Issue:
Spring 2002

Text:
Rockwell T. Rookey

Photography:
Rockwell T. Rookey

Geographic Region:
Tibet, Asia

Pages:
70 - 77

Tankbag Maps:
Download Map 1

Visit the gallery for more pictures

 

Himalayan Roadrunners, Ltd. is the sponsor for this article. The complete article and all maps are now available. — www.ridehigh.com

Closed to the outside world throughout history, first by the Tibetans themselves and then by the Chinese after their 1949 invasion, Tibet has always been a place of mystery and wonder. Many of us are aware of conditions in the country and the Chinese occupation through movies such as "Seven Years in Tibet" or the teachings of the 14th Dalai Lama who fled in 1959.

This trip is extra special because it's the first time a visit is being attempted with a group riding motorcycles. Making this possible was no easy task. It took Patrick Moffat of Himalayan Motorcycles Tours and Burt Richmond of Lotus Tours three years of negotiations with Chinese authorities to obtain the permits. Our group of ten, lead by Patrick started out as strangers from a wide variety of backgrounds, riding experience, age, size and shapes, but sharing a common passion for motorcycles. The expedition also includes three Indian mechanics Alam, Oslam and Oslam, three support vehicles to carry bottled water, fuel, spare parts and luggage with Nepalese and Tibetan drivers and guides.

The chosen mounts are 1996 and 1998 models of the 500cc single-cylinder Enfield Bullets, manufactured in India since 1966 when the factory closed up shop in England. With a 6.5 to 1 compression ratio, the bikes are well suited to run on the local 79-octane gas. The 4-speed transmission (right-foot shift, 1 up 3 down), drum brakes, kick-starter and ribbed front tire take some getting used to and require concentration to ride. But the instructions are simple: keep it below 60 mph so the engine does not overheat and seize, try not to use the front brake as they grab (exciting on dirt) and don't use the headlight because that will kill the battery.

Beginning in Kathmandu at an elevation of 4,400 feet, the first challenge is a short ride through city traffic to the first stop in Dhulikal. Traffic is slow, dense and on the left side of the road. The air is thick with dust, diesel fumes and 2-cycle engine smoke. It is proper and the law to continuously beep – when being passed, when passing, merging, at pedestrians and cows on the road, and at bicycles. The right-of-way favors those of size. "Might has right," is the unsung slogan of the Tata truck and bus drivers. It is common to have a bus (beeping) heading at me in my lane passing a truck (beeping). Of course I beep back and for self-preservation drive off the edge of the road to give room. Actually not as big of a deal as it sounds because the speeds are slow but the quarters are close. Only one biker slid a bit under the rear of a bus, a touch of brain fade due to the foot controls being opposite of a modern bike and that grabby front brake.

It feels good to be away from the heat, noise and smoke of Kathmandu. The Dhulikal Resort is wonderful, known for good food, excellent accommodations and a spectacular view of the Himalayas. Unfortunately, spring in the valley tends to be very overcast and I can only get a teasing glimpse of a peak or two.

I am up before dawn, excited about heading to the border. Take a quick shower that would have been much longer if I knew that it is going to be the last one with pressure and hot water until Lhasa. Today's the day I am going to ride across the border into Tibet. Excellent. Leaving the resort, the road is a paved switchback through green valleys, terraced mountains and winds along rivers. The elevation rises rapidly and within 40 miles the road is dirt, very dusty and we are at 6,500 feet, heading for the border at Kodari.

Kodari is a shantytown of plywood shacks, a couple of brick buildings, and the very official gate is only a red and white bamboo pole. From all the truck traffic, the dirt road is worn, exposing outcroppings of sharp rocks, an interesting surface to drive on as I maneuver around and cut through a long line of parked Tatas. The traffic jam is the result of 1,000 feet of missing road from a landslide on the three miles of switchback road from the border to Zhang Mu. The border crossing turns out to be a real nightmare and takes far longer than we anticipated. The delay is not due to the landslide but to the addition of a new official form since the recon trip Patrick took a few months earlier. This crossing is notorious for smuggling and a government crackdown changed the "man" in charge. Too bad, as the new fellow is not receptive to our pleas, begs or bribes and will not allow us to take our bikes out of Nepal without the additional paperwork.

