German tourists receive help as border officers fix wire cables to their caravan, which was stranded in marshland in 2017. Provided To China Daily

Force of nature

Speed is everything when an emergency arises at 5,000-plus meters. The ruthless force of nature manifests itself through murderous winds, biting cold and a lack of oxygen that derails judgment.

However, that does little to deter waves of Chinese and foreign visitors from embarking on a journey that lasts at least 24 hours. At least 40,000 such visitors arrive every year.

One glance at Mount Kailash explains their infatuation. The mountain looms as a pyramid-shaped summit of gleaming snow interspersed with striated, ink-black rock. Its majesty commands attention even among Tibet's many peaks.

Religious significance adds to the appeal. Four religions - Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism and Tibetan Bon - regard the mountain as the axis of their spiritual world.

It is said that circling the holy mountain once during the Year of the Horse in the 12-year cycle is equivalent to completing 12 circuits. In 2014 - the most recent Year of the Horse in the Tibetan calendar - upwards of 10,000 travelers arrived at the mountain's foothills, according to Fang.

The influx of travelers and pilgrims to the small, isolated town of Darchen stands in stark contrast to the sparsely spread patchwork of law enforcement authorities in the vast Burang county, which administers Darchen.

"Darchen is 140 kilometers from Burang and 270 km from the major government bodies of Ngari prefecture," said Namgyal Trinley, police instructor at the station.

"It takes at least an hour for officers in Burang to reach the foot of Mount Kailash, and nearly three hours for the nearest special police and armed forces to arrive."

That leaves the police station, nestled at the entrance to the pilgrimage path, as the single force that can provide rapid assistance in the event of an emergency on higher ground.

"One time, when we came to the rescue of a groggy man stranded halfway up, his first words were to ask why the police were so slow and why we hadn't dispatched a helicopter to transfer him downhill," said Yang Hui, who joined the station in 2017.

Dangers

Some amateur trekkers simply underestimate the great difficulty and inherent risk of the trek, and of rescue missions, he added.

Mountain roads are exhausting for trekkers and dangerous for wheeled vehicles. Karma Jinpa, one of two drivers at the police station, has striven to sharpen his skills, striking a balance between safety and speed.

"I used to have clammy hands while driving the 6-km-long road into the mountain. The bumpy ride sometimes made my colleagues nauseous, but they never blamed me," said the ethnic Tibetan from Nagchu city, about 1,500 km away.

Though he is now familiar with the road, it takes at least an hour to complete the trip. "The snowfall is intimidating. I always feel anxious when driving in heavy snow, especially at the sharp turn near the Drirapuk Monastery," he said.

Even during favorable weather in late summer, vehicles are subject to unexpected risks.

In August 2017, a caravan transporting 20 German backpackers became stuck in a swamp near the Prayer Square, a major tourist attraction at 4,800 meters.

"We started by shoveling mud and silt, filling in boulders, and clipping wire cables onto the van," said Fang, who was leading a patrol that came across the group.

"The vehicle was huge and wouldn't budge. So we arranged for a tow truck from a village about 12 km away to come. Eventually, the caravan was pulled out of the swamp."

Patrol members remove snow on the pilgrims' path during a rescue mission in April. Provided To China Daily

Rescue missions

For many rescue missions, the officers have to venture to the margins of the traditional pilgrimage route on foot.

Guo recalled how a man survived two nights in the open before the search team found him on the ground a short distance from the main trail.

"The incident occurred in July. His hiking companion rushed to the station to report the emergency, but the first 48 hours of the search were in vain. We simply could not get a reply, no matter how hard we shouted his name across the valley," he said.

The officers refused to give up. On the third day, with the help of tips from passing trekkers, they located the man. "He was delirious and unable to speak fluently," Guo said.

The fight against time was not over. "Minutes after we started on our way back, it started raining," he said. Rainfall on the slopes of Mount Kailash is no small concern, according to the officers.

Even moderate rain can cause the river that winds downhill adjacent to the main road to churn with glacial runoff and overflow.

Guo, along with three colleagues and two trekkers who offered to help, lifted the unconscious man, a college student, high overhead and waded across the rushing river.

The man was quickly transferred to a health clinic, and he should feel blessed to have survived, Guo said.

He noted that the officers often face the macabre task of extracting frozen bodies from the ice and transferring them downhill.

Fang said: "The weight of a body increases quickly at high altitude. So, carrying the victims' bodies places further stress on our muscles and can also take an emotional toll."

Relaxation

One of the delights for the officers in Darchen is relaxing at a 200-square-meter solarium next to the main office building. In the backyard, a sunken greenhouse offers a rare scene of fresh, tender greenery breathing in the thin air.

The sun-soaked room is a sanctuary for the officers. The ordinary pleasures of life - bantering with friends over a cup of tea, writing messages to parents and children, and being able to take off their hats without worrying about frostbite - wash over them for a brief moment.

"We have all known and felt the distress brought by working thousands of kilometers from our families. Over time, we have also accepted that hardship and danger are inevitable components of the job," Fang said.

"But loss and gain go hand in hand. The pride we have gained from resolving issues and saving lives, all happening in secluded, sacred terrain near the border, is unparalleled in other professions."

The outcomes include genuine camaraderie between the nearly three dozen police officers, forming a melting pot of ethnicities, accents, personalities and lifestyles.

Guo has recently taken on a new role, managing logistics for rescue efforts. That means he is no longer required to venture deep into the mountains on most occasions.

His sense of unease is undiminished, though.

"I still feel my heart in my throat when my colleagues go out at night after an emergency call from trekkers who have run into trouble," he said.

Insomnia, the condition that haunted him when he first arrived, seems to have returned.

Unsettled by the dangers facing the first responders, he peers through his dormitory window, waiting for the flicker of police car lights in the silent darkness.

"The lights are my cue to tuck myself in and sleep. That's how I know my colleagues are finally home, safe and sound," he said.