Altitude Sickness and Weirdo Tibetan Nomads

  Nam Tso Lake, China
Thursday, September 1, 2005

Nam Tso Lake, Tibet


"2 Hindus, 2 Mormons and Me Get High In Tibet"

After I explored Lhasa and the surrounding monasteries until I was a little bit Buddha'd out, I decided to head to Nam Tso Lake, 190 km north of Lhasa. The lake is 4,718m, (15,500 feet) above sea level and supposedly the highest altitude salt water lake in the world. At first I didn't really understand the significance of these numbers. They didn't really impress me. Later, when I was throwing up, they did.

Since I was now traveling alone and the only way to get to Nam Tso Lake is by renting a private 4x4 and driver, I started posting my name, hotel, and room number on the hotel bulletin boards around town, looking for fellow travelers to share costs with. By the time I got to my 2nd hotel I overheard 3 people talking about heading to Nam Tso Lake the next day. I said, "Hey, I wanna go there tomorrow too!" They said, "Great! Hop on board!" So within a couple of minutes I found a group that already had a 4X4 lined up for the next morning. Then when I got back to my hotel to take down the first message I'd posted, there was a guy writing a note back to me saying that he was looking to go to Nam Tso Lake the next day. So I said, "Great! Hop on board!"

The next day Cleveland and Celeste (Salt Lake City), Alvin (Vancouver), Sam (New Joysy) and I left at 5am (I still don't know whose idea this was or why we thought this was necessary) with a driver we couldn't communicate with, for a 7 hour ride to the really, really high Nam Tso Lake.

When we left Lhasa it was still pitch black outside and very foggy. So for the first couple of hours we tried to get to know each other in spite of being dead tired in order to nervously distract ourselves from all the near misses on the blind, blurry dark curves that we could hear better than we could see. Cleveland and Celeste were a nice couple that had just flown into Lhasa the night before and the first Mormons I've ever really gotten to know. Alvin and Sam (who we met separately) were coincidentally both of Indian descent and raised Hindu. Again, the first Hindus that this white-boy suburbanite had ever met. My graduating class of 900 had two and a half minorities. Strange to come from the "melting pot" and have to go all the way to Buddhist Tibet to meet my first Mormons and Hindus.

As we blindly climbed to Nam Tso Lake getting to know each other, I started getting a little dizzy. Not only from the thinning air, but from trying to comprehend the two vastly different religions that I was now learning about from my new fellow travelers. I knew next to nothing about Mormonism or Hinduism when I first jumped into the vehicle. I had tried reading the "Bhagavad Gita" (Hindu holy book) in college but didn't get very far. It was pretty boring if I remember right, like the genealogical sections of the old testament in the Bible. Unfortunately, climbing into the thinning air while my brain was slowly being deprived of oxygen probably wasn't the best time for my first "Introduction To Two Totally Opposite and Completely Incomprehensible Religions of the World" class. Trying to reconcile a 5,000 year old "monotheistic polytheist" religion that no one knows who started and has, depending on who you listen to, somewhere between 33 and 330 million gods, with a religion that was started by an American farm boy from upstate New York in 1830 after he translated some gold plates with ancient Egyptian writing on them that were given to him by an angel, and then, both the angel and the gold plates promptly disappeared after being translated... well, it kinda gave me a headache. I started to think fondly of my adolescent confirmation classes and how logical it was that the Holy Trinity was 3 totally separate Guys but also really the same Guy, and the simplistic rationality of virginal pregnancies.


On The Road To Nam Tso Lake, Tibet (L-R. Me, Cleveland, Celeste, and Sam. Photo by Alvin)

Once the sun came up and we could see our surroundings clearly, the scenery was amazing. As we climbed higher and higher we got closer and closer to soft looking, moss colored mountains in the distance. There were little streams running alongside the road, coming down from the mountains to join together and go looking for another, even bigger stream to hook up with. Every once in a while we would see big herds of yaks being tended to by nomadic shepherds either on foot, or on loud, pieced together Chinese motorcycles. Not far away from the yak herders there was always a small white or brown tent that was there home. It was enchanting.



