Mature Flâneur

Hitchhiking in Tibet

Stunning photos from the back of a truck

Our Ride. Note the metal bar at the back. All Photos courtesy of Dave O’Neil, who sent them to me years later — after the Internet was invented.

I remember riding over a high mountain pass in southern Tibet, snow on both sides of the gravel road, the air thin and cold in my lungs. My two companions and I hung on to the metal rail in the open back of the truck for dear life as the Chinese driver swerved round each curve. He seemed to be imagining himself engaged in a one-man Formula-One race for transport trucks.

Going uphill, he ground the gears and the truck jerked and bucked like an unbroken stallion. Dave, Richard and I bounced around like those poor fools in Texas bars who try and ride the mechanical bull. Once over the crest, we descended into a seemingly-endless green, high-altitude valley surrounded by snow-capped peaks. In the far distance we could see the tents of nomads surrounded by hundreds of black dots — herds of yaks.

Yaks on the roadside.

Our driver let loose and careened down the road, building speed. He seemed to have forgotten he had a brake pedal. From our vantage point in the open back, we could look straight over the edge down the sheer rock face as we swerved to follow the contours of the rough-hewn road. There was…