7 Years, Still Well—Yunnan-Tibet, Sichuan-Tibet, Qinghai-Tibet

Something from 2018, not written until 2020. In 2011, Jingjing and I cycled the Yunnan-Tibet route. Seven years later, the two young people had become four, plus my mother and others, so we bought a car. The purpose of buying a car was to take the family out while everyone was still young. This trip had two destinations—Xinjiang and Tibet. Since I had been to Xinjiang once in 2018, and my mother was relatively young, to avoid severe altitude sickness in Tibet as she aged, we decided to go to Tibet. To go to Tibet, we had to choose a route. In 2011, Jingjing and I cycled the Yunnan-Tibet route, so this time we decided to take the Sichuan-Tibet and Qinghai-Tibet routes. We planned for a long time, solemnly made a trip itinerary PPT with pictures and text, and enthusiastically demonstrated it at home several times. On one hand, to popularize the itinerary knowledge, on the other hand, to arouse the family's expectations for the trip. Actually, most of the time plans couldn't keep up with changes. For example, in 2011 when cycling the Yunnan-Tibet route, the route map that took three days to draw was left in a hotel in Deqin, and the rest of the trip was groped blindly. But it was just one national road, so we wouldn't get lost. This time was the same: as soon as we left Chengdu, the rhythm was disrupted. On July 8, 2018, taking advantage of the summer vacation, I took family visit leave and annual leave, totaling 30 days, and set off!

Passing through Guangxi, "Among the world's peaks, only here they form a forest." Jingle was fond of the small car in his hand and played with it the whole way. Unfortunately, it was lost later in the journey, and he cried sadly over it once.

Fiddling with it. The usually brave little sister had never seen this "rare thing" and cautiously touched the goat's horn under her mother's encouragement.

The first stop was Guiyang. After settling the others, I went out and found a popular "Silk Baby" restaurant. Some vegetables wrapped in a thin pancake, poured with sauce and eaten. Jingjing and I ate and smiled, feeling it wasn't worth it.

This is better. At night, after everyone else had slept, Jingjing and I sneaked out again and "braved the world" together.

This Changwang noodles were delicious. I added three pieces of dried tofu.

The next day, we went to Qianlingshan Park. I had been here in 2016, and this time I specially brought the family, especially the children, to play.

The monkeys behind imitated.

When it was time to take a photo with brother, they weren't so cooperative.

Indeed, the little monkeys running everywhere "conquered" them. Later, when they saw monkeys "fighting in groups," they got a bit scared.

From Guiyang to "magical" Chongqing. Navigation is a virtual existence in Chongqing. We circled several times before finding the hotel. The hotel downhill was Hongya Cave. Night views with cruise ships are a construction feature of some cities with conditions: Shanghai, Guangzhou, Wuhan, Nanjing, etc., and Chongqing is no exception.

Hongya Cave was brightly lit at night, selling things similar to other internet-famous spots.

During college in 2008, I took a 17-hour green train from Wuhan to Chongqing and played for a week. It had been exactly 10 years in a flash.

The next day, we waited over two hours to get on the Yangtze River Cableway. I gave Xiao Wang a window seat. I have acrophobia and dared not look down. He found it very novel.

These two also found it very interesting and happy.

Now the Chaotian Gate has changed; it's no longer the same as ten years ago with the ubiquitous hawking of "stick men" and roaming cooked food sellers. With urban development, many similar scenes have disappeared. On the way, I told them to try the cooked foods like spiced dried tofu and chicken legs that were hung around the neck in flat wooden boxes—things I had regretted missing ten years ago. But once missed, it was truly missed.

Do you know which cave this is? It's a passage under a mountain city sculpture.

In Chongqing Ciqikou, the number of people queuing for twisted dough sticks ten years ago was as many as today. We bought some too, to eat on the way into Tibet.