Nomad Tent And Mountains On The Way To Nam Tso Lake, Tibet

Since I had already been in Lhasa (3,650 meters, 12,000 feet) for almost 2 weeks I was kind of hoping that I would be the King Of Altitude among our group. I wasn't, but I wasn't the worst one either. By the time we could see the lake I was feeling cold and a little giddy, in sort of a nauseous, disorienting, slightly achy way. Cleveland was already in far worse shape than me or anyone else. He was sitting in the front seat next to the passenger door that wouldn't close all the way. It was cold, there was a draft and he didn't have a jacket on. Also, since he had just arrived in Lhasa the day before, he wasn't used to the altitude at all. Any altitude. He especially wasn't acclimated to this minute by minute increasing altitude. It was really starting to get to him. By the time we arrived at Nam Tso Lake he was shivering audibly, rubbing his arms like they were full of fire ants, trying to keep warm, and mumbling something about Bob Marley to himself. Unfortunately for Cleveland, this was only the beginning of the nightmare that would be his trip to Nam Tso Lake.

We arrived at Nam Tso Lake at around noon and even though we'd been sitting the entire way, even the best of us were hungry, exhausted, and light headed. As soon as we got to the lake, our driver; parked the vehicle, pointed at a group of small tents, pointed at a huge circus tent looking structure, pointed at a little hill with some small steps leading up to a bunch of prayer flags at the top, said something important sounding in Tibetan, and then disappeared until the next morning.

We all stood there with our bags in our hands and oxygen-less air in our heads. We looked at each other, blinking and bewildered. After we snapped out of it a little, we decided we would; find a hotel mentioned in our guide book, get something to eat, climb the little prayer flag hill and then take a walk around the highest salt water lake in the world. We had a plan. Seemed easy enough. Except as soon as we started moving we couldn't think very well. We started blinking again and got the plan all mixed up somehow. It was like there was only enough oxygen in our brains for thinking or moving, but not for both.

After stumbling around together in a confused, leaderless huddle of blank eyed idiots for a half an hour, we finally figured out that the little tents and the huge circus looking tent WERE the hotels mentioned in the guidebook. We then made an unconscious group decision to try to check into the circus tent hotel. It looked bigger and safer.

Once we got inside the big circus tent hotel it didn't look like a circus at all, except for the pointy high ceiling in the middle. There was a big open restaurant in the middle with private rooms surrounding it on all sides. Sort of like if it was a really cheap motel in the States that had a bunch of rooms surrounding a dirty little swimming pool. Except here, the dirty motel swimming pool was a restaurant, and there was a big canvas circus tent over it.

Actually, for a tent it was pretty plush. The rooms even had plywood walls separating them and there were colorful Tibetan paintings and wall hangings everywhere in the restaurant. It was kind of cozy even. They had one big room available with 6 beds that we immediately agreed to take. I think they could have asked just about any price and we would have paid it. We were tired and hungry, and there didn't seem to be a lot of options in the neighborhood.


Yaks, Mountains And Nam Tso Lake, Tibet

After we checked in and ate some fried rice and noodles at the restaurant, we felt even more like zombies. We were all a little dizzy and twitchy. We decided to take a quick nap and then climb the little prayer flag hill and take a walk around the lake. Then we all crashed. Hard. 2 hours later we woke to the sound of Cleveland, moaning and throwing up. He was acclimating.

Other than Cleveland, the rest of us still felt "OK". So we decided to all climb the little prayer flag hill later when he felt better. Celeste would stay and take care of Cleveland while Alvin, Sam and I took a walk around the lake and checked things out. So the three of us walked the 100 meters to the lake and then we just sort of stood there. We didn't have the energy to do anything else. The altitude was affecting all of us to different degrees. We didn't really feel headachy or extremely nauseous (yet), just spaced out and totally energy-less. So we sat down.

