This is going to be one of those blog entries that I hope my mother never reads. It’s being written as a faithful account of my time in Tibet, but I’m not particularly proud of the events that happened. And before I go on, let me also say that I’m really not trying to dramatize the events or imply that I’m McGuyver.

That said, this entry is about how we got accidentally left behind on Mt. Everest, lost in the dark and how we found our way back to base camp. With a little photographic creativity.

setting off
I set off for base camp three days ago from Lhasa. Our little band of travelers consisted of random people from all over China who wanted to share a ride. Tibet is seriously politically sensitive territory. Foreigners and local Chinese don’t really mix as foreigners need special permits, a local guide and a set itinerary. Which means the only back packers you will be able to organize a shared ride with, are Chinese travelers.

This has been a bit of a new experience for me as an overseas born Chinese, and certainly eye-opening. However I must say, I’m really grateful to have had these new friends.

From Lhasa to Mt. Everest base camp is a two day drive, stopping over at Shigatse. I had struggled with headaches in Lhasa but thought I had acclimated by the time we arrived in Shigatse, which is 1000 km above Lhasa. The moment I stepped foot on Everest at 5000 km however, I could tell it wasn’t going to be easy.

base camp
Within an hour of our arrival, everyone else seemed to be doing fine. Except me. I was fighting back the urge to dry heave and a pounding headache. From base camp, most tourists will take transport to the next summit where there is a fantastic view of the top of Mt. Everest. Against what is probably my better judgment, I got on the bus. I don’t think I could have forgiven myself if I came all this way and passed up the chance to see it up close because of a stupid headache.

This side of the Himalayas is completely barren and icy. Nothing but the tiniest weeds grow, and the ground is cut with icy streams from the glaciers above. Nat Geo adventurers make it look so darn easy. I’m a pretty healthy and active girl, but I felt like I moved in slow motion up there and was panting for air after every few steps.

for the love of the game
There is something unique about photographers that sets us apart from other creative pursuits. For one, our craft straddles between technology and artistry. Another is that to be a photographer is to be infinitely curious about the world. We lug our cameras to the far corners of the earth and even though the trip is over, our journey is only half begun. We wake up at insane hours to catch the light and in short, go to great lengths to capture the perfect frame.

So naturally, it was a dozen of us photographers that got left behind on the summit, after the remaining transport had ferried back the very last frozen and weary tourist.

lost
By the time we realized there was no bus coming back for us, it was almost night fall. There was some debate in the group (“no way they would leave us here!”) before the consensus was that it probably wouldn’t be a very good idea to wait and find out.

We were likely only three to four hours’ hike away from base camp, and the feeling of imminent danger wasn’t particularly overwhelming. But how utterly unprepared we all were was rather frightening. We split into three groups (mostly based on hiking speed) and before long, we had lost the main road and were stumbling in the dark, following icy streams. We had totally lost the other groups, and despite China Mobile signs along the road up to base camp, there was definitely no reception.

Somewhere far ahead, we saw a tiny flash of light, followed by another. It took a few minutes before we realized it was the first group, using their on camera flashes and strobes to signal to us. Every 10-15 minutes or so, we’d see a few flashes, return the signal, and then flash the last group. In this way we were able to make sure we all stayed together and moved in the same general direction.

Pro/am photographers often complain that every other person now has a fancy SLR and flashy gear. In this particular instance.. I’ve never been quite so grateful.

A few hours later, we finally came to base camp, half frozen and looking like we’d all smeared blue ink on our lips. Inside the nomad tents we were staying at, the remainder of our group who had made it back earlier fussed around us offering a dozen different herbal remedies. I half heartedly gulped some down, force-fed myself a few spoonfuls of rice before falling into a restless, head-pounding slumber.

As I type this on the road back to Lhasa on my iPhone, there have already been more misadventures. But that will have to wait… Right now I’m just enjoying being at a normal elevation of 4000 km.

There are certain pros and cons about traveling alone in Tibet. Pro: you might hop on the back of a truck en route to a monastery, meet a bunch of Amdo pilgrims and get taken under their wing. Con: you might also wake up every morning to a pounding migraine, realizing your lips are tinged with blue from want of oxygen, and occasionally feeling frustrated and alone in a totally foreign place.

Some things make it worth all the trouble though. The people you will encounter while on the road, and the feeling of total freedom and empowerment. If I had to summarize this into a phrase, it’s a mindset of being open to possibilities.

