Team Kora

  Mt. Kailash, China
Sunday, July 16, 2006

I awoke at 4:45 am, an hour before my alarm was set. That was the nature of my excitement as I began my second kora at 5:06 under the light of a waning gibbous moon. The buildings of Darchen, as I walked to the outskirts of town were black silhouettes highlighted in moonlight steely blue. Dogs barked around the town. Soon I was out of town heading west--the kora had begun.

I was attempting to do the kora--all 53 kilometers--in one day, as the Tibetans traditionally do. This was to be a test of my stamina, both mental and physical: I had never attempted anything like this before, especially since the entire trek would be at altitudes ranging from 15,000 to 18,500 feet.

The night before, I prepared my gear carefully to be as light as possible: my bobo, tsampa bag, gorp, bowl, bandana, water bottle, rain jacket, light top, light pants, socks, boots, green Carhartt hat, wallet, photo of Ichi, Dolma, and Losang, and Chrissy's good luck charm. Everything else would stay in Darchen. Traveling light felt great; my shoulders and legs felt free from the heavy backpack I usually carried.

Soon, I saw flashlights several hundred yards from me with a low chanting, pulsing "hmmmmmm" coming from that direction--pilgrims. All the Tibetan pilgrims were converging on the trail. Soon, I was in a line of pilgrims walking in the faint moonlight: we were shadows, and I was part of the group. Before me a man spun his large prayer wheel, which rang a small bell every so often. Birds began to sing.

During the process of dawn, we took a rest break, a small group of nuns, Khampas, and others.

"Tashi Delek," we said to one another.

A few hours later, as the sun hit the western sandstone walls of the valley, I stopped to take pictures. Two friendly Khampa men walked by, and I continued with them. Soon the man with the large prayer wheel joined us, still spinnng the immense wheel. After another break, two nuns joined us. We were now a group of six: Team Kora.

Together we stopped for butter tea and tsampa at the same tent camp I stopped at two days before. The woman recognized me, happy to see me on a second kora, like Cheers only no alcohol and "no one knows your name, but everyone's glad you came." Anonymity seemed to be a trait pilgrims enjoyed, perhaps a form of egolessness.

On the way, I gave my camera to one of the Khampa men, set the exposure and settings, taught him the basics, and let him take pictures. He had a ball, grinning much of the time from ear-to-ear, and some of his picture appear in this photo album. Along the way, the nuns sang and chanted with their mellifluous voices.

By 11 am, we were heading towards Dolma La and had reached the charnel grounds of Silwutsel, realm of Dorje Naljorma, a red wrathful deity, the Space Dancer of Naropa, and consort of Khorlo Demchok. These are places of death, not necessary literal death but any "death," whether giving up one's attachment to "Heather," cutting a piece of one's hair, giving up something, or pulling a tooth. Along the trail were dozens of teeth, pulled symbolically to represent this death. Following death, change arises. Without "death", there is no transformation.

We passed hundreds of articles of discarded clothing. I discarded my forest green Carhartt hat, which I had worn for eight years. Most people thought the hat was part of my head during the winter months. I placed it atop a rock; it fit well, and the rock would be warmer. Soon we left the charnel grounds behind, frothing scavenging dogs and all.

On the steep section towards Dolma La, we reached the area where Buddha visited thousands of years ago. Throughout the area, the nuns and Khampas and prayer wheel man showed me different places of importance: Buddha's footprint or handprint, the area he landed with the 500 Arhats, the area he washed his hands. We followed in Buddha's footprints and washed our hands where he washed. Some unexplained places included a rock shaped like a knife next to a rock cut in half, and a rock that you ride like a bucking bronco.

At Dolma La, the weather was pleasant, for 18,500 feet at least, and we rested for a while. A pilgrim with a Polaroid camera was taking pictures of people for ten yuan. After the hike, the tea, the tsampa, the galloping rock, and washing our hands together, we had bonded as a group and kept Polaroid man busy for a while.



From here it was all downhill. The weather cleared as we jumped across rocks in the river below. Two dogs joined us for the stroll along the way, friendly canines (not frothing). We took a few more breaks along the way--the entire trip back to Darchen was relaxed, although our pace was fast. I was imagining myself becoming one with the mountain, with Khorlo Demchok. After all, that is the ultimate goal of a pilgrimage. By becoming one with the mountain meditational deity, you transcend duality: differences between people, places, and things are simply illusions of this world. With mountains as important as Kailash, a Power Place, the unity is even more potent. After 108 koras, you are guaranteed enlightenment and nirvana.

Part of this feeling of transcending duality, I believe, comes from the act of walking the kora itself. During the kora, the rhythm of steps, the turning prayer wheel, the chanting nuns all created a vibrational force that resonated with the mountain and in my mind.

This type of swift and meaningful walking is used throughout the world by Native Americans, Aborigines, African tribespeople, Tibetans, and more. The Lung Gompas, however, have perhaps perfected the art of walking. Lung Gompas are Tibetan lamas trained to cover extensive distances in short periods of time, through extreme training, breath control, and the proper mantras. They have been described as "fleeter than a horse" and "carried on wings."

Lung Gompas cover these large distances in complete meditation and calm. The Lung Gompas, in essence, become extremely light, similar to scenes in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon where characters walk on thin bamboo stalks and easily climb walls as if defying gravity.

Finishing exactly fourteen hours later, we completed the 53 kilometer kora in the rain. Remarkably, after the kora, I was neither tired nor sore.

Regards to the Lung Gompas of the world (the few), Alexandra David-Neel, Khorlo Demchok, Buddha, the Space Dancer of Naropa, Chrissy, and Team Kora.