Yading kora trek diary: Day 6 - Zhihui Hai (Wisdom Lake) to the Final Pass

Summary: Getting on to the home straight, we crossed the modest sixth pass, circuited Wisdom Lake (Lexi Tso - or Zhihui Hai in Chinese) and walked up to the Three Way Pass above the much-visited Luorong valley lakes of Niunai Hai (Milk Lake) and Wuse Hai (Five Colours Lake). At this point we re-joined the inner kora and continued the circuit round the back (west) of Shenrezig. After a muddy slog above the Devil's Valley (Kasi Diyugou) we camped just below the seventh (final) pass.

More drizzle and mist greeted us as we awoke on the sixth and penultimate day, camped by 'Rock's rock'. This kind of wet weather had really set in and set the scene for the rest of the day. I had my breakfast of Nescafe and Carman's muesli in the lee of the rock. For all the views I got I might as well have been on the Cow and Calf Rocks at Ilkley. In fact, the terrain up from the marshy pasture up to the fifth pass could have been that of Ilkley Moor on a grander scale (but at least I wasn't on there Baht 'At). The rain was really soaking us as we made our way up past a tarn and up a relatively gentle slope up to this pass.

I remembered this pass from my last trip as the place where we had parted company with our porters, who had wanted to get back to Luorong and their homes. It was also the place where I got into a funk over descending what I thought was  a very steep slope. In fact, it had been an illusion, with only a modest drop of 1-2 metres - and this time I walked it, literally. It was a bit of a struggle trying to scramble down while wearing a bulky flapping poncho - but better than getting wet. The rest of the descent was easy - but the muddy and slippery rock conditions underfoot made me glad for the first time that I'd brought a walking pole for support.

About half way down the slope we emerged from the low cloud and could see the green lake of Lexi Tso (Rock called it Russo Tso) below us. The Chinese now call it Zhihui Hai in Mandarin. We'd camped on the shores of this lake the last time we came though, but this time we didn't stop. We took a different route, going the longer, clockwise, way round the lake in conformity with the Tibetan tradition for circuiting sacred things. We paused a few times to take photos or to film a few scenes, but most of the time we just plodded on silently and in a subdued mood - it must have been the weather, depressing our spirits.

On the far side of Russo Tso we ascended past some deserted log cabins towards the Triple Pass. This section usually gives great views of Jambeyang's southern side, but on this day all we could see was the huge crag behind us, towering over the pass that we had crossed earlier in the day.
The others paused for a break by the lakeside, but I didn't like hanging around in the rain, so carried on up the hill towards the sixth (triple) pass, accompanied by Gong Que. At the top we reached the point we had come to a week before on our first day 'recce' of the triple pass above Luorong. We sat in the same place and ate our lunch in the same view as the previous week - now we were much more bedraggled and trail-worn.

 When the others caught up with us we discussed our plan for the day. I had originally intended to do something of a detour on the final section of the trek and bypass the final (seventh) pass by taking a diversion to the west (left). This would take me over a nearby path and into a more remote valley that contained a large lake which I later discovered was known as Qingwa Hai (Frog Lake). The reason for doing this was to explore a bit of the more off the beaten track vicinity of the Kora - but also to get better views of all three peaks. If Google Earth 3D is correct, there seem to be an ideal viewing point above this Frog Lake, from which it should be possible to get a great panorama view of all three peaks from an unusual (northern) angle. The trail then descends through the forest, to eventually emerge right in the middle of Yading village (the usual kora  track descends and terminated at Chonggu monastery).

This had all sounded very promising in the planning stage, but sadly with the low cloud and heavy rain I decided on the day that there was no point making a big diversion to see a viewing point with no view because it would be shrouded in mist. After this 'huddle' on the mountainside we gathered at the Three-Way Pass for a group photo. I picked a spot with a nice backdrop of the peaks above Luorong. Typically, however, the cloud rolled in within seconds of me lining up the shot - and we were snapped with no view.

We had now joined the trail that was followed by many trekkers and would-be pilgrims because it was the Inner Kora - quite easily do-able in two days from Yading - and even possible in a day if you make an early start. We descended past a small lake and continued down to a level circle of pasture that would have been our 'Camp 6' had we been doing the diversion. However it was too early in the day to camp - so after a pause to film some mountain goats we headed off again with the new goal of reaching the final pass before nightfall.

The porters told us there were some huts and a good camping spot up there, so we plodded around the back of Shenrezig, skirting the mountainside above the famous "Devil's Gully" (Kasi Diyugou). This is a thickly forested valley that leads down to the small north-south road to the west of Yading National Park. It is a popular side tour for some trekkers - one guy had recently got lost there and had to pay 20,000 yuan to the Yading authorities for the cost of the rescue team sent out to locate him! It didn't look too forbidding to me, but most of the surrounding mountainside was covered in mist.

I had expected to be taking it easy on this home straight section, but the next bit of track proved to be surprisingly hard going. The trail was hemmed in by thick bush and parts of it had deep ruts and streams flowing over it. The regular foot traffic over this section also meant there were long sections churned up into gooey grey mud. I was glad I had my Scarpa boots on in the sucking mud - I wouldn't want to be wearing running shoe-style hiking footwear.

