Chengdu to Lhasa: A Fall 2020 Road Trip on the Southern Sichuan-Tibet Highway (plus Jinta Poplar Forest and Pingshanhu Grand Canyon)
National Highway 318 is the most renowned route into Tibet, but when I said I wanted to go, people threw a lot of cold water on me—roads are terrible, traffic jams are frequent, it's dangerous, taking the 318 is so unoriginal, you should take the 317 or the Yunnan-Tibet Highway... and so on. But stubborn as we are, we still wanted to see for ourselves that the 318 is absolutely worth the trip.
318: Everything Exceeded Expectations
How to travel the 318 Sichuan-Tibet Highway? Take a look at the schematic map, and the guide our teammate made (copied) (just look at the Sichuan-Tibet half).
(Source: Internet)
Overall, the 318 is not difficult to drive, and with cooperative weather—no rain or snow—and no major landslides along the way, it was smooth going. But it wasn’t all plain sailing either. On the first night, crossing Zheduo Mountain in thick fog had our hearts racing, and the first time we hit a road closure we were stuck for four hours with no way forward or back. But we learned to adjust our mindset. Also, any normal car can handle the 318, but it’s best to have one in good condition and to check the rental carefully. Remember to check navigation every day for road closures—personal experience says Gaode Maps is more reliable than Baidu Maps.
Be prepared to drive at night. There are so many scenic spots along the Sichuan-Tibet line; every day we had to choose between sightseeing and driving after dark, and the consensus we arrived at was—just visit the sights! It doesn’t matter how late we drive! In the whole trip, only once did we reach our hotel before dark, and the latest was arriving at Shangri-La Town at one in the morning.
We adjusted the itinerary as we went, pushing ahead as much as we could. Even during the two toughest days of driving, we stuck to the plan without changes. We canceled our overnight stay in Bomi and drove straight to Nyingchi. In the end, we arrived in Lhasa a day early, giving us more time to explore around there.
Accommodation and food along the Sichuan-Tibet line were decent. We all chose chain hotels in towns, with Sichuan cuisine, Tibetan food, hot pot, and stone pot chicken readily available. There was no issue with supplies of fuel, snacks, water, and oxygen (which we carried but never used). Guided by a teammate’s rich life experience, we stocked up at every stop just in case. I had originally prepared to do most of the driving, but ended up spending entire days lost in a sea of snacks in the back seat.
There’s no need to worry too much about altitude sickness. I thought I’d be absolutely fine since I’ve climbed passes over 4,600 meters, but poor sleep reminded me that this is the plateau. My companions all had headaches, low energy, and trouble sleeping—all normal. I didn’t take any medicine or oxygen the whole way, just drank a glass of dissolved effervescent tablet with glucose every day. Unexpectedly, later I got altitude sickness at Karola Glacier—dizzy, blurred vision, sweating, stomach ache, and nausea—so I wisely gave up and went back down. On the plateau, be careful not to catch a cold, and try not to wash your hair or get it washed at a salon.
The scenery along the Sichuan-Tibet line is diverse—you’ll see Swiss-like pastoral landscapes, alpine lakes, dramatic gorges, rushing rivers, and gobi deserts, so it’s hard to get visually tired. A friend said the most beautiful part is between Bomi and Nyingchi, but I think the entire route is worth seeing, and it depends on weather, season, road conditions, and so on. It seems you’d have to drive it a few times to really appreciate it.
Around the 318 Sichuan-Tibet Highway
Let me introduce which attractions we visited.
Moshi Park, which literally means black stone, is about an hour’s drive from Xinduqiao and a social-media hotspot. There’s little difference between the online photos and reality—you can walk around and take pictures in about two hours. I personally verified that there were no staff at the exit, so you know what that means. On the way, you’ll pass Tagong Grassland and Tagong Monastery. That day, the sky finally cleared after two days of clouds, and the snow mountains suddenly appeared, marking a turning point. The scenery along this stretch was fantastic, and the river beside it, Chayagou, made us feel like we should just stay a week there.
