Sonam moves up singing, chatting, all the while moving through his Tibetan Mala beads. Mingmar dances from stone outcroppings to thatches of stems and back. Always he is looking for medicine, herbs, or simply that which matters to him – and when outdoors, there is much that matters to our energetic Mingmar. He carries an extra back pack for juniper that he will collect, which will in turn be dried and used as incense. Above all of us is the land where ice, stone, winds, and t

Langtang, the land called “Ox’s land” is grassland valley and ‘was’ a village…one that has been destroyed, reset eastward and rebuilt (if such a thing is possible). It lives again not far from a swath of rubble, stone, and line strokes that descend from the north. An avalanche obliterated the village with inhabitants, travellers, and animals alike being wiped out. The ‘new’ Langtang sits just east and higher than the swath of stone that covers what once was. Crossing the rubb

Returns insist upon some reflection and this return is no different. Half a month upon that  route of high along the eastern flank of Mustang, followed up by a half month of Solukhumbu and the wide spaces of Mustang seem simple to conjure. The reassuring view of our mule caravan (and all that it carries) Mustang’s fate seems to shift all over the orbit but whatever shall be, there is much change in the dust of this formerly independent kingdom. Money comes in to construct (an

“The tea caravans would come from the north and they would come in Spring and even winter. The Khampas who accompanied the caravans could frighten and impress us. They were unpredictable and without fear. Their journeys made them indestructible”. Words during an interview near the Bhutan-Tibet border with an elder who served our team a variation of butter tea. He was speaking of the Khampa (‘people of the east’ of the Tibetan lands) who inspired this reverence and fear throug

Abu is chatty. Not prone to overly long sessions of speaking, Abu, when he is talking, usually has something to expel and it is always a treat watching it begin to emerge. Weeks in and heading west out of old Samzong to Lo Manthang, with our caravan of two and four-legged ones spread along a weaving line, Abu is going on how “the valleys need to talk to one another and they need to share”. His energy is ‘up’ and his eyes glow with some sort of inner force of conviction, which

Withered little holes of caves rest in a line hundreds of metres above on a sheer wall of red stone. This pattern has repeated itself again and again on this journey. On sheer walls – upon closer looks through a telephoto lens – a series of threadlike lines that once acted as pathways accessing entrance ways zig zag their way along the mountains. Long ago,those seemingly high walls weren’t so high. River ways once burbled and roared through the valleys taking glacier melt wat

The Tibetan term ‘gtum mo’, pronounced “Tummo” refers to the tantric tradition of meditation that summons or produces heat and a kind of blissful warmth within the body. It is a kind of yogic heat, which is attained through a practice that involves hyperventilation and visualization and it is one of the many practices of these mountains. One of the many gifts that they eyes can feast on in Mustang. Perception and perspective are everything. Living with elements that aren’t si

Returns can soothe and returns to mountain spaces can do so with a powerful combination of elemental force and nostalgia for me. It remains a truth as I return to Mustang, Nepal. A late in the year journey where light fades early and where the 6pm winds rip with a little extra force. A route that at times fades to mere hints of a trail it remains a vestige of sorts of a time gone by where trade and travel could be done either in the lower valleys, or in the more remote and da

Outpost Magazine just revisited a story I wrote about a series of trade routes that brought Pashmina wool from high in the Himalayas down into the market towns. Story is here. A portion of a trade route that linked Ladakh’s corridors with regions further south. Pashmina, salt, and anything with value that could be packed was hauled along the route. Along with salt, resin, and of course that wonderful stimulant fuel, tea, Pashmina was another of the commodities that allowed no

A local with a freshly unveiled ‘tong’ coming out of its bamboo home. The round cylinder of compressed Puerh, known in southern Yunnan to many as “Zhu tong” pays tribute to an ancient and often forgotten form of Puerh tea. While cakes, balls, discs, bricks and ornately shaped tribute teas – including the melon shaped tribute teas – all circulate and are still largely available but there is another, ancient compressed mold that has largely disappeared from view. In this cylind