Ploughing up through the mud was exhausting, and my fatigue was eased only by the cheery greetings we got from passing Tibetan pilgrims - pretty much the first 'outside' people we had seen for a week. One sprightly women grabbed hold of my hand and heaped up with praise when we told her we had done the full kora - "You have gained much merit! Congratulations!" she squealed.

I didn't feel so boisterous when we reached the pass, however. The rain was really coming down in sheets again, and our porters led us to a grim looking slate bothy that was shiny wet with rain. They told us we could camp nearby, but first we went inside to try get a fire going and to dry out.

As usual I got the gas stove on to make a cup of tea, and that did make me feel a bit better as our sodden clothes gave off clouds of steam as we huddled round the huge fire that Gong Que got going. It was just starting to feel cosy when the Tibetan porters piled in, and it got seriously overcrowded. Eight of us in a tiny hut just didn't fit. To make things worse, they stoked the fire with a lot of damp wood and that filled the hut with choking blue smoke.


My eyes stung like mad and I had to go out into the pouring rain to get some 'fresh' clean air. After I got my vision back I trudged up to the level bit of ground where we had intended to camp. I sat down under the shelter of my poncho waiting for the rain to ease off - but it of course never did. I got as far as unpacking all the tent and laying it out on the ground, but it was hopeless - the ground was sodden and parts were under three inches of water. After about 20 minutes the others came out and urged me to come back into the hut, where they said we would be able to sleep for the night. I protested about it being overcrowded, but they said the porters were moving to another nearby hut.

And so that is how we spent our final night on the Yading Kora: sleeping on the earth floor of the stone hut at 4700 metres just below the final pass. It might have looked like a dump, but in that heavy rain it felt like a Five Star Hotel. I put down a sleeping mat and some bits of sack to stop my sleeping bag touching the damp ground - and we just about fitted the five of us in the hut, laying side by side like sardines.

I shared one side with Qing Rey, while Gong Que squeezed up with the two younger camera crew on the other side of the fire. Someone put on a Bob Marley album on their tinny phone speaker, and Gong Que giggled and cracked jokes with the two other guys as they lay in their sleeping bags, like they were on school camp.
"Urgh,  your trekking pole is sticking in my arse. At least I hope that's what it is ..."
I was warm and dry enough inside the sleeping bag, but my hands holding my Kindle were freezing - and my breath made vapour. With all the snoring and wheezing I was glad I'd brought my earplugs. Night, guys.

Yading Big Kora trek diary - Day 5: Ampitheatre to "Rock's rock"

Summary: This was one of the most difficult days because it involved walking along a precarious trail above the vast Lawatong valley on the side of steep scree slopes below the notorious cliffs on the south side of Jambeyang. The walk culminates in crossing the fourth pass, which we nicknamed "The Shoulder" and this involves some scrambling along a scree trail that is quite exposed in places. The trail then turns abruptly north up the Yetchesura valley and crosses a mini-pass to arrive at an area of open pasture on which we find the landmark lump of rock that Joseph Rock photographed in 1928 and nominated as a resting spot for pilgrims.

I wasn't in the best of moods when I woke up on Day 5 at the ampitheatre. I'd had a rough night worrying about the rain and thunderstorm swamping the tent - and when I got up it was to grey mist and still no views of the nearby mountain peaks - so frustrating. I was also facing the day's walk with trepidation because I knew from my previous visit in 2010 that this was a  tough section on steep scree slopes. And the view of the track running along the base of the cliff line seemed to confirm the dangerous nature of the trail ahead.

After our delayed start from the Yaka Pass yesterday, we had rammed it home to the horse guys that we wanted an early start today - and this is what they delivered. I was up at 6am and we were pretty much packed up and ready to go by 8am. As usual the film team were carrying a lot of gear, and on this section they wanted to set up specific shots as we traversed the scree slopes.

Before we left, Gong Que went up to the stupa below the cliffs and added some prayer flags to those already strewn around it. Then our mule train set off up the steep zig-zagging trail up to the cliff walk. I lapsed into my slow-walk mode and lagged behind slightly - and was just getting into my stride when they all stopped for a rest. Frustrating, but at least we had great views back to the Yaka pass - and the route we had come down the day before.

Once on the trail, I was finding the going easier than on my previous trek - almost wholly because this time there was no snow on the ground and therefore route finding was straightforward (and there was no fear of sliding down over the edge into the Lawatong abyss).

We carried on over open hillside and the going was relatively easy at this point. I was walking along at my own pace, but it soon became clear that Qin Rey wanted me to film me walking behind Gong Que, as if he was leading the way. Maybe this was for the narrative of his documentary (to show the foreigner being guided by a Chinese expert rather than the opposite, which was closer to the truth). I didn't really mind this at first as we were on fairly easy trail.

However, when we reached the start of the steep scree trail section I was 'directed' to walk behind Gong Que and a horse he had been given to lead (artistic license? - it looked good on camera). Meanwhile the rest of the mules were lined up behind me and they were setting a fair pace - putting pressure on me to speed up. The first part of the scree section was the most exposed, and I started to feel irritated for being sandwiched between two sets of mules. There were some tricky bits of track with some exposed sections of steep drops on the left, and Gong Que kept stopping and starting walking arbitrarily. This left me perched on some precarious bits of path, unable to go forward or backwards as the mules were right behind me quite literally champing at the bit. This became both worrying and annoying for me, and I lost my cool a bit, yelling at Gong Que to get a move on. However our Tibetan guide appeared to be taking direction from the camera guys who had their telephoto lenses zeroed on us from ahead and behind.

