My Sichuan-In, Qinghai-Out Road Trip (G318–G109): Yichang
From July 10 to 25, 2021, I fulfilled a long-cherished dream: a self-driving journey into Tibet via the southern Sichuan-Tibet route (G318 from Chengdu to Lhasa) and out via the Qinghai-Tibet route (G109 from Lhasa to Golmud). The trip went smoothly overall, and I’ve jotted down some observations for my friends’ reference.
About Altitude Sickness
This is probably the top concern for anyone considering this route. If you follow the principle of ‘climb high, sleep low’ and keep physical exertion mild, you shouldn’t have severe reactions. Our car carried four people—two in their 60s and two in their 50s, averaging 61 years old; two of them had hypertension (managed with medication). Throughout the trip, the oldest (67) had no issues. Two experienced mild symptoms: mainly not-too-intense headaches or poor sleep (sometimes from fatigue, like after climbing to Five-Color Sea and Milk Sea in Yading). A little oxygen and glucose water helped a lot. After Kangding, I gave those two some preventive medicine, which I believe helped. I’m not a doctor, so I won’t name the drug (it’s not Hongjingtian or Sudayang). Passing through Litang, Lhasa, Namtso, Nagqu, Amdo, Tuotuo River, Hoh Xil, and the Tanggula Mountains, we had no major discomfort. Of course, everyone’s constitution is different. If you suffer badly from altitude sickness, the one and only best move is to retreat to lower ground—even if you have to turn back.
About Road Conditions
Both the Sichuan-Tibet and Qinghai-Tibet highways are national roads with decent roadbeds. The Sichuan-Tibet line is generally better than the Qinghai-Tibet line. From Nyingchi to Lhasa, and from Lhasa to Damxung, it’s all expressways—and free of charge. However, service facilities on the Lhasa–Damxung expressway aren’t finished yet, so toilet stops are inconvenient (you know what I mean). The Qinghai-Tibet highway is paved but heavily rutted because of too many heavy trucks, making it extremely bumpy. You’ll often get ‘airborne.’ From Nagqu to Golmud, about 90% of the 820-plus-kilometer stretch is potholed. Since the accommodation at Tuotuo River is so-so, most people just power through in one go, taking 15–16 hours. After Batang in Sichuan, the pavement worsens. After crossing the Jinsha River into Markam in Tibet, though the roadbed is wide, a long section is unpaved gravel and dirt—the kind under repair but not yet blacktopped—dusty, too. No terribly bad sections, so I think any regular car can handle this route. The once-notorious Haitonggou and Tangmai danger zones are now tunnels and culverts (with one temporary steel bridge), so passage is fine.
About Driving
A bit of driving skill certainly helps. By skill I mean judgment and handling ability on the move. With so many winding mountain roads and traffic, overtaking requires accurate anticipation and decisive action. Some sections, like after Batang when you drive along the Jinsha River, can be nerve-wracking even though the road is okay. There are guardrails elsewhere, but at some sharp riverside curves there are none (for some unfathomable reason). If you corner too fast and misjudge, you could end up in the river. Kudos to the People’s Liberation Army—we encountered military convoys many times, and whenever they saw in their rearview mirror that you wanted to pass, they’d put on their right turn signal, slow down, and let you through. However, be careful with civilian trucks and buses; they might let you by but won’t slow down—you’d better be good at overtaking.
About Traffic Jams
Even though it was July, we luckily didn’t encounter any mudslides or rockfalls blocking the road. We had two major jams. One was at the public security checkpoint in Markam, Tibet, after the Jinsha River, where we were stuck for nearly two hours. I think the wait could be shortened with improved procedures. Only when we reached the checkpoint did we learn that everyone except the driver had to get out and go through a separate checkpoint, so the driver had to wait for the others after passing. If they’d informed passengers to get out a couple of hundred meters earlier, wouldn’t that have been more efficient? The other jam was after Bome and before Tangmai, where there was a narrow section passable only by one vehicle at a time—and no one was directing traffic. If the first car doesn’t seize the right-of-way over oncoming vehicles, nobody behind can move. We were stuck there for about two hours. I doubt that will be solved anytime soon. Also, leaving Damxung for Nagqu, there was an accident ahead. We waited half an hour in a kilometers-long jam, in the middle of a hailstorm, then escaped by following other vehicles along a temporary dirt path through the roadside grass. Other jams happened mainly at scenic viewpoints, where everyone crowds together, but those don’t last long.