Yading Nature Reserve in Daocheng is probably the most popular attraction in western Sichuan. Getting there requires a detour, but it was this spot on the itinerary that had drawn me. Yading is in Shangri-La Town (not the Shangri-La in Yunnan), two hours’ drive from Daocheng county town. From the town to the scenic area entrance is just a 15-minute drive, and the parking lot is a multi-story underground one with a Burger King—that alone shows how big this place is. The scenic shuttle bus ride takes about one and a half hours, stopping at Yading Village and some guesthouses along the way. You could easily spend two or three days slowly exploring Yading’s boardwalks. From where the bus drops you off, you walk another 15 minutes to catch an electric cart, which takes you to Luorong Pasture. After that comes an unexpectedly grueling trek that really tests your fitness. You can also hire a horse for part of it. In short, this is no ordinary scenic route—it’s akin to a hiking trail, especially given the time pressure (you have to catch the return cart and bus), the ambitious goal (to see Milk Lake and Five-Color Lake, at least three to four hours round trip), and the high altitude (over 4,500 meters). Most people were using oxygen along the way, but both elderly and kids made it up, some crying, some laughing. Yading is truly surreal. Riding the bus back to the entrance, many people got off and threw up while clutching the railing—I almost couldn’t hold it in either.
Xingyi Lake was a spot recommended by a local on the way. After leaving Daocheng, we turned onto a gravel road and started rocking and rolling. All around us were stones of every size, super cool. Another car’s drone crashed into a cliff here—kudos to the spirit of adventure! Over the mountain, we saw a distant lake: Xingyi Lake. The shore turned out to be a sandy beach, and there were two or three other cars. It looks like the scenic area is still under development.
Ranwu Lake is huge, right by the road. The lake itself isn’t stunning, but with snow mountains behind it and the surrounding gorge, it has a certain charm.
Laigu Glacier was also on the way. A short walk to the lake and you can see chunks of ice floating on the murky water. Not exactly beautiful, but climbing around or standing on the ice for photos was a fun experience.
The Yarlung Zangbo Grand Canyon—my second visit, but it took me a long while to even remember I’d been here before. The sights are the same, but everything has changed. Last time I bought cordyceps and earrings, and many village kids were playing. Now you tour by shuttle bus, spending ten or twenty minutes at each stop before hopping back on. Just when I felt like tipping the guide for her excellent commentary, the next second she starts selling wish bells—quite a familiar touristy move. Because there’s nothing to eat inside, I got so hungry I bought a boxed staff meal from an employee... In short, if you don’t see Namcha Barwa Peak, I really can’t recommend this spot. And as for grand canyons, the ones along the Sichuan-Tibet Highway are no less impressive. These are the heartfelt words of a traveler who’s been twice and never seen Namcha Barwa.
Suddenly Understanding Tibet’s Beauty
It was almost evening when we left Nyingchi. By silent agreement, we took the highway. The whole way it was sunny yet raining, and when I casually looked back, there was a huge double rainbow! We arrived in Lhasa at ten that night and celebrated our successful journey into Tibet with hot pot. Amid the clinking glasses and hearty eating, everyone was a little dazed. Afterward, we went for a group photo at the Potala Palace. At 11 p.m., the square started to clear out, but everyone was still racing against time, lying on the ground trying to snap as many reflection photos as possible—the scene was quite amusing.
We didn’t waste the extra time we’d gained. The next morning, we set off early to Yamdrok Lake, Puma Yumco, and Karola Glacier. With good weather, Yamdrok Lake was stunning. The last time I went, it might have been the most unattractive Yamdrok Lake in history. Going to Puma Yumco, our border defense permit actually came in handy; after the checkpoint, we were almost the only car on the road, which was incredibly exhilarating! And Puma Yumco drew screams from us the whole way. When we reached Karola Glacier, it was hailing a little. As I mentioned, maybe because I was on my period, I started climbing but succumbed to altitude sickness and went back down, but it didn’t spoil my mood at all.
Nearing Lhasa, we noticed the moon was huge and bright. We’d missed the full moon on the 15th and 16th of the lunar month, but were rewarded with a super-size moon on the 17th.
Idling Away Time in Lhasa is Just Right
Around noon that day in Lhasa, I had a bit of a headache—I think I get altitude sickness in Lhasa. I chatted with a friend, and she said she always throws up when she comes to Lhasa. See, Lhasa has its own magic.