Gong Que eventually pulled his finger out, so to speak, and our mule parade inched forward onto more open and less hazardous sections of the scree slope. I relaxed a bit, but was still stewing with frustration. With the cameras on me I started acting up like a truculent schoolkid, sticking my hands in my pockets and ambling along whistling and kicking rocks down the hill.  I carried on this way all the way over the scree section, which was mostly swathed in mist.

When we reached the end of the scree and climbed back up on to solid rock, I was interviewed by the film crew on camera - but when asked to say a few words about how this section had been, I just shrugged my shoulders. Better say nothing at all than blurt out something rude!

We had another break and the team consulted my Google Earth 3D views - they were quite amazed by them. With Google being blocked in China few of them had seen these remarkably detailed visualisations of the route.

After a Werthers Original I had calmed down a bit by the time we set off on the last section of the cliff walk up to The Shoulder. The trail angled upwards and a fair bit of exertion required to ascend the trail that led over broken rocks. There were a couple of false summits, the first of which involved an absolute bastard of a scramble up slippery mud and rock.

How disappointing to reach the 'top' only to find that the trail carried on for several hundred metres further round the corner and up into the mist. Above us loomed a series of crags and razorback rock formations - the last buttress of which proved to be the shoulder. The views down into the Lawatong valley were now stupdenous - but I was still a little wary of what lay ahead - it all looked a little too easy compared to what I remembered from my last visit here. Where was that scary final section I had written about?

Sure enough, as we skirted under the final crag, the trail led up to a cluster of rocks festooned with prayer flags - but the last 20 metres or so was a faint trail on an alarmingly sloping section of muddy hillside. It was an exposed section with nothing to arrest a fall down the steep slope should you slip or lose your footing. Everyone else had already cleared this bit, so I had to do it alone, with just Yue Qiang filming me from the distance. Not liking the look of the trail along the edge of the cliff, I erred on the side of caution and scrambled using my hands and knees in parts over a slightly higher section- it was steeper but at least it hand a semblance of handholds and footholds.

And with a few last desperate steps I strode onto the final rocks - I had made it!
All I could say was "I'm alive!" as I settled down amid the rocks, mentally as well as physically exhausted.

The views were tremendous - especially across the other side of the Yetchesura valley, where a hanging sub-valley harboured a beautiful green alpine lake that had its own island.

My sense of triumph was short lived as I saw the others were already moving out with the mules and disappearing into the mist. I was snacking on some crackers and cheese, but had to put my lunch on hold as I feared I would be left behind with no way of catching up - or finding the trail. The track had now turned abruptly north, and continued over flat, slate-like slabs. Compared to the cliff walk it was easy going, but it still proved to be a bit of a slog as we ascended up to a second mini-pass, beyond which lay the open pasture containing "Rock's rock". This circular area of open grassland was overlooked by a huge buttress - and I was surprised to see a cluster of huts in the distance off to the left (west) as we crested the 'pass'. I'm sure this little settlement had not been there on our last visit.

We descended from the 'pass' towards the big rock, having to cross a stream that flowed over slippery rock. It was by now mid-afternoon and as seemed to be a regular pattern on this trip, it started to rain.

The horse porters left up at the rock and they went off to seek shelter at the huts we had seen further down the valley. We were now at the rock famously photographed by Joseph Rock in 1928 with all his porters gathered around it - now we in turn clustered around it,  to keep out of the rain.

The first thing I did was to use the shelter of an overhanging bit of rock to set the stove up and make a cup of tea. The others were focused on getting their tents up, but I was in no hurry - hoping it would ease off a bit so that my inner tent wouldn't get too wet. I had to wait about an hour for this, and thus passed the time just crouching under the eaves of the rock, chatting with Gong Que and Qin Rey. We carried on our little social corner after I had got my tent up - the two younger camera crew guys were still feeling ill due to having colds and altitude sickness, whereas I felt fine - if a little tired.

It felt completely normal and yet absolutely weird to be spending a Sunday afternoon just standing under a rock in the rain in the middle of nowhere, chatting away in Chinese. The irrepressable Gong Que, as usual, saved the day - his witty asides and tongue-in-cheek bits of encouragement ("It's only  bit of rain! We're having a great time!") made me smile. And that's all we did for the rest of Sunday - just clustered under the rock for hours, chatting away and making more cups of tea, eating snacks and talking about everything from previous travels to plans for retirement. The rain poured down and when it started to get dark I retired to the tent to finish off my Alexei Sayle book. Happy days.

Yading Big Kora Trek Diary: Day 4 - Yaka Pass to the Ampitheatre

Summary: on this short day we hiked from Camp 3 across the Yaka Pass and into the magical surrounds of the 'lost valley' of Lawatong, passing from the domain of Chanadorje (5958m) to that of Mt Jambeyang. We camped at an awe-inspiring location we called 'the Ampitheatre', surrounded on three sides by cliffs and right under the south side of Jambeyang.

