Senseless Beauty

Tibet, the roof of the world, has a landscape that might not seem out of place on the moon. It's a hauntingly beautiful place, filled with spectacles of wondrous beauty, but also a place which seems so lifeless that it lacks the usual call of the wild - for someone who loves camping, I was surprised to find myself more than content to rumble along the dirt roads in the back of a Land Rover. Yet despite being a less than ideal place to plant your rhododendron, the landscape is awe inspiring. In business they say, "do one thing and do it well". Tibet's landscape does three: Lakes, Mountains, People.

Leaving Lhasa on the scenic rout our tour was ushered past two of the most beautiful lakes I've ever laid eyes on. Climbing over our first mountain pass, we were greeted with a view on the other side of Yamdrok Lake, one of Tibet's four holy lakes. Sitting on a yak at the top of the pass, looking down over the lake, I realized the lake is more blue than any other water I've ever seen. A deep turquoise blue, the water changes colors as the sun and clouds play on it. Continuing along we came across another lake, this time a man-made lake, built up by the hydroelectric dam downstream. Usually I'm opposed to the formation of dams, but this lake's color can only be described as stunning. I'm worried people won't believe my pictures aren't photo shopped when I show them. We walked up (getting rather breathless from the altitude) a little hill on an outcropping which separates the lake into two halves. I could have spent hours there, watching the clouds move across the water beneath me. I don't know why the lakes are that color, likely bacteria, or minerals or old Tibetean magic, but whatever the reason I don't really want to know. Tibet might not be a land rich in natural colors, but I'm happy to remember the color it does have, a stunningly vibrant blue.

But what Tibet is known for, as the roof of the world, is it's mountains: the incomparable Himalayas. As an American, I'm not used to measuring height in meters, plus 8000 meters (or 8840 meters - the height of Everest). This, coupled with standing atop mountain passes at 5000 meters, make it very hard to contemplate just how high these mountains are. But yet looking at these mountains, covered in snow, rising above the rocky, brown fields, they command a respect, exuding a prestige, which somehow reminds all who look upon them that these mountains are so much higher than any of their brethren around the world. These mountains are not kind, soft or cuddly. Starting above the treeline they seem to rise more sharply, more purposefully than other mountains - the creation of the violent collision between India and China (is there a metaphor there?). If we could attribute Tibet's beauty to one thing, it is these mountains, stretching closer to the heavens than anything else on earth.

Then again, Tibet is one of the joyful places in the world where humans have had a positive effect on the landscape - sometimes. Without fail, at the most beautiful locations throughout the region people have distributed and strung brightly colored prayer flags. As the foreground to the breathtaking scenery, the prayer flags inject much needed color into the otherwise plain (perhaps even at times bleak) landscape. The little houses with whitewashed walls still smack of authenticity and simplicity, seemingly oblivious to the skyscrapers which dominate the rest of China. Ruins even litter the landscape, remains of forts, buildings and structures occupied by nomads and lords of bygone eras. My guide never could pinpoint the exact date of these ancient looking structures, perhaps which made them all the more mystifying in my mind. Yet, let me not proclaim all the actions of humans in Tibet beneficial. I often saw garbage and debris littering the yards of the quaint little houses. Over time, the prayer flags fade, looking more like rubbish than holy instruments. Yamdrok Lake is slowly being drained for hydroelectric power. Can Tibet preserve it's beauty under China's 'modernize or else' watch? I can only hope.

I've never been anywhere like Tibet before. The vegetation is sparse, the land nearly unlivable, the air thin and the winters cold, but that doesn't stop it from holding a magical feeling over its visitors. The sky is blue, just like it's water, and the mountains are always covered in snow. Perhaps better suited for a Salvidor Dali painting than this earth, Tibet's beauty is steadfastly unique.