In the afternoon, from Chongqing to Chengdu, we specifically detoured to Leshan to see the Giant Buddha. It was a bit rainy, with few people. I passed on the explanations I had heard when I last visited Leshan Giant Buddha to them—read ten thousand books, travel ten thousand miles.

Three rivers converge, majestic.

In every city I visit, I like to go to the museum.

We wandered in People's Park. The kids didn't like pure walking; they preferred amusement rides.

Then we went to Kuanzhai Alley. It rained on and off; we skimmed through. Originally I planned to eat hotpot and watch a performance here at night, but the others said they had hotpot every day and wanted to go back to the hotel to rest.

Early the next morning, we went to Chunxi Road, strolled around, and saw the climbing panda. Every time I go out, with my abundant energy and curiosity, I fill the plan to the brim, afraid of missing any attraction and leaving regrets. So this time my family told me several times that it didn't match the original intention I presented in the PPT speech at home about stopping and going.

That noon, after eating in Chengdu, we set out to embark on the real Highway 318! When you start, you'll notice an interesting phenomenon: everyone's car is shiny and clean, but the same group, when met again on the Qinghai-Tibet Highway, was all covered in dust.

This time we brought two tents specially, originally planning to camp at Miyaluo Scenic Area. But due to traffic jams for hours, we arrived at 8-9 PM. We found a elementary school outside. Since it was summer vacation, no one was there. We prepared to "camp" against the outer wall. We fumbled to set up the tent while making self-heating rice. When setting up, we found that one tent we bought was not a quick-release type; it needed steel pegs hammered into the ground. In the end, we had to manage with a makeshift setup.

As soon as we left Chengdu, the weather turned cool. Yesterday it rained and we wore short sleeves; this morning we needed coats. The camping site was 20 meters from a river with a rapid current, roaring all night. If you calmed down, you could feel a bit of nature.

Passing by here, I thought of Alai's "The Dust Settles." He wrote a book in his early thirties that he could never surpass in his later years, but I didn't like the ending—too restrained on the surface.

Today the weather was nice; wild monkeys everywhere, great rivers flowing. I don't know why, but the water had been muddy all along the way, very different from before.

Arrived at Seda, filled with Buddhist chants. Many places had loudspeakers playing sutras. Inside, it felt like a holy land. The flowers of Seda were fiery and free, living independently, not understanding the sutras nor seeing people. One flower, one world, good. The old dogs and old cattle here couldn't call each other brothers, just like tourists and monks—both in the same world, yet not in the same world. The little girl drying her quilt, touching the old cow, feeding the old dog—that was their only way of connecting.

At night we camped on an empty grassland outside Seda. At first, Tibetans were picnicking there, and also college students who rented a car from Chengdu to do the 318-214 small loop. Seeing our family, the students asked if we were camping overnight. I said yes. They were very happy, saying that having us as company made them feel safer. There were about four of them, including one or two female classmates, without tents; they just opened the windows a bit and slept in the car. A Tibetan family nearby brought their own cooking utensils and stereo, and even exaggeratedly brought a diesel car for power generation. After dinner, they danced Guozhuang until 10:30 PM. Our kids played well with theirs. When parting, a Tibetan child gave Xiao Wang a small item, like a Transformers helmet, exquisitely made. Xiao Wang liked it very much, held it and ran to show me proudly, with his sister toddling behind. Xiao Wang told me how he got the toy, and his sister repeated it like a parrot. Seeing his joy, I felt it compensated for the lost toy car at the beginning. The grassland seemed beautiful with wildflowers everywhere and no disturbance. But there were many mosquitoes, and in the middle of the night it poured rain. And "pour" was not an exaggeration. Fortunately, the tent was sturdy and didn't leak a drop. I climbed a mountain alone that day; although the weather was dry and sweat dried quickly, I had no place to shower, and my body felt sticky under the blanket. I also had some altitude sickness, uncomfortable. Later, after several tries, I moved items from the trunk to the front, folded down the rear seats, and slept in the car, which was a bit more stable. I had to leave a window crack, and rain poured in, but I couldn't care. The next morning, while we were still groggy (the students probably hadn't slept all night and couldn't stand it; they drove away), we dozed, let the kids sleep more, waited for the rain to lighten, then started reloading the car. We left the rear seats with blankets untouched, put the elderly and children in the back, and drove the Panda Avenue to Xinduqiao. Later I realized this was wrong: both adults and kids got more carsick. Take warning.

