Ngari, West Tibet

My path to purification began in the home of Shiva theshe relieved me of my burden, a backpack filled with
Destroyer - or perhaps it was just his rubbish bin. The'non-essentials' - laptop, camera, food, clothes and
shantytown of Darchen at the foot of Mt Kailash inwater.
western Tibet is populated with half-naked,Embarrassing as it was, a lovely Tibetan woman, eight
red-cheeked children playing in trash heaps. Teahousesyears my junior, carried my pack the rest of the way
running on car battery power, with dirt floors lined witharound Mount Kailash, simply because I could not. (At
old pillows, serve as bedding for road-weary pilgrimsthe end of our kora, Yang Jing not only refused
and backpackers before they start on their korapayment for her help, but offered me a gift - her
around Asia's most sacred mountain.decades-old yak bone prayer beads; the only
The word kora means 'pilgrimage circuit', or simply, 'bigrecompense I can now offer her is this story).
circle'. It describes the clockwise path followed byThough weighed down with my belongings, Yang Jin
devout followers of Buddhism and Hinduism in theirsoon outdistanced me, while I struggled along at the
effort to attain spiritual absolution for the sin of beingrear, making my way up the bleak Drolma-La, passing
alive. Throughout Tibet one can see the faithful makingthe glacial brooks of Shiva-Tsal and the clothing-littered
koras around temples and other holy places, thoughstones and macabre shanks of hair that pilgrims leave
none as consecrated as the 52-kilometerto symbolize the expulsion of their old sins. With a light
circumambulation of Mt Kailash (known in Tibetan assnow frosting the terrain, I finally caught up with Yang
Kang Rinpoche and in Mandarin as Shen Shan).Jing atop the scenic pass where she recited her
I began my pilgrimage at dawn (after hesitantlyprayers.
downing a cup of salty yak butter tea for strength)Then with the frozen jade waters of Gauri Kund lake
guided by a trail of prayer flags up the misty southernbelow, we carefully began our descent. As we
ridge to the Gyangdrak and Selung monasteries, andreached the lower level, I was able to breathe again
then following the few stone cairns back down to theand the remainder of the kora was a delight. We
kora. At one point the kora branched off, leading to acrossed snow banks and passed venerable elders
sky burial site, the place where Buddhists bid farewellprostrated in verdant meadows fed by small streams
to the dead by dismembering corpses and leaving thetrickling down from the mountain's horizontally-banded
remains for the birds of prey that form koras of theircrystal face. Later, we arrived at a smoky
own far above. The proximity of a burial site isencampment, with chanting pilgrims sitting around
disturbingly announced in advance by the shreddedyak-dung fires.
clothes in the vicinity, and more abruptly, by theWe continued past fields of boulders blanketed in thick
occasional human bone dropped from the sky by saidgreen moss before taking a rest in a tea tent
birds.crowded with jovial Tibetans. Instant noodles and soft
I continued my journey, passing a number ofdrinks were available, but I boldly choose the traditional
resplendently dressed pilgrims watering their horses inTibetan staples of yak butter tea and tsampa, an
a shaded canyon. Before long, I arrived at the Chuku'instant' bread made from barley flour kneaded with
monastery, which hugs the western hillside above thethe tea. Like most Tibetan pilgrims, this was all Yang
Lha-Chu River, in clear sight of the enigmatic MtJing carried in her small satchel during her multiple
Kailash. Aside from being the most holy Buddhist site inkoras. Tsampa may be flavorless, though it smells
Asia, it is also the source of four great rivers: theunwashed, but it seems to provide sustenance and
Sutlej, which flows to India; the Indus, to Pakistan; theenergy aplenty for Tibetans to complete 13 circuits.
Karnali, which feeds the Ganges; and Tibet's ownAfter our rest, we pressed on through the lush hillsides,
Yarlung Tsangpo.tracing the Dzong-Chu river until we came to the
I arrived at Mt Kalish at dusk, which in summertimeZutul-Puk monastery where most of the Hindus from
comes at about 10pm; Mt Kailash was bathed inIndia had set up camp. I, too, might have spent the night
ruby-red hues, a spectacular site, though one soonthere, but in spite of the searing pain in my legs, I was
obscured by drizzling rain clouds. Exhausted, I turned indetermined to follow the steely Yang Jing back to
for the night at a nearby yurt on the grassy banks ofDarchen to complete the kora on my second day. My
Damding Donkhang and soon after I set my head onresolve was rewarded when we finally rounded the
the filthy pillows, I fell asleep.last bend and met with a stunning vista overlooking the
I'd been cautioned by a number of experienced pilgrimsBarkha plains: the Himalayas to the south, aglow under
that the second half of the Mt Kailash kora was thethe evening sky.
most difficult. And, sure enough, as soon as I passedWe walked by a series of mani prayer walls and
Dirapuk monastery and crossed the Lha-Chu river theinscribed yak skulls, together, into the setting sun. It
following morning, the route became increasinglyseemed a fitting way to end this epic tale, with the
treacherous. The steep path eventually thinned out -southern sapphire face of Kailash behind us - along
as did the air - and then disappeared altogether amongwith our sins.
the large boulders strewn about the Drolma-Chu valley.Travel Pack
I am in my early 30s, but in no time was moving slowerA number of travel agencies and hotels around Lhasa
than an old woman. Indeed, 80-year-old Tibetanscan arrange week-long Land Cruiser expeditions along
spinning their hand-held prayer wheels quicklyTibet's southern route past Lake Manasarovar to Mt
out-paced me. Before I had ascended but one-third ofKailash for approximately RMB 4,000 per person.
the way up the 5,600-meters of evil that is theAlternatively, budget travelers can take a three-day
Drolma-La Pass, I was doubled over with exhaustion. Itsleeper along the northern route, departing from
was then, during this moment of truth beneath theLhasa's north bus station every couple days to the
luminously golden face of Mt. Kailash, there appearedoutpost town of Ali for RMB 700. Water, food and a
before me a vision. Her name was Yang Jing, my ownwindow seat in the front of the bus is strongly
Tibetan goddess of mercy.recommended. From Ali's north junction you can hitch
One day prior, I had met Yang Jing, a Ngari local, in thea ride on a 'gypsy' jeep to Darchen/Mt Kailash, or
company of her grandmother. At the time, both ofcatch a lift on one of the trucks from nearby
them were on their third kora in just three days. Whenconstruction sites, or the occasional rogue bus. Permits
she spotted me draped over a large boulder, theyare no longer required for travel in Tibet and as such
were already halfway through their fourth. Carryingno agency should charge you for one.
only prayer beads and a small pouch of necessities,