Falling from Shangri-la; mystery unfolds, magic from the plateau.

It seems like an age since Tibet was a scene of adventure...so it seems time to process the feelings of a 1st descent. Images will follow at some point!

The rumble of the Land cruiser, the noise the rolling mass of the truck. The tyres pound the roads away from Lhasa. Past the PLA road blocks, unsure we head into then unknown. Hours of idle chatter, hours of silence. The mind wandering into itself, into parts hidden for years. Into the desolate tears of youth. Into the almighty destitute pains of depression. Surfacing in the gold lining of passion, of embracing the present. The road leads forever onward telling more about the soul than we care to mention.

With each mountain pass over 5000m we get closer to our aim. It is uncharted land, the river that flows away from Tibet. Like the river, we must also fall headlong into Nepal. We must follow the surprises that are around each bend; we must search for the lotus, for the jewel.
As the virgin flows grow from birth at Shishi pangma, stumbling like a child, blindly into the world. With adolescence comes angst, it pays off well. The river engulfing all, draining the hills, taking with it the souls of men. Faster they fall into the gates of hell. Deep into the impossible cascades of Nylam and beyond into the new kingdom – unchartered by man in Tibet. The river, used and abused for commercial gain in Nepal, even before it joins the Sun Kosi. The river looses all its innocence.

Time ticks away, the villain of half-truths the foundations rise like the morning sun, casting doubt in the shadows of life. Riders beckon forth. Each step one more step from birth; one closer to the end. One step too far, draining life to the end of it all. Each grasp for breath, each blink of an eye. The end will come. There is no escape there is no justice. Time is time.
Wild horses charge on the horizon; stampeding forward – never stopping. Hitching a ride is difficult, for our own sakes we must jump on. Riding like the wind into the fading future into a new game. Each morning call a new book, with each hour passed a new chapter turned.
As a 1st descent the Bhote Kosi/ShishaPangma is mind blowing. It matters that it happened. It sure as hells matters that we took the last eddy before it fell into hell at Nylam,.
Words cannot express the emotions of the river, any article or report would steal the soul of the water and dilute the experience of the team. I hope that the words above can help you chance a glimpse into the soul. I hope that words are not used foolishly and memories will not become lost in myth. It matters, even if it only matters to the few.
Thank you for letting us pass through on the way to Nylam.