We’re delighted to announce that our documentary film The Tea Explorer film is getting an additional airing on Sunday Sept, 10th at 9 pm ET/10 PT on CBC’s Doc Channel in Canada. Best taken with a cup of leaves and water in close proximity to the hand. I’ve been hearing from people in the US about the film being shown on AWE tv as well. Below a couple of the inspiring characters when telling the story of the Tea Horse Road. Mother of Ajo of Litang and known to many as simply a

“A land of little and a route of much” is how I often view this present journey and it is how I’ve viewed many of Himalayan trade routes I’ve travelled. Our present route here in Mustang has taken us past an abandoned stone building that acted as the equivalent of a postal office and it now just shudders in the wind with its memories. The Khampas of eastern Tibet are part of Mustang’s history, having fought continued pitched battles during the Chinese occupation. The feared a

Trade routes (still) offer up hints and teasers about how lands evolved and functioned. Everything from DNA to luxuries and tid-bits from the past travelled and each shipment and caravan needed the guardians, the traders and the willful to ensure that the world buzzed. Buddhism itself entered onto the Tibetan Plateau from one of these understated pathways. Nepal’s ancient kingdom of ‘Lo’, known today simply as Mustang, is a place where trade, migration, and pilgrimage routes

Joining the storied Royal Geographical Society here in London as they host my upcoming talks: Tea’s Last Guardians – The Himalayan Muleteers, this upcoming Monday and Tuesday. A magnificent venue to rant on about two great fuels: tea and mountains…and their epic custodians whose grand work rarely gets a worthwhile bit of mention. Monday, March 21st at the RGS headquarters and a follow up presentation put on by the RGS for the City Lecture Series on Tuesday March 22nd, will al

Tibetan styled air drying. Slabs of yak meat hang in a nomad’s tent letting 4500-metre air and wind dry one of the vital protein sources for families in the Himalayas. Yak have long been one of the essentials for the very highest of high-residents, providing sustenance, cloth, mobile transport and tools. In the words of Omu (pictured), “We wouldn’t be able to be nomads without our yak”. The nomad ways are a combination of ultimate pragmatism with a touch of the otherworldly,

Magnificent Raju, an old friend, and landscapes that are tortured and utterly narcotic. The Mountains’ and their people and spaces that moved the blood in 2015. One of the great characters of the mountains, Raju. Porter, spirit of optimism despite everything, and now friend, he and his morning wake up of “rammm, rammm” (something that shepherds use in the mountains to urge their sheep on). Relentless, this father of 2 girls was my morning smile on the Glacier’s Breath expedit

Continued Tributes: A Father After feeding us in his home, this Tibetan man went over to his son who was our guide, and briefly touched his arm. They hadn’t seen each other for months and the gesture wasn’t at all dramatic but it buzzed the air with its intensity. Father simply put his palm on his son Tenzin’s forearm. They barely looked at one another but they were linked by a huge bond and that little moment was golden for it was an acknowledgement. When we left, the man (w

A continuing of the epic characters, moments, and spaces of the past years in no particular order along with the requisite captions. To continue until the end of 2015… Biari of the mountains is one of those whose words are reverent, tangible and entirely authentic. Having tended sheep in the Himalayas of Himachal Pradesh, his observations are based upon living every moment within them. Intuition and an intimacy makes his thoughts and words those worth listening to. Our expedi

Winter has set in marking the end of my own season within the Himalayas and Tibet. It is time for the  grand silences and deep cold – that seep into and out of the earth – to bring their annual change to the earth. This year brought with it all of the mountain magic that it always does with additional reference points on the ancient trade routes that once passed through the Himalayas, the health of the heights, and a confirmation that what happens in the heights will inevitab

A’bing of Ganzi at 4,700 meters in a tent speaking of life in the heights. “Winter no longer knows when it wants to come. It no longer comes with white snow. Now it is mainly dry. Maybe it is time to change from being a nomad”. Much in the Himalayas’ Climate has changed but few regard the words of the local nomads with much respect. #tibettravel #Nomads #Chinatravel #Tibet #Ganzi #climatechange