Earlier that morning while we were getting provisions in Lhasa we had discussed buying some "Red Bull" energy drinks for the trip, but Alvin claimed that the active ingredient in Red Bull 'Taurine' was made from bull testicle juice. That's why it was called "Red Bull" and that's why it gave you energy, because it was basically canned bull testosterone, extracted straight from bull's testes. It seemed totally crazy, like some urban legend, and I had never heard anything about this before, but since Alvin was raised Hindu and didn't eat beef we figured he knew what he was talking about. So we didn't buy any Red Bull energy drink that morning. We didn't want to take the chance that we might possibly be guzzling bull jizz. It seemed like too big a risk to take at the time. Now, standing next to the highest place on earth where gravity still held salt water to it, but the sun had enough pull to evaporate most of the oxygen (this is how we understood things at the time), I wanted a Red Bull. I didn't care if it was made from squashed bull's balls. I wanted wings.


*Note: I just looked this up on www.dictionary.com:

tau·rine
n.
1)A colorless crystalline substance, C2H7NO3S, formed by the hydrolysis of taurocholic acid and found in the fluids of the muscles and lungs of many animals.

2)Greek tauros, bull (from its having been obtained first from ox bile) Of, relating to, or resembling a bull.


Maybe Alvin was right after all. Red Bull drinkers take note.

While we were sitting next to the lake wishing we had cans of bull ball juice we had a brief discussion about how we couldn't understand how people could climb Mt. Everest at over 8000 meters when we felt this way at only at 5000 meters. Also, we couldn't understand why more Tibetans and Sherpas didn't win more Olympic medals in the long distance events like the Kenyans who live and train at high altitude. We finally decided that people who climb Mt. Everest are crazy or somehow abnormal physically and that if the Tibetans and Sherpas had the right training facilities, or if the Olympics included any mountain related events whatsoever, they would definitely clean up in the medals department.

We also wondered why the group of Europeans who were in the circus tent restaurant when we arrived, who were smoking and laughing, seemed fine. It seemed ridiculous to smoke at this altitude. How and why would you deprive your brain of what little oxygen was available? How did those Europeans do it? Then we wondered if Europe was somehow overall higher than North America, or if they were some kind of European Mountain People? We ended up kind of agreeing that altitude just affected everyone differently, like eating spicy food, or exposure to the sun, or watching Reality TV.

Our logic receptors were misfiring all over the place. Nothing made sense. So we gave up trying to talk for a while. Then we stood up next to the lake and took some pictures of ourselves standing next to it so we could feel like we were doing something productive without having to do anything more physically strenuous than standing, or focusing a lens, or pressing a button.


Foreground: Me, Sam, and Alvin proudly upright. Background: Live Yak on the left, prayer flags wrapped around yak skull with horns sticking out of Nam Tso Lake on the right.


After awhile Celeste led Cleveland stumbling out of the circus tent hotel. He said that he felt much better. He didn't look much better. He looked like the bright light from the sun reflecting off the lake was hurting his brain. He looked unsteady. He looked unaware of how badly he looked.

As soon as we were all together in a group again, some strange looking locals who had horses started yelling at us and pointing at their horses, yelling "Horses!" hostilely at us in English. They were horse renters. After a brief discussion amongst ourselves we decided that since we were all so altitude tired that maybe it would be a good idea to ride horses around the lake for an hour or so. This way we could get a good view of the lake without having to expend any unnecessary energy. The horses would do all the work for us. Then, afterwards, we would be revitalized and have the energy to climb the prayer flag hill. Seemed brilliant.

This was a really stupid idea. It didn't work at all.

After some confusing negotiating/yelling at each other in different languages and holding up fingers, we all ended up paying totally different prices to different hostile horse owner guys for the privilege of riding their horses. For some reason the hostile horse owner guys were all wearing cowboy hats or stocking caps, sunglasses, and white surgical masks or bandanas over their faces. They looked like cowboy horse surgeon terrorists. I think they kind of psychologically bullied us into the deal because they were so hostile and weird looking, and because they knew that our brains were temporarily out of oxygen and any resistance on our part was futile.

