It came from Twitter.

I have stayed in Tibet for 8 years. I advise everyone to stay at home and not to wander around for no reason, especially in remote areas. Some things are more serious than you think. I have guarded a supply station near the no-man's land in northern Tibet for 8 years, and my daily interactions are with border defense soldiers and occasional herders; most tourists only stop at the roadside county towns, and nine out of ten who dare to venture deeper will run into trouble. It was autumn two years ago that I still feel tight in my back when I think about it. That afternoon, after the snow had just stopped, the phone at the supply station suddenly rang. It was a call for help from the border police station: three young people from Chengdu, driving an urban SUV, disregarded the herders' warnings and forcibly entered the no-man's land on the edge of Qiangtang. Now the car is stuck in the swamp, and they have been out of contact for almost 12 hours. The station chief asked me to lead the way, saying I was familiar with the terrain, and sent two soldiers with me. We immediately set off with rescue equipment. I grabbed a pack of compressed biscuits, put on a thick coat, and got in the car. I have moved around that area with the herders a few times every year, and although the grassland looks flat, there is dark swamp underneath. In summer, it feels soft when you step on it, and in winter, once the frozen layer thaws, the wheels of the car will be trapped and won't come out easily. After two hours of driving, my phone completely lost signal, and the walkie-talkie could barely contact the police station. The road signs along the way had long been buried by snow and wind, and we could only rely on the sun and experience to find our way. When it was completely dark, we finally saw car lights flashing in the distance. It wasn’t normal light; it was the flickering of emergency lights. As we got closer, we discovered their car was tilted and stuck in the swamp, half of the vehicle submerged. The three young people were huddled inside the car. We knocked on the window and called out to them, but it took a long time for them to respond, their voices trembling uncontrollably. The young man in the passenger seat was the first to climb out, and as soon as he hit the ground, he collapsed, his lips turning purple and black, saying that his companions were already starting to struggle for breath. I opened the car door and saw a girl in the back seat curled up, her face bright red, breathing like a bellows—signs of high-altitude pulmonary edema. If we delayed for another half hour, she would have been gone. Just as we were busy lifting her, one soldier suddenly shouted, 'Don't move.' I followed the beam of his flashlight and saw seven or eight pairs of eerie green eyes shining about fifty meters behind the car—it was a pack of wolves. In this season, prey is scarce, and the wolf pack was starving. They had probably been eyeing the trapped individuals, just waiting for us to leave or for them to get out of the car. One soldier raised his rifle and fired a shot into the air, but the wolf pack didn’t disperse; instead, they moved forward a couple of steps. I quickly poured the spare gasoline from the car around us and threw over a lighter. When the wall of fire ignited, the wolf pack finally retreated a little but didn’t go far, just crouching outside the firelight watching us. We didn’t dare to delay. We strapped the girl with pulmonary edema onto a stretcher, with two soldiers alternating to carry her while I supported another young man who was weak in the legs, heading in the direction of the supply station. The girl stopped breathing several times along the way, and the soldiers used a portable oxygen bag to give her oxygen, pinching her philtrum and patting her back, managing to pull her back from the brink of death. After almost five hours of walking, as dawn broke, we finally encountered a border patrol vehicle that had come to rescue us. After sending her to the hospital in Naqu, the doctor said that if we had been any later, even if we managed to save her, she would have developed chronic lung disease. The three young people's car was ultimately not recovered; the swamp had become deeper, and by the time spring thawed, it was likely completely buried and untraceable. Six months later, another incident occurred. A solo hiker claimed he wanted to traverse Qiangtang. Before setting off, he boasted in a restaurant in the county town that he had crossed the no-man's land in Xinjiang, so this route was nothing. However, on the tenth day after entering the mountains, his satellite phone lost signal, and herders found his backpack by the lake, but the food and water inside had long been finished, and there was no trace of him. The police station searched for half a month but ultimately had to give up. The area around that lake was full of ice cracks and hidden rivers; he likely fell into one of them, and his remains could not be recovered. I have seen too many people like this, holding their phones with travel guides, driving rented cars, thinking they can conquer this land. They don’t realize that the wind in northern Tibet can change suddenly; it can be sunny in the morning and turn into a blizzard in the afternoon, with temperatures dropping by twenty or thirty degrees in an instant. The seemingly solid ice surface might be empty underneath; one step down, and they might never come back up. Even the Tibetan mastiffs raised by herders will attack strangers fiercely, let alone the starving wild beasts. It’s not that you can’t come to Tibet; the tourist attractions in county towns, following a guide, are very safe. But those remote places that are not clearly marked on the map are not for check-ins; they can truly be life-threatening. I have guarded the supply station for 8 years and have seen successful rescues, as well as those wrapped in white cloth being brought out. Every time I see the family members crying and wailing, I think to myself: if only they had listened to the advice and stayed home or followed the safe routes, these incidents could have been avoided. Don't always think you're lucky; don’t confuse ignorance with courage. The dangers of this land cannot be understood just by reading a few travel blogs online. Staying home with family for a meal is better than anything else. If you must go out to play, choose mature tourist areas; don’t recklessly venture into remote places; your life is nothing in the face of nature.
Forwarded from Staying Up Late Digging for Gold