NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE
Volume LIX, Number Three
MARCH 1931
‘ON THE WORLDS HIGHEST PLATEAUS’
Written by HELLMUT DE TERRA
Photographed by W. BOSSHARD
“The local government, encouraged by the help of the British authorities, secured us transport for “as long as our travels should keep us in Kashmir territory.” “But where are your boundary posts?” we asked the Hindu official. He made a heroic effort to collect his geographic knowledge, but evidently in vain, for he advised us not to worry over such minor difficulties.
But, alas! This was not a minor difficulty, for we had to sign an agreement with the Indian Government promising to stay out of Tibetan territory. As the boundaries between Kashmir, Tibet, and Chinese Turkestan were so manifestly vague, this promise seemed difficult of fulfilment. Even the British officials smiled at our dilemma, as a veritable no man’s land exists beyond the Himalayas.”
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I visited my hometown last week. It was a beautiful trip. There is nothing quite like hearing your own accent spoken back to you; any unconscious but inevitable attempt at neatening-up my Scottish accent since moving to London to be better understood was immediately abandoned on arrival. Glasgow’s western quarter (known locally as The West End) is well-kept and filled with old trees and ornate sandstone buildings. It was a place I called home for six years – where I caught my breath, grounding and discovering myself as I graduated to adulthood. I always visit when I’m in Scotland.
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A couple of years ago, as I was on a bus travelling through very small and remote Spanish village, with only one grocery store for miles. Walking down the street, I saw a boy in his early twenties carrying his smartphone and wearing an Armani T-shirt and jeans. Go to Selfridges in London and most boys his age are dressed like him. It was at this moment that I could see the dilution effect of globalisation’s impact on cultures.
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In this quarter, there is a wonderfully old antiques shop, hidden down an old cobbled alleyway. It’s a proper antediluvian hut – a messy and un-curated wonder where, if you manage to charm the grumpy owner and his cat, you feel like you belong. It’s where I bought my first film camera twelve years ago, a Minolta X300. The camera was my photographic genesis – I now make my living from photography.
I paid a visit to the shop on my trip home. The owner was still there; hadn’t changed a bit. (This was comforting.) There was a different cat. She was perhaps a little less battle-hardened and intimidating than her predecessor. For the first time, I really noticed the old National Geographic magazine bookshelf. Since I’ve started to travel, I’ve seen that in terms of culture, a lot of Europe is beginning to look very similar. Subtract architecture from the equation, and high streets in Malaga or Paris are identical in many ways to those in London. Cultural identities and dress are often saved for special occasions. A couple of years ago, I was on a bus travelling through very small and remote Spanish village, with only one grocery store for miles. Walking down the street, I saw a boy in his early twenties carrying his smartphone and wearing an Armani T-shirt and jeans. Go to Selfridges in London and most boys his age are dressed like him. It was in this moment that I could really see globalisation’s impact on geographic culture. Having said that, on a recent trip to Italy, I realised that culture still exists vividly through people – our cultural history is mapped in our faces and through the way we communicate. Italians still talk passionately with their hands – even when having a conversation on the telephone.
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My eyes were drawn to 1931’s March issue. I think it was the photograph of the mail runner that caught my eye. An original endurance athlete, he reminds me of most of the guys you see at CrossFit gyms today; tough, a bit wild, with a good sense of humour.
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Both wealth and poverty seem to act as forces for cultural preservation, both with somewhat similar effects, despite their opposing mechanisms. I’m sure all of this is why the Nat Geos piqued my interest. I could look back to a time when cultures were both defined and lived in. Not just historical remnants that are brought out for visiting tourists, as is the case with my own Scottish culture. My eyes were drawn to 1931’s March issue. I think it was the photograph of the mail runner that caught my eye. An original endurance athlete, he reminds me of most of the guys you see at CrossFit gyms today; tough, a bit wild, with a good sense of humour. The feature was on an expedition through central Europe’s then-unexplored plateaus between China, Russia and India. The entire feat took eighteen months. They lost one of the team (a shepherd) and countless animals on their risky journey. At one point, they went thirty-six hours without water. Later on, a herd of sheep saved the expedition from a transport breakdown by carrying their equipment when all their yaks died (it turns out that sheep can survive far longer on far less food). They were pioneers in the sense that they were recording the unmapped geography, adding to our world map. Amazing stuff. Despite the extreme challenges faced on the trip, this article retains a light sense of humour. I read this magazine for the entire duration of my journey back to London. It is such a privilege to have a window into the past through this fascinating and human article. It read as though it was written yesterday. As they say in my new city, ‘big-up’ to Hellmut De Terra and the team for this life-risking feature, and to W. Bosshard for the skilled imagery as well as photographing, developing and transporting heavy photography equipment and fragile photographs and photographic film in wild conditions through the land over the eighteen-month expedition. Quite incredible.
Let us be inspired by their curiosity and ambition.
