Day 8

Yak herds, Tibetan mastiffs, and snow leopards

Anna and I are starting to feel the effects of life at a high altitude. We sleep poorly despite taking headache tablets and guzzling down enormous amounts of water and fluid replacement solution. You just have to push through it.

It is pitch black. There is a guide in the jeep with us who will lead the way up to yaks grazing at 4,200 metres. It doesn’t go very well. We go ‘off road’ in small river valleys, over hills, and straight up into the mountains. The guide loses his orientation in the dark, and we keep taking wrong turns time and time again.

Dawn breaks, and we suddenly see a large yak herd of about 100 animals. We eagerly get out of the jeep, but immediately jump back into it when two giant Tibetan mastiffs charge at us and the car. Their job is to guard the yaks day and night from snow leopards. In winter, the snow is too deep for the mastiffs to run in, so a number of yaks are lost to the large cats. The yak herder whistles loudly and the mastiffs back off and calm down. They then actually become quite cuddly.

The shepherds' whistles, the yaks' bells, the herd's movement forward. It's a beautiful spectacle at dawn.

The Chheten family and the Yaks

The yaks are owned by the Chheten family. Mother Lhamu is married to two men which is common. She milks the yaks. Her son Pema who has two fathers now runs the farm with the help of his brothers. The people here live close to the yaks all year round.

We are invited into their yurt made of yak wool. In the centre is a stove with a giant cauldron of simmering yak milk. We are offered some.

Pema, the yak owner, teaches us about yak wool:

Grazing: resources are limited, therefore the yaks are constantly on the move

KULLU: the finest yak wool closest to the body; sheds naturally

ZIBA: course, stiff wool sheared in July The Future: worrying; Pema doesn’t think there will be any yaks here in five years due to blocked trade routes and little earnings