Sichuan, China -

ave you ever been asked to keep a secret? Moreover, have you been asked and known that you're going to break your word and tell someone else?

Mount Genyen is a case in point. I've said nothing by disclosing the name. The area is virtually uncharted for 100 kilometres in any direction, and it's not in any guidebook. Consulting the oracle of the computer age won't help much either – even Google knows precious little about this earthly paradise of eastern Tibetan influence in the Himalayas. Genyen is a place so remote, so tranquil, sacred and significant to the Tibetan Buddhist faith that only certain monks of the Gelugpa sect and nomads of the highland plateaus of Kham know of its existence. And they want to keep it that way.

But you can keep a secret, right?

"The landscape may be beautiful, but this road is shit." I had to agree with Dickson. Our Chinese companion made the succinct observation just two hours after our departure from Litang, smiling devilishly and lighting a cigarette. He was enjoying the rock and roll of the off-road. Dickson had told me he wanted to go somewhere off the map. It certainly is that.

Getting to the trail is no trivial matter. This is adventure travel. Those not prepared to endure some hardship may feel their spirit shaken loose by a track that is more rock fall than road. Though sworn to secrecy in terms of Genyen's exact location, I can reveal that Litang to Dramla was the last stretch undertaken by car and, even in a 4WD, it took five hours to cover 80 kilometres. Beyond that, transport is of a traditional mode, the kind used by nomads and traders in these parts for millennia.

I learned of Genyen through Khampa Caravan. The trekking company takes its name from the Khampa people of Kham (Sichuan), nomads who used to operate mule caravans across some of the world's most inhospitable terrain to trade tea, textiles and salt with their neighbours in Lhasa and beyond. These days, motorcycles are as popular as mules among the Khampa, and traders are as likely to use trucks as livestock to transport goods.

Yet nomads do still traverse the plains as they have for generations, subsisting on pasture with a small head of yak and living under black canvasses made from the animal's hair. Khampa Caravan is heir to this tradition. Indeed, short of chartering a helicopter, walking or riding a horse is the only way to reach Mount Genyen from the outside world.

The life of a rolling stone can be hard. My toughest day came to an end at Dramla village, a haven squeezed between two rivers at the base of a steep gorge. It proved a fine place to rest weary limbs and a punch drunk mind.

I rose early, snatched breakfast and, after quick ablutions in a nearby river, joined my steed, companions and luggage on the far side of a makeshift suspension bridge linking Dramla with our trail route. The walking was easy, a blessed contrast to the previous day. The few kilometres of lush alpine pasture border a river which, along with Dopzang Tenzin, would be our guide though the valleys and plateaus beyond.

Tenzin knows about Mount Genyen because the area was his childhood home. He was a nomad once; he was also a monk of Genyen monastery, our ultimate destination. Though he now lives in Zhongdian (Shangri-La) with his wife, a local television presenter, he spends much of his time taking small groups on trips to his homeland, Shambala. The name bears an uncanny resemblance to the title of James Hilton's fabled Eden in the Himalayas, and the fact is not lost on Tenzin. When questioned, he wryly declared it the real Shangri-La.

I had the impression Tenzin was only half-joking. He elaborated with descriptions of sweeping alpine valleys carpeted with flowers; nature and man in perfect harmony; caves and monasteries, home to Buddhist monks who have become so attuned with their inner-selves that they have severed the link between body and spirit and travel astrally. There's no doubt he was blessed with the storytelling abilities of his forefathers. And there was no mention of immortality or European sages held captive by the becalming spirit of a mountain utopia. But it set the scene beautifully and left me in no doubt that Shambala was a mystical place.

We rounded the final spur of the gorge on horseback and there it stood, rising from the plateau like a great clipper abroad a rolling sea. Mount Genyen. 6,204 metres of dramatic rock presiding over an alluvial plain awash with primula, oleander and tsi-tog (an indigenous light magenta flower). Among the flora were curious rock forms, holders of the secrets of this sacred place. Each monolith is a chapter in the story of Genyen's spiritual history and, according to legend, the story is as old as Tibetan Buddhism itself.

It may have been the altitude but even I, someone with the spiritual sensibilities of your average litigation lawyer, could sense a rarefied air about the place. Tibetans have no cynical doubts – most believe their natural environment is imbued with holy significance. Mountains are shrines and rocks assume spiritual dimensions. Yet few landscapes in the Plateau have a pedigree as righteous as this: Gwalya Karmapas are the oldest line of incarnate lamas or spiritual teachers, pre-dating the Dalai Lamas by 281 years. The first was born in the year 1110 and he meditated here for twenty years – sanctifying Shambala as the place of pilgrimage for followers of his faith.

We dismounted next to a stupa in the centre of the plain. Tenzin was clearly excited. He ushered me to a small recess at the foot of a large rock and asked me to describe what I saw. It looked like a conch shell had been prised from the stone, leaving a near perfect imprint. "Really?" he said. "You are one of the few people I've brought here who's recognised it."

It had been a very lucky guess. For the next 20 minutes I was treated as someone with insight way beyond their means. That hole was one of a dizzying array of shapes in rock faces that had spooky similarities to Buddhist emblems. I later learned that the conch shell is one of the eight auspicious symbols, representing the power of the Buddha's teachings. The third Karmapa had removed it and Karmapas one to ten meditated in caves throughout this landscape, once home to over 40 monasteries.

We made our way to the head of the valley and stopped at the mouth of a cave used by the first Karmapa. Not so much a cave, in fact, as an opening at the base of a pile of giant boulders. Turning to face the plain, Tenzin delivered his denouement.

The scene before us was the image of the meditation Buddha Chakrasamvara, sitting in an elongated lotus position. The folds of his legs were defined by the river snaking though the plain; behind us, beyond the boulders, the reason we had come, Genyen monastery in the hidden valley of Shambala, represented Buddha's body and head. "Do these boulders have any relation to the image?" I asked. Tenzin gave me an embarrassed smile, chuckling as he cupped his hands under his groin.

I stepped gingerly into the cave. Partly in deference to Buddha's testicles, but mainly because the going was more suited to a mountain goat, the kind we had seen skipping among the craggy slopes of this Eden of sorts. The cave rose steeply to an opening about 150 feet above. I scrabbled through the gap and into the light, drawing deep juniper-scented breaths.

The following morning I splashed my face with the Chateau Petrus of water, and drank it glug after satisfying glug. As the sun rose from behind a saw-toothed ridge, Genyen's summit thousands of feet above appeared in the stream I was drinking from, its surface like tinted glass.

One by one, Genyen's secrets had been revealed. The night before, sitting beside a wood burning stove, I had become acquainted with the monks of Genyen monastery, people who open their homes, hearts and minds with equal generosity. The secrets, it seems, aren't that mysterious after all. Fresh air, beautiful scenery, faith, a sense of humour and plenty of exercise. An LA guru couldn't prescribe a better regime. And Shambala valley is the perfect place to find it.

Just don't tell anyone I told you.