In the afternoon, I stepped out to send postcards and went to Canggu Monastery to drink sweet tea. The tea house is run by the nuns themselves, and it wasn’t crowded. Each of us had our own table, teasing the kid opposite, enjoying a rare moment of peace. Then I went to the trendy café with a view of the Potala Palace to meet a friend, then to the packed Old Guangming Tea House, then to a popular liangfen shop, and finally to the restaurant for dinner. Coincidentally, a friend had just returned from Ngari, and we took the chance to catch up and share travel stories. Even more coincidentally, I instantly recognized their driver as the husband of someone in my WeChat contacts. A friend said, Tibet is very large, yet very small.
Dinner was a lively affair with twelve or thirteen people, some I knew and some I didn’t, all gathered in Lhasa. From our car, only Xiao T was continuing the second half of the journey. The poor kid kept talking about wanting a hot spring bath the whole trip, but he missed every chance—at Tongmai, Lhasa, Yangbajing—and somehow ended up as the only one left in our car.
We set off to see the Princess Wencheng show, but hit massive traffic and arrived half an hour late. With no time to rent a coat, I shivered through the whole performance, but I still recommend it. It’s a live-action spectacle with the mountain as a backdrop, galloping horses and herds of cattle and sheep—just for that alone it could be a reason to fly to Lhasa for a weekend.
Back at the hotel, one wonton shop was still open, warming my stomach. The next day I went back to get a takeaway bowl of white fungus soup. I remembered when we first met, Echo was also eating a bowl of white fungus soup in the car. I’m always moved by these quirky connections, which fill me with endless nostalgia for the journey.
The Qinghai-Tibet Railway: A Magical Road to the Sky
I had always been resolute that, given the choice, I would take the train out of Tibet, not drive. But at some point, I began to waver—maybe because the first part of the trip had gone smoother than expected, or the atmosphere in the car was so harmonious and fun, or perhaps I still wanted to challenge myself. I guess I had grown to like this rhythm. In comparison, the solo part of my trip afterward couldn’t really excite me, whether it was Xining or Zhangye.
The driver who had taken me to the Princess Wencheng show the day before picked me up on time. Chatting with him, I found out he’s a painter—he paints windows on buildings and thangkas, and his hometown is near Yamdrok Lake. At the station, I bought a power bank and snacks and fruit for the day. After security, I entered the station; Lhasa Railway Station is quite beautiful.
The hard sleeper compartment was cramped, and everyone sat on the lower bunks in silence. I started eating breakfast and gradually struck up a conversation with the girl on the upper bunk. She had just come back from Ngari and shared photos of the sunset and evening glow over Mount Everest, and her experience of the kora around Mount Kailash. Maybe she was a bit tired; at times she seemed distant. I think people who just come down from the plateau are often like that. A few years ago, in a hotel in Kathmandu on my return journey, I met a group who had just come back from EBC; we exchanged a few words on the stairs, and they gave me the same feeling. I wonder what kind of shock and purification their souls had undergone. The girl expressed countless times that she wished she could wash her hair. She was still planning her transit route home, while I planned to stay in Xining for two days. Soon we decided to change plans and go together to see the poplar forest in Jinta.
Time on the train passed more easily than I expected. Most of the time, I hogged the precious charging spot, wrestling with the finicky socket, and gazed out the window at snow mountains, lakes, roads, and yaks and sheep, slowly closing my eyes. But this experience wasn’t profound; Tanggula Mountains, Hoh Xil, Golmud were just names of places we passed through.
I recalled the nights on the way into Tibet, humming songs by Eason Chan, Lao Lang, and Li Zhi, talking about the cuisines of different regions, every chicken dish we ate. On Mid-Autumn Festival night, the guys showed off their muscles at a mountain pass in the freezing wind; Xiao T’s happy face after playing in the water; the sight of Brother Shou leading two girls up the mountain; in a restaurant called Ranmuqi, we re-watched the flag-raising ceremony; and the bet we lost by the Jinsha River... Before bed, I posted on social media, and then surprisingly slept soundly in the middle bunk, though I was woken several times by snoring.
BONUS 1: Jiuquan – Jinta Poplar Forest
We arrived in Xining quite early and found a breakfast place to charge our phones and eat. Hair salons were definitely not open, so after browsing two supermarkets on either side of the street, we boarded the train to Jiuquan. Next to me was a gentle girl from the south. Soon after the train departed, we saw snow, and I helped her take photos with my phone. She gave me a throat lozenge. I had bought an extra ticket from Zhangye to Jiuquan.
