Jodi in China

That morning we had to once again transform our our side of the hut, this time from our sleeping area into our breakfast area. At breakfast, in my soggy boots (stashed in a corner of the hut all night) and my pants more soaked than when I had hung them outside the night before (morning dew? or yak saliva?), I sat next to the fire drinking my yak butter tea. We were discussing where we would go to on our first day in the alpine. Our guide had told Michelle that about a 6 hour hike away were the best, most productive summer pastures in the Adong village territory. Michelle was intrigued by what kinds of vegetation we might find there. So we decided to trek over to those meadows, looking for our study sites along the way.

What kind of study sites were we searching for? Michelle has developed the hypothesis that Tibetan yak husbandry practices contributes to the high biodiversity of the alpine ecosystems in this region. The alpine areas are not usable for grazing or farming for 6 months out of the winter because they are covered with snow or senesced vegetation. At the end of spring when the snow has melted, the herders will come up to investigate their summer pastures, and burn small patches of shrubland to create more grass for their yaks. Then, in June when the meadows are green and productive, they will bring their yaks up for the summer months. The grazing pressure on these pastures is historically relatively low, because the yak density per acre is not very high. Michelle hypothesizes that this combination of low-density grazing and rotational burning has created a more biodiverse alpine ecosystem that would otherwise exist.

About 15 years ago, the Chinese government ordered a ban against herder’s burning, with the goal being to promote forest growth and watershed protection. In alpine areas where the burning ban has been followed, there should be shrub and forest encroachment into the alpine meadows. Shrub encroachment is evident in many areas, especially those close to roads where burning can be monitored. Part of our collaborative research is to try to quantify the shrub encroachment since the burn ban at the regional scale.

Because Adong village and their alpine pastures are very remote, burning practices still continue. At the same time, Adong’s alpine meadows are some of the diverse found in the region. We decided to go to Adong because another goal of ours is to address Michelle’s hypothesis that burning promotes meadow biodiversity. So throughout our treks, we were searching for areas with different burn histories, where we could measure the plant types and cover, in our first attempts to address her hypothesis about the positive relationship between periodic burning and meadow biodiversity.

So we set off bright and early. We did a lot of up and down, but mostly stayed around 4200m, in the tree-less alpine, taking tons of pictures and asking lots of questions along the way. We saw lots of burn sites, but none were quite appropriate – some were too small, or on the wrong slopes or at the wrong elevation, some were isolated without any good comparison sites nearby. But about ¾ of the way to the “best pastures”, we saw a hillside with burn patches that Michelle and I agreed met all of our criteria as perfect sites to collect our vegetation transect data, and that we would return the following day for data collection.

Shortly after we saw these sites, our guide pointed to a very very very high mountain pass in front of us, and informed us that our destination was just on the other side of the pass. I had weathered the altitude surprisingly well so far, but this was going to be the “moment of truth”. We started up, me in the rear of the pack. As we climbed we passed through the shrubs, and then the meadows, and then the sparser meadows, and then to the rocky alpine scree, a stretch of loose rocks that would give and slide with each step. There was more and more distance between me and the other three as we climbed, because my breathing became more labored and my footing very insecure in such unfamiliar terrain. Then we came to a stretch of large boulders that we had to scramble up and over on our hands and knees. These boulders also would slide and teeter scarily with each step, and I became increasingly wary. Finally, I was kind of overcome by a (somewhat irrational) fear that to continue any further would result an inconvenient adjustment in the boulders. I envisioned that the next step would result in a terrible landslide, with me ending up far below, bloodied and broken, under a pile of boulders. I found myself paralyzed, unable to continue.

I stood there a minute or two, catching my breath, and, well, not moving. I heard Michelle shout from way above:

Michelle: “Are you coming?”

Me: “ummmm, I think if I take another step I will cause a landslide. And all the rocks will fall. And I will end up dead under a pile of boulders."

Silence. Then I heard Michelle translate this to our guide, and him responding something back.

Michelle: “He thinks that, probably, that’s not going to happen.”

Probably? I look up at the 200m or so of the same terrain above, and then look down at 100m of the same terrain I had already passed through. I was screwed – what should I do? I stood there paralyzed a couple of more minutes.

Michelle: “Are you coming?”

Me: “Hai Pa!” (“I’m Scared!” At this altitude, no use Michelle wasting precious oxygen for translation of such a simple concept).

No answer from above. I wait a couple of more minutes, unable to act. Then all of the sudden, my worst fears! There are some rocks and boulders shifting and tumbling above me! I look up, expecting to see a wave of boulders tumbling towards me. But instead here comes our guide, practically running down the scree, sure-footed as a mountain goat. He kind of skids to a stop right above me, and with a big grin and a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth, gallantly offers his hand. “Well”, I say to myself, “I guess I’m going up.” I take his hand, and slowly but surely, hand in hand, we climb together up to the pass. Michelle got a big kick out of this one, so documented it all in play-by-play photographs. So we can remember it always.

At the pass we ate lunch, and then made our way down to the “best pasture”, a beautiful alpine valley with fresh, clean, abundant water and countless beautiful meadow plants. By the time we had investigated this valley, it was already past mid-day, and we had to high-tail it back to home. Our guide chose a different route back to our hut, to avoid the scary alpine scree. We made it back to the hut, exhausted but happy with all that we had seen that day, and a plan for where to collect data tomorrow, just as the daylight was ending. The rest of the evening was a replay of the night before: yak butter tea, fried pork fat, steamed bread, and my entertaining bedtime routine.