Chinese travelers I have encountered often remark “niu” when they find out I’m here on my own. Niu literally means “cow” and translates as “cool” or “awesome”… (It’s a funny language sometimes) What I think is really “niu” are the people I’ve encountered along these last few days of travel. Like a retired Dutch couple who hiked across northern India together. Or a 19 year old girl from Beijing who hitched a ride to Lhasa. Or a PhD candidate and a former information officer for the Chinese government. Whoa.

Tomorrow I set off for a four day trip that will take me to the base camp of Mt. Everest. It’s 5000 M above sea level and nearly 2000 m higher than Lhasa… Which I confess, I’m a little concerned about since I am still showing slight symptoms of altitude adjustment. If all goes well, three days from now I’ll peek my head out of a yak hide tent and see the sunrise on the Himalayas.

I really, really hope I’m able to make it. :)

I’m traveling with a rabble of Chinese back packers, from all over the country. As the only native English speaker.. my mandarin is getting quite the work out. But in the short time we’ve gotten to know each other, it’s really remarkable to see how we’ve all bonded and take care of each other. How it all happened was a bit of kismet. I wandered into a hostel to use the bathroom and saw a notice to share a ride.. And the rest is history.

So here is a quick sign off from Lhasa, in hopes that my next entry won’t be one where I’m delirious and needing an IV. :)

I feel like someone has replaced my brain with cotton. There is a distant buzzing, which through my exhaustion I realize is my alarm clock, and I force myself out of my cocoon of blankets. I am severely sleep deprived and have gotten about 8 hours in the last 2 days. But I can’t complain. I’m sleep deprived from spending time with my favorite people in Beijing, before I hit the road for a month.

Beijing is uncharacteristically wet and muggy. It had been raining for four days straight and even at 5 am, a cloud of vapor and smog is thick in the air. Combined with the sleep deprivation, I feel like I’m wading through a dream. I finish the haphazard stuffing of my rucksack which contains only the bare minimum I need to survive. My camera bag gets the same once over as well. Nothing more than my trusty Nikon and 3 prime lenses in terms of gear. I carry two hard drives, one turned into a photo bank that I can use to back up my handful of SD cards. This is bare bones travel photography like Mark, my mentor used to pound into my then-teenage brain. No zooms, no flashes, no fancy and intimidating gear. Back to basics.

Several hours and one stopover later, the pilot’s announcement comes over the PA. I don’t even try to contain the excitement and like every other passenger on the flight, am snapping photos as we wind our way through the Himalayas. We narrowly miss rocky cliffs and I am amazed at how close the clouds are to the top of the mountains.

Landing in Lhasa is a shock to your system. From the fighter jets that are parked on the runway, to how bright everything is. Very little of the sunlight is filtered out at this altitude.

I am completely overwhelmed to be here. In 2008 I spent two weeks living and photographing in a Tibetan refugee camp in Nepal. The experience was all the more overwhelming as I went during the riots that preceded the Beijing Olympics. Never have I found it so difficult to be an ethnic Chinese and so deeply moved by the warmth and kindness I was shown by the refugees that I am so honored to be able to call friends.

I felt the tears sting my eyes as I stepped out of the airport. I had never planned to be here. Foreigners need special passes to visit the TAR, but through my citizenships I have the freedom to move around like a local. And all I could think of was how unfair it was that I can come and go with such ease, and yet so many of my friends from here can never return to their home.

Thus begins the first leg of my back packing trip. I meet up with Melissa in a week, but Tibet.. This magical world that captures the imagination and has stolen my heart… This is a journey I take alone.

My time with the Tibetan refugees was all too short. As an ethnic Chinese, I could not imagine what it must have been like for them to have one of the “enemy” within their own walls. Perhaps the most astounding thing I experienced was the warmth and kindness of those I encountered. As devoted they are to their cause, they do not let racial prejudice cloud their judgment. There were a few conversations that were naturally, a little tense but I’m glad they happened. It was important to me to convey that this was not a taboo topic because of my race, and that there are also Chinese who stand with their cause. The following images are but a small snapshot of the “Tibetan” experience I had in Nepal.

Inside the refugee camp:

Manang women (Tibetan minority from the Himalayan mountains) with friends

Taken near Bodnath, “one of the few places in the world where Tibetan culture is accessible, vibrant and unfettered”