Leaving Xinduqiao, we spiraled up and down in the Sky City, sky low and clouds wide, refreshed; prosperous places, relaxed and happy; as far as the eye could see, beauty overwhelmed.

Clouds rolled and spread beyond the sky; yaks covered the ground; sometimes torrential rain, sometimes clear skies. Wildflowers everywhere, grass competing, streams gurgling, green mountains serene. Looking far, the vitality of heaven and earth filled the view. In 2011, when taking the Yunnan-Tibet route, I missed this section. Today I made up for it.

This period had a lot of rain. The Jinsha River was under constant repair; once stuck in traffic, you never knew when it would be released. While stuck, I boasted to Xiao Wang about my bicycle trip to Tibet back then. Actually, deep down I always hope that when Xiao Wang is in middle school or college, I can take him or the whole family to travel the Yunnan-Tibet, Sichuan-Tibet, Qinghai-Tibet, and Xinjiang-Tibet routes. I often tell Xiao Wang: read ten thousand books and travel ten thousand miles. This world can be huge, as huge as infinite universe, or small, as small as a grain of sand in the eye. We neither take the biggest nor the smallest, neither dwell on the present nor aim too high. Under suitable conditions, choose a suitable world. Suitable is the most comfortable.

After seven years, I finally touched the border of Tibet. Joyful and excited. All fantasies and planning turned into reality at this moment. Though only seven years, it felt like a lifetime. Many places you visit once may never be visited again. I came to this familiar land again, as if touching the threshold of past life memories.

Lawu Mountain. Markam is the junction of the Yunnan-Tibet and Sichuan-Tibet routes. As soon as I arrived at Markam, familiar things came into view, interweaving with long-lasting memories, confusing whether it was reality or the past.

Next, there is a large section comparing seven years ago and seven years later. The same places, same people, same events. Past events resurface, overwhelming emotions. Seven years ago, at Rumei Town between Lawu Mountain and Dongda Mountain. Back then the road wasn't concrete.

Seven years later, at Rumei Town between Lawu Mountain and Dongda Mountain. The old road was abandoned; the new road underfoot.

Seven years ago, Dongda Mountain. There was still snow at the end of July.

Seven years later, Dongda Mountain. Many mountains' heights changed; original appearance no longer exists; many high-voltage transmission lines built all over.

Seven years ago, the 72 Bends.

Seven years later, the 72 Bends.

There were many cyclists on the road, but much fewer than before; self-driving cars were much more numerous. If time and physical strength permit, cycling or motorcycling is a very good experience. Many people might not know where this small pond is. When we were cycling, we hitched a ride once, passing here in a small van. I filmed a video then, deeply impressed, and always longed to come back and see it. This time, the water level had dropped significantly, and many high-voltage lines had been built nearby.

The small pond seven years ago and seven years later.

Ranwu Lake. Seven years ago, Ranwu Town was just a small street less than 150 meters long. Now it's developed for tourism. The cookie-cutter modern tourist attractions contrast sharply with the original landscape. Seven years ago, fellow travelers met by chance on the road, gathered at Ranwu. On the left was a couple studying at a university in Guangxi; on the right were two Hunan buddies, one good at painting, wanting to go to university in Hainan. I wonder how those people I met on the road are doing now.

Seven years ago, another couple met on the road.

Seven years later, Ranwu Lake. A pleasant surprise on the way to Ranwu Lake: listening to the sound of waves, nice.