About Refueling
If you get stuck in a jam with a near-empty tank, you’ll be sweating. You need all three IDs (ID card, vehicle license, driver’s license) plus a photo to refuel. In some places like Zogang and Baxoi, fuel is a bit pricier. A word of caution: make sure to fill up before leaving Kangding. I saw a long queue at the gas station and the map showed another station ahead, so I drove on—and then ended up with the fuel warning light on and barely a dozen kilometers’ range left before I found one. (Who says you don’t have to worry about fuel on the G318?) Truth be told, Kangding’s suburban station is not as plentiful as those further along; besides the two state-owned oil company outlets, there are at least some private ones. At the ‘Zhufeng Gas Station’ in Nyingchi, the young lady attendant gave us two bottles of purified water after filling up. When she saw two more people in the back seat, she turned around and fetched two more. I wasn’t in it for the water, but I give that kind of service a big thumbs-up.
About Scenic Spots
We took the southern Sichuan-Tibet route, with a side trip south to Daocheng Yading. The main scenery is really along the way. Let me talk about a few ticket-charging spots.
▲ Luding Bridge. Almost everyone knows its story. For 10 yuan, scan a QR code and walk back and forth to experience it. The wooden planks still wobble—imagine how hard it was for the Red Army to crawl across those iron chains. But Luding’s streets are narrow, one-way, and parking is tough.
▲ Kangding Mugecuo. The guide said we were lucky: it was overcast all morning, with light rain as we ascended. By the time we reached the site, there were blue skies and white clouds; by the time we left, the blue sky had slipped away. The road up is all switchbacks. We returned a bit late and missed the chance to soak our feet at Emacuo (the staff leave at 4:30 p.m.).
▲ Munya Holy Land. I heard it was developed not long ago, but it’s still worth a visit. The grasslands, plus the distant view of Mount Gongga’s summit once you ascend, are stunning under blue skies and white clouds (the driver said we were blessed—he hadn’t seen such good weather in over twenty days). The large photo-op sign ‘318: A Must-Drive in This Life’ stands right by the road in front of the scenic area gate (there’s one at the Litang gate too). Xinduqiao is a photographer’s paradise, but it wasn’t the right season, so we passed.
▲ Yading. A place you regret not visiting, and regret even more after visiting. From the main gate to the actual Yading scenic area entrance, it’s over 30 kilometers on Provincial Road 216. You have to take the shuttle bus, nearly an hour one way, costing you 120 yuan. This is a taxpayer-funded provincial road, not a scenic-area road, and it’s in good condition—perfectly drivable by yourself—but you’re forced to take the shuttle. After arriving, you walk a bit and then transfer to a battery cart. Tickets for the cart come in one-way and round-trip; a round-trip saves 20 yuan compared to buying one-way each way. I asked the ticket seller if there were any must-see spots along the cart route that you couldn’t skip; if not, I’d buy the round-trip. She said, ‘It’s up to you.’ Honestly, after you’ve climbed to those two ‘Seas’ and dragged yourself back dog-tired with not enough time left, taking the cart is your only choice—and there’s no scenery along the way. If you plan to push for the two high ‘Seas,’ after taking the cart to Luorong Pasture, I suggest you go horseback (300 yuan per person one way), because the climb ahead is quite painful. If you’ve already seen Jiuzhaigou and Namtso, you can skip these two ‘Seas’—it’s a place with poor value for money.