We spend the day at Kodari, amuse ourselves watching truck drivers play pool, eat a surprisingly good but simple meal of rice and green stuff, and drink three liters of water (minimum per day). Jim teaches the kids how to use a yo-yo and Faust leads a rock-throwing contest. Accepting the fact the bikes will remain in Nepal for at least one night, we walk across the Freedom Bridge, the first of many Chinese checkpoints 100 feet into Tibet. At least I am in Tibet.

A most stern woman heads this checkpoint up, she checks and rechecks our papers and yells at Ken for sitting on what could only be a very special rock. Getting the okay from the wicked witch of the east, we climbed into the back of a Tata truck with our gear and drove past 300 feet of plywood shacks, homes and businesses of one sort or another. Bumping, beeping and grinding gears, we proceed up the mountain. I opt to sit on the roof with one of the shady Chinese money exchangers rather than doing the cattle thing in the back. I have to pay attention to tree branches and not be distracted by the sound of rocks kicked up by the tires tumbling over the edge into the valley below. The view of the valley is beautiful, Nepal south of the rushing mountain river and Tibet with snow-covered peaks on the north.

Approaching the slide, everyone discussed solutions for getting the bikes past the boulders and rubble. Patrick was great – this was never an obstacle, just a slight annoyance. We unloaded the equipment and carefully hiked over the slight annoyance to a waiting bus that took us to the top. Another checkpoint waits, this one being very official with iron gates and armed soldiers. A group of Tibetans behind the gate look for work unloading trucks and carrying freight past the slide.

With not much to do but wait, I wander around Zhang Mu, check out the local bars, people watch and continuously tell the irritating money exchangers that I did not need their services. From the roof of a restaurant with binoculars I can see the Bullets lined up at the border and watch the blasting of the mountain in the process of repairing the road.

The high point of the day is getting together to eat. I enjoy the six to eight different types of steamed vegetables, rice and soup that we have at almost every meal. Occasionally there are eggs and some kind of mystery meat. Everyone's overall favorite, unbelievably, is French fries. I also have my first experience with yak cheese and the Tibetan staple – hot, rancid, yak-butter tea. The cheese ranged from a mild Swiss to something like bitter sand. And the tea is simply unbelievable. Smelling it without inducing nausea is almost impossible; forget about drinking it.

Zhang Mu has a large Chinese military presence, as do most Tibetan towns. Where there are military there are also bars and ladies practicing the world's oldest profession, very easy to recognize among the Tibetan population, with their four-inch platform shoes and provocative outfits. This is also where we had our first taste of loud Chinese discos. I slept with earplugs installed while the windows of the mildewed and peeling wallpapered room rattled through the night.

After two days of hell, we receive word that the proper official form has been obtained and we will be out of here in the morning. We eat breakfast at 6 a.m. for an early start because we have to trek down the mountain. No vehicles can get through the backup of Tatas on either side. Crossing back into Nepal, we receive the stamp of approval, cross the bridge, do the checkpoint thing, and ride our bikes up to the slide. Patrick's can-do attitude, abetted by ten hired Tibetans, lifts, tugs, drags and basically carries the bikes over the boulders and rubble to the top of the newly constructed stone retaining wall where we roll them pass the missing road. We are on our way with the added experiences of a trek and truck ride.

Back in Zhang Mu, we have lunch, load the trucks and head for Nyalam and the Tibetan plateau. I will not be below 12,000 feet for the remainder of the trip. I can feel the effects of oxygen depletion; breathing increases amazingly fast with minimal exertion and I get a slight headache late in the afternoon. Or maybe the headache is the result of the endless washboard surface and the lack of Enfield suspension more than the altitude. The view and ride along this section of road is spectacular, winding above a river with a 500-foot drop on the left and a 1,000-foot wall on the right, not the best place to meet a Tata.

