Tashilhunpo Monastary (Gyantse to Tingri)

Tashilunpo Monastary is the seat of the Panchen Lama, who is second in command to the Dalai Lama (Panchen means 'great scholar').

Before we entered, our guide warned us not to discuss the Dalai Lama with any of the monks. According to our guide, the monks at this monastery will report you to the authorities if they suspect you're sympathetic to the plight of the Dalai Lama and the fight for Tibetan independence. These monks, he claims, receive funding from the Chinese and it's fair to say that the monastery is in much better than nick than most we've seen. A little more probing of our guide and a flick through our trusty lonely planet guide reveals why this monastery is different from the others we've seen.

• Throughout Tibetan history, Panchen Lamas have been 'frequent rivals to the central authority of Lhasa and are often used as pawns in Chinese designs on the high plateau'.
• The 9th Panchen Lama tried to use the Chinese to gain greater influence in Tibet after a disagreement with the Dalai Lama. When the 9th Panchen Lama passed away, Tibetan delegates in Beijing were forced to endorse the Chinese choice for the 10th Panchen Lama (over two Tibetan candidates).
• For a while, the 10th Panchen Lama was regarded suspiciously by the Tibetan people. But his is a classic story of 'bad boy made good'. After the 1959 Lhasa uprising, he refused Chinese Government demands to denounce the Dalai Lama and called for independence. Chinese responded in time-honoured fashion and threw him in jail for 14 years. He was released in 1978 and was much quieter in his opposition (surprise, surprise) but still used whatever influence he had to press for the preservation of Tibetan culture. Just before he returned to Tibet to die in 1989, he argued at a high level meeting in Beijing that the Chinese occupation of Tibet had brought nothing but misery and hardship to the Tibetan people. Many Tibetans argue that he was murdered.
• In May 1985, the Dalai Lama identified the predecessor of the 10th Panchen Lama - a six-year-old boy from Amdo. Within a month, the boy went missing and remains under house arrest at an undisclosed location in China to this day.
• The senior lamas at Tashilunpo monastery were forced to pick an alternative, Chinese-approved boy to take on the role of 11th Panchen Lama. They picked the son of a communist party member.
• According to lonely planet, 'Beijing's interest is not only to control the education of Tibet's number two spiritual leader but also to influence the boy who could later be influential in identifying the reincarnation of the Dalai Lama'.

Interesting.

Journey to western tibet (Lhasa to Gyantse)

Best not to exert yourself too much at this altitude. We've just reached the top of Kambla-La, the first mountain pass on our journey to Everest Base Camp, and at 4799m above sea level it's pretty darn high.

The pass overlooks Yamdrok-Tso, one of Tibet's holiest lakes. It's watched over by a female god (a good sign in itself!) and is definitely the place to be if you're a fish. Apparently, the fish in the lake are also considered holy and can't be caught or eaten. Unfortunately, the Chinese don't share the Tibetan reverence for the area though. They're building a tourist boat for the lake and are planning damns, hydroelectric plants and god knows what else.

The route we're taking into western Tibet is the same one the dalai lama travelled when he fled Tibet in 1959. It's also the route taken by hundreds of Tibetans forced to flee the country, including our guide. At the age of 11, he walked for a month from Tingri (a little further west) to Dharamasala where he was free to study Tibetan, English and computing. He returned as a guide four years ago.

Tibet, the roof of the world

A little Tibetan boy from a village in Western Tibet

The face of a Tibetan is unmistakable. Deep brown weathered skin, dark eyes, and always smiling. Always.

We've spent two days exploring Lhasa, Tibet's capital and the spiritual home of Tibetan Buddhism (yep, they let us in and didn't check for permits - phew), and we're starting to wonder if the locals are permanently giddy from the altitude, particularly when you begin to get an understanding of what they have been subjected to over the years.

We're not experts, but here's the facts as far as we see them:

• Since 1950, when 30,000 Chinese troops attacked Tibet from six different directions crushing an ill-prepared and doomed Tibetan army, the Chinese 'liberation' of the Tibetans has led to more than 1.2 million deaths.
• El Salvador was the only member of the UN to sponsor a motion to condemn the Chinese aggression. Britain and India (so called 'friends' of Tibet) actually managed to convince the UN not to debate the issue for fear of Chinese disapproval.
• The Dalai Lama has always advocated peaceful negotiations - even in the face of fierce aggression and deception.
• When the Chinese Government took control of the high passes of Tibet and India in 1959, the Tibetan Government was abolished and Tibetan society was re-ordered in accordance with Marxist principles - monasteries were destroyed, monks were forced to disrobe and marry, and Tibetan farmers were forced to abandon barley crops in favour of rice (which doesn't grow at high altitudes) causing widespread starvation.
• During the cultural revolution almost every religious monument in Tibet was destroyed and arrests, torture, deforestation, and labour camps became a way of life.
• These days the Tibetan people enjoy only limited religious freedoms. The Dalai Lama remains unwelcome in his own country, there are strict quotas on resident monks and nuns, and the Chinese continue to use tactics of violence and intimidation.

