The first Westerner to document the entire Tea Horse Road

The Tea Horse Road, a 5,000-kilometer-long ancient path, was once one of the most perilous journeys on Earth and one of the most extraordinary trade routes in human history. For 1,300 years, its full extent remained shrouded in mystery, known only to a few travelers and residents along its route.

Fuchs and a peculiar team composed of Tibetans, Han Chinese, and local tea farmers—including the lean and tough Sonam (Fuchs’s "Spider-Man"), the wild and hilarious Dorji Khamtru, who seemed "half-human, half-goat," and the stubborn young Norbu, who nearly lost his life on a Tibetan glacier—pushed forward with tea as their spiritual fuel, traversing the towering Himalayas. They became the first to document the entire route of this ancient road in writing, making Fuchs the first Westerner in history to fully explore and record the entirety of this trail.

Jeff Fuchs and Tea Friends

Later, this seven-month epic journey gave birth to his book "The Ancient Tea Horse Road: Travels with the Last of the Himalayan Muleteers."

Jeff Fuchs' book

The "Panacea" of the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau

For two decades, Fuchs' life trajectory, photographic work, and legendary stories have consistently focused on the Himalayan trade routes and the last generation who participated in these great mountain journeys. Mountains and the aroma of tea were interwoven in his childhood memories in Canada and Switzerland.  

Later, after moving to Taiwan, countless tea mentors convinced him that to truly understand tea, one must delve into one of its core producing regions—Yunnan. He went, studied, and settled in "Shangri-La" (also known as Zhongdian or Gyalthang) in northwestern Yunnan, where he has lived for over a decade.

During the journey

"In the autumn of 2003, I first arrived at that small town in northwestern Yunnan with multiple names. Tibetans called it 'Gyalthang,' which later went through names like 'Jiantang' and 'Zhongdian,' before finally being crowned 'Shangri-La.'  

This high-altitude town, situated at 3,200 meters above sea level, became the base for my dozens of expeditions, as it was the perfect hub to glimpse the Tea Horse Road—the great trade route that connected southwestern China with the Tibetan Plateau and extended all the way to the ancient Persian Empire. This ancient road would completely transform the trajectory of my life."

During the journey

Dawa Kyiden pointed out a zigzagging trail along the ridge that vanished into the horizon. As the sun set, this hair-thin ancient path took root in my mind—it was a fragment of the Tea Horse Road, the beginning of a fascination that would occupy my thoughts for two decades.  

In his youth, Dawa had trekked for months along this route. This passage had transported goods, bandits, migrants, spiritual seekers, and diverse civilizations, but the most critical cargo had always been—tea!

Tea

This ancient road, older than the northern Silk Road yet far less known, cuts through the heart of the Himalayas. Caravans traversed the most dizzying landscapes, with goods like tea changing hands repeatedly along the way—often taking four or five months to reach their final destination.  

Tea from southern Yunnan and western Sichuan served as both tribute and panacea, climbing onto the Tibetan Plateau, while Tibetan ponies were transported in reverse to Han Chinese regions.

Gourd-shaped tea cake

"If a bowl of tea is not offered, it cannot be called friendship."

That guiding finger of Dawa sparked a shared vow: Fuchs and his team would follow the route of tea into the Tibetan Plateau. They experienced ancient customs along China's frontiers, the thrills of losing their way on mountain trails, and the hilarious interactions among team members.  

From Yunnan, Sichuan, Ü-Tsang, to Nepal and beyond, Fuchs unveiled the grandeur of this trade route with his nuanced writing. As a mountaineer, a resident of northwestern Yunnan's "Shangri-La," and a self-proclaimed "tea addict," Fuchs led readers deep into a hidden world forgotten by modern civilization.

Ancient road journey

However, these journeys were not only about documenting the ancient road but also about seeking out the last generation of firsthand witnesses—the surviving veterans of the ancient trade routes—to preserve their vanishing oral histories. But first, they had to find these "living fossils."  

As the old tea merchant Tenzin once said, "This road was the lifeline for those of us who had only the mountains as companions, a window to the world beyond the peaks." Fortunately, Fuchs found those "living fossils"—fascinating individuals who had experienced the Tea Horse Road firsthand, witnessing countless unforgettable moments and the role tea played throughout. Below are a few of their stories, recounted in his own words.