Streams and mud provide the opportunity to test how well an Enfield takes to water, one stream being two-feet deep. The road surface, in addition to the mud and water, ranges in consistency from hard-packed dirt and talcum-powder-fine sand traps to loose marbles that the ribbed front tire is not overly fond of. I have to pay attention or I can get a good tank-slapper going (handle bars/front wheel moving violently back and forth).

Riding higher and higher, we cross the first Himalayan pass at 16,500 feet on the way to our overnight stop in Nyalam. The highest point of each pass is marked with hundreds of waving white, red, yellow, blue and green prayer flags and piles of stones. Tibetans believe that the wind releases the prayers written on the waving flags. This is the first great view of the snow-capped mountain range, accentuated by the deepest royal blue sky.

We ride into Nyalam and pass under the sign "Nyalam Hotel, We Have Clean, Homley (sic) Rooms & Restaurant with Best Service" which is not too far off. The next day we are up at 6 a.m. again and headed to our next destination, Tingri.

Tingri is great, our first real Tibetan village. Our guesthouse is excellent; the year could be 2,000, 1800 or 1500. There is no running water, a well with bucket and rope, dirt floors and a very open toilet (with the typical hole in the floor) but in an untypical location, on the roof of a building with an unobstructed evening view of "billions and billions" of stars. Travelers meet for tea, conversation and dinner in the main living room, which centers around a wood/yak-dung burning stove where the food is prepared. This is also where the owner's family sleeps. The sleeping accommodation is attached, tiny dirt-floor rooms with wall-to-wall beds and no heat. Thank God for sleeping bags.

One of the two Tibetan women who cooked our meals wants a ride on a motorcycle. Charlie volunteers, riding around the compound with dogs barking, kids laughing and the lady screaming behind him – too funny.

That night while playing cards in the main room, three armed Chinese soldiers visit us. They check IDs, asks questions; it was interesting observing how they do not approach any westerners.

From Tingri there is a breathtaking view of the north face of Chomolangma (Mt. Everest) towering above the surrounding brown and barren landscape. It is amazing that this moonscape is home to nomads with yak and sheep and a few simple farms (only potatoes and barley grow at this elevation). After the occupation, the Chinese forced the Tibetans to abandon their staple crops of barley and potatoes and grow other crops. The failure of those crops resulted in the starvation of thousands.

Up early we head towards Jia Tsuco La pass, at 17,100 feet, the highest of our journey on the way to Lhatze. At each isolated village, the locals (Tibetans) wave, smile and the kids yell "Hello!" The temperature drops as we climb the pass and snow begins to fall. Upon reaching the summit in a full-fledged snowstorm with a temperature of 25°F, to our disbelief, a Tibetan family, husband, wife and two kids, walk by, "Hello." Off in the distance, a man leads his six yaks over the pass. Unreal.

Pierre, the sole Canadian, nicknames the pass "Death Mountain." The increasing snow and ice built up on my goggles compounds the already poor visibility. The road is rutted, steep, with water crossings and mud presenting a challenge requiring total focus. While we're at the bottom, waiting for the group to catch up, a lone woman working in a muddy field walks over. We are dressed in the latest high-tech riding gear and cold, whereas she looks totally warm and comfortable in her sheep- and yak-wool clothing and the thinnest of shoes. We exchange smiles while she uses a shovel to remove caked, frozen mud from her shoes. Reaching into her clothing, she produces two white crystals four- to six-inches long. Charlie immediately asks how much and buys them.

At another checkpoint before entering Lhatze, it is strange to hear a Chinese military officer pronounce our names in perfect English. If we hoped for some comfort that night, we are disappointed. Wet and cold from the ride, we check into a hotel with no heat. None have heat. We have dinner under the watchful eyes of a crowd, staring at us through the window and following us everywhere we go. I stow my wet socks and gloves in my sleeping bag to dry them for the next day.

The next day's six-hour ride takes us to Shigatse and we ride along a 100-mile-long valley, crossing villages and taking the time to make contact with the inhabitants. At 12,600 feet, Shigatse is Tibet's second-largest city. We stay an extra day to rest, and visit one of the remaining Buddhist monasteries, Tashilumpo. In the dim light of the yak butter lamps, monks dressed in their orange robes meditate and invoke their psalmody of mantras: the dream is complete.

