Editor's Note: This article was written circa 2001. Some details have no doubt changed. If anyone has more recent experiences they;d like to share, please post them tot he comments blog section below.

"When the Iron eagle flies and the horses run on wheels, the Tibetan people will be scattered over the Earth, and their teachings flow all the way to the land of the Red Man" Ancient Tibetan Prophecy

When I first saw my saddle sitting on the ground, I took it for some kind of medieval torture device. Unlike the hard leather saddles so prominent in the West, this odd contraption consisted of a crude wooden frame lashed together by pieces of rope. I watched in awe as my American guide perched it atop my horse's back and then tied it firmly in place under the belly.

Next, my American guide turned to me. "Now we have to prepare the rider."

"The rider?" I said. "You mean me? Prepare me how?" I said.

Steve said, " if you will notice the Tibetans wear a long coat called a chupa." and "around that they wrap a five foot length of cloth, which is strategically placed around the bottom." "Once you have this outfit on, you throw over your saddle a blanket and your sleeping pad, and jump aboard."

This is the typical Tibetan method of horseback riding over long distances. Their posterior is protected against saddle sores, and their legs dangle over the many layers, with the horse somewhere underneath. They are all the while sitting on their camping and sleeping paraphernalia.

Well, we had no chupas, no six foot length of cloth or any other saddle softening devices, so all of us Westerners needed a trip to the local tack store. Our Chinese guide and cooks were smart: They had brought along small pillows from home to buttress the ride, so to speak.

My horse I will call "No name", short in stature but mighty. Just how mighty was proven on the second day of the trip. Riding high on our wooden Tibetan saddles with our newly purchased felt and/or cotton padding, our horses waded into the Min Shan River. It looked like a simple enough crossing: only two feet deep, the current fairly mild. I was enjoying the coolness wafting off the water when suddenly, without warning, my horse lurched downward, his head disappearing with a frightening splash below the surface. I was now up to my knees in water, my boots filling with wetness, trying to hold my camera high while the horse below me struggled to find his footing.

Time seemed to stand still, every moment an eternity. Somebody was shouting something, but the thoughts inside my head were too loud for me to make it out. Amid the chaos, I focused my attention intently on just two things: protecting the camera?and remaining mounted.

No Name struggled, I froze, holding the camera with one hand. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, No Name's head came up, gurgling and spitting water, scrambling, with the help of a Tibetan guide, for higher ground. Standing on dry land on the opposite shore, I felt on the crest of an adrenaline rush. "You're lucky you couldn't see yourself," Ellen said. "It was worse than a Wes Craven movie."

Indiana Jones on Estrogen
To me, it was more like Indiana Jones on estrogen -- battling nature and emerging triumphant. But we hadn't begun our trip in danger; we had begun it with an exotic journey worthy of Dorothy and Toto. Eight Americans, including one from Hong Kong, had flown into the smog choked city of Chengdu in Southern China. From there, we embarked on a two day minibus drive heading north on a hazardous two-lane highway, that wound through the Min Shan River Valley.

Departing in the rain, the road snaked alongside the churning Min Shan river with rock slides at every turn. One, after splilling onto the highway, proceeded to cross the river, bulldoziing several houses on the opposite bank. Besides the rock slides there were overturned trucks, tractor accidents, vehicles bogged in mud, sheep and wild yak crossings.

The Merits of Yaks
That evening, after an obstacle course drive, we pulled into the pagoda gate town of Songpan, one of the few towns on our route to the Tibetan nomads. Here streets are unpaved and rickshaws mingle with horses and bicycles. Wooden-frame general stores provide essentials for nomads on the range: horse tack, mean-looking knives and also, I noticed with sadness, full length pelts from the snow leopard, an endangered species.

Walking the streets of Songpan, we wandered into the local version of "YakDonald's," where dried yak meat lay in bins all around us and even hung in large strips from the ceiling. In China, yak accounts for 20% of all meat sold. Standing amid all the yakernalia, I leaned over and, with a grin, whispered in Steve's ear: "I'll have a Big Yak and a bag of Flies." But to the Tibetan nomad, the yak is no joking matter; it is life itself.

The yak in its various forms is used for food, clothing, shelter and transportation. Tibetan nomads ride yaks and use them as beasts of burden. The hair is woven into tents. When yak butter turns rancid, Tibetans mix it with hot tea and barley flour to make tsampa, a staple of their diet. Yum! Its kind of like eating almond flavored cookie dough. The perfect trail food for nomads on the run.

Public Works
After our next full day of bus travel, we pulled into the cement block town of Zoergai and its "No" Star Hotel....... which included No Plumbing and the worst Asian toilets to date. If plumbing is a sign of modern civilization than this hotel is back there with the Flintstones. Camping was suddenly more desirable.