After arriving in Jiuquan, we basically shut off our brains. Two socially anxious people got on a bus at the train station and tried to persuade a male tourist who was also going to Jinta to share a taxi, but he refused. We were speechless and complained bitterly. Under the guidance of an old man, we got off and caught a bus to the small county town by the roadside. Then, with the help of another uncle, we got off at his residential complex, but there were no shared rides to the scenic area...
A fruit seller at the intersection helped us call a taxi, and we finally reached the scenic area. At the entrance, we asked about accommodation inside and booked a desert camping base. The owner came to pick us up in a pickup truck. We asked if there were other guests or a bonfire party that night, and both answers were no. He said we could have dinner with them.
The tent was a large yurt, with just two big beds and a lamp inside—otherwise completely bare. Washing facilities were in a public toilet outside. After stepping in sand a few times, I got used to it, and ended up carrying sand back home in my shoes.
A few hundred meters from the camping base was Jinbo Lake, the heart of the area. The lake was vast, with a network of waterways, and walking deeper allowed us to escape the crowds. The weather was as good as one could hope for, and we arrived at exactly the right time. Visitors were putting on red dresses and posing in all sorts of positions for photos. Blue sky, white clouds, golden leaves, red dresses—it must be a very photogenic spot; no wonder Xiao Lü had highly recommended it.
After sunset, we returned to the camp to freshen up. The staff were cooking and invited us to join them. It was sliced noodle soup, eaten with cold dishes and braised pork we had brought in, and it was delicious. After eating, they suggested we go see the fountain and water-screen movie. This scenic area really tries hard—they’ve developed desert camping, a train hotel, a food court, and agricultural product sales, among other things. But I wonder how the area survives once the brief tourist season is over.
Although the camp was empty, quite a few cars were parked outside for camping. After washing up, we went to bed using electric blankets for warmth. The next day, we were too lazy to take more photos and just packed up, took the scenic shuttle bus to the entrance, and grabbed a taxi to Jinta Bus Station. The afternoon timing was awkward; after considering various options, we decided to rush to Pingshanhu Grand Canyon.
BONUS 2: Zhangye – Pingshanhu Grand Canyon
First we had to catch the train from Jiuquan to Zhangye. Thanks to a driver uncle who helped us flag down a taxi on the road, we arrived at the station half an hour early. Along the way, I had to answer once again where we were from, and was questioned about never having made a snowman. The girl still hadn’t managed to wash her hair. We parted ways then. Thanks to this spontaneous companionship, we gained more than just the poplar forest.
On the train, I suddenly recalled that time in Taiwan. We took a bus from Kenting to a station called Fangliao, and soon the train was running along the Pacific coast, just as now the Qilian Mountains were on my right, and we gazed at each other in mutual greeting. Back then, we reached Hualien and chartered a car for a half-day tour of Taroko Gorge, and now I was heading for a half-day tour of Pingshanhu Grand Canyon, then continuing to the next stop.
After the driver picked me up, I actually fell asleep in the back seat. I toured Pingshanhu Grand Canyon at almost double speed. I couldn’t recall seeing a similar canyon before, so it felt fresh. The climb up the cloud ladder was also a plus. I came out an hour earlier than planned, then changed my train ticket back to the original time, and bought an extension ticket from Minle to Xining after boarding. Just then, the sunset began to tint the Qilian Mountains outside the window red, and I couldn’t help but give this packed day a thumbs-up!
Xining has always had a low profile, but the taxi queue at Xining Railway Station rivals that of Shanghai’s Hongqiao Airport. My accommodation wasn’t far from Mojia Street, so I walked to a hand-pulled mutton restaurant, but got tired of it after a couple of bites. The next day, I tried sheep intestine and struck out again. I bought naan and fried bread; an old man nearby said it was the best naan in Xining, and I thought the young man selling it might also be the most handsome naan vendor in all of Xining.
While queuing for security check, I downed a bowl of yogurt; the two people behind me probably finished three bowls. We set out from different places, experienced different sceneries, and at this moment at the airport our paths crossed briefly before we all returned to our everyday cities. Fleeting, yet addictive—this may be the fate of every traveler.
Chengdu – Kangding – Shangri-La – Daocheng – Markam – Baxoi – Nyingchi – Lhasa – Jiuquan – Zhangye – Xining. Recording this journey in the autumn of 2020.