Seven years ago, locals recommended visiting Laigu Glacier. We thought it was too far and didn't go. Now I specifically went to make up for the regret. Unfortunately, villagers at the front blocked the way, saying we had to stay and eat at their house to enter. We took a distant look and returned. The glacier had little ice; the peak had turned yellow.

Seven years ago, Yarlung Zangbo Grand Canyon.

Seven years later, Yarlung Zangbo Grand Canyon.

Xiao Wang and I collected water and touched stones here; we brought many back as mementos.

So many years passed, the water here never stopped flowing. Seven years ago.

Seven years ago. Lulang area.

Seven years later. Lulang area.

Seven years ago, the same mountains, the same people.

Seven years later, the same mountains, the same people.

Seven years ago, Niyang River.

Seven years later, the Niyang River was built into the Linzhi–Lhasa Expressway. We drove on the newly opened Linzhi–Lhasa Expressway all the way to Lhasa. The expressway was built on the Niyang River, which no longer had its previous magnificence, deep water, and silent flow. Now the water level dropped sharply, the river was yellow. Without the sign, I wouldn't have dared imagine this was the Niyang River of the past. Back then, standing by the Niyang River felt like standing by the sea: vast and open. With a gentle breeze, the damp cold air from the lake surface rushed over, carrying the primal temperature of melted snow from the high mountains, catching me off guard and meeting the billion-year-old flavor. It made me shiver. Taking a deep breath and exhaling, I felt I had truly merged into the real Tibet.

On the streets of Lhasa, the kids still liked this. Both children and adults: different people react differently to high altitude. I suggest not bringing children with severe altitude sickness to the plateau. This time, the children's condition on the plateau was very bad; I deeply regretted it. So the planned trips to Yamdrok Lake, Rakshas Lake, and the Guge Kingdom didn't happen. I can only look forward to taking a detour next time during the Xinjiang grand loop.

Seven years ago, Jokhang Temple.

Seven years later, Jokhang Temple.

Seven years ago, Lhasa.

Seven years later, Lhasa.

After resting a few days, we returned via the Qinghai-Tibet Highway. Rushing, the original plan was completely disrupted. Many places had no accommodation. After crossing this pass, we saw a well-built highway maintenance station not far away, with a basketball court. We planned to set up tents on that court. When we went inside to ask, we found there were many self-driving tourists like us staying there. This station, besides road maintenance, also provided accommodation and altitude sickness rescue. There we met a middle-aged motorcycle rider and a Tibetan family returning to Qinghai after pilgrimage to Lhasa. The Tibetan reminded me not to eat too much at night, as it makes breathing difficult. Before I knew it, I had eaten a lot. Actually, throughout the Qinghai-Tibet Highway, I was numb; I had to drive over ten hours alone each day, didn't feel hungry, and eating didn't register. The station supervisor let us stay overnight; our whole family slept in one room, two to a bed. Then they asked us to write a thank-you note, truly thanking them. The station workers were very kind, inviting us to warm ourselves by the fire, kept adding dried yak dung to the heater to keep the room warm, and provided hot water. We slept there one night; breathing was difficult, but mentally I felt at ease.

The scenery on Qinghai-Tibet Highway was beautiful, but the road was badly damaged. Cyclists were fewer and fewer.

Here we really saw wild antelopes. I zoomed in with the lens; it looked a bit blurry. Just moments before, it was clear and sunny; suddenly it started snowing heavily, as if a lifetime away.

Kunlun Mountains, too many stories and legends.

On the highway from Golmud to Xining, over 400 kilometers without a single gas station. At the entrance, the toll collector asked if we had filled the gas tank, kindly reminding us that if not filled, we might have to fill up before entering the highway. This highway was so comfortable: just a few cars on the whole stretch; the straight roadside was full of wind turbines, spectacular.

The two siblings, so nice.

I seem to be getting thinner.

On the grassland near Caka Salt Lake, we found a hiker camping there and saw hares darting around.

Finally returned to hometown. Looking forward to the next trip.