We were just in time, for the public works department city sewer cleaning project. This involved Chinese men and women, shoveling into "honey wagons" -a small tractor pulling an open cart -- raw sewage from an open trench in the street. Standing on the balcony of the only hotel in town, we overlooked one of the many public works projects. "I need to go shopping for some of those rubber boots." Ellen said, looking down on the black rubber boot clad city workers.

I agree. The first item on my shopping list is a pair of Chinese three dollar (US) rubber boots. Necessary over the next two days for strolls around town, which included jumping back and forth over the public works project.

The hotel balcony proved to be great for viewing activities on our street: Chinese Red Army daily marches, Tibetans carrying huge sacks of yak hair to market, and rickshaw drivers weaving around the public works. On the day we met our horses, we rose to the blare of Chinese over the public loudspeakers.

The Journey Begins
The bus took us out to the edge of town, where we gathered in a quiet group watching the pack of horses grazing in the field. I ended up with a good-looking brown gelding. Steve, our American guide, ran down the basics of Tibetan horseback riding. "First of all, a kick in the ribs means nothing to a Tibetan horse. Since Tibetan riders are perched above many layers of padding, the metal stirrups are often loose, freely banging against the ribs, making the animals insensitive to foot commands. Instead, these horses are trained to respond to neck reigning. "

"To get a Tibetan horse to go, it's best to swing the long lead rope close to their head or whack them on a flank. "

I paid close attention to Steve's instructions. He had been originally raised on a Montana ranch, so he was quite familiar with horses. In addition, he was fluent in Tibetan and was a Buddhist scholar, as well. I gave No Name a few whacks on the flank but he didn't exactly break into a canter. "Don't worry," Steve said. "You've got a good horse. I remember this one from last year."

Our horses were like dwarf horses with big heads. Quite similar in physicality to the Mongolian Horse. There were fifteen of us, including eight Americans, three Chinese (Pan, our translator and guide, Ms. Hu, our cook and her assistant) and our four Tibetan wranglers. We rode single file, intermingled with packhorses that carried everything -- tents, tent poles, food containers, kitchen utensils, and our luggage.

Our four Tibetan wranglers were beautiful to watch: They rode leaning gently forward, easy and nonchalant, perched on top of various layers of material. When they trotted, they sat up gracefully and seemed part of the horse. This odd circus was headed into the land of wonders, the highlands.

We quickly learned that many of the dangers in Tibet turned out to be four-legged furry kind. "Everyone be careful!" Steve suddenly called out. "Here they come!" Charging toward us at Kamikaze speed was a large hairy dog -the Tibetan mastiff. A huge ball of fur with teeth bared. Steve had briefed us on these vicious domesticated dogs. In the lead rode a Tibetan armed with a dog whacker. As the mastiff approached the group, he began twirling the whacker, which is a long rope with a large metal spike on the end, around his head. Finally, the mastiff hit. He lunged at the wrangler's horse, just missing his flank. The wrangler aimed the whirling whacker at the dog. The dog lunged a couple more times, but the wrangler was pretty accomplished at this whacking business, not actually hitting the dog but driving him away. When the dog gave out a yelp for the last time and finally skulked away, we all breathed a sigh of relief.

With such vicious watchdogs, of course, Tibetans don't need bolt locks on their doors or tents. Our mastiff moment over, we rode on. There was much to enjoy. The blue sky that seemed to stretch on forever. The green hills that were so unspoiled for miles and miles. At 9,000 foot elevation, the only thing that punctuated this great expanse of green, was the occasional the Tibetan black yak hair tent and herds of longhaired sheep and yaks.

An Old Story
Before 1959, this area was the Tibetan province called Ambdo. Now it is in the Sichuan province of China. Tibet is a disputed territory. In the late 1950's, China invaded Tibet, taking control of their government and institutions.

It is an old story: The invaders conquer and try to force the conquered peoples to submit and assimilate. Tibetans have a strong culture which is centered around their belief in Buddhism. Communism during the Cultural Revolution attempted to eradicate the Tibetans' religious connection by sending monks into labor camps and destroyed many temples.

The Tibetan religious and political leader, the Dalai Lama, is also a point of contention. The Chinese government has made it impossible for him to live in Tibet, and so he has been exiled to Darsalam, India. However, the vast majority of Tibetans still honor him. From India, the Dalai Lama wages an effective war for Tibetan identity and independence. In fact, our ride came within 300 miles of where the Dalai Lama was originally found as a child.

The Ascent
After lunch, we mounted our horses, and began the ascent from 9,000 to 13,000 feet. Our horses scrambled up the Min Shan Mountain Pass, at 13,000 feet, with ease. At this high altitude, we finally made camp and pitched our tents near a river. As rain began to fall, talk turned back to our main concern on this particular night, the horses. "Last year, two horses were stolen in Lamasu," Steve said. "The Tibetans as Buddhists are sworn to nonviolence, but they aren't above a little horse thievery."