In the markets, we have fun mingling with the locals and bartering souvenirs for incense burners and prayer wheels to enhance our coffee tables at home, and we appreciate the universal power of the American dollar. No matter where we are or what we try to buy, everyone will trade in dollars.

One more pass to cross, 14,700 feet, easy stuff until a few of us decide to take a short hike up a hill for a better view. Who stole the oxygen? It is painful, just breathing so hard, and this is only half the elevation of Mt. Everest.

The ride along the Kyichu River to our destination, Lhasa, is wonderful. We ride for a few hours through a gorge with the river and high snow-capped peaks on our left and rugged rock walls on the right. A perfect day, bright blue sky with pillow-white clouds; the air is so clear that adjacent mountains appear within arms reach. As we get lower, green fields appear with spring plantings and small trees.

Patrick stops in front of a little store for the remainder of our 11-bike group to roll up. The sign ahead, one of the few I had seen in days indicates Lhasa is straight ahead and the airport to the right over a guarded bridge. We wait half an hour for everyone to catch up. The delay is due to a flat tire Jim and his temporary passenger Ardis had. Actually it is a blessing. If anyone should have the misfortune of a flat it is Jim. He can handle a 45-mph blowout with a passenger on a Bullet. We praise Alam, our 23-year-old head mechanic for repairing the tire in 40 minutes.

Up pulls the Toyota Land Cruiser support vehicle, on go the four-way flashers, and we proceed in convoy toward the city. Our lead Tibetan guide is associated with Babu Chiri, the man who set the record this year for climbing Mt. Everest in less than 16 hours from a base camp at 17,500 feet. This climb usually takes from two to four days.

Something is different as we approach Lhasa. No one is running up to the road to wave and yell hello. No one is stopping their daily chores to glance at the 11 Bullets. Traditional Tibet is gone. Buildings are Chinese, cold concrete and white tile fronts. The people are Chinese, the wide four-lane avenues are lined with shops selling everyday wares – "Made in China." We proceed straight through the first red light we've seen in 10 days. The traffic is lighter than I expected in Tibet's largest city and the air pollution is worse. We cruise past construction sites for hotels and government buildings. Approaching the center of town, we pass two 20-foot-tall, gold-colored yaks.

And finally, there it is on top of that hill! Huge, lonely but majestic in all of its symbolism and beauty: the Potala, the 1,000-room palace of the Dalai Lama. It is stuperdous. My thoughts are a simple but all-encompassing American, "Wow, this is so very cool."

We pull into a three-acre plaza of granite tiles with a fountain across the street. People are milling about, vendors selling their wares, food under tents, and loud hip-hop music beating in the background. Very strange. As soon as we stop, people (mostly Chinese) converge from all sides.

I am excited and happy for Patrick, a man I have come to admire, respect and ultimately befriended. I am very up, no aches or pains: the kidney belt sure helped. I can feel the mixed emotions in our group. Charlie Robinson and Barbara Ferrari of Lynchburg, Virginia, are on top of the world and deserve a special mention as they completed the entire trip two-up. Pierre is pumped, and Eric, Jillian, Sara and Jim are very talkative. Thinking back, some of the others are very quiet and seem just relieved it is finally over and they survived.

We line the bikes up for a group photo with the Potala Palace in the background. Ken, a six-foot five-inch, 300-pound giant with a beard and ponytail, asks if he should clear the crowd. One can imagine how the diminutive Chinese reacted as this mountain approached with his hands held high and yelling, "Back!" Everyone moved back very quickly as if on cue for a movie.

I have made it! I rode the Enfield over 600 miles of dirt, washboard, marbles, mud, water and dust traps. Could it really be over? We head off to our luxury hotel, hot showers (with water pressure), an excellent Tibetan meal and a bottle of French brandy. For those in need, an easy way to clean filthy riding gear is to simply wear it into the shower.