A buddhist prayer site on the yellow river in western Tibet

This only scratches the surface, but it's hard not to be impressed by the spirit of the Tibetan people and the strength of their beliefs. It's impossible to walk into the centre of town and not get swept along by the hundreds of pilgrims walking the Barkour circuit.

Pilgrims walking the Barkour circuit

The circuit is the most famous Lhasa pilgrimage. The walk begins and ends in Barkhour Square and takes you around the Jokhang Temple, the most revered religious structure in Tibet, and is dotted with prayer wheels, chapels, souvenir stands and giant incense burners. These days, the Barkhour Square is paved and open, giving the Chinese a clear view of the locals. (In older photos, it was filled with shrubs and plants.) But remains the focus of protest and violence between the Tibetans and the Chinese.

There are at least five clockwise routes around the city's religious sights. On each one, you'll find the tourists vastly outnumbered by pilgrims spinning prayer wheels and stopping to pray on the pavement, or monks chanting mantras. It's an amazing sight and a real treat.

Check out some of our photos

The controversial Lhasa train line

Carl gets some oxygen as we head higher into the plateau!

According to the train announcer, the line to Lhasa was built by the Chinese for the economic benefit of the Tibet Autonomous Region of China. Apparently, it adheres to the highest environmental standards and, as the world's highest train line (reaching 5070m), is a monumental engineering feat.

We'll concede the last point, but the rest? I don't know.

The Chinese train line to Lhasa opened this year to much controversy and, we have to admit, we did think twice before purchasing our tickets. We can't really comment on the environmental cost of the train line, but it's hard to believe that there has been no impact when you see how the Chinese have turned their own countryside into an industrial heap. We've been passing factories and industrial wasteland for hours now - no sign yet of mountains or the clear blue sky the announcer has been talking about.

More worrying, I think, is the apparent economic and cultural impact. The train is packed the brim with Chinese, which is perhaps testament to the success of the Chinese Government's Han-Chinese immigration policy. Lured by financial incentives, a more relaxed one child policy and the promise of a better life, it seems the Chinese have been flocking to the roof of the world.

From what we've read, an estimated 50% of Lhasa's population are Han-Chinese (although official figures put the figure at about 12%) and the modernisation of Tibet is well underway. Add all this to the well-documented destruction caused by the Red Guards during the cultural revolution and it's hard to know what to expect when we get there - just another Chinese city?

Whatever you think about it, for us the train line has certainly opened up a part of the world previously only accessible to hardcore travellers (willing to risk dangerous bus journeys or illegally hitchhiking their way to the capital) or the wealthy and the extremely patient (who could afford to fly and be bothered with the bureaucracy).

Walking the great wall (from Jinshanling to Simatai)

Not just a stroll in the park, but a 10km hard slog up and down steep inclines, stairs and loose gravel. True to form, the Great Wall really does have to be seen to be believed. It stretches for miles and weaves its way over and around mountains and through the countryside as far as the eye can see.

Emma struggling to get her little legs up some pretty big steps!

More pictures from the great wall

October is out of peak season so we didn't have to battle with any crowds. In fact, at times we felt like we were the only people for miles. We started at Jinshanling and finished at Simatai. This section of the wall has about 30 watchtowers and remains pretty undeveloped (which is no mean feat in China).

Loved every minute of it and actually enjoyed getting some exercise. But now we are safely ensconced in our soft sleeper compartment ready for the 48-hour train ride to Lhasa in Tibet. (Had to go straight to the train so, luckily, the food that our chinese travel companions are eating completely masks the smell of our stinky sweaty clothing).

This was a bit of a last minute decision and a bit of a risk. Foreigners wanting to go to Tibet are meant to get a travel permit and be on an organised tour. But it's all a bit of a hassle and too expensive for us, so we sweet-talked our way into a couple of train tickets and are hoping like hell that they don't ask us for permits on the train. So far so good ...

