Death at Mount Kailash

Mount Kailash is the probably the holiest mountain on the planet. Revered by the Bonnists (pre-Buddhist Tibetans) as the point of all creation, whilst Buddhist believe it is the home of the Buddha Demchok who represents supreme bliss. It is even revered by Hindus as the recreational playground of Lord Shiva, who spends his time dancing and smoking copious amounts of cannabis.

Hidden away in the barren deserts of western Tibet, to circumnavigate the mountain is said to wipe away all the sins of ones´ lifetime. Indeed, according to Buddhists, 108 circuits will ensure enlightenment.

It takes about 8 days to make the journey from Lhasa to the sacred mountain in a rented Toyota Land-cruiser 4x4, but Hong Kong Kev, K, Tera and I are determined to make the pilgrimage.

The altitude outside of Lhasa never drops below 4000 metres. Roads, sealed or unsealed, rarely exist, and the drive is long and arduous. The scenery is stunning, and hours can go by before there is any sign of human life. Settlements of any form are very few and far between, and the only people around are the occasional pilgrims and nomads.
a Tibetan pilgrim

We are within a day of arriving in Darcha, the start of the pilgrimage trail, and we stop off late in the evening at an army out-post. Despite it being summer, temperatures drop alarmingly as the sun begins to set. We grab a quick dinner of instant noodles and retire to our “tourist barrack” for some cards before bed. There is no electricity and we sit huddled up in blankets around the light of a candle.

At about 8.30pm there is a knock at the door and a thirty something Chinese guy asks if we have any bottled oxygen for his wife who is “ill”. For a laugh, I had picked up a bottle in Lhasa, and having not long re-qualified for my Red Cross First Aid (pretty much mandatory for a teacher), i offer to go along.

I grab my torch and follow this somewhat troubled guy. He leads me across the rubble into a small hut (no more than 4 by 3) which is lit by a single kerosene lamp. It is a small barrack room filled with about 12 army soldiers. The young Chinese woman is unconscious on the bed and the soldiers are standing watching on. I ask which one of them is the doctor. None of them it transpires, they just want to watch. I make a futile gesture to try and remove some of the spectators, before quickly trying to focus on the situation. I certainly wasn´t expecting anything quite like this and my heart is racing in consuming panic.

The woman (probably in her mid twenties) is exceedingly pale and cold. I check first for breathing in the first instance. Nothing - so much for needing bottled oxygen. I ask questions as i try and locate a pulse. Her husband says they are returning back to Guangzhou (south China) after completing the kora around Kailash. She has been sick for more than a week and hasn´t eaten in more than 5 days. I distinctly remember having to bite my tongue – i am furious at him. However, this is not the time or place to berate his poor judgement. Why hasn´t he brought her down from the kora? – it´s the only way to survive Acute Mountain Sickness.

I try her wrist. I can´t swear to it, but i think i can detect a light pulse. It´s difficult to confirm as my own pulse is now hammering away. I check her neck, but find nothing. I return to her wrist and i am still uncertain if i can feel anything.

I know this is really bad and strip off my bulkier clothes (coat, gloves, hat scarf, etc.) and begin to administer CPR to the unconscious body. The soldiers watch my antics in somewhat confused silence, and i am sure i detect glances of horror as i administer mouth-to-mouth. Her husband understandably is getting more frantic and muttering to himself in Cantonese. I complete the first cycle of three, desperately checking for a pulse, but nada.

After what feels like an hour, but i guess would be no more than 10 minutes, i´m feeling exhausted and sweating like a donkey, despite the encroaching cold. Her husband now wants to give it a go and i count out for him. With no positive results, after a few minutes, he asks me to take over again. By this stage i´m aware of the utter futility in this, but with tears in his eyes, he begs and pleads with me to try, try again. Hell! I am not in a position to say no.

This macabre pantomime continues for a further 20 minutes. Her lips and face are now blue and i stop abruptly. I am not going to be able to raise the dead here. I hug the weeping widower close and stroke his hair. I don´t know what else to do and i certainly don´t know what to say. He cries his tears into me, nestling like a kitten, and again i am aware of the Chinese soldiers staring at us silently.

I collect my coat and gloves and make my way quietly back to the tourist barrack seriously humbled and somewhat dazed by the experience. It´s about 9.30 and the others have been waiting up for me. I´m shaking both through the cold and the scenario, and i briefly retell the story. We´re all very silent, and there is nothing else to do but try and get some sleep. K. hugs me tight as i shudder continuously, and i think we both fail to get any sleep that night.

What else can you do? Early next morning we travel onwards.
Aubs ties a Watford football shirt on Drolma Pass - at 5636 metres it marks the highest point of the Kailash Kora