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.

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