The Wild and the Way: Following the Forgotten Roads of Tea

Lorela Lohan
Aug 9
9 min read

Part III of a 4-part series:

Following the Leaf — A Journey with Jeff Fuchs

In this interview of 4 parts, Jeff shares insights on tea culture, from its romantic myths to its gritty realities, and reflects on a life shaped by tea and travel.

Villager and trader in Central Tibet who served ‘butter’ tea using a pungent goat version, which will forever be remembered by both the mind and digestive system.

Part III - The Wild and the Way: Following the Forgotten Roads of Tea

Travel, danger, story, movement

The Dynamic Side of Tea Culture: Adventure, Energy, and Community

Lorela: Your stories from the field – altitude sickness on mountain climbs, encounters with bandits along caravan trails – reveal a dynamic, even perilous side of tea’s history that we don’t often hear about. The modern tea industry’s branding is mostly calm, meditative, wabi-sabi serenity. In your view, does today’s tea culture do justice to tea’s more adventurous past? How might the narrative change to include that energy and community?

Jeff:

Trekking a portion of the Ancient Tea Horse Road in Tibet – one of the historic trade routes where tea travelled on the backs of porters, yaks, and mules across the Himalayas – tea culture has a rugged, adventurous side that’s seldom highlighted in modern marketing. I understand why the imagery of tranquillity and refined ceremony is popular – tea is calming and ritualistic in many contexts – but there’s so much more to it. You mention altitude sickness and bandits: those were real factors on the old Tea Horse Road! Tea wasn’t always enjoyed in porcelain cups in a peaceful garden; it was often slurped for survival on a windswept mountain ledge. I don’t think the mainstream narrative yet captures that dynamic history or the human grit behind a cup of tea. And perhaps more importantly, it doesn’t fully capture the energy that tea provides and the communal adventure it can inspire.

I’ve spent years tracing those ancient routes, and I can tell you, some of my most memorable tea moments happened in extreme conditions – not in fancy tearooms.

A trader reminisces about the days of trade along the Tea Horse Road over tea. Known as 'Cha Ma Gu Dao’ (Ancient Tea Horse Road) in Mandarin, it was often referred to as ‘Gya’lam’ or ‘wide road’ in Tibetan.

I’ve had a cup of scalding butter tea in a nomad’s tent at 5,000 meters altitude, feeling it revive my very core after a brutal day’s trek. I’ve shared basic green tea out of a dented thermos with Tibetan muleteers while sitting under a rock overhang, sheltering from icy wind. Objectively, those were not the “best” teas in terms of rare leaves or perfect brewing. But they remain nine out of ten of my best tea experiences ever, because of the people and the place and the feeling of that moment.

There’s a lesson there: what makes a tea moment special isn’t only the quality of the leaf – it’s also the context, the camaraderie, the story.

Tenzin, who served as a kind of guardian for caravans hauling trade items through the Himalayas. Commodities such as pashmina, salt, resin, and tea all had enormous value to both nomads and to the Himalayan market towns and monasteries.

Tea has an incredible way of bringing people together, of creating a little bubble of community even in harsh environments. In the past, travellers on caravan routes would sit and drink from the same pot before parting ways, forging bonds knowing full well the journey ahead was dangerous. That communal aspect – sharing tea as an offering of friendship and hospitality – is core to tea culture across Asia. I do hope the modern industry starts to layer some of this into the narrative.

Tea can be pitched not just as a Zen beverage, but as an energising, connecting force. After all, tea is the original energy drink if you think about it – it’s caffeinated, it sharpens your mind, and it was carried as critical fuel on month-long expeditions.

I’ve noticed a shift: a lot more young people (including young men, who historically in the West might have gravitated more to coffee or energy drinks) are getting into tea for its stimulating kick. They talk about the “tea high” or the clarity it gives. I find that fantastic.

Tea does spark you up – I often call it a gentle spark.

I’m personally not a fan of decaffeinating tea; I love that natural buzz, that qi or energy that a living tea imparts. There’s also a meditative side to the energy – tea can wake you up and calm you down simultaneously. That’s a unique trait that could be highlighted more.

So yes, I believe the marketing around tea will expand to embrace these dynamic elements. We might start seeing tea promoted for outdoor adventure, for wellness in a way that emphasises not just antioxidants (the typical health angle) but the experience – “take tea on your hike instead of coffee” kind of thing. And more storytelling about tea’s journeys: the dramatic treks, the cultural exchanges that tea enabled along those routes. It’s rich material.

Not everyone wants to hear only about aroma and flavour notes; some will be drawn in by the story and the adventure behind it.

Above all, tea is about human connection. I often say, you have the leaf, the water, the vessel, the time – but people are the fifth element in tea.

The best cup of tea can be simply one enjoyed in good company. Even here in modern life, think of how offering someone a cup of tea can break the ice or comfort them. It’s a humble act of hospitality nearly everywhere in the world. I’d love to see tea companies celebrate that more – show two strangers sharing tea on a mountaintop, or friends making tea around a campfire.

Tea can be wild and social, not just quiet and solitary.

And the industry doesn’t need to fabricate this – the history provides plenty of real examples. Tea has been witness to caravan days, to revolutions and spiritual quests. It has been traded through wars and across unknown terrains. Bringing some of that authentic grit into the narrative can only enrich people’s appreciation. It tells new tea drinkers: hey, this isn’t just your grandmother’s afternoon tea – it’s also the drink of explorers and nomads, monks and merchants. There’s room in the tent for all these stories.

