My Years in Hoh Xil

In 1994, I followed a gold-mining boss to Yushu to work as a laborer. The place was nothing but wilderness. The only thing keeping me company was the captain’s grimy black gun. There was oppression and a bitterly cold wind, with the Bayan Har Mountains in the distance. Slacking off or complaining about the cold? That was out of the question. Every day, I stood in the freezing river, shoveling sand up one load at a time, then washing it and panning for gold. It was miserable, unbearably miserable. Then one day, a few people arrived in jeeps. They were Tibetans, members of a mountain patrol team. They disbanded the gold-mining crew. The others went home in tears. I later heard that the boss and captain, who had been mining illegally, were arrested too. But I didn’t leave. I decided to join the patrol team. They had cars to drive, and I’d get to ride in one every day. The pay had to be decent. I doggedly pestered the man they called Captain, and at last, I joined the mountain patrol team.