In the "Manhattan" burger joint. Yes- Yushu now has a burger joint. The fries aren't bad, the coffee is good- instant but good. Nearly all the food on the menu is sold out except for some grilled meat on skewers that is being cooked outside. Actually- I don't think that's even on the menu. So it's more the shell of a burger joint that sells some local kabobs.
The town is a noisy, bustling place. There are townsfolk, nomads in from the grassland, and monks everywhere. We got in about 9:30 last night after 13 and a half hours on the road. Peter and I were both exhausted and had been affected by the altitude for the worse. The five mountain passes had taken their toll- the final one at over 4800 meters left me with an aching skull and nausea. The long, slow descent in the dark towards Yushu relieved some of our symptoms, a dinner of fried pork and bean sprouts relieved some more, and a long night's sleep the rest. Hot showers and coffee in the morning sealed our recovery and we met the day quite refreshed.
Our morning search for a cafe in which to read turned up nothing suitable. And though we did have a nice breakfast of fried dough sticks, rice porridge, and soy milk- the only cafe-like setting was the Yushu Hotel restaurant where coffee costs 4 to 7 dollars a cup. We politely declined and went our ways for the day- Peter to the hotel to read and I to explore the area.
Eleven o'clock found me walking along the canal that runs parallel to the Yushu river on its eastern bank. This river flows from south to north and its valley holds the southern thrust of Yushu Town. I passed the flatland between the river and the canal where three shepardwomen watched their flocks. I passed the shrubland where teens and twenty-somethings come to hang out with their friends and drink beer. I was looking for a point to cross or ford the canal so I that I could start climbing the hills that rise steeply from the river valley. I passed by a young boy and a monk- himself also a young boy- just getting dressed after swimming in the canal. They asked if I was going to swim, too. I smiled and said maybe, but thoughts of swimming quickly disappeared when I spotted a crossing just beyond their swimming spot. The crossing was a pair of sluice gates controlling the flow of water into the canal from the eastern fork of the Yushu river. Both the canal and the Yushu river join another river at the center of town. The other river flows from west to east and its valley holds the western thrust of town. Together, they all continue to the east where they join the Yangtze about a half-hour's drive from Yushu.
Having found my way to the eastern bank of the canal, I continued on a ways past two adobe homes and a sleeping Tibetan mastiff (ferocious guard dog) and then began to climb. The first several hundred feet are nearly vertical and the climber is quickly rewarded with a wonderful view of Yushu. Along the river was the evidence of an industrializing town: several brick works and concrete block works lined the western shore. A loader and a back-hoe worked on a new bridge to bring development to the east bank. Another canal ran along the foot of the western slopes to a hydropower station. The sounds of foremen's shouts and truck engines rose above the sounds of the river, along with the sounds of a Tibetan family working on their home- one of the few on the east bank. After a bit more climbing, another bridge came into view- for which I was grateful. I had no idea how I was going to get back to the hotel in time to meet Peter- but the swinging foot bridge that was hidden behind some adobe buildings would provide a quick route back to the western shore quite nearby the hotel (whose name is The Northwest Yak). Walking back along the route I'd come would've taken a long time, but with this exit now available, I was free to explore the mountain.
So I continued climbing until the rocky, near-vertical ascent broke into a grassy alpine meadow. This shoulder slope continued rolling gently upwards to a high ridge that again climbed steeply to a peak far above the town. Up on the rolling meadow the chirps of flitting birds, calls of songbirds, and cries of soaring birds replaced all remnants of the urban noise below. Tiny blue and yellow flowers dotted the grassland and one little herb gave off a smell something between eucalyptus and queen anne's lace. A herd of yak grazed on the slopes of an adjoining ridge.
I climbed on to where the rolling shoulder broke back into an ascent to the ridgeline. From there I picked a downward route towards a rocky gash in the shoulder slope along which several yak were grazing. As I descended the rocky side of the ravine, I was delighted to hear the laughing gurgle of a mountain stream below. I picked my way down until I was along an icy brook falling out of the mountain, playing over rocks, and sparkling where it caught the light until it reached the river valley below. I followed the water as far as I could, but it dropped away through a rocky passage that I could not safely navigate. I climbed up the bank along a rock outcrop until there was a slope with enough footing to descend. Below me the brook disappeared under ground leaving a gravel fan in its place. There, several workers sifted shovels full of gravel and soil through a sieve to separate out the different components for construction purposes.
Along the descent, I began to hear a tink-tink-tink noise nearby that was not rising from the builders working on a house below, nor from the workers sifting soil. Coming round a small rise I was met by a dark and wrinkled little woman hammering at something that sounded like stone. As my path curved back closer to where she worked, she looked up, grinned, and greeted me in Tibetan, then went back to chiseling scriptures into the stone outcrop. As I dropped away below her, she began to sing in the nomad manner that is like nothing else on Earth.
I left the mount at just the place where the girls were sifting stone and sand. They stared as I passed. I quickly found my way to the swinging bridge covered in prayer flags and stepped across- back into the loud, dusty, rude life of town.