As soon as we got on the horses and the mujahideen looking hostile horse owner guys got our money, the horses, in unison, walked straight into the lake up to their stomachs, and started drinking. It was like they were trained to do this. So instead of a relaxing, energy saving trip around the lake, we were now IN the lake, struggling to hold our legs up out of the water. The horses didn't listen to anything we did or said. No amount of kicking or screaming would budge them. They just stood there, in the lake, some of them drinking. We were stuck, holding our legs out, trying not to fall into the highest salt water lake in the world. Which was another thing that didn't make any sense? If this was a salt water lake, why were the horses drinking it?. Are horses even supposed to drink salt water? I know people aren't. Is drinking salt water even good for them? I thought drinking salt water killed mammals or something? Either someone was lying to us about this being a salt water lake, or someone was lying to us about these being horses.

Anyway, after about 10 minutes of this nonsense, even the hostile horse owner guys got tired of listening to to our futile horse shouting and kicking, so they walked into the lake up to their waists and dragged the horses out. Once our feet were above dry land again we decided that horses were way too much work. We were done with horses, or whatever they were. We decided we would just take some nice pictures of ourselves on the horses so that once again we could feel like we were doing something productive without having to do anything more physically strenuous than focusing a lens or pressing a button. Then, relieved, we collectively slid off of our horses and decided to go climb the prayer flag hill. (I still think the hostile horse owner guys trained the horses to go into the lake as soon as people got on them so they could get rid of us faster and find some new oxygen deprived suckers to swindle. Or they were some kind of robot horses. Or something?)




Space Cowboys.

On the way to the big prayer flag hill, after about 20 feet, Sam and I admitted that we didn't think we could make it the rest of the 80 feet there, yet alone climb it. We left the other 3 and went back to our room to lay down. When we got to our beds, Sam threw up, and I laid on my back, hot and spinning. Soon, the other 3 returned and said they had walked a little ways around the prayer flag mountain, but not up it because Cleveland wasn't feeling so good again. Alvin and Celeste were the only ones who seemed perfectly fine.

It was decided that we would have a brief rest, catch our breath, and then all climb the big prayer flag mountain together. So we all laid down inside of our room and practiced breathing for a while. Outside of our room, in the restaurant, we could hear the European Mountain People smoking and laughing through the plywood walls.

After Cleveland and Sam had thrown up some more, and after we remembered how to breathe again. Celeste and Cleveland produced some Starburst Fruit Chews that they had smuggled in from America. After eating only yak parts and rice recently, Starburst Fruit Chews were the best tasting things ever! I hadn't had a Starburst since I was a kid and now they had new and exotic mouth watering flavors like "Aztec Punch" and "Baja Dragon Fruit". They were amazing. They refreshed and energized us. We were on a glorious, chewy, sugar high. We were alive again. We were ready! We, as a team, strode outside to tackle the prayer flag mountain!

While we were on our way to the huge prayer flag mountain we stopped by the lakeshore to appreciate the beauty of Nam Tso Lake. This time while not having to try and stay on trained, salt water drinking, robot horses. We passed by some local kids that were playing pool on an outdoor, wind and sun battered pool table that was propped up on some pebbles outside of a tent. They were in their own little world and didn't notice us.

We also saw one of the weirdest looking guys I've ever seen in my life leaning against a little dark blue car that looked like a Chinese version of a 'Gremlin.' I still don't know what this guy was. I think he was a Tibetan guy on a pilgrimage to the lake because he looked a little bit Tibetan and he had a prayer wheel and prayer beads in his hands, but he could have just as easily been some guy who had accidentally time/spaced warped himself to Nam Tso Lake straight from Burning Man. He was totally outrageous. He was wearing a bright orange shirt, a pith helmet, Chinese Military Issue green camouflaged canvas shoes, and John Lennon Space Goggles, with a Yak brown jacket tied around his waist. He was half smiling, half staring. At us? At nothing?



The Guy. Nam Tso Lake, Tibet



Outdoor Pool Game. Nam Tso Lake, Tibet


When we got to the shore of Nam Tso Lake it really was beautiful and peaceful. Amazingly serene. Maybe even worth all the drain bamage. There was even a Chinese guy in a cowboy hat meditating next to it. Like good Mormons, Celeste and Cleveland joined him.