I was slightly dreading the fourth day, expecting it to be tough because of my previous experience of an arduous crossing of the snow-bound Yaka Pass in 2010. But that had been done at the end of a long day when we were exhausted: this time we faced in it reasonably fresh condition. The day started with a frustrating wait at our pre-pass camp. We woke to beautiful clear weather and blue skies, but our porters failed to show up at the agreed 8am start time. Having already packed up, I mooched around impatiently, and was annoyed to see that the clouds and mist were starting to close in again. Our chances of hiking over the Yaka Pass in clear weather appeared to be diminishing rapidly. In any other circumstances it would be an idyllic place to spend a few hours, gazing up at the awesome twin peaks of Zambala and the sunlit pass above us.

However I was still in a shitty mood when the porters eventually showed up at closer to 10am - with no explantion for the delay. Even when we hit the track they appeared to be in no rush to get up the pass, constantly stopping for breaks, while I was itching to get to grips with the slope. On my last crossing six years earlier I had been almost doubled up with exhaustion - so weak I could not even carry my daypack. I'd had to trudge up, step by painful step. This time, however, I seemed to be leaping up the pass as if it was a walk up Malham Cove.

The trail led up the side of a waterfall, where we had a long rest, and then continued up a more rocky trail that the mules struggled with - but it was no problem for agile humans. I was feeling OK but the two young camera guys from CCTV must have been feeling the effects of the altitude because they rode on horseback most of the way up. They didn't look too good, and Yue Qiang in particular looked very sick with a bad cough.

Feeling impatient, I walked on ahead with Gong Que, who scurried around like a terrier investigating flowers and plants - and darting off on side trips to explore nearby areas. The director Qin Rey had to call him back a few times and remind him that he was supposed to be helping set up shots with me, rather than encouraging me to plough on in front before the cameras were ready to film me.

Feeling like I was in restraint, I dawdled along and whistled to myself. For some reason I couldn't get the song of Hartley the Lion from my childhood TV series the Herbs out of my head ...

After a bit of a slog up the trail we eventually reached the top of the northern side of the Yaka Pass, where Gong Que strung up some Tibetan prayer flags. There were nice views back down the Saiyo Katso valley from where we had come the previous day, and our flood-prone campsite of the previous night. However this wasn't the true pass, which was actually a vaguely defined spot a little higher up. This was because the Yaka Pass is not the 'knife edge'  ridge that it appears  to be from a distance. In fact, the pass was a broad expanse of open plateau big enough to put a football field on - if it was for all the huge boulders and outcrops. We paused here for a while as the porters had a smoke and I explained to them the story of how Joseph Rock had come here all the way from Thailand in the 1920s in his quest for plants. There were certainly plenty of alpine plants still in evidence around this 4500m pass.

We then began the descent into the huge Lawatong valley - and towards a test of my nerve, to a scary exposed part of trail where I would have to face my demons again. The trail was a gentle descent to some flooded meadows, from where we had epic views of the cliffs below Jambeyang, along which tomorrow's trail could be seen. The trail runs high up the side of the Lawatong valley, just beneath the top of the cliffs - and it appears that if you tumble down you will roll down the slope and over the edge of a precipice to fall about 1000 feet into the Lawatong valley. The thin line of path looked highly exposed on the steep hillside, but I knew that this was an illusion, and that it was actually not so steep -except for one or two scary bits.

But first we had to splash our way through the marshy grass and traverse a long scree slope below one of the glacier moraines of Jambeyang's south east side. At this point, tucked under a rock buttress we came across the famous 'traveller's rest' shrine that was photographed by Joseph Rock. Six years ago this collection of stone chortens and wall paintings looked little changed from when Rock photographed in in 1928. In 2016, however, the shrine had had some improvements - and there was now a fancy golden chorten had been installed, along with lots of prayer flags. Pilgrims circumambulating the three peaks had left offering of ivory and jade bracelets, necklaces and wads of Chinese currency. Qin Rey filmed me doing a spiel here, and I tried to mumble some serious answers to his questions about religion.

After the shrine and the crossing of the scree field I found myself back in the spot where six years ago we had a major drama - our emergency camping spot. It had been on this bit of mountainside that we had been forced to stop for the evening when our know-nothing guides had failed to find anywhere suitable to lodge for the night. It was a terrible place, with no level ground and no running water - just a patch of fir trees for a bit of shelter from the wind. We had pitched our tent on the track itself - the only bit of level ground - while our guides in 2010 had revealed they had brought no shelter - and had just built a fire and huddled round it for the night!

This time we breezed through because there was simply no reason to pause there - I don't know why they ever chose it as an overnight spot - there was a much better campsite just around the corner.

However, there was a catch - to reach the 'ampitheatre' campground  you have to traverse around the top of some cliffs that leave you exposed for a dramatic fall into the Lawatong valley. At one point the trail narrows and for about ten metres you have to skirt a few sections where there is nothing between you and an almost sheer vertical drop. The path is only one foot wide and I remembered it as being terrifying - had I been imaging this? I quickly found that the answer was a firm no.


