Where time began

INSIDE TIBET: Sixth in a Series

The scenery changes dramatically as we drive south from Lhasa to Tsethang, Tibet's third-largest city. It's a slight roll downhill, the capital of Shannan Prefecture sitting 100 metres below Lhasa, and yet still three kilometres higher than the sea.

Tsethang rests on the broad plain where the Yarlung Valley meets the southern bank of the Tsangpo River. In these "lowlands" we see, for the first time, multiple shades of green offsetting the earth's relentless brown, all set against a backdrop of naked mountains.

 We want to visit Yumbulakhang, the palace that became a monastery. It's been on my itinerary from the start, and my travelling companions from Copenhagen, Mike and Jane, have happily added it to their temple list too.

 Mike asks why I picked this one. It's on top of a hill, I say, so some climbing is required, and that's always fun. Tibet seems to have more mountains than yaks, which is a lot. You end up either loving or loathing the peaks.

 My answer pleases Mike, who's an engineer and, like many of his fellow New Zealanders, a mountaineering buff. Jane, his tall girlfriend, is bewildered but amenable.

 As our Landcruiser 4500 rumbles on, I peer at a tiny spot atop a distant imposing hill and think that can't possibly be massive Yumbulakhang. It is, though - it just appears dwarfed by the even more massive Yarlung Valley.

 Visitors can pay to be carried to the monastery on a donkey or horse, but we're determined to walk. Mike soon leaves Jane and I behind on the arduous, 40-minute ascent, which includes a few stops where we gasp for breath. Tibetan grandmas in their 60s shoot past us, their backs bent by time.

 The reward for persevering is an absolutely breathtaking vista across the storied Yarlung Valley. We realise we've trekked not just to a temple but into the heart of Tibetan civilisation. This vast valley was its cradle.

 The blanket of green sprawls endlessly between hills that reach to heaven from the shadows of thick clouds. Here and there we see patches of rustic houses clinging to the edges of lush fields. This was the scene of Tibet's original cultivation, many centuries ago.

 And the Yumbulakhang Palace was the country's first permanent structure. Now it's Tibet's oldest building. Notable religious personalities have meditated in the caves of these mountains.

 Nyatri Tsenpo, who descended from Heaven to rule as Tibet's first king, did so from the Yumbulakhang. The tribes he unified in about 237 BC evolved by the seventh century AD into an aggressive power to be reckoned with, and his successors forged the Tubo Kingdom, which would become Tibet.

 Nyatri Tsenpo's descendants ruled this fertile region until the 10th century. Most of their tombs are in nearby Chongye Valley, Tibet's own "Valley of the Kings".

 Buddhist scriptures fell from heaven, it's said, and they landed here, on the roof of the Yumbulakhang. More on that in a moment, but meanwhile the legend is no help in determining the monastery's age.

 Documents suggest the foundation was laid more than 2,000 years ago, but more likely it was in the seventh century, when Tibet came under the rule of Songtsen Gampo, who's credited with introducing Buddhism here.

 For some, the Yumbulakhang's tall tower tends to make it look like a mediaeval European castle, but I prefer to see an abode of gods, along the lines of Lord Shiva's fortress atop Mount Kailash. 

 Tibet's oldest building was mostly destroyed by the Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution of the 1960s. They knocked down the upper three of the four storeys. What you see today is a 1982 reconstruction, with a small two-storey chapel and the 11-metre-high tower.

The lower floor of the chapel is dedicated to the early kings. Statues of Nyatri Tsenpo and Songtsen Gampo flank the Buddha. Upstairs is another chapel on a balcony, with murals depicting great events in Tibetan history. 

 It's wonderful to see Nyatri Tsenpo in the murals, apparently in a meditative pose. Legend calls him a celestial being, descended from Heaven and duly installed by Bon priests as the first of the 42 kings of the Yarlung Dynasty.

 Among other unusual characteristics, his eyelids were below his eyes and closed upwards.

 The murals also show the arrival of "the Awesome Secret" - more than 400 Buddhist texts that dropped from Heaven onto the palace roof in the fifth century. Or the seventh - who knows?

 The scriptures must have come with a thud, since they were purportedly contained in a casket, along with a golden stupa and the Karandavyuha-sutra, a treatise dedicated to Tibet's patron saint, Avalokitesvara.

 These gifts from above were treasured and preserved even though their guardians barely understood them.

 Perhaps equally awesome is the reality of building this palace high on a hill. It's a difficult trek and the weather can be harsh. Whoever these wondrous artisans were, my companions and I agree they deserve our utmost respect.

 From the top floor, we exit through the back and find ourselves at the top of the hill, which is decked out with rows of prayer flags in the full spectrum of colours, fluttering eternally in the wind.

 The chequered, carpeted plain below is still as green as it must have been two millennia ago. I'm thinking it was indeed a good idea to climb up here and meet Tibet's first king.

 He's been on that wall for almost 2,000 years, and he's yet to awaken from his trance to face what's become of his once-glorious empire.

 Next Monday: Overcoming altitude sickness at Rongphu, the world's highest monastery, and a visit to Everest Base Camp.