We rose like we wanted to ride the public bus that morning. And we did. We were pushing deeper northwest to the outpost town of Manigango, at the very eastern end of the Sichuan-Tibet Highway North, and we were looking to travel for a mere 30 RMB. Knowing that the left-hand seats would offer the most magnificent view of the forthcoming suspended range, we even deposited our bags on the bus early...in anticipation, never foreseeing that the bus would roll away without us, snagged by the government. 'The bus is no longer running. The government will use it.' We tracked down the bus - with our bags - a few hundred meters from the station. We would be cruising via private transport.
The morning was crisp - actually, unbelievably cold - but the sight of Kandze's 5500 plus-meter peaks snagging early morning rays was just about enough to warm things up. The instant coffee was also fine (the Java Juice will have to wait until we're in the thick of it). Reconnaissance was the mission, and the great ranges of this area provided just the inspiration.
This area is amazing. And we were more than fully content cruising beneath this range's craggy heights. The morning sun stretched long as it illuminated eastern aspects of great pinnacles and textured mud walls of valley floor village homes. Manigango - one of this country's last few true frontier towns - was soon upon us.
...motorcycles to the top of a 5050 meter, snow-encrusted pass. We loved tromping this place (and our bikes only deposited us hard once, maybe twice). On the way down, I wasn't sure if I had hands or just wrists. Even more impressive was JanTu's (who drove my bike) cold tolerance -- due to the cloud of cigarette smoke in this Yushu cyber cafe, we had to tag off, and you now hear from McNair. I think I could do an entire photographic cultural study on these dens of cyber lust and gluttony, but that's a new post. At any rate please forgive the style and perspective change.
That night we stayed in the house of our two motorcycle guides. They live at the base of Chola pass and their hospitality dwarfs the 6000 meter peaks that bow outside their front door. These people gave us food and rest to an extent I've very little experienced in other places. When I woke with the morning light through the window, a grandson was awake, head propped on his grandfather, looking across this main room watching. There was no doubt that the interest was mutual, and equal respect likewise.
Having decided this front yard as a possible entry point for our first major backcountry mission, I felt the long dark hair of JanTu across my face while motoring into town. After discussing our ideas, and learning of the slight snow cover in the deep range, it became obvious that our focus must be redirected. We sat for a lunch of delicious momos and butter tea, then hired a car to Muru-la Pass.
Rising into this land, we thought it another self-plotted khora option. We crossed a stuck mini-bus and gave our best push. Feelings of accomplishment otherwise were scarce. "There's just not enough snow," we knew, and our sites moved to the Gonga Range, high above Kangding. Brian would be arriving two days later, and a team meeting there seemed the best. This more easterly range seemed to hold new possibities, and our reconnocence mission backed down the path of the mighty Angry Yak.
Ryan & McNair
