31/8/25
Despite being astonishingly tired and sure that nothing would stop us from slumbering, our sleep was restless. We could feel our hearts racing, likely – combination of dehydration and altitude. Ascending from 1700m to 3300m in a single day was too much. Before the day had broken we figured that a day of rest would be the sensible option.
The Sun rose over Bulungkol Lake, and we took our included coffee for a walk round the tourist village. The lakeside area was entirely built up on concrete. Food stalls and coffee shops. Beautiful yaks were being pulled around by their incredibly stretchy noses, ready for riding. We’d woken to cold air, but now the warmth started to hit us.
Most of the day was spent in our glass walled room overlooking the magnificent lake, as still as the greyish sand dunes on the other side. We washed the salt from our shirts. Softened rock hard brittle, from Kashgar market, in hot tea. The only let down was the irritating 60 second jingle that played for hours and hours from a nearby loudspeaker.
We went to a different restaurant for dinner. Cauliflower, tofu and rice. The latter was cold. Our cabin was sweltering hot, like a greenhouse. Air conditioning no match for the almighty rays. After dark we took a walk along the lakeside. Going during the day incurred a ÂĄ40 fee. No one stuck around to endure the brutally cold wind. Every day strong gusts blasted the area in the evening. Frankie was dealing with painful cramps. Perhaps it was best to get that over with.
