The air was thin, the mountains silent—but my heart was louder than ever.

Reaching Mount Kailash had never been just about ticking off a destination. From the moment I decided to undertake this journey, I knew it would test not just my stamina but my spirit. Kailash isn’t a place you simply arrive at—it’s a place that draws you in, layer by layer, through hardship, grace, and reverence.

Setting Out

My pilgrimage began in Lhasa, where golden rooftops and fluttering prayer flags already felt like whispers from the sacred. After a few days acclimatizing to the altitude, I joined a small group of pilgrims heading west across the vast Tibetan plateau. Our vehicle bumped along rough tracks, past crystalline lakes and wind-sculpted rocks, while our guide—a soft-spoken local Tibetan—taught us how to greet each pass and shrine with a prayer.

The journey to Darchen, the base town near Mount Kailash, took several days. Each stop along the way felt like a spiritual checkpoint: Manasarovar Lake shimmered like a mirror to the heavens, and Tirthapuri's hot springs offered quiet moments of reflection. At night, we slept in humble guesthouses or under skies streaked with stars.

First Sight of the Mountain

Nothing prepared me for the first glimpse of Mount Kailash. It rose like a divine pyramid, completely symmetrical, untouchable. Unlike Everest, which boasts of its height, Kailash demands reverence by remaining unclimbed and sacred. Hindus believe it is the home of Shiva, Tibetans call it the throne of Demchok, and Jains and Bon followers also claim it as holy. No other peak is so universally revered.

I remember standing at the edge of Darchen that morning, the wind cold on my face, staring at that stark white summit. Tears came without reason. Maybe it was altitude. Maybe it was awe. Or maybe it was simply the quiet realization that I was finally here.

The Kora: Circumambulating the Sacred

The 3-day trek around Mount Kailash—known as the kora—is both physical challenge and spiritual ritual. It covers about 52 kilometers (32 miles), crossing the Drolma La Pass at 5,630 meters (18,471 feet), one of the highest points of any pilgrimage in the world.

The first day was relatively easy, walking through a broad valley dotted with yaks and small mani stones carved with prayers. I fell into rhythm with the pace of the group—slow, deliberate, reverent. Every few hours, we stopped for yak butter tea or a quick snack of tsampa and dried fruit.

By the second day, the real test began. The climb to Drolma La was steep, oxygen-deprived, and eerily quiet. At the top, we left behind a piece of our past—literally. Pilgrims traditionally drop a piece of clothing or tie a personal item to the prayer flags, symbolizing the shedding of one’s former self. I left behind a small note I had written months ago, folded tightly, sealed with intention.

Descending from the pass, the landscape changed—barren, lunar, deeply silent. My knees shook with exhaustion, but I felt oddly light, as if I had lost something I didn’t need.

Return and Reflection

On the final day of the kora, walking back into Darchen, I felt reborn—not in a dramatic sense, but in the quiet way that mountains change you. The fatigue was real, but so was the joy. Pilgrims around me smiled with cracked lips and sunburnt cheeks, sharing butter tea and quiet laughter.

Looking back, I can’t say exactly what changed in me—but something did. Maybe it was the humility of walking beside Tibetans who prostrated their way around the mountain. Maybe it was the silence at Drolma La. Maybe it was just three days of being unplugged from the world and plugged into something much older and deeper.

Tips for Future Travelers:

Altitude is real. Train and acclimatize well in advance. Spend time in Lhasa or Shigatse before heading to Kailash.

Respect local customs. Dress modestly, don’t point at sacred objects, and always walk clockwise (unless you are a Bon practitioner).

Travel with a guide. Foreigners require a Tibet Travel Permit, which must be arranged through an agency.

Pack light but wisely. Layers, a good sleeping bag, and a water filter are essential.

Mount Kailash is not conquered—it’s honored. If you go, go with humility, go prepared, and go willing to listen. The mountain won’t speak in words, but it will speak in silence.