When I got to the hairy bit I lost my nerve and had to call Gong Que back to give me a helping hand. There actually wasn't much he could do except provide a steadying hand and the advice - just focus on the track, don't look over the edge!' I staggered over and was relieved when I reached the mini pass at the top of the slope, where a broad trail led down into the ampitheatre. This was another patch of pasture in a spectacular setting. Again there was a small stone shelter where our porters had already settled in and got  fire going. We quickly put up our tents in the lee of a big chorten - and right on cue it started raining.

After dinner I explored the surrounding area and walked up the nearest stream to try get some cleaner water. This magical place seemed so secluded - was this the ultimate Shangri La? Is this where you could ponder the meaning of life? Jambeyang's dagger-like peak loomed above - but the only meaning I could find in this seldom visited spot  was a poster of Audrey Hepburn that had somehow found its way to be discarded in the stream bed!

The magic of this isolated place  was also marred by the large number of camping gas canisters that had been dumped here, presumably by other hikers. Why would you come to such a special place and then despoil it? How hard is it to take your rubbish away? I had a bit of a rant about this to the Chinese film crew for my daily video diary - after I collected about 20 empty canisters from the surrounding grassy area. I laid them out in the shape of the Chinese character Bu! (No!) - to try send a message to other would-be gas canister litter louts.

That night was another stormy one. This time the rain and wind hit so suddenly at about 1pm that I woke up and panicked, thinking the tent had collapsed. It hadn't - just one of the guy ropes had come loose - but the mad flapping of the tent and the heavy drumming of wind-blown rain made me nervous. I was so convinced that my tent was going to blow down that I got out of my sleeping bag and put on all my wet weather gear, in preparation for instant evacuation to the stone hut. However, the worst never came to pass, and I finally managed to nod off about 1am.

Yading Big Kora Trek Diary: Day 3 - Chanadorje to Yaka Pass

Summary: On this day we spent the morning exploring the glacier at the foot of Chanadorje, then hiked over the second pass to enter the Saiyo Katso valley. The head of this isolated valley is blocked by what looks like a sheer wall of rock that leads up to the Yaka Pass. In actual fact it is not so steep and can be hiked up without any need for scrambling.

After waking up to the sound of rain, the morning fined up a little, and after a breakfast in the log cabin I hiked up to the glacier moraine with Qin Rey and Yue Qiang. I went ahead and they filmed me scrambling around on the tip of the glacier. I'd always thought that glaciers would be made of ice - but this one was snow, just like you get on the streets of Leeds - you could have a snowball fight with it. The snow was surprisingly white and clean - I ate a bit ... but only realised why this was an hour later when a huge avalanche of ice and snow crashed down the chute above where we had been standing. Fortunately by this time we had gone back to the tent and were away from the danger zone.

While exploring the glacier I also walked a little further up to see the beautiful waterfall cascading down the brown rock face.

When I walked the 1km back to the tents I saw that Xiao Yu had set up a drone and was filming from above. It was a very timely setup because as soon as we got back the first of several ice falls occurred on the mountain. With a huge booming and crashing noise, tons of white powder swept down the east face, to eventually spew out onto the glacier moraine where we had been exploring!

This shook me up a bit, and I packed up the tent in a subdued mood.

After a lunch of Vitawheat crackers, Laughing Cow cheese and another cup of tea, our mule train set off to tackle the next stage of the trek - the second pass. We hiked up the pebbles of the dried up riverbed and turned left into the forest to ascend up the south west corner of Chanadorje. Once again I went into my "Old Man Walking" mode that I adopted on any upward slope at this altitude. This basically means that I just breathe really slowly and let my breathing dictate my pace of walking rater than the other way round. In practice this means I resemble Neil Armstrong walking on the moon - taking slow deliberate steps and breathing slowly and loudly. It might sound daft, but it enables me to set a slow but sure pace that I can maintain for ages - while the faster walkers take breaks every ten or fifteen minutes.

This slow pace got me up to the top of the first 'false pass'. We paused here, with a view of what we thought was the real Second Pass above us. Qin Rey got me kitted out with a GoPro camera and also set up Yue Qiang with  telephoto TV camera and Xiao Yu got the drone up and running. All this to film me making my way up to the very picturesque Second Pass. I felt like a right wally trudging up across the open country o my own with the drone buzzing round my head like a big white plastic mosquito.

Once at the 'pass' we discovered this still wasn't the main pass, which lay about 500m or so to the right. The route finding here was quite difficult - there was a track branching off to the left, which went down to an isolated farmstead comprising a wooden hut and an outhouse with a few yaks grazing nearby. However the real track went imperceptibly to the left and was hard to find at first - but the pass above was visible as a guide. At this section I walked with our guide Gong Que, who proved to have remarkable eyesight - he could see stuff with his bare eyes that I couldn't even locate with my Leitz 8x32 binoculars! He had seen some birds flitting about in the bush on the ridge that he thought might be vultures. However once I found them with the binoculars they appeared to be large pigeons - they looked like black headed gulls crossed with wood pigeons: - presumably Snow Pigeon.

After cresting the pass we entered the right hand side of the beautiful Saiyo Katso valley. There were two prominent peaks on the opposite, as described by Joseph Rock as Zambala. There was also a mysterious looking green alpine lake set in a basin on the opposite side of the valley. All completely deserted. This really looked like Shangri-La.