Tea break during the journey

The story begins slowly.

"We sat in his dimly lit home, holding cups of lukewarm butter tea. As one of the last living legends from the era of Tea Horse Road trade and expeditions, Tseden opened his stories about this great trade route at his own unhurried pace. The revelation of one memory would pry open another, leading to more meandering tales."

Scenery along the way

The recollections of those who personally traveled the Tea Horse Road always unfold in this manner. Stories begin slowly, gently pulling threads of memory that gradually weave together more and more of the past. His narratives are forever set against the backdrop of the towering Himalayan peaks—how these mountains offered profound insights, brought about devastating disasters, and forged deep, lasting bonds.  

I have always felt that those who experienced this ancient route firsthand carry a certain timeless magic within them. When I asked if I could take his portrait, he immediately nodded, apologized briefly, and stepped away. He returned a few minutes later, having straightened his attire and composed himself. He was ready—and in that moment, he shone with a dazzling brilliance.

Tseden, Ancient Road Merchant

"When the aroma of tea rises, the sky will clear."

"A speck of dust drifts through the cold morning mist inside my tent. What my world needs most at this moment is a cup of Karma's masala chai.  

Lifting the heavy green tent flap, the same scene repeats every morning: a sensory feast of heat and spices, and the uplifting gaze of the beloved Karma. 'Good morning, tea will be ready soon,' Karma whispers. To me, the tea provider has always been the heart of the journey—a truth that seems to echo the very nature of life."

Karma (left)

His tea possesses a powerful restorative quality, partly due to a mysterious gift but more so because of his meticulous preparation process. Decades of mountain life have honed this recipe—the strength of morning tea differs entirely from that of afternoon or evening brews. This Tibetan man grew up drinking butter tea, but his years living in India expanded his mastery of spices.  

Freshly crushed black pepper, broken star anise, cumin, sometimes a touch of cinnamon and a pinch of salt, followed by unapologetically generous amounts of white sugar, and finally the soul of the brew—fresh ginger root. "Fresh ginger always gives the tea a sharp edge—it’s essential. It nourishes the body and dances perfectly with the sweetness."

Tea brewed by Karma

The steaming spices fill the tent with their aromatic heat, and Karma finally settles down, letting the tea simmer gently. Clutching our tin cups, Pulan and I step outside to watch the morning light gradually illuminate the mountain peaks. We share this wordless moment. When Pulan picks up my empty cup and turns to go, he simply says, "I'll get us a refill."  

We have all the time in the world, and Karma will always oblige—he always does.

Drinking tea

The "health" relationship between water sources and mountains

"On a bitterly cold morning in Dar County, Southern Amdo, Qinghai, the air was so frigid it felt like even one’s gaze might freeze. Lobsang watched his two sons chisel ice blocks from a nearby lake, preparing to carry them home to boil for morning tea.

Lobsang's two sons

Lobsang spoke in plain terms about the "health" relationship between water sources and mountains, expressing his hope that his children would never have to worry about their homeland or water supply. He said all things possess spirit, and he never dared to be negligent or ungrateful.  

This guardian of the grasslands interpreted the relationship between humans and nature in the purest way.

Lobsang

Butter tea brewed by Tsepa

"Tsepa is the most focused pilgrim I have ever met. Every morning, without fail, he first simmers a pot of butter tea before heading to Litang's Kirti Monastery for his circumambulations. Three rounds—this is his unwavering minimum, regardless of rain, hail, scorching sun, or deep snow.  

Tsepa embodies the pure and intense essence of this land, and the butter tea he brews reflects just that—rich and robust. Depending on his mood or available ingredients, his tea bowl might swirl with roasted barley, salt, yak butter, tea remnants transported from Sichuan's plantations thousands of miles away, and sometimes even dried yogurt chunks called 'chura.'"

Tsepa

As a proud Khampa man, he understood this land's contribution to the Tea Horse Road. In the past, when caravans traversed the vast nomadic regions of western Sichuan, they often hired "riding guards"—herders employed to protect the safety of the people and goods. Sharing butter tea before setting out became our ritual.  

He often said that the standards for good tea and good friends were the same: straightforward and heart-piercing. Perhaps without even realizing it, he embodied both... May he still be so today.

