After our emotional nomad experience, we rattled and bumped our way for another 20 minutes or so until we came to a large rock set back from the Lake. This mini-Uluru held a surprise or two for us.
Leaving us at a rough stone hut near the rock, the driver went his way, to where we couldn’t imagine, and we five wandered off in ways various to explore.
Lisa and I made our way to sit on some big rocks, taking in the amazing vista of the lake with its frozen waves and the massive peaks beyond. Looking back over her shoulder, The Girl said, ‘There’s a man waving to us.’ Sure enough, out of nowhere, a man was beckoning to us, so clambering down from our rocks we followed him. As you do.
Urging us inside, he gently welcomed us into his home…a cave in the rock. Stone walls near the entrance served to protect the little home the man and his woman lived in. They were very well established in their cave.
We communicated with the incredibly curious, ever smiling and welcoming couple, maybe in their 30s, with sign language and words from our guidebook. We joined them for a cup of tea in the neatly organised front kitchen area with a small table and stools. Not yak-butter tea, fortunately. I made sure of that. And eagerly they offered us biscuits.
These people clearly didn’t have easy access to any supplies and we were reluctant to take their bikkies. However, they eagerly insisted, and we ate the very old and stale rocks with the Tea while the slender couple, small-in-stature, beamed at us with huge grins.
They had a little altar set up in one area, with a picture of a young monk which, we presumed, was the official Panchen Lama, appointed by the Chinese after the Dalai Lama’s choice of Panchen and his family mysteriously disappeared. They saw us take notice of the altar and discuss it. Looking cheekily at his wife, the man went to the altar and turned the photo around. And there he was, the ‘dangerous’ Dalai Lama whom the locals were not allowed to identify, let alone have an image. It was a huge show of confidence in us.
We gave appropriate indications of approval, and after having the tea and bikkies, thanked them profusely, but not as profusely as they thanked us. Wow! We regretted not having something we could give them in return, but they waved happily as we left, clearly as pleased with the encounter as we were.
They were not the only people with a cave house. A more elaborate one with a ‘coat of arms’ was nearby. We suspected this was the supposed monastery we were told about. Not the one we were expecting, but then, I don’t know what we were expecting. Nobody seemed to be there and there was certainly no welcoming mat and a greeting to take us to our rooms. We’d figured at this stage that the rock hut was our accommodation. Modest did not describe it adequately.
where we had a cup of real tea
Definitely Not What Was Expected
What we had was a rough stone hut. The beds were very dusty straw palliasses on the hardened earth floor and very dusty blankets. We had to be happy with our back packs as pillows. These conditions and the 4,800m altitude were the recipe for an horrific night for me.
I’d experienced oxygen deprivation in China earlier in the trip when we made our way to a monastery on a reasonably high mountain. Carrying full back packs, we wandered about at the top seeking our accommodation. Too much weight, too much time wandering about and in no time my head was splitting, and I was feeling decidedly unwell. Not nice, but I settled down okay once I stopped exerting myself.
Having taken the hint, we’d arranged for herbal treatments and a small oxygen container just in case, for the Namtso trip.
The level of dust in the single room shack was itself a challenge for my breathing. Combined with the altitude, I was not a happy sleeper. I used up the oxygen container in no time. Each time I moved, a cloud of dust surrounded me. I was exhausted, but each time I dropped off to sleep I stopped breathing, waking in shock, gasping for air. I must admit to a mild case of panic. It was awful.
Eventually I figured the only way to avoid the stress was to stay awake, mindful of our travelling companions. I tried but kept dropping off, then waking, gasping in horror. I decided the only way I’d keep myself awake was to sing (in my mind, of course) and try to remember the lyrics to many of the songs I’ve written. The significance of this to me was the fact that I seem to struggle remembering the lyrics to my own songs more than I do when I do covers. Weird. So that’s how the night went. Me trying to stay awake, singing away to myself, dropping off, waking in fright gasping. And it was freezing cold, of course.
The night dragged on and I prayed for morning. At the very first sign of light, I made my way quietly from the shack, careful not to raise too much dust. I was soon staring at the amazing site of the 7,000m. mountains soaring above Lake Namtso, with the first splash of sunlight illuminating the highest peaks. It was breathtaking. Well, I was taking deep breaths, anyway.
It wasn’t too long before the rest of the occupants left the hut, followed by their own dust cloud.
I can’t recall what we actually ate while we were there, but we must have had our own stuff with us. There were certainly no facilities that suggested otherwise.
After a little more general exploring and lots of yawning, we all made our way down by the lake, sat on rocks spaced around the place and soaked up the views while we waited for the driver.
I sat a little bit back from the lake from my companions. Over my shoulder I’d seen some nomads in the distance with what appeared to be a herd of goats and/or sheep. A short while later I looked again and saw that someone was walking towards us. A young girl was coming to say hello.
She walked right up and stood next to me, smiled, sunburned and dried cheeks and gleaming teeth, and, after offering a big smile to my companions, handed me a boiled lolly wrapped in cellophane. I was hugely surprised and super-reluctant to take it, for obvious reasons, but thought better as she looked at me, clearly expecting me to eat it. So, I unwrapped it and popped the very gritty lolly into my mouth and made yummy sounds. Seeing this she gave a huge smile and proceeded to walk to each of my companions and handed them a sweet.
Her task done, clearly with immense pleasure, another huge smile on her sun-parched face and she was off back to the herd, five sets of eyes watching her in fascination.
Our visit to Namtso ended just as ‘wow-full’ as it had started. We were to find that this was simply one of many remarkable things we experienced in Tibet. Extraordinary friendliness in unusual circumstances abounded.
Going there when we did was extremely fortuitous as China’s ambitions for the place were being set in motion. We saw military presence, but the full-on Han takeover, and make-over was just about to start.
This young lass walked a great distance to greet us with a boiled lolly sweet. The message of welcome we got from the locals was very special. Tripadvisor reviews from just 10 years later told of a very different Lake Namtso, with a lot of rubbish and unwelcome locals. These days a highway runs close to various sections of the lake, with the Chinese take-over just about complete.
Still to come – The rugged drive to Lake Namtso, a mind-blowing Jochang temple and The Barkhor experience, plus an open door at the palace of the Dalai Lamas, the wonderful Potala.