It got quite windy as we walked up the valley, following the directions of our Tibetan porters. We assumed they knew where we were going. We  passed under a long scree slope and then had to cross a deep gully carved out of the mountainside by a fast-rushing stream. The opposite side was steep and muddy and I was the last to cross. There was one section of about 3 metres that had no handholds and called for a bit of rough scrambling. The TV crew had already got over this and set up their cameras at the top and were pointing them in my face as I struggled up over the orange brown crumbly rock and slippery mud. As I got near the top I suddenly ran out of handholds and desperately searched around trying to locate something to grip onto to stop me slipping back into the gully. The camera guys just watched dispassionately as I fumbled around, until I lost my temper and yelled to them that I needed a hand, not a camera lens! Qin Rey reached out his hand and pulled me up, just before I slid back down.

For the next bit of walk he posed the question of whether 'the media' should intervene in the events they are filming. He cited the example of the photographer who snapped the famous photo of a vulture looking hungrily at a starving Ethiopian kid. I replied that I didn't give a toss about media ethics - I just wanted a hand and not to break my neck by being left to fall back down the cliff!

As we approached the Yaka Pass at about 4pm the Tibetans led up to an open patch of hillside with a bit of grass about the thick bush. It was hardly suitable for pitching tents because it was covered with rocks and there were few flat bits. Nevertheless the Tibetans dumped our bags there and said they would see us at 8am the next morning - and with that they legged it back down the valley to stay with the locals at the farmstead we had passed.

We put up our tents but I wasn't happy - the site was located high on the hillside and seemed to be something of a wind tunnel for the strong gusts coming down from the pass. I wasn't the only unhappy one - Tibetan guide Gong Que was also thinking it was a rubbish place to camp - and he went to have a recce further down the track. Sure enough, about 10 minutes later he returned saying there was a perfect camping spot further down on the valley floor  sheltered and close to running water. We could see it when we looked 'over the edge' of our hillside perch. He suggested we shift, but Qin Rey and the film crew were reluctant because they had a lot of heavy camera gear that had been carried on horseback. But after some cajoling we eventually  made the move, and  relocated further down. The campsite seemed ideal - lots of flat grassy space, sheltered from the wind behind huge boulders and rock outcrops.

I got my tent set up again and was just starting to boil some water for dinner when a rain squall swept in from the pass. I retreated inside the tent, leaving my gs stove cooking away. The rain increased in intensity and  turned into hailstones. We were in the grips of a flash thunder storm. I cowered inside the tent as the water and hail absolutely pelted down for about ten minutes. When it eased off I re-emerged to find my pan of water almost boiling, and yet with hailstones floating in it. I'm sure a physics expert could calculate the changing thermodynamic equilibrium as the thermal heat from the cooking gas competed with the equal and opposite cooling force of the hail and ice on the pan water.

But academic musing aside, I soon realised I faced a much more serious problem - the flat grassy camping spot had turned into a marsh - and I had pitched my tent right in the spot where draining water was now flowing like a small stream. It was two or three inches deep, but fortunately not high enough to go over he waterproof sides of my inner tent.

Reluctantly I got out and searched around for higher and drier camping spot. By the time I found a place and relocated my tent I was exhausted and hungry. I couldn't face another disgusting dehydrated meal so had one of my 'emergency' rations - pot noodles.

Despite only walking for half a day I felt physically and mentally exhausted, and spent the rest of the evening in my sleeping bag, like a zombie. I must have dozed off at around 10pm but was woken again at about midnight when another thunder storm erupted around us. The tent shook and rain belted down very loudly on the whipping flysheet. Even with earplugs in there was no way I could sleep. To make things worse there was thunder and lightning crashing around very closely. This wasn't suburban thunder, but very real and forceful yellow explosive flashes followed within milliseconds by cracking thunder that echoed off the nearby cliffs. It seemed to be getting closer - and I felt like those Londoners in the Blitz who listened with dread as they heard a stick of falling bombs getting ever closer. I suddenly realised that my tent poles were probably the only bit of metal for miles around - and my tent was pitched near the highest point of the valley. I felt like a perfect target for lightning.

And thus it was a lay nervously in my tent, unable to sleep in the early hours as the lightning continued for about an hour. Just when I thought it had receded there would be a new and sudden eruption. Very un-nerving.

Yading Outer Kora trek diary: Day 2

On the second day we walked over the first pass from Baiyu (Lurong valley) to a spectacular campsite at the base of Chanadorje's eastern face, where a huge glacier terminated.

I slept OK at Baiyu despite pretty much constant rain through the night. My fears about the integrity of the Nemo tent were unfounded - one of the few good things about camping in the rain is the snug feeling of being in a nice dry and warm sleeping bag in the tent. I was also fortunate not to suffer from any altitude effects this time around - no hangover headaches or problems sleeping due to being short of breath or having a dry mouth.

