Traveling the Roof of the World by Train

American traveler and novelist Paul Theroux once observed that the Kunlun Range was an insurmountable obstacle, "a guarantee that a railway will never get to Lhasa". Now, this guarantee has been forgotten since trains have finally come to the "Roof of the World".

As we prepared to board train K917 from Golmud to Lhasa, my eyes were drawn to the wine-red uniform worn by ticket collector Qu Xiaoyong as well as to the designs on his collar.

"In order to better illustrate Tibetan culture to our passengers, the clothes we wear have been dyed with the red ochre used by Lamas and the designs are made by Duixiu (barbola, a special Tibetan embroidery, especially found in the Ta'er Monastery)," said Qu, punching tickets on the platform.

At precisely 7.22 AM, the train steamed out of Golmud Station (2780m), the starting point of the Qinghai-Tibet Railway's second section, and began its trek southwards.

After introducing himself in Chinese, Tibetan and English, Qu served hot water to the passengers. Originally hailing from Shaanxi, 30-year-old Qu used to work on the Beijing-Xining route. Earlier this year, he was selected as one of the attendants for the Qinghai-Tibet railroad, the first railway connecting the Tibet Autonomous Region with other parts of China.

"To qualify as an attendant on this train, one must be under 35 and in good physical condition. Before beginning to work here, we also received a one-month crash course in English and Tibetan." Said Qu. "However, I am still reluctant to use my Tibetan since I learnt the Amdo dialect, which people from other areas of Tibet such as Lhasa and Damxung have trouble understanding." he added, blushing as he smiled.

Running at a cruising speed of 100 kph, our train soon reached an altitude of 3000m, at which point the ceiling-mounted air conditioners released jets of fresh air, with an oxygen content of 20 percent.

As all the passengers chatted about the possible altitude sickness, conductor Liu Lijun, 35, quelled our anxiety, telling us that although some passengers may feel unwell on the plateau, each car on the train (eight sleeping coaches, two sofa-berth coaches, four regular-seat coaches and one dining car) was equipped with oxygen supply devices designed to prevent altitude sickness as well as tinted windows to reduce the influx of strong ultra rays.

After our train burrowed its way under the Kunlun Mountains, we arrived into the Hoh Xil, China's largest area of uninhabited land. A shout resounded "Out there, Tibetan antelopes" and everybody rushed to the windows, cameras and flash lamps held high and ready for action. Photos were snapped of China's most endangered animal until the lady who had first noticed them found the "antelopes" were in fact wild donkeys.

It was a quarter to eleven when the dining car was ready to serve lunch. The regular lunch consisted of two vegetable dishes and two meat dishes for 20 yuan, the same price as the dinner. A regular breakfast cost 10 yuan and came with steamed bread, egg and fermented bean curd.

One of the cooks, a Xining native called Wang, said that all the chefs on board had over 10 years cooking experience and had all polished their skills in training at the Qinghai Hotel.

"Today, an 18-person Japanese tour group will come to have lunch and we have to prepare for that in advance since some of them are elderly people, fond of light and soft food. Cooking takes much longer at over 4,000 meters and the boiling point of water is only at around 80 degrees centigrade."

After lunch, Yasuko Maekawa, a member of the tour group gave her appraisal, "It was pretty good despite the radish being a little bit too spicy."

The engine hauled the train's bulk up to the 5,072m high Tanggula Mountain Pass, connecting Qinghai Province with Tibet, at around 4 PM. At this stage, some passengers finally began experiencing the long-expected altitude sickness with symptoms ranging from nausea to being light-headed and drowsiness. Two medical attendants from Golmud Hospital treated two people who were showing strong symptoms and helped them take Gaoyuan'an and Hongjingtian (altitude sickness medication).

The majority of sufferers simply pushed a little device so the oxygen supply was cranked up, letting more oxygen filter through the cabin.

"That's an incorrect way to use the equipment," said a technical operator surnamed Ma from the Dalian Lide company, the oxygen-production machine supplier for all the trains on the Qinghai-Tibet railway, including the Beijing-Lhasa line, the Xining (Lanzhou)-Lhasa line as well as the Chengdu (Chongqing)-Lhasa line.

He grumbled that the pipe should be plugged into the connectors and that oxygen should be inhaled through the nose otherwise the concentration of oxygen would have little effect.

The people showing impressive immunity from altitude sickness were the local Tibetans.

Anjiang Duojie, a 31-year-old Tibetan who became a monk at the age of six, chatted with his mother in one of the seated cars. After living in seclusion for eight years, eight months and eight days, he left his temple in Yushu, Qinghai Province.

"This is the first time either my mother or I have taken a train. The ticket price is affordable and the conditions on-board are comfortable." He said.

Anjiang and his mother first took the bus from Yushu to Xining and bought the tickets to Lhasa, costing them 226 yuan (US$28) apiece.

"I feel very happy, my mom has always been dreaming of visiting the Potala Palace in person. The only thing I regret is that my younger sister has never seen a train, let alone sat in a car such as this. But I will give her this experience in the near future."

Anjiang's mother stood up frequently during the journey, and murmured something in Tibetan that fetched a laugh from all present who could understand. Anjiang told me his mother kept asking: "Have we arrived?"

Behind Anjiang sat Zhuoma, a young Tibetan lady recounting Tibetan myths and stories to the Han passengers around her. She spoke of the Ta'er Monastery and the legend of Tzongkaba (1357-1419), founder of the Yellow Sect of Tibetan Buddhism; she shared the beautiful melody of "In that far-off place" by Wang Luobin and the love story behind the song; she told of the wedding in 641 between Princess Wencheng of the Tang Dynasty and Songtsam Gambo, king of ancient Tibet, and of the cultural exchanges that had taken place ever since.

As we passed Damxung, the third station inside Tibet after Amdo and Nagqu, the sky clouded over and mist rolled in, obscuring the mountains from view, before the skies opened and the first drops of rain appeared on the window-panes.

After rolling past Yangbajing, the highest-altitude hot springs in the world, at 10.22 PM, it trundled in to its final destination, Lhasa.

As I stepped down onto the platform at Lhasa station, I recalled that early last century, French explorer Alexandra David-Néel once said he believed that one day in the future, an express train would cross the Asian continent and transport passengers here in luxury carriages. Now, the dream has come true.

All photos by Li Xiao

(China.org.cn by staff reporter Li Xiao, August 8, 2006)