12/7/25
We woke at 7:30am, our organised breakfast time. We were of course given noodles. A big bowl with a few pieces of cabbage. In a storage room they had a large rail with huge slabs of cured meat hanging up. It was possibly impossible to live here without meat. The hunger gap would be too large.
In the morning some more people arrived. Including a monk, wearing a dark red outfit. We soon discovered that they spoke a Tibetan dialect and we couldn’t use our translate app to communicate. We looked up a few phrases. But our pronunciation was poor as usual. We found an app that would translate written Tibetan but knew that they would never spend the time typing on our phone. We indicated our desire to walk to the monastery. They were encouraging and immediately offered us a motorbike ride. We obviously opted against it.
We felt like we had enough time to have a slow day of walking. Adapting to the altitude. From Zimei we crossed a bridge before starting our climb upwards. We strode through peaceful meadows, then after another small bridge and steep incline we reached a Chedi. We didn’t understand how the religion permitted the use and discarding of so much plastic in nature. Nor how the use motorbikes was encouraged as a replacement of the pilgrimage. Coloured flags and banners were hung everywhere, though an intriguing sight, they weren’t half as pretty as the lichen strewn across the branches of the ancient trees that surrounded us.
The path climbed steeply upwards above the river. Our spur avoided the motorcycle traffic. It was slow going. We were definitely still feeling the effects of having little oxygen. Once we reached the juncture with the motorcycle highway we were back in the world of tourists. The idyllic, quiet day we’d had the day before had deceived us. A large group of guided people, all domestic tourists bar one, were on the path. They left soon after we arrived. We also utilised it as a natural break point.
Packhorses came down the track, their owner riding behind, on a motorcycle. In the moments of occasional calm we could hear the birds, see the dappled sunshine and feel the vibrations of the bees flying around our heads.
The path flattened off and started to contour around the mountain. We passed another junction, then entered a sublime meadow with beautiful flowers. Ahead of us clouds mixed with snow covered mountain sides. It was surreal. All the mountains nearby were green. How could there be a snow covered behemoth so close?
The path carried on descending and a set of gates next to a gazebo came into view. A group of men sat nearby with their motorbikes. The moment they saw us one of them got up and hastily shut the gate. A barricade. We were invited to sit down. Somehow the men had 5G signal on their phones. Balmy. They asked us if we were climbing Gongga. We typed into our phone, “Do I look crazy?” They laughed. We had to sign in, then pay a “cleaning fee” of ¥20 each.
The monastery was just up ahead. Several big buildings. Mount Gongga still mostly shrouded by cloud. There was the same group of hikers we’d seen earlier inside having their lunch. We were quickly introduced to an English speaking lady. She looked Indian. It soon transpired she was Israeli. She’d moved to Norway 7 years ago. Her travels here were not for spiritual purposes, rather they were for Tai Chi. It didn’t take long for the conversation to turn the wrong way.
The Israeli woman immediately suggested that Jonathan’s criticism of Israel was “aggressive”. Of course it wasn’t. We were sitting with 20 or so people. She went on to defend the indefensible actions of Israel in Palestine as “complex” and generically claimed it was the fault of the ruling party in Palestine.
Luckily, she was beckoned away to take part in some activity by one of the monks. We were disappointed that the only English speaking person we’d met for yonks was defending the terrorism of the Palestinians. We knew we had to stand up to it. It was barely a sacrifice to endure the awkwardness, given what people are suffering through.
We went outside to view the mountain. It almost revealed its peak. After some back and forth we managed to secure a small, very basic, but clean room. Two small beds. A pillow and duvet each. It was ¥100 a night for us both. We were surprised by how many rooms there were. It was a large place.
We spent the rest of the day milling around. Some of the time we were listening to the Buddha doing some chanting. It was somewhat relaxing but we both needed the toilet and underestimated how long he would be mumbling and bashing his gong. We walked around, sat in the Sun and generally enjoyed the ambience until it was finally dinner time. We were both very hungry. Fortunately, they made us a vegan dinner. Noodles and potato. That was it. Maybe a few pieces of leek. A group of monks arrived, and sat down to eat some entrails, after we’d finished. Their leader asked Frankie if she ate meat. He praised her for not doing so. When Frankie reciprocated the question he replied emphatically, “Yes!”.
We sat in the kitchen after dinner and talked to some of the monks. It was a nice evening, only ruined by the Israeli woman again trying to explain how complex it was. That’s right, murdering citizens queueing up for food, was complex. It was pretty distasteful. At least she said she had had a ‘hard time’ travelling this past year. We were tucked up by nine. It was a little hard to get to sleep, but there was no TV to delay us. We didn’t have endless snacks to munch on either.
Surly They Won't Make It 