The yak-skin boat—the soul dancing on the upper reaches of the Lhasa River

The boat rows toward the river's heart,  
Pray the Dragon King withhold his wrath;  
I live as I please,  
Unbound by fate's decree.  
— Tibetan Yak-Skin Boat Song

In Tibet, yak-skin boats were once found mainly in the middle reaches of the Yarlung Tsangpo River, from Lhaze to Shigatse and from Quxu to Zedang, as well as along the Nyangchu River and Lhasa River—particularly at traditional ferry crossings.

Reinforced concrete overpasses now span the Lhasa River,  
with no trace of the yak-skin boat ferrymen of old.  
Photo: Wang Zeqiang, Wu Zhi

Today, when we visit Quxu County in Lhasa—once famous for its yak-skin boat ferries and river transport—we no longer see those boats on the water. Instead, freight trucks are parked in the villages, and many of Quxu's young people have become truck drivers. Reinforced concrete overpasses now span the Lhasa River, its sparse currents murmuring untold stories. The centuries-old image of crossing the river by yak-skin boat can now only be glimpsed in faded black-and-white photographs.

Yak-skin boats in the murals of the Potala Palace.

Legend has it that the yak-skin boat was invented very early, appearing on the blue waves of the Yarlung Tsangpo River at least two thousand years ago. Early depictions of yak-skin boats can be found in the murals of the Potala Palace and Samye Monastery. During the reign of the ninth Tibetan king, Pude Gungyal (around the 2nd century BCE), subjects of the Yarlung tribe stretched willow wood frames with yak hide to create boats for river travel. From then on, the yak-skin boat stood alongside the "ship of the plateau"—the yak—becoming a mainstay of transportation, both on water and land, in the snowy realm of Tibet.

The yak-skin boats of the Tibetan Empire period were round with a circular bottom, estimated to be only half the size of modern ones, holding at most three to four people. In contrast, modern yak-skin boats are trapezoidal in profile—narrower at the top and wider at the base—with a much larger bottom surface area than their ancient counterparts.  

In terms of use, today's yak-skin boats are more versatile. Multiple boats can be lashed together to form a larger vessel, allowing for greater cargo and passenger capacity when crossing rivers. A key feature of these boats is the need to keep them dry—they cannot stay in the water too long and must be propped up in the sun to dry after each use.  

Despite their light weight, yak-skin boats have remarkable buoyancy. A single boat, no more than five or six square meters in size, can carry up to ten people. Weighing around 50 jin (25 kg), a boatman can easily carry one on his back while walking.

The Making of a Yak-Skin Boat

To craft a yak-skin boat, four hides are required—and they must come from male yaks. The fresh hides are soaked in water for several days to remove the hair before use. The wooden frame must also be soaked and should be made from flexible, resilient wood.  

During construction, the four softened hides are stitched together. The stitching process must be both meticulous and swift—poor stitching shortens the boat’s lifespan, and if done too slowly, the drying hide becomes too tough to pierce with a needle. The thread is hand-twisted from the hair of a yak’s tail.  

Once the hides are draped over the assembled frame and stretched tight, the trapezoidal shape of the yak-skin boat takes form. Next, the "keel" is fitted inside—a wooden framework typically made from moisture-resistant and flexible willow wood. Each boat requires eleven keel pieces: three long and eight short. The quality of the boat largely depends on the keel, and its dimensions must precisely match the size of the four hides. If too long, the keel will tear the hide; if too short, the boat will be loose.  

After the keel is secured, the interior of the boat is coated with rapeseed oil—the final step in the process. This treatment waterproofs the hide and preserves it. The lifespan of a yak-skin boat depends on its upkeep; with proper care, it can last three to five years. The best maintenance methods are thorough drying after use and regularly applying rapeseed oil to the seams, which keeps the hide supple and durable.  

Finally, the boat is placed on a prepared metal drum to dry in the sun. Once fully dried, a pair of wooden oars is added, and the boat is ready to ferry passengers.

In the past, yak-skin boat ferrymen often traveled with goats as cargo companions. The goats became steadfast partners on long journeys and, on the return trip, could help carry the ferrymen's belongings.

The yak-skin boat is well-suited to Tibet's rivers—it has a shallow draft, and once the hide soaks in water, it becomes soft and elastic, resistant to collisions and friction against underwater rocks. Even if it hits a reef in rapids, damage is unlikely.  

The Yarlung Tsangpo River has many shoals and swift currents with significant elevation drops, so yak-skin boats can only drift downstream, not upstream. Upon reaching their destination, boatmen dry the boats in the sun and carry them back to the starting point on their shoulders.  

From Maizhokunggar County in eastern Lhasa to Lhasa itself or Woka in Shannan, yak-skin boatmen can be seen skillfully navigating over 200–300 kilometers of waterways.

The boatmen spent years drifting on the river, and besides keeping a goat for company, they had other ways to pass the time—such as singing boat songs. These songs were an essential joy during their journeys, helping to synchronize their oar strokes and dispel the loneliness of the long voyage.  

There were two kinds of boat songs:  
One was slow and melodious, like the distant flow of the river or drifting clouds, rich with lyrical beauty. These songs filled listeners with a sense of wonder and a longing for life, and they were sung as the boat glided across the vast currents.  

The other was a work chant—short, intense, and bursting from the boatmen’s hearts as they battled wind and waves. Some were wordless tunes, rising and falling in perfect rhythm with the waves, even merging with them.  

With the disappearance of yak-skin boats, these songs are now rarely heard.

