour I think I would have refused. He was a brainwashed idiot, a fat fool able to do no more than regurgitate facts from the official book of Chinese trivia. Further more, he spoke English in a high class, patronising tone; of course he wasn’t going to enamour old working class Les. (Photo: High altitude road - Route 318, Tibet)
It was so nice to have friendly chatter filling the air, the driver became positively animated, clearly relieved at the new company. It relieved me also, no longer was the journey stifled with awkward conversation; I could stare mesmerized at the rolling slideshow of spectacular scenery without pregnant silence. Accompanied by her boyfriend there was a choice of English speakers to interrogate. And fair play, they were both willing to give honest opinions of the current state of China. Such a shame I had to break the reverie and confess how dissatisfied I was with the tour. Not that the country lacked much in the way of wonderment, only the complete lack of opportunity to grasp it by the balls; to eat, live and sleep amongst the best it had to offer, to savour Tibet’s great outdoors. (Photo: Rocky paradise - Route 318, Tibet)
And that is all I’ve wanted to do, to appreciate the true nature of this fabulous country. I wanted to sleep amongst the hills, by the lakes, gazing at snowy peaks from the shelter of my tent. There’s no taking away the marvelous scenery I’ve passed through, the huge smiles and well wishes hailed from the roadside. Tibet is amazing, the mountains beyond belief, the people lovely. But sat in a car, viewing it all from the comfort of a metal box, it’s sorely lacking. It’s never like this on a bike, and the only chance of recreating the experience was to be under canvas. Going from town to town, hotel to hotel, has failed to hit the mark. If only, oh if only, the powers that be opened the world to allow me to open my heart fully. What a lovely place the planet could be, if only! But we can’t live with if onlys, we have to make do with what we’ve got. What a bummer! (Photo: Rocky gorge - Route 318, Tibet)
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