Hanging out in Beijing

Cruising around the hutongs of Beijing, it's easy to believe that you've stepped back in time ... dirty, dusty and smelly alleys, meat skewers cooking over hot coals, steam buns for sale on every corner, and people and bicycles everywhere. Some of the houses in the hutongs still don't have plumbing or electricity - although the government has installed some spiffy flushing squatties just in time for the Olympics.

A short and crazy taxi ride across town, however, and it's easy to see how China is one of the biggest energy consumers in the world. Skyscrapers dripping in flashing fluro lights, glowing restaurants and highways of cars, cars and more cars.

We've been kicking around here for a couple of days now, trying desperately to put the memory of the UB to Beijing train journey out of minds. Here's a tip: never get the local Chinese train from UB. It was the filthiest train we have been on so far and we had to spend four and a half hours at Jinning train station (the middle of nowhere), listening to people hock their insides up all over the place. And don't even get me started on the staring ...

Anyway, we've done some of the sights - tiannamen square, the forbidden city and the temple of heaven park. We've seen all sorts cooking on sticks at snack street - starfish, seahorses and cicadas, you name it. We've scoffed on steam buns, pastries, dim sum and god knows what else.

We spent a fantastic day exploring the summer palace, which was once the playground of the Qing and Ming Dynasties. Back then it was used as a retreat from the city. But the Beijing urban sprawl has caught up and now it is a beautiful Chinese oasis surrounded by roads, cars, ramshackle houses, high rises and your typical Chinese madness.

Gotta say, we love this city despite the smog, the spitting and the giant tour groups that swamp every inch of it, dressed in matching caps and lined up in rows.

Attack of the backpack (another Emma moment)

No bad karma this time. Just Emma being plain clumsy, once again.

To be fair, we did know it was a risk loading her up with a backpack double her size, which stood at least a foot above her head. And we did predict that at some point or another she was going to do something stupid or injure herself, or both.

Picture this.

We leave ourselves an hour to get to UB train station for the train to Beijing. Should be no problem, right? It's a Monday night and only a 15 minute taxi ride away. Wrong.

We step out onto the street and the main drag, Peace Avenue, is heaving with traffic. And this is no ordinary traffic. This is Mongolian traffic. So it's chaos, and crazy driving. And accidents. (We joke that when we get back to Oz we are going to make bumper stickers which say 'I'm not a bad driver, I'm Mongolian'.)

We try in vain to hail a cab. The police try in vain to keep the traffic moving. There are four of us - each with a backpack on front and back, plus groceries for the 30+ hour train ride ahead of us. Even if we did manage to get a cab, we realise, we won't make it in time.

A brief consultation. A quick look at the map. We decide our best chance is on foot. We have 30 minutes, so we hotfoot it. There is no pavement, just dirt and rocks. And there a people everywhere. We dodge, we swerve, we bang into people.

Then, all of a sudden, Emma hits a rock. She flies through the air, propelled by the weight of her backpack. She doesn't stand a chance and we can't catch her. She skids along the dirt and finally come to a halt, arms and legs flailing, unable to get herself of the ground. In fact, it takes two of us to haul her upright again. She's covered in dirt and has a graze on her hand. Her pride is bruised again, but otherwise she's unhurt. Saved, it seems, by the day pack she was wearing on her front. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for my phone. She smashed it up. Still it was amusing ...

Back in the comfort of the hostel in Ulan Bataar and in one piece

So we made it back to UB in one piece. And we think the bad karma may be gone - or at least we hope it is.

The rest of our trip went fantastically well and was well worth that crazy first day on the road. We spent two nights chilling in the gers at the white lake, rode big stocky (and slightly coco) Mongolian horses around the area and hiked to the top of a volcano.

Carl at the top of the volcano

We drank Mongolian wine (definitely not something to look for next time you feel like a drop of red) in the evenings and feasted on rice or noodles, indiscriminate meat and, of course, some trusty potatoes. One night we even went Mongolian gourmet and ate vegetable dumplings. We finally tried Mongolia's national dish, fried mutton pancakes - and they weren't bad if you like your meat meaty and your arteries nice and blocked.

We visited the Erdenne Zuu Monastery, watched a German straddle 'penis' rock (less said about that the better), had the best shower in the world at a local bathhouse in the middle of nowhere, and froze our butts off in the mini Gobi.

I even think that, by the end of the trip, Moshi had forgiven us for the incident on the buddhist shrine. It seems a shot of vodka fixes everything, even in these parts.