Night navigation on the Yarlung Tsangpo River was nearly impossible. At dusk, the boatmen would haul their vessels ashore, flip them over, and prop them up to form a makeshift shelter for the night. Sometimes, they would light a bonfire, brew a pot of tea, and cook fresh fish or mutton. Once fed and warmed, they would huddle by the flames—chatting, telling stories, and singing songs of snow-capped mountains, soaring eagles, mighty rivers, golden fish, and water deities. Those were their most cherished moments.

"A-re" is the lead dancer in the Go-ze dance. During the yak-skin boat dance, "A-re" holds a "Ta-ta" (colorful flagpole), singing and dancing.

Go-ze, also known as the "Go-ze Dance" or "Yak-Skin Boat Dance," is a unique folk dance originating from Group 2 of Junba Village in Chabalang, Quxu County, Tibet Autonomous Region. In 2008, the fishing village of Junba was listed as a national intangible cultural heritage.  

The Go-ze dance evolved from the "Zhong-ze" (Yak Dance), and many of its movements embody the characteristics of yaks—the "ships of the plateau." The performers bend forward, carrying yak-skin boats on their backs, and rhythmically bump the boat's sides with their hips while dancing joyfully to the sound of the boats. The entire dance is powerful, bold, and earthy.  

"A-re" is the lead dancer in the Go-ze performance. During the dance, "A-re" holds a "Ta-ta" (colorful flagpole), singing and dancing, while the other performers (usually 4–6 people) follow "A-re's" movements, carrying yak-skin boats weighing around 30–40 kilograms. Moving in unison, they strike the boats' sides with oars, creating a steady, resonant "dong-dong" rhythm—both lively and solemn.

There is a fascinating legend about the Yak-Skin Boat Dance. On the opposite bank of the lower Lhasa River lie two neighboring villages—Xirong Village and Junba Village. It is said that one day, while the Fifth Dalai Lama was returning to Lhasa from the Palden Lhamo Palace and passing a sand dune near Xirong Village, the weather suddenly turned fierce, with howling winds and swirling sand. The Fifth Dalai Lama immediately lit juniper incense and performed rituals to calm the storm.  

At that moment, two massive wild yaks—a male and a female—descended from the mountains and carried the Fifth Dalai Lama away. Upon returning to Lhasa, he had a dream in which he rode the yaks through clouds and mist, soaring over icy peaks and snow-capped mountains—a spectacular sight.  

When he awoke, he recounted his dream to the headman of Xirong Village and requested that the scene be recreated as a dance. Thus, the "Xirong Zongze" (Wild Yak Dance) became an indispensable performance at the annual Shoton Festival in Lhasa, bringing fame to Xirong Village.  

The people of Junba Village, envious of the Wild Yak Dance's popularity, decided to imitate it—but instead of yaks, they carried yak-skin boats on their backs. However, due to the boats' bulky size, their movements were less agile than the Wild Yak Dance. What set the Yak-Skin Boat Dance apart was its lack of musical accompaniment—the rhythm came entirely from the dancers' hip movements, causing the oars to strike the boats with deep, resonant beats. When multiple boats danced in unison, the spectacle was even more magnificent than the Wild Yak Dance could ever achieve.

Go-ze (Yak-Skin Boat) Dancers

It was the hardworking and fearless boatmen of old who, through the labor of carrying yak-skin boats, created the "Yak-Skin Boat Dance"—a unique artistic expression embodying the spirit of the plateau. On auspicious occasions such as the third day of the Tibetan New Year and the Harvest Festival, the boatmen perform this dance. With oars resting on their shoulders and hips, they strike the boat's sides in rhythm, singing and dancing to the resonant *dong-dong* beats—both lively and solemn. The performance radiates an optimistic vitality and the dynamic beauty of boats braving the rivers, full of charm and vigor.

The Soul-Gathering Jar on the Lhasa River

In the past, the ferry crossing on the Lhasa River was a unique place. In addition to ferrying passengers, the boatmen had another solemn duty—transporting soul-gathering jars for grieving families.

Among Tibetans, there is a custom: when someone passes away, an earthen jar is hung outside the home. Inside, juniper incense burns continuously, as it is believed to house the soul of the deceased. After about a week, a grand soul-sending ceremony is held.

On the day of the ritual, the body-disposer (sky burial master) leads the procession, carrying the soul jar, followed by mourning relatives. The group must not stop along the way (in old Lhasa, funeral processions were even exempt from traffic lights at intersections). When they reach the riverbank, juniper branches are lit in an incense burner.

The sky burial master then boards a yak-skin boat and rows to the river’s center. There, he gently places the jar on the water, letting it drift away with the current. Onshore, mourners line up, holding tsampa (roasted barley flour), and as they watch the jar disappear into the distance, they cry out "Sok! Sok! Sok!" before tossing the barley flour into the air—praying for their loved one’s soul to ascend and reincarnate.

In the distance, a trail of white smoke lingers over the water, slowly fading from sight...

The Soul-Gathering Jar on the Lhasa River.

The origin of the soul-sending ritual by the Lhasa River remains undocumented, but one thing is certain: the ceremony was once deeply tied to yak-skin boats. Only after bridges spanned the river—and yak-skin boats faded from daily life—did these farewells for the departed vanish from these waters.  

Yak-skin boats hold an ancient place in Tibet’s history, crystallizing the wisdom of its people. If the black tent is the song of nomads, then the yak-skin boat was the soul of the Lhasa River. Its disappearance marks the passing of an ancestral legacy.