Epic Hikes of the World ( PDFDrive )

the land is marked with holy motifs.
I wake up in the icy dawn an unwilling pilgrim. Wind heaves and snow obscures
the frontal view of Mt Kailash outside our cracked windowpane. After breakfast on
the camp stove and reluctant visits to the frozen outhouse, we begin our walk.
We join others in the arduous work of climbing Drölma-chu Valley. Many of these
pilgrims are elderly, wearing thick robes and carrying bundles. A pair of
grandmothers befriends us, drinking glucose from tiny vials for the sugar rush. The
going gets steep, snow swirls and doubts multiply. It’s not the snow that worries
me, it’s what comes next. In the Shiva-tsal, discarded clothing is strewn about,
symbolic renunciations of the former self. I add a lock of my own hair to the pile.
Along a glacial ridge a group of men is gathered around a rock. They call us
over and egg us on. The Bardo Trang is a test of sorts. Pilgrims must squeeze
underneath the boulder and squiggle out the other side. Only the sinners will get
stuck, according to the belief. Struggling through the narrow canal over icy ground
feels like a second birth. They cheer our success and move on.
On the Drölma-la, the whole mountain pass is draped in a fluttery patchwork of
prayer flags. Snow-streaked granite peaks encircle us. The place is crowded with