Tsepa's hometown

Strong Omu

"Whenever we arrived at a new pasture, Omu would begin attending to those endless 'must-do' tasks. One of them was securing the tent's wind ropes with yak hair cords, anchoring them firmly into the meadow. No sooner was the tent set up than hot tea was already brewing. 'You haven’t truly made a home in a place until you’ve boiled the first pot of tea there,' she once said."

Omu

Though I have spent months with her family over the years, the vital role she plays at home never ceases to amaze me. It is she and her silent husband Aju who decide when to migrate; it is she who first senses the signs of the changing seasons and promptly leads the entire tent family on their journey.  

It is she who tenderly cares for and understands the temperaments of the yaks, it is she who prepares the daily meals, and it is she who brews the strong, rich tea each day. And no one dares defy her will—her two sons and a nephew know better than anyone that her word is law.

Omu feeding the horses

"Little Warrior" Dolma

"Over the past decade, I have repeatedly visited the nomadic tribes near Litang, and Dolma's family has always filled me with awe for the nomadic way of life. This family of eight migrates up to six times a year, following the endless grazing trails of their yak herds."

Dolma

Nearly every time I left the tribe, I carried marks from Dolma’s "playful" antics. The eldest of six siblings, she possessed a fierce, beast-like protectiveness over her brothers and sisters, and was also a little warrior who could chase me breathless across meadows at 4,200 meters above sea level. She was skilled with punches, kicks, and even biting—a skill she claimed to have learned from the Tibetan mastiffs that guard the pastures.

Dolma and her younger siblings

She is the family's apprentice "tea master," learning from her mother how to make "po cha"—that intensely aromatic butter tea churned repeatedly. I often think of this remarkable little one.  

She adored the wildflowers blooming around the spring camp, carefully picking them and tossing them high into the wind, only to start again after the petals drifted down.

Dolma and the wildflowers

"Where there is salt and tea, there is wealth and vitality."

In the years spent tracing the branches of the Tea Horse Road, merchants always spoke of another hidden trade route—the Salt Road, too remote to be fully connected. This white, salty mineral always sparked memories of the ancient paths, the people, and the mountains by the tent hearths and on the lips of herders.

salt

This route, known as "Tsa-lam" (the Salt Road), connects the salt lake production areas of the Amdo (Qinghai) Plateau. Though the oral histories surrounding it are often vivid yet ambiguous, certain core details remain clear: a nomadic merchant with a face as rugged as a topographic map insisted that this salt road originated in southern Amdo, "where the wind paths intersect."

Salt Road

On the plateau, altitude and distance are often expressed with poetic flair. People describe routes using wind directions, landscape features, snow accumulation angles, even the color of rocks at specific hours—these richly textured narratives feel far more alive than GPS coordinates. It was with this kind of granular guidance, not any map, that Fuchs and his old friend Michael Kleinwort embarked on their journey.

Salt Lake

Salt, the dark "white gold" of these mountains, once flowed—along with tea, resin, wool, and hides—along faint traces visible on the ridges. The salt from "Tsa’ka" (the land of salt) was of the finest quality yet also the most remote, accessible only via the "Nomadic Salt Road" in southeastern Qinghai.

In the wild borderlands where Sichuan and Qinghai meet, they spent most of their time lost, eventually reaching the nomadic trading hub of Dar. These salt lakes, nestled among copper-hued mountains and adjacent to the formidable Golok tribes, lie quietly in valleys embraced only by the sky and warm-toned rocks—near Qinghai’s Nianbaoyuze and the salt lakes close to Gyaring Lake.

Salt Lake

The eternal truth of the Himalayan world is this: commerce and the divine were never truly separate, and merchants always paid homage to sacred mountains and lakes. While circumambulating Amnye Machen—the holy realm of this great salt route—he deeply understood how natural laws govern livelihoods, trade, and journeys on the plateau. Salt workers always lingered after harvesting, offering tribute to the deities that rule the salt lakes.

Fuchs paying homage to the salt lake deities

After trekking nearly 800 kilometers in a month, Fuchs also witnessed the fading of traditions. The ancient techniques of drawing brine and crystallizing salt through wind and sun had fallen silent, the grandeur of the salt lakes surviving only in the memories of a few. Those merchants and dreamers who once journeyed for salt and tea are now vanishing like the dissipating salt mines, scattered by the wind.