Since our expedition, Patrick has led five more groups on the same amazing roads and plans to keep running this tour as long as the Chinese will allow him to do so. It took several weeks for Ardis to stop feeling the road move from under her bike in Santa Fe. Faust and Ed are e-mailing their amazing photos. Charlie and Barbara are planning a trip across New Zealand. As for me, Macchu Pichu and some interesting roads in Peru are calling.

Until then, I will keep bragging how I became a hard-core adventurer, riding a Royal Enfield on the road to Lhasa.

FACTS AND INFORMATION
In General
The 12,000-foot-high Tibetan plateau (approx. the size of western Europe) is one of if not the most adventurous place on this earth. Isolated and protected for centuries by the Himalayan, Karakoram, Kunlun, the Altyn Tagh mountain ranges (the domain of the world's four highest peaks), the area is truly as mystical as all the legends would have you believe. The "Roof of the World" is home to the Buddhist kingdom of Tibet. Only until recently were westerners allowed to walk the sacred streets of the "Forbidden City" of Lhasa, our destination. I believe it is best said in the introduction of the Lonely Planet, "Tibet...offers fabulous monastery sights, breathtaking high-altitude, stunning views of the world's highest mountains and one of the most likable peoples you will ever meet. But you are never far from the reality of politics. For anyone who travels with their eyes open, a visit to Tibet will be a memorable, fascinating, but a sobering and at times even saddening experience."

Ways to Get There
Tribhuvan International Airport in Kathmandu, Nepal, is the destination whether traveling from the east or west. Either way it is a long journey, as most of you will be traveling to the other side of the globe. Some grief can be avoided if you do not fly through New Delhi, India, as this airport can be difficult at times. The return trip from Lhasa back to Kathmandu is by China Air on a Boeing 737 flying above Mount Everest.

Climate
The best time to visit is spring, early summer or late autumn. One wants to avoid the monsoon season, July to the end of September, and the winter can be very cold with snow at the upper elevations. If visiting in May, you could bump into teams that are on their way to attempt the summit Everest. Dress in layers as there is a wide temperature range and it is not unusual to have snow on the high passes.

Board & Lodging
Without question the best hotel in Kathmandu, Nepal, is the Shangri-La Hotel (the favorite of Sir Edmund Hilary). This was a real sanctuary from the noise, heat and exhaust of the city. Along the route there were a variety of accommodation from dirt-floored rooms, small guesthouses, and ending up at a top-rate hotel in Lhasa with a wonderful shower and all the hot water you could ever desire.

Money & Prices
Included is three meals a day, hotels, Enfield motorcycle, fuel, support team, tour guide, local historic guide, mechanics, luggage truck and internal airfare (Lhasa/Kathmandu). Souvenirs are very inexpensive and most all shops in Kathmandu and Lhasa accept credit cards.

Roads & Biking
This can be the experience of a lifetime or a your worst nightmare – the difference being your riding experience and physical shape. The bikes are wonderfully simple and as reliable as an old farm tractor with the power and ride of that same tractor. And with 95% of the roads being dirt, gravel and mud, this is not the place for new riders to hone their skills. Don't forget your kidney belt and goggles.

Books & Maps

• Lonely Planet Tibet by Bradley Mayhew, 352 pages, ISBN 0864426372, $15.50.
• The Tibet Guide: Central and Western Tibet by Stephen Bachelor, 416 pages, ISBN 0861711343, $21.50.
• Travelers' Tales Nepal by Rajendra Khadka, Raj B. Khadka, 423 pages, ISBN 1885211147, $15.50.

Addresses & Phone Number

• Lotus Tours, Burt Richmond, Sedwick Street,
  Chicago, IL 60614, phone (312) 951-0031;
  email: info@lotustours.com
• Himalayan Motorcycle Tours, Patrick Moffat, 7A/5, Channa Market, Karol Bagh,
  New Delhi, India;
  email: patrickmoffat@hotmail.com
• International Campaign for Tibet:
  www.savetibet.org. Excellent source of
  history and up-to-date political information.