I woke at daybreak on Day 2 to the sound of rain pattering on the flysheet, and managed to drag myself out  of the sleeping bag and get my hiking gear on in the confines of the tent. Fortunately for my frail tent it hadn't been too windy, and the morning was cool rather than freezing when I wandered over to the stone hut to make a cup of coffee and some muesli for breakfast. I was already learning that even the simplest tasks become real chores when camping. Making a cup of coffee, for example - having to go and fetch some water from the stream. Then unpacking the stove and the food bag, find the lighter at the bottom of the pack, get it all set up ... and try boil some water without knocking the pan over in a crowded stone shelter where smoke from the fire turns makes eyes smart and turn bloodshot. Then repeat in reverse...

The mist and low cloud meant there still wasn't much of a view from this spot where Rock had gained such great views of the mountains ( and his description of this spot inspired the whole Shangri-La Blue Moon Valley descriptions in James Hilton' Lost Horizon). No exotic valley for us - just a lot of wet crags looming over us in the mist. And I felt sorry for the mules being left out in these conditions overnight (though they seemed happy with the little grazed areas of fertile paddock).

After breakfast the China TV crew filmed me gazing thoughtfully at the crags and scenery through my binoculars - and also striking my tent, as if I knew what I was doing. I was ready to leave by 9-ish but they faffed around packing up their gear so we didn't hit the trail until about 10am. I just sat in the shelter reading Alexei Sayle's autobiography (Thatcher Stole My Trousers) on my Kindle.

The track up to the pass wasn't particularly difficult - just a bit of a slog up through rocky and rather bleak terrain. We ascended a couple of steeper sections of track and lo and behold, there was the pass ahed - across an open expanse of slate rocks, looking not too far off. We reached it at about midday and I sat down by the prayer flags and chortens to have some cheese and crackers. I'd been worried the cheese brought from Australia would go off but it seemed to keep OK in this cool climate.

Across the pass (4900m?) we entered the familiar territory of the rocky valley that led down to a collection of huts used by Garu Tibetans who were foraging high in the hills in spring for congcao caterpillar fungus. I remembered this descent as being a long slog, but this time it didn't seem so far. I spent much of the descent chatting to Qin Rey, telling his that the scenery reminded me of the Lake District and Yorkshire dales - but of course on a much grander scale.

Qin had a running joke with one of the porters about finding a xiaomaibu (shop) that sold Coke.
We paused for an hour at the huts, where a few local Tibetans were in residence. The porters had some late lunch (tsamba, butter tea & momo bread) there and I gave away a few balloons to the local kids.

We then continued down the track that led to Galuo, but soon branched off on a parallel track to the right that led down to a bridge over a raging creek. The weather by now had really closed in and it was raining, with very little visibility because of the mist. At one point I caught a glimpse of an amazing waterfall - but by the time I'd got my camera out this vision had been swallowed up into the mist. The track down to the bridge through the forest was further than I thought - and it was a very muddy, rocky trail. It would only take one slip or mis-step to twist an ankle.

At the primitive wooden bridge the TV guys insisted on filming me crossing - twice (once from in front, once from behind). Then it was uphill again, back into the forest and we turned in a south-westerly direction towards the source of the Shuiluo stream - and towards Chanadorje. The walk through the fir forest was quite tranquil and pleasant - a few birds could be heard and there were loads of unfamiliar plants and flowers. I'm sure this would be a botanists' paradise.

We crossed three smaller streams before finding ourselves in the riverbed of the more open valley basin that leads up to the base of Chanadorje. I recognised the 'bendy tree' from last time - a spruce that has been deformed into a one-sided shape presumably by the wind. From here it was just a half hour stroll to the open pasture at the base of Chanadorje. Again our view was limited by the low cloud - but it was still an epic spot for campsite - especially with the glacier moraine right in front of us.

We picked a spot next to an isolated and deserted log cabin to make camp. And as if on cue, it started raining as soon as we started to put our tents up - and the floor of my tent was once again soaked.
Once again we steamed our clothes dry in front of the fire, and I took a wander down to the stream to try get some fresh water. Despite being from the glacier the water appeared to be suspiciously like urine: yellow and frothy, so I walked up the dried out river bed looking for cleaner source. I could hear water rushing down from the mountain but could not locate it. Then I found out why - after stumbling over rocks for 500m I located a clear stream running off the mountain - but it seemed to dry up or disappear underground at a spot where there were a lot of prayer flags and primitive chortens - a sacred magic spot?

And thus we settled in to the spot that Rock described as Shingara - The Sea Dragons Snout - where it seemed the icy eastern face of Chanadorje plunged vertically right to our feet. I did another episode of the Daily Video Diary in Chinese, feeling like a right berk trying to describe the 'spirit of the forest' in Mandarin. I suspect the TV crew would use my more spontaneous "Phew - this is brilliant!" remarks captured on their iPhone at the moment we arrived.

Yading Big Kora trek diary: Day 1 - Chonggu to Baiyu camp

The first day was an easy one with only about three hours walking - purposely so, as a way of breaking ourselves in gently to this seven-eight day trek at high altitude. We didn't set off from Chonggu Si until after lunch, partly because this was the earliest that the porters could get the horses together.

My 'solo' trek had morphed into something resembling Hannibal's Crossing of the Alps. The film crew from China Central TV in Beijing consisted of the director/sound guy and two camera guys. They had a ton of camera and audio gear in silver flight cases, so between us we required six mules and three Tibetan porters. And of course we had our Tibetan guide and general gaffer, Gong Que. So in total, eight of us.

