A Snowstorm!

Days 2-4

The morning is clear and bright. I say goodbye to the monks who load my mule with incense and tea. I thank them, and I am on my way. The bright sun beats down on my back and I am not cold anymore. The Yangtze rushes by, through a shallow gorge. Everything is peaceful, much more so than in Lihang.

At lunchtime, I reach a village along the Silk Route, the first one I have seen since I begun my journey. I ride towards the village among yak herders. When I arrive, I go to the monastery. Someone there will give me a meal, I’m sure. When I arrive, I get a nice meal of rice and vegetables, a rare delicacy in the dead of winter. I thank the people at the monastery and then I get on my mule and ride just a bit past the village to a small hut, similar to Di and Sei’s. The kind family who live there invite me to stay for dinner and sleep there. I am very much obliged.

The next morning, I begin my journey into the mountains. I can feel the trail sloping upwards and getting narrower until it is little more than a footpath. My mule whinnies when a pebble falls from a cliff above. Dark clouds are beginning to roll in. I will my mule to go faster, so we can beat this Himalayan blizzard, infamous for killing anyone who is outside. She seems to get the message and breaks into a steady canter. When another rock falls, it spooks her so that she gallops ahead. I do not object; the clouds are so ominous. As the first snowflakes begin to fall and the wind picks up, I come across a small shelter, dug into the mountain. I bang on the door, and a young man and his wife answer.

“Come inside quickly!” they say, “A snowstorm is coming!”

I accept their invitation and come in. The shelter is little more than a hole, but it is cozy with the candlelight. I eat lunch, and the snowstorm passes. When I come out, snow blankets the landscape in a thin crust. It sparkles in the little sun there is. I thank the couple and keep riding.

That night, I stay at another family’s house, and at the end of the next day, I find myself two days’ riding distance from the end of the river. I’m almost there.