The more we travel the less we plan--in letting go you create the space for the world to present opportunities outside of what you'd ever consider. This approach is yet to disappoint and as this post chronicles sometimes the results are exceptional--either way it promises adventure. While in Shangri-La we stumbled upon a shop selling yak cheese from a cheesery in the mountains a couple hours to the northeast. The shop walls sported eye-grabbing pictures of the factory and its surroundings which begged a closer look. As we peered deeper into the images our server told us there were accommodations on-site and asked if we wanted to visit--the cheese was tasty and the scenery looked great, why not? English in the whole ordeal was very limited so it was quite unclear what we were getting into, but something about it felt right so we went for it. Arriving at the station for departure a few days later as directed we found our bus packed, but in China there is no such thing as full--our bags went on the roof and we took seats on the floor. We were told the cheese factory was about 70km out of town, after driving about an hour the mile markers told us we had gone 30km on the windy road. We thought we were nearing the halfway point of the seriously uncomfortable ride and things were looking good...and then the pavement ended.
Our pace slowed to a crawl as the driver negotiated the rough road made worse by the previous days of rain. The steep walls of the valley closed in as we moved up it and then the road began to switchback ascending us toward the tops where again the landscape expanded. The Tibetan family compounds and farming of the lowlands vanished in the transition giving way to scattered heards of yaks roaming above treeline. Two and half wearing hours after leaving the pavement the bus slowed to a halt and everyone went piling off toward no visible destination--piss break. Standing on the road I stretched out the stiffness from the tight seating while surveying the epic scenery, excitement with a hint of anxiety welled up inside and I couldn't help but wonder what we had gotten into. The bus ride had already been much longer than anticipated and we had no idea what we'd find when we arrived. No one in the group spoke a shred of English but stopping seemed to assure that arrival was still a ways off. The scenery was extremely promising but damn I was ready to be done with the bus.
Continuing, the road left the ridges and zigzagged down into a deep valley. The diver, with a cigarette ever-present in his teeth navigating around boulders and across creeks while delightfully gabbing with the passengers in Tibetan. As the decent met the valley floor we once again paused, this time for the driver to splash water on the overheated breaks whose smell made their distress known. This was truly intrepid public transit, I was impressed. As I was once again found a comfortable mental space away from the chatter of my body's discomfort the cheese factory's sign appeared out of the trees.
The matriarchs of the family run operation warmly greeted us and showed us to our rooms. The destination was well worth the discomfort of the journey, it turned out to be an amazing spot with great hosts--better than imagined.
Our road cutting across the landscape
Piss break and cigarette stop
In the bus and out of the bus.
A lake of toxic slurry, a byproduct of the coal mines we passed en route.
Yaaaaak!
The factory was constructed in collaboration with a social development arm of the Chinese government, to improve the lives of local yak herders by giving them a way to turn their perishable fresh milk into higher-value, transportable cheese.
The accommodation were far nicer than anticipated.
Riverside teas session shortly after arrival.
The factory's valley.
Highlands pastures well above the factory--summer grazing domain.
Herder cabins next to the lake in the valley above the factory.
A herder's cabin--the walls are constructed of staked rocks without mortar and the roof is planks of wood held down by rocks without nails.
This pipe carries water from the lake above to the run-of-the-river (no dam) hydroelectric plant next to the factory which provides all of the operations energy.
Picking up milk from the herders.
Cheese in the making.
Curing Room
A dairy professor from Wisconsin set up the operation and trained the employees who use a specialized method to take advantage of the unique characteristics of yak milk.
Nothing like a tall glass of yak milk with evening tea.
We hit the area's wildflowers in their full glory.
Is this China or the Pacific Northwest?
This lovely mother and daughter duo who took exceptional care of us are the heart of the place.
Most of the workers are extended family--they were great folks, always sporting huge smiles.
The bus ride out was far less crowded and much more enjoyable.
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