Tag Archives: Yak

Nomad’s Fine Food – Air-Dried Yak

Tibetan styled air drying. Slabs of yak meat hang in a nomad’s tent letting 4500-metre air and wind dry one of the vital protein sources for families in the Himalayas. Yak have long been one of the essentials for the very highest of high-residents, providing sustenance, cloth, mobile transport and tools. Continue reading

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Horses, Blue and a Rail

Qinghai or for the Tibetans, Amdo – Michael and I have entered from the eastern Gansu border by that ‘everywhere’ mode of transportation in this part of the world, the bus. The struggle is as usual present; coming out of … Continue reading

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The Way of Heights

  Informality amongst nomads, and that feeling of immediate and informal acceptance comes from their own necessary and inevitable informality amongst themselves. Sickness, births, joy and efforts are shared in real time every day of every season. Bonds are strong … Continue reading

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Yaks, Creases and Nomads

The man we pick up in Nyimalung has the calm eyes and weathered face that the mountains create and sculpt almost at will. Songjem is in his early sixties and his face and countenance have a lived in quality that … Continue reading

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Amne Machin Farewell – A Descent

Looking at the sky we see fierce white monotones and wind’s power, below in front of us on the earth lies a different story. An avalanche’s disintegrating power has rearranged the land in front of us. A brutal black surge … Continue reading

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Yak ‘Beauty’ and a Switch

We awake with a shudder to mountain cold and the realization that something has changed overnight regarding our ‘team’. Clear air with a hint of blue in the sky as dawn gives way to day waits…. while by the fire … Continue reading

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Amne Machin White and A Travelling Circus

Our two yak stand still in the blowing white snow; around them there is nothing to suggest a specific time-period and looking at their ice-encrusted wool I imagine a time long ago when gas-spewing, noise machines on wheels hadn’t yet … Continue reading

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The Jewel of the Heights

At first it is a glimmer, nothing more than a reflection that I think might be there. Shimmering heat already ripples in the morning air blurring my sightlines.  Michael’s eyes are creased studying the same spectre that I see…he is … Continue reading

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