Salt journey

The cream of the mountains

"Years ago in the Himalayas, when my fingers first touched the spread-out wool, the herder insisted I feel a particular tawny piece. He called it 'the cream of the mountains'—its light, delicate fibers exuding warmth—and taught me to brush its surface with the back of my hand rather than my fingertips.  

If cream had a texture, this would be its ultimate expression—a wool designed specifically for the harsh Himalayan cold, sourced from rare goats still grazing on high-altitude pastures today."

Pashmina goat

Herdsmen have since ancient times skillfully utilized wool, often wrapping the fibers around their waists to protect their vital energy. These sources of warmth all originate from the snowlands: yak down, sheep’s wool, and the most precious of all—"pashmina"—all come from creatures that share their lives with the herders. True pashmina is produced in even colder, higher regions. After herders comb the fine undercoat, it is handed over to merchants for distribution, flowing toward distant lands.

On the trade route

In the snowlands, countless branch trade routes radiate from the heart of the Himalayas. Yet there remain clearly distinguishable main arteries celebrated across generations, some still serving their ancient functions today.  

These pathways connect nomadic tribes to market towns, enabling precious fibers to flow east and west, and allowing remote communities access to distant "luxuries"—though their definition of luxury differs profoundly from others.

Horses of the trade route

Fuchs and his old friend spent a month trekking along this soft, warm current of a route: starting from Spiti, the ancient land of the Zhangzhung Kingdom, passing through Tso Kar and Moriri Lake, heading west across the Leh Valley, and finally visiting the legendary Changpa nomads—revered for their pashmina, weaving skills, and their resilient will to resist modernity.

Himalayan cashmere artisans

The charm of these trade routes lies in their preserved primal state, and maintaining this contemporary relevance requires astonishing resilience. In the Himalayas, many places can still only be reached by hoof, foot, and sheer determination.  

Countless caravans have vanished into blizzards, and the mountains impart their deepest lesson: straight-line travel has never existed here. The enduring stories of these peaks always come from those who still tread the land with their own feet.

Journey

The Epic of the Magical Leaves and the "Sky Road"

Later, Fuchs' life of exploration gave rise to the award-winning documentary *The Tea Road*, which chronicles his journeys through southern Yunnan's tea regions and the Tea Horse Road. The film merges Fuchs' two great loves—mountains and tea—into the powerful narrative flow favored by director Andrew Gregg.

Cover of the documentary "The Tea Road"

After securing partial permissions, favorable circumstances, and a precious window of time, 90th Parallel Films and the CBC Documentary Channel funded a team to embark on this trade route—a realm Fuchs had dedicated half his life to exploring.  

Starting from the homeland of Pu’er tea in Yunnan, passing through Fuchs’ former residence in Shangri-La, advancing west to Mustang in Nepal, and finally reaching Kathmandu. In such a brief period, it was impossible to fully capture the millennia of merchant and migration legends along this "Sky Road," or to fully honor all those involved in the production, consumption, and transportation of tea.

People along the tea road

The film concludes with a serene scene of Fuchs sharing butter tea with a Nepalese prince (Gongga, a Himalayan trade legend who embodies both nobility and virtue), then continues with several more cups amid the gentle chaos of Kathmandu’s Boudhanath Stupa.  

It is fitting—in the era of caravan trade, merchants and muleteers often gathered here to give thanks for months of safe travel. The film crew likewise pays tribute here, grateful to have played a part in telling the epic story of this magical leaf and the "Sky Road."

People on the journey

The enduring narratives of the mountains always come from those who still measure the land with their feet.

 

 

 

 

 

Tea Horse Road: Nature and Humanity

JEFF FUCHS  
Explorer, Himalayan expedition member, anthropologist, author, and photographer; senior contributing editor of *Outpost* magazine, member of the Explorers Club in both New York and Toronto, invited lecturer at the Royal Geographical Society, and resident scholar at the East-West Center in Honolulu. As an expert in mountain cultures and ancient trade routes, his seminal work *The Ancient Tea Horse Road: Travels with the Last of the Himalayan Muleteers* is regarded as a landmark in the field. Named one of "Canada's Top 100 Explorers," his work has been featured in authoritative media such as *National Geographic Traveler*, UNESCO, *The Huffington Post*, *Condé Nast Traveler*, *Kyoto Journal*, *Forbes*, *Financial Times*, and *South China Morning Post*.