Lake Yokmo Tso

From the Drolma La, the path drops steeply, falling into a barren, glaciated valley. Shattered black rock filled the base, save for a few shimmering green lakes, brilliant against the ragged severity of their shores. Little lives in these valleys, the voices of people carrying far and wide.

As the path dropped, around 600m in a couple of kilometres, it was joined by ever more rivers, racing into the increasingly hospitable valleys below.

Singing as she went...

With various paths zigzagging back and forth, pilgrims seemed to be flowing from the heights, all hurrying down the precarious sides of the pass, all into the valley below.