That night, we ratcheted up our security. We made camp in a circle and placed the horses in the middle-wagon-train style. Our usual habit of keeping the horses in place with rope hobbles around their legs-was modified as well: at night the horses were collected and the Tibetans switched to metal hobbles that locked in place. Our Tibetan wranglers would trade off standing watch.

In the morning, all was well with the world. The horses were still there, for one thing. Later, after saddling up and hitting the trail, the blue skies turned black. There was no shelter nearby, so backs to the wind, everyone hunkered down and braced for the storm. The wind blew furiously, visibility diminishing to zero. BB size hailstones, ricocheted off my hat and duster.

After just 15 minutes, however, the weather let up. We resumed riding and were soon joined by Tibetans: a woman on horseback with her young infant daughter strapped to her back, a man astride a huge black yak with his young daughter in tandem. She was possibly 8-10 years old wearing bright red, green and pink silks and a fancy hat. Another Tibetan was twirling a prayer wheel as he trotted. Steve said, "We are really lucky because this doesn't happen very often. On previous trips we didn't have any ride-alongs. "

The Tibetan riders encouraged a faster pace. It was an East meets West-riding party. That evening we pitched camp, I drifted off to sleep with the sound of thunder and hailstones pelting the tent. At dawn, I peaked out of the tent to a deep azure blue sky and crystalline air.

Lamasu
Today we would reach our ultimate destination- a lamasery town, home to some 600 Tibetan monks. We saddled up and six hours later, our horses came over a rise. There on a mountainside, like the Emerald City of Oz, sat the glorious temples of Lamasu.

Incense rose from large burners outside temple walls. Colorful prayer flags fluttered in the breeze. Everywhere I looked I saw temples, red-robed monks, rows of prayer wheels, water prayer wheels, totems, trinkets, and the like. I took them as signs of a people whose spiritual life suffuses everything, a relationship with the mysterious that soaks them through like a seven-day rain; they have no umbrella, as we do in the West.

We pitched tents on a hillside next to a flowing aqueduct of clear water, setting our horses free to graze and water. Even before we had time to settle in, Tibetan monks, townsfolk, and children began to gather. Steve held court with them, the white man chattering away in the Tibetan tongue, launching into lively discussions of Buddhist tradition and scripture.

Prayer flags marked the tops of certain peaks surrounding the town. Tibetans don't bury their dead, I was told, but instead, carry the corpses to a mountaintop and carve them up to a sky burial. Vultures descend from the heavens and carry their loved ones away.

Buddhists believe that we are reborn into another life. One temple here houses a sacred hrefic -- the body of a monk. In the case of monks who reach a high state of spirituality, they buried him. This was during the Chinese Cultural Revolution (1960's). Seventeen years later his body was exhumed and found to be perfectly intact. This was a sign that he had reached Nirvana, a state of grace.

We witnessed this most holy relic, housed in a glass stupa. Steve said, "On my previous trips here I have never seen this. I'll bet few Westerners have." The monk wore a crown of gold and the most peaceful expression. After 10 days of immersion in this fantasy realm -- rain, hail, landslides, pristine nature, yak food, visions of death, and saddle sores -- I felt that I had found the Tibet I had been searching for. It is a challenging land, but amid the difficulties of their lives, the Tibetan people have a deep connection to the eternal.

How to Go to Tibet
Boojum Expeditions
Phone: 1-800 287-0125; Fax: 406 5853474
E mail: boojum@boojum.com
Visit their website at www.boojum.com
Kent Madin or Linda Svendsen are the expediton leaders. They will also help you with all the details of the trip and what to expect.

What to bring:

• Fleece pad for saddles can be purchased in Zoergai
• Flashlight
• Trail mix or snack foods
• Toilet paper
• Warm sleeping bag and pad ( I prefer down)
• Saddle bags to put articles in for the day
• Sunscreen
• Industrial strength lip gloss ( a few got very sore lips From sun and wind)
• Toiletries ( you can buy some in Chengdu, after that you are on your own)

What to wear:

• For long days on the Horse: Bring silk long johns and wear under your riding pants for anti - chafing (polo players wear panty hose for such purposes)
• Talcum powder also helps with chafing
• Western Long cowboy Duster ( it's the best protection for riding in the rain)
• Layered clothing works best -- polar fleece vests and jackets under Gortex®
• A water proof hat
• Sunglasses
• A towel that packs and dries quickly (optional, but highly recommended)

---

Patricia Lanza was a under contract with National Geographic for eight years, where she had over 700 pictures published. Assignments have taken her to all the continents except Australia. On horseback, she's been across northern Mongolia, to the great Pyramids and northern Finland.