Chapter 19 The Third Crimson Road

1 The minibuses to Pai Township were dilapidated and crowded.The carriage was full of local Tibetans, and they were the only two travelers.A young woman came up halfway, wearing a floral cotton blouse and a Tibetan robe, her hair was disheveled and dry, her braids tied with silk threads, and she wore cheap, bright plastic bracelets on her wrists.They seem to have not combed their hair and bathed for a long time, but their faces are extremely regular and beautiful.A strong body odor mixed with cheese and fatty acids filled the cabin.The smoking and drowsy crowd was carried forward bumpily. The car passed the Gangga Bridge and drove from the south bank of the Yarlung Zangbo River to the north bank.The scenery is gradually verdant and humid.From the window of the car, you can see the river rushing slowly, the sky is thick with clouds, and the fog is lingering.It is a completely different scene from Lhasa.Unrepaired driveway, mixed with mud and rocks.Getting narrower and bumpier.In the end, it was a flattened dirt road that gradually led to a hidden village behind the mountains.Pai Township.The material transfer station leading to Medog, the porters going in and out will stop here to recuperate.There, it is necessary to cross Doxiong La on the south side.Duoxiongla has a complex terrain and is part of the mountains in the eastern part of the Himalayas.It is the starting point for entering Medog in the traditional route.

The best small hotel in Pai Township is run by people from Sichuan.The so-called best is nothing more than a wooden attic, with a few low beds made of wooden planks and dirty-smelling quilts.The toilet is far away in the wilderness.No possibility to take a bath.There was a lot of noise in the hall downstairs. A TV crew from Beijing was doing an inspection here. They were entertained by the district leaders and set up a big table of food.Hearing the familiar Mandarin from big cities makes people feel a little awkward.They sat around waiting for a seat to open, and did not go up to chat. Finally, a large group of people were picked up by off-road jeeps.The hall was empty.It was dark.They each ordered a bowl of hot and spicy noodles and ate them with tea.She said softly, how could there be so many inspections, eating and drinking with public funds, and taking some pictures of fur and scenery to go back to business.The hotel has lost power.The shopkeeper lights a white candle.The big yellow dog came in looking for food, and she stroked the top of its head.She loves small animals and is never afraid of them.He is very wary of people.

In some subtle moments, he can easily find the strong sense of social marginal identity that she insists on.She distances herself from collectives, institutions, groups, categories...all group identities.Her indifference and disregard for the rules of the world and of social turnover makes her seem isolated at times. They fired the flashlights and walked out of the hotel for a walk.As night falls, the mountains are silent.There are barking dogs one after another in the dilapidated small village.The moon is very round, shedding luster in the wilderness.The contours of the surrounding rolling valleys are striking black shadows in the vast canvas of the blue night sky.In the meantime stands a steep snow peak, covered with ice and snow, with simple lines, towering majestically under the starry sky.They stopped and stared at it for a long time.The top of the snow-capped mountain shone with a cool light against the moonlight.

This is Doxonla.She said that it is covered with snow all the year round, and when the mountain is covered by heavy snow, the path cannot be discerned, the depth of the snow is unpredictable, and the weather is unpredictable. If you go to this mountain at that time, you will definitely die.We have to get up early tomorrow.The locals say that it is best to cross the mountain before eleven in the morning.Otherwise the weather is prone to change. All the mountain passes that are to be passed on the way into the mountain will be covered with snow from late November to June of the next year, and the mountain roads will also be covered with snow and ice. When a blizzard comes suddenly, all passages are closed.No one will go in.In spring and summer, the rainy season is torrential, and landslides and landslides cause roads to be dangerous.Only from June to September every year, the snow will melt and pedestrians will be allowed to pass.Therefore, its communication with the outside world is actually only a few short months.

The sound of the rough waves of the Brahmaputra River can be vaguely heard in the distance.Under the sun, you will see its white waves rolling and sinking, whistling away to the distance with a bang, flying northward among the overlapping Himalayas, twisting at the northern end, turning a big horseshoe-shaped bend, and rushing forward. Turn down.Its big bend is perhaps one of the wonders of canyon rivers on earth.Running south to Medog County and then exiting the country, passing through India and Bangladesh, the final destination is the Indian Ocean.The way of a great river.Magnificent and weird, free and easy.This is where the life of a river lies.Its origin is the melting snow water on the mountains.