The White Lake, Western Mongolia

Finally we arrive at the White Lake! Watch the video ...

Bad karma, four breakdowns, lost for 150kms, and no white lake to be seen

It's fair to say our western Mongolian adventure didn't get off to the best start. At 11am on the first morning, our driver was already annoyed. We were meant to leave at 9am but had spent an hour and a half trying to re-arrange our tickets to Beijing.

"Must go," said Moshi, our driver and, according to the hostel, the Mongolian super mechanic. "Very long drive today, 400kms".

We'd eyed the car suspiciously. It looked tough, that's for sure. A relic soviet van, it was apparently the only car equipped to tackle Mongolian roads (note: the term 'roads' should be used loosely in Mongolia). We piled in.

At about 12pm, after bouncing through the Ulan Bataar traffic, Moshi stopped the car and got out to go to the toilet. Nearby was a large pile of rocks with a piece of wood sticking out of it. The wood was wrapped loosely in blue ribbon. Crutches, rubbish and all manner of crap scattered the bottom of the pile. For the girls, it seemed like the perfect spot for a quick squat.

When Moshi got back to the car and realised Natalie and Yvonne were missing, he looked even more annoyed. When they appeared from behind the pile of rocks, bladders empty and ready to hit the road, we sensed that we had really messed up.

"No toilet. Buddhist spot," glowered Moshi. "Make Mongolian people very angry." They'd peed on a Buddhist monument.

Problem #1
A couple of hours later, Moshi stopped the car on a bridge. A herd of sheep were blocking the road. We thought he'd stopped to let us take pictures. We were wrong.

Turns out, Moshi the supermechanic and the soviet beasty van were 'one'. He'd sensed that something was wrong and he was right. The van was leaking oil. So, while we scurried out of the van like paparazzi to take photos, he got comfortable under the van and set about blocking the leaky oil tank ... with a tire tube. Sure enough, an hour or so later, we had our photos and the car was ready to roll. We piled in again and went on our merry way.

Problem #2
The engine cut out and the van sputtered to a stop. We'd only been back on the road for an hour or so. Moshi lifted the engine cover and got to work. We piled out of the car again and started to wonder if this was bad luck or bad karma. It was a problem with the distributor, but thankfully nothing that Moshi couldn't fix. Half an hour or so later we hit the road again. This time, according to Moshi, it was dirt road all the way. And I'm not talking smooth dirt road, our path was covered with potholes, rocks, dead-end tracks. In fact, it no longer even resembled a road.

Problem #3
Moshi slammed on the brakes. Oh no, surely not another problem. Moshi inspected the tyres and found the problem. The rim of one of the tyres had snapped. He looked concerned but set to work immediately, armed only with a couple of metal levers and a bicycle pump. It was getting dark and it was certainly getting cold. He jacked up the car and removed the broken tyre. He pulled the bladder out and removed the rim. He fished the spare tyre from the boot and removed the rim. Within minutes, he'd swapped the rims and was jimmying the bladder back in. Moshi worked at a furious pace. We took turns pumping up the bladder. Eventually, the tyre was fixed and we were back on the road. Phew. We looked at each other, relieved. Surely nothing else could go wrong.

"How long?" we asked Moshi. "Very bad day," he said. And scanned the dirt tracks in front of him. We wondered whether he was lost.

Problem #4
It was now pitch black outside. We were definitely lost. Moshi stopped sporadically at gers and asked directions, but we sensed he was getting very little help. A little while earlier, we'd stopped to help another van that was bogged in mud. Apparently, we weren't far from a village. Every car light we saw (and there weren't many) we hoped was the village.

Eventually, we saw it up ahead.

Problem #5
BANG. Moshi slammed on the brakes again. This really didn't sound good. We got out of the car. It was freezing. Moshi checked the tyres. They were fine. He got under the car and started rummaging around. We discussed whether we should walk to the village or sleep in the car. Another large bang. Moshi flung the drive shaft into the dirt. "Very bad day," he mumbled. A big round disc followed. We wondered again about bad karma ...

After a few minutes, Moshi got back in the car. We scurried in after him and didn't ask any questions. As it turns out, we'd left the 4WD shaft behind and continued towards the lights. We tensed at every bump.

11 hours after leaving Ulan Bataar, we stopped in front of a small hotel. Moshi sorted a room and some food. The boys opened a beer. We had driven 150kms out of our way in search of the right track. We'd insulted the Mongolians, lost car parts, and were still no closer to our destination. We wondered what tomorrow would hold.