The tents I mistook for a nomad camp turned out to be an expedition. We rode over to say hello and considered setting our tent amongst theirs. But a ferocious wind was blowing everything around. We hoped to find a better spot near the cliffs at the edge of the valley.

As we approached the expedition, we didn't see any westerners among the 10 or so people walking around camp. We found one Tibetan guy in a Goretex parka who spoke English and was extremely friendly. He told us he was leading a group of tourists on a trek through the area. He said Old Tingri would be two days away, maybe one by bike. I think he was sincerely disappointed that we didn't camp with his group. His support crew filled our water bottles with boiled water before we left. The tourists weren't in sight. They were probably huddled in their tents.

We never did find a place out of the wind. We ended up camped where the wide slanted plain narrowed from about two km wide to just 100 meters wide - probably the windiest spot we could have found.

Someone watching us would have thought we were re-enacting a "Laurel and Hardy Go Camping" skit. First we pranced around trying to decide between several equally slanted and windy spots. We would decide on a place then a nasty gust would blow and we'd change our minds. We kept dropping tent poles, losing our grip on the flapping fly, running into each other, miscommunicating in the roar. Even exhausted and cold we had to laugh at ourselves. Several times the wind almost turned our half erected tent into a kite.

In a flash Joan was in a fetal position in the sleeping bag while I worked unsuccessfully with our ailing stove. (Joan: Eric had ordered me inside and I was happy to comply). Finally she coaxed me to give up. We had cold muesli and fell quickly to sleep. The stove had worked poorly over lunch so it was no surprise I couldn't convince it to boil water in that gale.

In the morning we had an inch of snow on the tent. Light flurries were still falling but the wind had stopped. A cloud engulfed the whole valley in a depressing icy gray soup. The other expedition, about 300 meters away, had mostly broken camp by then and were heading towards the pass (the way we had come in).

We emerged very slowly and reluctantly from our womb. I don't think any morning on the trip has been more difficult to face. To compensate somewhat I made double rations of cold muesli mixed with oats (our original Muesli supply from Lhasa was finally running low).

The first 200 meters was on a passable rocky trail. We were getting our hopes up for an easy ride. Then the trail was washed out by a meander in the stream. With some difficulty we forded this. Fifty meters later, we had to cross back again. Fifty meters after that we discovered we had only forded a branch of the main river and now had to ford the river itself.

We took off shoes and socks, put on our Tevas, and plunged across the icy water. By the time we made it across, it had been an hour since we had left camp. But we could still see our camp site! At least the sun was shining now, so our feet warmed quickly.

Amazingly, the road was rideable almost the entire rest of the way to Old Tingri. We still had 700 meters or so of altitude to lose and we lost them very slowly. Basically we went down gradually all day.

We had some great views early on while we were still high. We could see two enormous valleys coming from the south and southwest meet well ahead and below us. We looked down on the ridges between the valleys as if we were in an airplane.

[Joan: We had an outrageous descent on a slippery trail that hugged a cliff as the river dropped quickly away below us - 100 feet below us! It reminded us both of Alaska.]

The worst part was another runway-like road outlined with white rocks. Fortunately the rocks were pounded over here and had been rounded by a river so they weren't so dangerous for our tires.

Other than that we cruised. We passed a few small towns where everyone was busy harvesting barley. They ran horses around in circles to thresh it (Someone would stand in the middle of the circle holding the horse's rope, and someone else would run behind the horses, to get them to run. In some towns it was hard to find a path among all the drying crops laying around.

People were friendly here and also pointed us in the right direction.

Our maps (three of them) all disagreed on the location of the towns. We still thought we had a long way to go when we saw a jeep travelling at high speed across the horizon in the distance. It was on the main highway - and the highway at that place was paved! We were totally happy and relieved. In a few minutes we were back on pavement. Ten minutes later we were in Old Tingri.

Old Tingri still ain't much. We stayed in a room with mud floors and walls, but is was cozy enough. I could see Everest (and everyone else could see my head) while I stood over the outdoor pit toilet.

Coincidently there was an American woman in the same hotel who had traded seats with us so we could sit together on the flight from Lhasa to Chengdu.

Just after we checked into our hotel, two thug-looking teenagers walked up to us flashing a dagger. In New York City I would have run like hell. But I figured correctly that is was just a sales tactic. Joan shooed them off. (Joan: They were bizarre. They stood their grinning and flipping the knife around, and wouldn't leave when we said No. They just smiled and pointed the knife at us, which pissed me off). Later, as we walked around town searching unsuccessfully for supplies besides cookies and instant noodles, the same kids started following us. Joan turned around and started following them, step for step one foot behind them, until they got the hint.

We ate at the Chinese restaurant Ben recommended in his Friendship Highway road notes. They had a long menu in English but they only seemed to have about five of the items. We didn't care. We ate hungrily - French fries and spicy tofu with rice. The woman who ran the place was especially nice. She and her husband and her son must have moved here from some other, no doubt more developed part of China. They were pioneers of sorts and I admired them for it. On the other hand, like the pioneers of America in the 19th century, they're displacing the natives. Nonetheless, I liked this family and couldn't hold anything against them.

[We later heard from Team Swiss, who passed through a couple days before us, that the woman had been upset and crying when they arrived at the restaurant. Apparently her little boy had been beaten up by some Tibetan kids.]

Next: Tibet Chapter 21 - A Peculiar Morning.

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