On a related note, tea’s physiological effect – the caffeine and beyond – is part of that story. That alert-yet-calm feeling you get (thanks to caffeine plus L-theanine) is something special. It’s why those high-altitude tea moments stick in my mind; you feel the tea working in your body, keeping you going. I suspect we’ll see more focus on tea as a natural energiser and mind-clearer, which is a very old idea in the East but a relatively new angle in Western marketing.

So in short, the modern industry hasn’t fully done justice to tea’s adventurous, dynamic side – not yet. But I’m optimistic it will evolve. Tea is too multifaceted to be forever boxed into the “quiet and dainty” corner. We can cherish the serene tea ceremony and toast to the fact that tea has also been a companion in the fiercest of life’s journeys. The future of tea storytelling, I hope, will be as diverse as tea’s history.

A Life of Exploration: Early Influences and Motivation

Lorela: You’ve led an adventurous life – trekking across continents in search of tea and mountain wisdom. What set you on this path? Was there a moment or influence that ignited your desire to travel and explore the world of tea?

Jeff :

I’d love to claim there was a single lightning-bolt moment of inspiration, but in truth, it was more of a family inheritance of wanderlust and a gradual stoking of curiosity.

A huge influence was my grandmother – a formidable Hungarian matriarch who lived to 94 and was absolutely the fireball of our family. She had this incredible energy and zest for life. Well into her later years, she moved around like someone decades younger. My father, too, was very dynamic, always on the move. So I grew up in a household where movement was the norm.

In my childhood, we actually lived in several places (I spent some early years in Switzerland, for example). I have vivid memories of suitcases constantly being packed or unpacked in our home. I used to imagine that the suitcase itself was a kind of magical travelling creature. It sounds funny, but I saw our luggage as a symbol of the world – ready to go at any time.

The message I absorbed was: the world is out there to experience, and we’re not rooted to just one spot.

My grandmother actively encouraged me to go out and climb things, explore, and test my limits. She’d say things like, “Go to the mountain, see what you find,” with a mischievous grin. Mind you, this is a lady who, as a young woman, had seen her fair share of upheaval (coming from Europe through wartime eras), yet she wasn’t fearful – she was bold. She imparted that to me.

Another factor was literature and imagination. I was a voracious reader of adventure stories as a kid. Everything from the Tintin comics to tales of explorers like Marco Polo. I remember devouring the Asterix & Obelix series – not exactly travelogues, but they transport you to different worlds and eras with humour and adventure. These stories planted seeds. They made far-off places feel reachable and exciting, not scary. I would daydream about travelling the globe like the characters in my books.

By the time I was a young adult, staying put just wasn’t in my DNA. I felt an itch if I stayed too long in one place. So I followed that itch. I travelled initially for the sake of travelling – I backpacked, I worked odd jobs in foreign countries, and learned languages. And wherever I went, I found that local drinks and foods were an easy gateway to culture.

Sharing a cup of something with people opened doors. In many places, that “something” was tea.

Taking a simple black tea with ‘Ama’ in Langtang. Ama would often say, “We need tea like we need the summer. If either disappear, we would leave”.

I think the tea focus crystallised when I first went to Asia, especially Yunnan and Tibet. There, I didn’t just find tea as a beverage; I found this entire universe around it – history, trade routes, cultural rituals. It combined my loves: mountains and tea.

Climbing high passes by day, drinking tea by night with villagers – I was hooked. It dawned on me that I could actually make exploring tea my life’s work.

One thing about exploration – it does feed on itself. The more you see, the more you realise how much you haven’t seen. Each journey answered some questions but raised new ones. For example, I trekked the Tea Horse Road to document the old tea trade to Tibet. After completing that 8-month odyssey, I learned about a related salt trade in the Himalayas, or a different tea route towards Mongolia – and I wanted to follow those threads too. Curiosity is an endless fuel.

It’s also worth mentioning that exploration doesn’t always mean charging into the unknown without fear. My grandmother, in all her enthusiasm, also used to remind me, “Know your limits.” That’s an important piece of wisdom. I’ve had moments out there – stuck on a ledge in a snowstorm, or dangerously ill from altitude K– where I heard her voice. It reminds me that coming home safe is part of the goal, too.

To sum up, I’d say I was primed from childhood to roam, and then specific interests like tea and mountains gave me a direction for that roaming. I didn’t fight the urge – I embraced it, perhaps because I never had the notion that I had to “settle down” in one place. Change and movement to me are life’s only constants, and I’m comfortable with that.

One more reflection: the more I travelled, the more I realised that exploration isn’t just about places, it’s about people.

And I’ve met such inspiring people on the road. Some of the elders and nomads I spent time with in the Himalayas had no formal education, yet their wisdom and contentment were profound. Those encounters taught me as much about how to live as any philosophy book. They reinforced why I do this – why I travel and seek out these tea cultures – because they continually reframe my understanding of the world and myself. Every journey humbles me and enriches me.

“Even now, I’m not "done".” – I don’t think I ever will be. There are more routes to walk, more teas to taste at the source, more stories to collect. My motivation is still a fundamental curiosity and an understanding that these moments are all little growth opportunities.

As long as I can roam and sip tea, I suspect I’ll be out there somewhere, with a pack on my back, some leaves and a mountain pass somewhere just over ‘there’.”

Our yak caravan along a strand of a trade route in southern Qinghai province that was known to access nomadic communities, with an emphasis on salt, resin, and tea.

PHOTO CREDITS: Jeff Fuchs