Buddhist Meditating- Nam Tso Lake, Tibet



Mormons Meditating- Nam Tso Lake, Tibet


On the way from the lake to the gigantic prayer flag mountain we met a poor looking, crazy haired, weather beaten, Tibetan nomad woman lugging up 2 large jugs of water from the lake to her tent. She was probably 20 years old but she looked about 40 from living in the harsh environment that surrounded her. She was all wrinkles and ridges and tangle tied hair. She had skittish, darting, wild eyes. We all felt sorry for her and offered to help her carry the jugs of water to her tent. Celeste gave her some Starburst Fruit Chews.

When we reached her tent she seemed genuinely thankful. She opened the door flap and motioned us inside in seemingly hospitable way. We thought, "Wow, this will be cool. We'll get to see the inside of a Tibetan nomad's tent."

Once we were inside, it took a few seconds for our eyes to adjust from the glare of the sun reflecting off the high altitude lake, to the hazy smokiness inside the dark brown tent. The only light inside the tent came from a small fire fueled by dried yak dung and a dirty light bulb dangling in the air, dimly powered by some kind of solar powered battery. We all settled in around the fire in a small semi-circle.

After our eyes had focused, we noticed that the inside of the nomad's tent wasn't nearly as romantic as we'd envisioned. It was a grimy, gloomy, putrid smelling mess. The dirt floor was covered by randomly thrown yak hides/furs and there were pieces of cooking trash and motorcycle bones strewn everywhere. Then, after a couple more seconds, we noticed an old witch looking woman squatting on the other side of the yak crap fire holding a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes. This is the only time in my life that I've ever seen/heard of swaddling clothes outside of nativity scenes/songs. She was kind of holding the baby the way a Mother Gorilla holds a baby, with one hand, distractedly. It was weird. There were also 2 big black pots simmering over the smoldering fire. One had plain lake water coming to a boil to cook pieces of yaks in, and the other had Yak Butter Tea, which the witch woman offered us with a shoving, spilling motion. We all got a big steaming cup and a took our first hot little sip.

When I first heard about "Yak Butter Tea", I thought to myself, "Mmm...rich, creamy, warming comfort drink." Good for the body and soul on cold winter nights spent in wind blown tents on the high Tibetan Plateau. Like Mulled Wine or Cinnamon Stick Infused Hot Apple Cider, something to slowly savor next to a glowing fire. Well. It's not. I was wrong. Yak Butter Tea tastes like shit. Literally. It tastes like yak shit. It smells like yak shit too.

It probably tastes so bad because yaks are nasty, matted, ignorant animals whose milk is intended by God and Nature for the consumption of nasty baby yaks, and nasty baby yaks alone. It was never evolved/intelligently designed for human consumption. It's not natural. It's gross. It's a freakin' secretion. Drinking any milk from any animal seems unnatural to me. Unless you are a baby and it comes from your own mother's breast. Yak Butter Tea also probably tastes and smells like yak shit because it's cooked over burning yak shit. I'm sure that this helps enhance the yak shitty-rifficness of the flavor too.

I don't want you to get the wrong impression here. I am not a picky eater/drinker. There is practically nothing on this planet that I don't like when it comes to food and drink. I have eaten/drunk: beetles, crickets, water bugs, scorpions, bamboo rat, snake meat, snake blood, freshly removed snake heart (still beating), cow penis hot pot, and dog. And I liked it all. Although the cow penis was a little tough and chewy and I'm not particularly proud about eating dog. I like dogs, they're nice, they just happen to also be delicious. When my Mom and Dad visited me in Asia they also ate scorpion, snake and dog. They liked it too. So I don't come from a wuss-eater family and I'm not a wuss-eater myself, but Yak Butter Tea is almost indescribably disgusting.

I guess the part about yak's milk being gross and yaks being ignorant was a little mean. Maybe yak milk is good, I guess I've never tried it by itself. Sorry yaks. I think the problem with Yak Butter Tea is, besides the burning yak shit dilemma, the Butter part. Yak butter is really, really salty and has a distinctively strong musky/salty smell. Who the hell puts salty musk butter in their tea? And who the hell cooks their tea with yak shit?

