Towards Shangri-la and Tibet: Dancing with the Tibetans – June 2006

Dancing with the Tibetans:
The 100 km. from the Tiger Leaping Gorge to Shangri-la were interesting because we had clearly entered Tibetan territory. The ride was not easy: 70 km. straight up before hitting a plateau 30 km. before the town. During that distance, we had ascended from 1800 m. to a cold 3200 m. The scenery changed about halfway, becoming distinctly Tibetan. The houses, white stupas, and prayer flags were the most obvious sign, as were the women in their vests, blue-fringed aprons over dark pants, and brightly-colored pink head scarves wrapped in a roll around their heads. When we reached Shangri-la, we once again saw Buddhist monks (we had seen almost none since entering China). Here, they wore maroon-colored robes and hiking boots instead of the saffron-colored robes and sandals of Southeast Asia.

Along the way, we passed a group of Tibetan women dancing in a square to traditional Tibetan music. There were dozens of them, dressed mostly in traditional costume. There was also one tall, fair girl with a blonde ponytail – an American university student named Ashley who was living among the women for four months and studying matriarchal and matrilineal societies. She knew the dances by heart – said it had taken three weeks to learn. She wore the same costume as the Tibetan women – but said that it was they who dressed her up like that every day! As soon as Ashley spoke to us, it was an immediate “in” with the women, who were so excited that Ashley had found new friends! With Ashley translating, we found out that they thought Stephane was very handsome and were very excited to have him among them – the only man in a group of several dozen doting women!

The two women with whom Ashley is living invited us to come visit them at their home. They brought out the tape cassette recorder and we practiced the steps to the choreographed dancing in the afternoon so that we could join in the festivities in the evenings. Every evening at 7 PM, they and several hundred others dance for two hours to Tibetan music in Shangri-la’s town square. They dance in a circle, and so many townspeople – including police officers in uniform – join in that it becomes quite crowded. I tried out my new moves, and it was great fun. It was only possible because Ashley walked me through the steps: “Turn right! Step, step, right foot stomp! Right arm up! Left arm up!” The entire town, from young to old, danced together.

Danger Looms…
After leaving Shangri-la, we headed towards our most challenging uphill climb yet. After an easy first day that included a 50-km. descent from 3300 m. down to 2100 m., we spent three days steadily climbing to an altitude of 4270 m. (14,100 ft.) over a 70 km. (42 mi.) stretch. Sixty-five percent of the road was made of cobblestone or dirt, making it not only uncomfortable, but treacherous by the cliff’s edge. As if the pressure and low oxygen level in the high altitudes didn’t already make things difficult enough, I developed a nasty cold and fever. We advanced at a measly 3.3-mi/hr. average on the cobblestones on the third day, and as my throat and ears burned terribly, I was ready to call it quits.

As often happens, though, we pressed on because we had no choice. We had been warned of altitude sickness, but didn’t experience much of a problem because of our slow ascent. Although difficult, the scenery was magnificent. The steep mountains ranged from rocky cliffs to forested, dark green mountains sporting pine trees with purple cones to those made of orange, mauve, pink, violet, blue-green, or slate-gray earth. Yellow buttercups and white and pink azaleas colored the mountainsides. There seemed to be not an inch of land that wasn’t covered by rivers, streams, or waterfalls. The nighttime sky was alive with twinkling stars. The fog lifted to reveal the tops of the mountains as we hit three consecutive passes at 4200 m., 4260 m., and 4270 m. We were as high as the snow, and the air was icy, even under the bright sun. We had the wind in our hair, the sun on our faces, the mountains and all the world before us….

The 187-km. stretch of road that separated Shangri-la and the border town of Deqin was quiet. We occasionally passed a Tibetan house or tent, which was made of wood or stone and covered with long strips of black yak hair and pine branches. It was a solitary existence; the tents were usually kilometers from the nearest one, and even then, only one or two people lived in a tent, with only the company of their furry yaks and a ferocious guard dog chained in front of their tent.

Through the wide-open spaces, danger loomed. The road was unpaved and rocky and strewn with falling rocks from vertical overhangs that narrowly missed us. It was sometimes entirely swept away by landslides. We had to climb over heaps of fallen rock and earth to find the other part of the very narrow road that followed the cliff’s edge.

In addition to the landslides and falling rocks was the very real danger of wild dogs. We’d heard stories for years about the dogs in Tibet, and I was a bit nervous, to say the least. The dogs in Yunnan and Tibet are regarded more as guard dogs than pets, and their ferocious names – such as “Hitler” or “Stalin” – often indicate as much. And the dogs in China are, indeed, scary. They are absolutely enormous and always vicious, bearing their huge fangs and lurching at you as if they haven’t been fed in weeks. Thank God they’re chained, except, of course, for the wild ones – which is why we carry long sticks and pepper spray. The dogs seem more of a cross between a bear and a wolf, and some even have a mane, making them look a bit like a lion!

Then, of course, was the fact that foreigners were not permitted to travel the road to Tibet. Because we were there illegally, we were never quite sure when or where we might be stopped by the police, fined, and sent on the next bus back to Chengdu. So we avoided towns, restaurants, and guesthouses – anywhere that we might be reported to the police or seen by the authorities. We crossed the towns by dark in order to avoid controls by the police, and of course, it was exactly during the nighttime that the wild dogs always seemed to most enjoy running down the mountainsides at us!