Jodi in China

The next morning, while drinking our yak butter tea, we discussed our plans for the day. Michelle explained to our guide that we wanted to return to the sites we had seen the day before, for data collection. Upon hearing this, our guide smoked his cigarette thoughtfully for a couple of minutes, and then politely suggested that there were better sites close to our hut. Michelle explained that we didn’t see any appropriate sites close to the hut, but that those other sites were just right for us. He again smoked his cigarette and pondered things for a couple of minutes, and then politely suggested that we it would be better to collect data at his friend’s pastures, which we had passed through on our first day hiking to the hut. Michelle explained that those sites just weren’t right for what we wanted to do. Again, he lit up another smoke, and thought a couple of minutes more, chattered in Tibetan with the other herders, and then in Mandarin politely explained that the sites we were interested in just wouldn’t be right for our data collection.

For sure, there was something going on about our guide’s relationship with the herders at the the sites where we wanted to collect data. What it was, we had no way of knowing. And we really didn’t want to press the issue, because in fact the research we are conducting is kind of a delicate matter. We are interested in sites that have been recently burned, and burning has been illegal for the past 15 years. Michelle and I, before arriving in Adong, had already discussed the possibility that researching burn sites may give bad attention to those that are illegally burning. Although the motives of the research are pure - to provide evidence that the burning ban is negative both for herders’ livelihoods and biodiversity - we recognized that there is a risk that researching such a sensitive issue could potentially have bad consequences for those who are breaking the law. When we discussed it before the trip, we had decided that the risk was small, and that the Adong village alpine territories are so far off the beaten path that that Chinese officials are unlikely to investigate this area.

Our guide and the other herders we met are proud and independent, and continue to manage their lands in the way they think is best.  They are certainly no dummies, and they surely recognize there is a risk to guiding outsiders to areas where they are breaking the law, and helping us take pictures and collect data about these areas. It is their land, and we are entirely dependent on them to access it. They had given us their trust so far, and we did not want to jeapordize that trust.

In the end, by the time we had drained our bowls of yak butter tea, Michelle and I decided not to press the issue. We thought that by insisting against our guide’s wishes (whatever the political or personal issues may be), we might raise too many red flags with him and the other villagers. By insisting on certain sites, we could see that we may cause the doors to close for any research at all in the Adong alpine territories. So, we abandoned our hopes to sample our ideal sites, and worked on a Plan B.

Our Plan B was to make a day trip to our guide’s summer pastures. Michelle had already visited their pastures, and thought there may be some good potential sites, although not as good as what we had seen the day before. Although our guide’s son and his yaks had already left for the season, we could make a day trip there, collect some data, and make it back to our hut by nightfall. So, right after breakfast, we started out for another marathon day.

It was about a 4 hour hike to get to our guide’s pastures, back down into the forest and then up into another alpine valley. It is a beautiful valley, but alas had no great sites. Since we were scheduled to return back down to the Adong village the next day, we were running out of time. We chose the best sites available to do some data collection, at the very least it will be useful to try out our methodology and get some preliminary data. At 5pm, we had finished 3 transects, and had two hours left of daylight to cover the same distance – 4 hours steady hiking of steep and rocky up and down, not to mention a few slippery log crossings over rushing mountain rivers. To do the return trip, we had to practically sprint the damn thing. Thankfully, nobody got hurt, and we arrived at the hut in the dark, just as the stars started twinkling in the sky. (I wish I could take pictures of the stars here – pretty amazing). This hike was so intense, all three of us non-Tibetans -- me, Michelle and Li Hong -- were completely spent. Even our guide admitted he was a little bit tired. We ate, laid out our beds, and the three of us were asleep by 9pm. I didn’t even remember to brush my teeth.

The next morning we got up extra early and collected a transect at a site above the hut just for good measure, and then started the 8-hour hike down to Adong village. After four days of sweaty hiking and no water for bathing, all of our feet were shot. Poor Li Hong took off his cotton socks in the middle of the day, and hiked the rest of the way just in his $4 canvas military shoes. Back down at the village he revealed his bare feet, rubbed raw and bloody.  Mine were a bit blistered and lot achy, but I guess thanks to $10 Smartwool socks and $100 Goretex hiking boots, they were not nearly in as bad of shape as Li Hong’s.