So as we sat in the smokey little tent, holding the steaming cups hell fluid as far away from our faces as possible, we had a problem. We all looked at each other through the burning yak shitty smoke with huge, watery, questioning eyes saying, "Ok, what's the proper protocol here?" Unfortunately we all knew damn well what the proper protocol was. Drink the Yak Shit Tea. On the one hand, we knew it would be extremely rude not finish every last drop with purring gratitude, but on the other hand, it was Yak Shit Tea, it was totally undrinkable. Conundrum.

So while we were trying to figure out what to do, Celeste held the swaddled baby and we all got out our cameras to take pictures of her with the baby and of ourselves in a Tibetan nomad tent. Then, while we were trying to buy time with our cameras, the baby's crazy eyed Dad came into tent and looked at all of us like, "What the hell are you idiots doing in my house drinking up all of my precious and delicious Yak Shit Tea? What have you to say for yourselves?" He was followed by 2 frowning women who took up positions at the door flap. The mood in the tent changed drastically. The baby started crying. Celeste handed it back to the witch.

The tent became very tense all of a sudden, like we were never supposed to be in there in the first place. We felt very unwanted. Maybe the woman who invited us in didn't have the authority to do so? Maybe she didn't even live there? Maybe she was just some crazy lady who carried jugs of water around all day brought foreigners into other people's tents just to annoy them? A million thoughts raced through our oxygen deprived, Yak Shit Tea addled brains.

I tried nodding at the Dad in a friendly way as he sat down next me. He stared back at me and my cup of Yak Shit Tea, unmoving. I think I was in his "chair" and he wanted to know why I wasn't enjoying my delicious cup of Yak Shit Tea. So I weakly forced down a big gulp, immediately almost threw up, and smiled at him in appreciation. He didn't look appreciated. Everyone else then sort of slyly/nervously pushed their cups of Yak Shit Tea as far away from their bodies as possible.

I felt really sick. I was going to be sick. I tried to nod, smile, and say "Thank You Very Much, The Yak Shit Tea Was Great!" to my hosts while bolting for the tent door all in one motion when I was stopped by the 2 frowning door flap women who poked me in the chest and said with strong smelling Yak Shit Tea/rotten yak flesh breath, "Money! You! Money!" They had the same wild eyes as the water carrying lady and the Dad. They reminded me of the eyes I've seen in 3rd world street children who sniff glue and gasoline all day. They were bloodshot, glazed over and distant, but unpredictable.

I don't want to sound racist or culturally insensitive here but, these Yak Nomad People were Insane! They were like Neanderthals or Cave People, except they lived in dirty, smelly tents. It was like they hadn't evolved on the same plane as the rest of humanity. Separated from the rest of the world in their oxygen poor environment, eating only yak body parts and drinking salted yak secretions, while sitting in dark tents, continuously inhaling burning yak crap fumes had made them nuts. They were primeval. They were like Animal People, or Republicans.

These Tibetan Yak Nomad people were the exact opposite of the calm, introspective Tibetan monks that I met cloistered in quiet monasteries, wrapped in their thick crimson robes monotonously chanting and praying their way to a peaceful nirvana. Tibetan Non Nomads were fine, it was the Nomads that needed some finishing school lessons. We weren't in the open minded civility of a Lhasa monastery anymore. We were in flyover land. We were in a Tibetan Red State. People didn't seem to get out much here, especially for nomads, and they didn't seem to take too kindly to strangers.

Unfortunately, somewhere along the way someone had taught these crazy Yak People, or they had figured out on their own; that if you invite foreigners into your tent, poison them with Yak Shit Tea, and then poke them hard in the chest and say "Money! You! Money!", then the foreigners will gladly give you money in order to be allowed to leave.

It was one of the weirdest situations I've ever been in and being poked in the chest by women with strong smelling Yak Shit Tea and rotting yak flesh breath was probably about the worst thing that anyone could have done to me at that particular moment in time. Usually I don't give money to able bodied beggars who demand more than beg, especially ones who punch me in the ribs, but this was a special situation. I was flushed and panicking. I was so close to being sick that I reached into my pocket, grabbed the first bill that touched my hand, shoved a 10 yuan note (about $1.25, or the equivalent of a weeks worth of work collecting dried yak shit and selling it at the yak shit market) into the woman's hand, lurched outside, took about 3 jerky steps and threw up.

