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| Playing my trumpet on the sidecar with another member of the group. |
Riding, taking in the scenery, conquering the famous “cloud road across the land of snow” and pushing past my own limits: that was my main aim on this Tibetan journey from 25 April to 9 May.
I am Khanh Rau, 32, an office worker with a passion for exploring the world.
Playing the trumpet at 5,200 m
Tibet is not the ideal place for anyone who wants a leisurely holiday.
During those days on the road, I kept recalling the scenes of Brad Pitt walking and climbing across Tibet, surrounded by snow-covered peaks, grasslands, trees and lakes, in the film “Seven Years in Tibet”.
The difference was that my view was no longer confined to a rectangular screen. The landscape changed every day; even on the final day I was still discovering new scenery. Standing amid those endless ranges, I was moved, remembering the scene in the film and the letter Brad Pitt writes to his son.
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| Playing a duet with a fellow traveller at a stop in Tibet. |
Beautiful scenery alone is not enough, though; it has to come with memorable moments to make a trip of a lifetime.
I thought of my trumpet and flute.
At first I had decided not to carry a trumpet to Tibet. The journey is demanding, and the bulky protective gear left no room for it. On top of that, the weather and temperatures there are fairly brutal.
“Up high there is not enough oxygen, breathing itself is hard — where would I find the breath to play?” I thought.
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| A peaceful Tibet in the days of May. |
And yet our group leader would not let it go: he went straight out and bought me a cheap Chinese trumpet. I need hardly say how poor its quality was. But looking back now, I think it would have been a great pity without that little trumpet.
Those moments of playing music on the sidecar, stopping for lunch beside a stream in the middle of that magnificent landscape, or resting at midday in a Tibetan home — all of them are beautiful memories I will find hard to forget.
The most memorable of all was when The Anh (another member of the group) and I carried our trumpet and guitar to the final destination: Everest Base Camp.
On the spur of the moment the two of us played a few duets in the biting cold at 5,200 m.
“Happiness is being on the bike”
Plenty of Vietnamese travellers have ridden and conquered the passes of Tibet. But riding a sidecar around the towns and sightseeing the way our group did is rather rare. Local people rushed to take photographs and sang along when I struck up “The Moon Speaks for My Heart” beside the sidecar, parked at a well-known photo spot.
The Chinese authorities certainly know how to please riders: they built the 108-hairpin pass. The road is wide and open, the surface smooth with few potholes.
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| Riding the sidecar all across Tibet, through every kind of harsh weather. |
On the last day, Tuan Tay Ho (an older member of the group) told me that what had struck him most about this trip was simply being on the bike. Any day he had his hands on the bars was a good day. One day he was too unwell to ride for half a day and it made him thoroughly restless.
He was right: a journey of “freedom and ease” in Tibet would not be complete without those days riding every stretch of road, from crossing majestic mountains to weaving through town streets…
When the weather was fine, our hearts lifted. But when it turned bad, even the bravest of us lost heart at times.
Snowstorms and hail that made the road slippery and fogged up the helmet visor (sometimes it iced over completely), blocking our view; sandstorms with winds strong enough to tilt the bike; and abrupt swings in the weather — all of these are challenges when you come to Tibet.
But my most fearsome enemy was the altitude. On the very first day one of our group ended up in hospital. Most of the rest of us had headaches, dizziness and raised blood pressure that kept us from sleeping. Only by day four or five did we acclimatise.
Twelve days of riding, a route of some 3,500 km, through snow and ice, hail and scorching sun, breakdowns by the roadside, one plateau after another and one pass after the next… None of it was to prove anything; it was to show me how very small I am.
