Every spring, a tribe of nomadic herdsmen on the high plateau of northern Tibet loads well over a hundred yaks and sets out for the salt lakes of the Himalayas, some of the largest salt reserves on earth. The film follows one caravan on that journey, a trek that has run on the same route and the same rituals for generations: prayers before departure, offerings at the lakeshore, and a strict order of march that assigns each man and animal a role. Camera and sound stay with the herders themselves, no narrator stepping in to explain what a raised flag or a chanted verse means, so the practice unfolds the way it would to someone actually there. The salt itself, once a currency traded across the plateau, is now increasingly hauled out by truck on industrial terms, and the film sets that shift alongside the caravan without editorializing about it. What it shows plainly is a way of life still functioning but visibly running out of road, yaks and men making a trip that trucks are already making faster.