My poor, beloved, chewed "Aztec Punch" and "Baja Drajon Fruit" Starburst Fruit Chews lay in the middle of a puddle of brown, regurgitated Yak Shit Tea. It was over. I had joined Cleveland and Sam in the "3 Mile High Puke Club." I had barely survived the altitude without vomiting up until The Tent, and then I lost it. Strangely, I suddenly felt really, really good. I think I had needed to puke for a long time actually. I was due. The Yak Shit Tea had purged the altitude sickness out of me. It was my Syrup Of Ipecac. Now I had paid my dues. I was free.

One by one, my fellow travelers were escorted/extorted out of the little tent of horrors and escaped to join me and my puddle. Once our unit was back together we quickly retreated to the safety of our big circus tent hotel. The whole time we walked there we kept repeating over and over to each other "What the hell was THAT? What the hell WAS that? Who the hell were Those People?"


Outside Of The Little Tent Of Horrors-Nam Tso Lake, Tibet


Me Inside "The Tent" Shortly Before Puking Up Yak Butter Tea- Nam Tso Lake, Tibet

That night we all felt relatively well (Alvin and Celeste never once had any kind of altitude problems the whole time we were at Nam Tso Lake) and ordered a whole bunch of yak and rice and noodles for dinner in the circus tent restaurant. Cleveland, Sam and I were really hungry from all the throwing up that we'd been doing that day but didn't have nearly as big an appetite as we thought. The altitude was still our master and we didn't finish about half of what we ordered. Oddly, the restaurant played the album "Legend" by Bob Marley & The Wailers while we ate. Did Cleveland have some kind of premonition during his shivering deliriums in the 4X4 on the way to Nam Tso Lake?

After dinner we felt really good. We had solid food in our bellies and it felt like it was actually going to stay put. It was an exciting feeling for some of us. So we went back to our room, and to celebrate, Sam got out the guitar that he'd brought with him all the way from New Jersey and started strumming and singing. It turned out that Sam was some kind of a musical savant. We could name any song, and if he knew it, he could play it, all of it, immediately, from memory. If he didn't know the song and we played it for him from an mp3, he would listen for about 30 seconds and then play the whole song by ear. We were all amazed and jealous.

We all sat in our beds under our comfy blankets and had a happy little sing along hoedown in our room until the European Mountain People started banging on the plywood wall and told us to shut up. Ha!! They had a weakness! They could smoke and laugh all day, but after the sun went down they were vulnerable to music! Even though we didn't really like or understand the European Mountain People we decided to be nice and put the guitar away. We turned off the light and went to bed, looking forward to an early morning stroll up the little prayer flag hill.

We had only been laying down for a little while when Cleveland started wheezing and saying "I can't breathe! I can't breathe!" He was having some kind of altitude induced panic attack. So Celeste sat on the side of his bed holding his hand, stroking his hair, saying "1,2,3, breathe. 1,2,3, breathe", over and over again, all night long. Cleveland had a rough night, and just listening to him was enough to freak me out for most of the night. I think Alvin was the only one who got much sleep.

The next morning at sunrise, after Cleveland did some more puking, we; got up, packed our bags, found our driver, dragged ourselves and the driver into the 4X4, and said "GO." Within minutes we had descended far enough to start feeling better. It's amazing how a few hundred meters of altitude can make such a difference. We could coherently converse again. All of a sudden we were full of talking energy, and hungry. We joked that the first one to spot an IHOP or a Denny's won a million bucks. Cleveland self-deprecatingly joked about his little "Lamaze Class" with Celeste during the night. We talked about food and music and politics and all kinds of stuff on the way back down to Lhasa, but nobody mentioned anything about Yak Butter Tea or the little prayer flag hill that grew into an unclimbable mountain.


Quotes:
(Dedicated To The Hard Working & Totally Insane Yak Nomad People)

"When dealing with the insane, the best method is to pretend to be sane."
Hermann Hesse

"There is only one difference between a madman and me. I am not mad."
Salvador Dali

"Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives."
William Dement