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Michael Höpfner | Hiking Journey from the Kyo Chu Valley to the Tsangpo, Central Tibet
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It’s early evening and I am sitting in my tiny one - man tent, covered with my sleeping bag and down jacket. It’s bitterly cold outside and has just started to snow – wet snow covering everything, transforming the landscape into black & white. I reached this place after crossing a nameless pass (perhaps it has a name, but I do not know it). It was the third pass of over 5000m that I’d crossed within the last four days. Now I am in the middle of a Beyul: a ‘hidden valley’.
As I write this diary, I am talking to myself. I realize that I have not met a human soul for three days.
The locals say that this valley is one of five hidden valleys that have provided shelter in times of crises and of war. According to their mythology, there are numerous caves deep in the surrounding mountains with lakes inside and space for thousands of people who want to survive and to seek refuge. The idea of hiding from the world, leaving the planet and living in an alternative, utopian space under the ground seems bizarre and fascinating to me. To hide in a cave and wait until things change or get better?
Ever since I started on my hiking trip to the centre of Lhasa, I carried this idea with me like my rucksack. In the early mornings, it felt strange to walk past brand new Land Cruisers, loaded trucks with goods, and all these fancy shops that have opened within the last few years. "Thanks to Central Government for Help and Supervision." I remember reading this slogan in English and Chinese as I walked over the only bridge spanning the Kyo Chu river.
Why do I have this desire to walk away, to leave everything behind, even if it’s just for a few days? Is it about losing myself? I got lost today and took a path up the wrong side of the valley, climbing the wrong mountain pass. But luckily I could orient myself again.
I discover a strange mixture of emotions: I despair and, at the same time, I feel completely free. To get lost. To leave society. To become a hermit.
Walking should be about the here and now, but the desire for the unknown remains.
To hide away in caves has to do with war, with an enemy. But who is the enemy today?
I discovered an entrance to one of these caves on the other side of the valley. It was covered with prayer flags and huge bundles of rope, poles and woolen tarpaulins that belonged to nomads who had set up camp somewhere around this area last summer. As it was late afternoon, I decided not to climb inside it and instead followed their tracks through the valley. That was hard enough.
When I think back over the last days, I’m struck by how much I have witnessed: the extinction of traditional life, ecological disaster. So is this the time to hide away?
Meanwhile my tent is completely covered under a thick layer of snow.
4 / 11 / 2006 Drak Yul
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Michael Höpfner, Map Diary, 2006.
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Michael Höpfner, Drak Yul Tent, 2006.
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