In his book The Gift the Russian-American novelist Vladimir Nabokov describes the mountains of Northwest China as a “transparent and changeable setting” where “the dryness of the air produced an amazing contrast between light and shadow: in the light there were such flashes, such a wealth of brilliance, that at times it became impossible to look at a rock, at a stream; and in the shadow a darkness that absorbed all detail.” Since the nineteenth century the mountains of Xinjiang have drawn adventurers with their remote and quiet brilliance high above the desert oases of the Uyghurs. The people who live in those mountains – Kyrgyz, Tajiks, and Kazakhs – seem to reflect this quiet dignity; they move with grace, speak in low tones, and act as though trained by survival. Those who come to test their mettle often find themselves deeply impressed by the strong women and men who help them through this atmosphere of rock and sky. A few months ago it was the allure of these bare mountains, and their great height, …