We left the guesthouse after lunch and took a Landcruiser down to the end of the road near Chonggu Si monastery, where we loaded the mules up right next to the public toilets. We were watched by quite a few bemused Chinese tourists, who looked more geared up for a trek than we were.

Then it was finally time to start the trek - and this posed a problem because the track started just off from the private road along which ran the electric buggies up to Luorong. Access to this road was strictly patrolled by the Yading park ticket collectors who sought proof of the 80 yuan fare. They adamantly refused to allow us to walk up the road, so we had to take a boardwalk lower down and the cross over and try find the beginning of the track, which the previous day's recce had suggested was about 100m from the 'bus station'. Luckily we had a local guide who showed us that the track actually started about a further 100m beyond the most obvious one - it was just not visible from the road and I would never have found it alone, despite having travelled on it previous trip.

[If you are looking for the start of the track, the best advice I can give is to go to the first buggy bus stop then continue another 100m to a right curve in the road where there is a small park sign.]

And so at about 1pm we were finally off, up the hill through the woods. On my previous trek I had really struggled with altitude and exertion on this initial stage, to the point where I thought I was going to have a coronary - and almost gave up. This time, however, I took it slowly and found I could pace myself going up the hill quite easily without getting out of breath, and had no trouble whatsoever. Again, I put this down to the magical effects of Diamox and perhaps my 4 weeks of walking training at home.

The walk ascended through thick woods for the first hour and the initial sunshine soon gave way to showers - and the ominous rumble of thunder. I did the first of many clothing changes - first removing my fleece and walking in shirtsleeves - then when the rain set in switching from sunhat to rain hat and donning my raincoat.

After about of going up through the forest and passing a rockfall, we passed a chorten and emerged into open hillside. By now it was raining quite steadily and I was already beginning to feel water leaking into my jacket. Even the best GoreTex waterproofs in the world can only stand up to so much incessant rain before they 'wet out' and become damp - and this is what happened to my raincoat. I trudged on through the mist, feeling pessimistic that I would get any views of the mountains in the thick cloud and mist. It was also depressing to see that Tibetan pilgrims had discarded plastic bottles and food wrappers along the trail.

It took another hour or so as we followed the contour round the valley to ascend up into the basin where the Baiyu camp was located. This proved to be a patch of open grass next to a stream, with a couple of wrecked stone shelters and one that had half a roof.

Once we arrived I started to feel cold because of my wet shirt. Foolishly, I had left my fleece in my pack, which was now being carried by one of the horses, about 40 minutes behind us:

I hung around the half shelter beneath the misty crags, making a cup of tea to try ease my cold and miserable mood miserable until the horses finally showed up. At least my soft shell pants stayed reasonably waterproof - and my Scarpa boots had performed superbly, keeping my feet bone dry.

We selected a campsite on a flat patch of ground below the hut, and I discovered that pitching the Nemo Hornet 1P tent in the rain meant it got totally soaked on the floor (because the fly goes on last). Fortunately I'd brought along a sponge and small towel for washing pans - but which proved much more useful for mopping drying up the wet tent floor. It's amazing how wet a tent (and everything else) can get with just a couple minutes exposure to the rain.

And it wasn't just me who was soaked. We were all drenched, regardless of how good our rain gear was. We all crowded into the half shelter, where the Tibetan porters soon got a big fire going, and we spent the next couple of hours huddling round the fire with steam coming off all our clothes (which also got completely covered in ash). This steam drying by the fire was to become a recurring event for the rest of the trek - every afternoon.

I was disapppointed that my recently re-proofed eVent fabric wet weather coat had not stood up to the rain. I was to find that a much simpler solution to keep dry was to simply wear a cheap PVC poncho, kindly lent to me by Qin Rey. It looked daggy, but was completely impermeable to rain - and had the added bonus of keeping my backpack dry (whose contents had already become damp despite the bag having a raincover).

And thus we spent our first evening of the trek at Baiyu - altitude about 4400m and the place where Joseph Rock had spent three days in 1928, marvelling at the sights of Shenrezig and Jambeyang across the Duron (Luorong) valley. Needless to say, we got not such views, only some nice misty crags above us.

I cooked up one of my dehydrated Backcountry hiking meals - Beef Casserole if I remember rightly. It was disgusting, barely edible, seeming to consist mostly of tasteless chewy meat and lots of sweetcorn (which I loathe). I envied the other guys who had brought a week's worth of instant noodles.

The CCTV crew filmed me doing everything - making a cup of tea, drying my clothes, picking my nose. After dinner, sat  in the gloom of the shed next to the fire,  they did the first of what was to become a regular item - the Daily Video Diary. I spoke in Chinese to the camera for a few minutes, describing my thoughts for that day - the experiences, hopes and some of the background to the area. With my limited Chinese vocabulary I found it a real struggle, but they seemed satisfied with the results.

Eventually when it got dark I retreated to the ultralight one man tent, fervently hoping it would stand up to the incessant rain - and regretting that I had not spent an extra couple of hundred dollars and bought the more robust MSR tent that I'd had my mind set on. My tent seemed dry and reasonably comfortable, but I feared it would be too flimsy and too ventilated to stand up to a night of solid rain.