▲ Laigu Glacier and Lower Ranwu Lake. We didn’t spend money here, because the road to Laigu Glacier was blocked by a stick held by farmers and herders, demanding 30 yuan per person—it reminded me of the ‘three arbitrary charges’ problems on roads in the past. Along this road you can see Lower Ranwu Lake, but it’s not the right season; the snow on the mountains has melted, and the water looks muddy. The ‘good news’ is that a grand entrance gate for a scenic area is already standing, awaiting completion—ticketing will come soon. The road inside is narrow, so shuttle electric carts are likely in the works. Not far from Ranwu Lake town is Upper Lake, where the early-morning scenery is quite nice—and free.
▲ Yamdrok Yumtso. There’s a ticket booth on the mountaintop viewing platform, 60 yuan per person, with a friendly reminder for passing vehicles to voluntarily buy tickets. But you can drive all the way down to the lake and no one asks for your ticket—makes you want to curse. The day we went, thick clouds made the scenery neither beautiful nor ugly.
▲ Namtso. On the road from Damxung to Namtso, it was windy and rainy, even worse at the pass (a section of the Nyainqentanglha Mountains). My family said we shouldn’t go—there’d be nothing to see. I said, ‘It’s not easy coming here; I don’t want any regrets. Let’s just go.’ After descending, the wind and rain stopped. When we reached the scenic area gate, thick clouds still blanketed the sky, with only a sliver of blue peeking through. I saw cars ahead still racing on, so I followed, heading toward Baingoin all the way to the northeasternmost shore of Namtso. We frolicked on the lakeside beach; the scenery wasn’t great, and mosquitoes were rampant. After checking it off, we turned back—and then the clouds parted and the sky cleared. We entered the scenic area and took the shuttle bus to the lakeside. Blue skies, white clouds, seagulls, and the distant Nyainqentanglha Mountains—it was breathtaking. But couldn’t they have built a parking lot inside, instead of forcing shuttle buses (110 yuan per person)? Even more unimaginable: the newly built Namtso ticket office is creeping closer to Damxung county seat; maybe in the future you’ll need to transfer twice to reach the core area.
▲ Chaka Salt Lake. I went two years ago, and this year I was baffled. Last time, I visited the ‘Mirror of the Sky,’ drove to the parking lot, bought a ticket, took the little train, and went straight to the heart of the site. Now, there’s a huge new entrance gate far from everything. All you see and hear is about where to eat. Finally, I found a sign saying tickets were on the second floor. Up on the second floor, confusion again: ‘Mirror of the Sky’ and ‘Sky No.1’ were sold at separate counters, shuttle bus tickets at yet another (30 yuan per person), plus combo-ticket counters. I asked a staff member what the difference was between the two areas, and she said she didn’t know. Fine—I bought a ticket for ‘Sky No.1’. The main takeaway: the little train here is no longer the charming clanking one; it’s just linked electric carts. There are more mini-attractions, full dining and lodging options—you could easily spend a whole day here. But the ‘Mirror of the Sky,’ which originally didn’t require a shuttle, now also requires one. We didn’t delve into other ticketed spots along the way. In short, China’s splendid landscapes are all worth seeing. Yet nowadays almost every scenic spot makes you take a shuttle bus (only those where it’s truly impractical to develop a shuttle area would give up that idea). Now, if you don’t force shuttle buses, you’d be embarrassed to call yourself a tourist attraction. Even if seniors get free admission, the shuttle fee isn’t waived or discounted (what about military personnel? I didn’t ask). I recall at a certain lake years ago, watching morning mists and a radiant sunrise, and in the evening the moon and stars mirrored in the water. That’s impossible now. Has tourism quality really improved?
About Daily Life
Some worry about not being used to Tibetan food along the route. Don’t—you’ll find Sichuan and Chongqing-style restaurants everywhere, unless you deliberately avoid them. At Ranwu Lake, there’s basically no breakfast sold. For ‘facilities,’ it’s mostly pit toilets along the way, and on the Tanggula Mountains they’ve even turned into ‘water toilets’—bear that in mind.
About Accommodation
Given our budget, we could only choose budget or comfort accommodations, so I won’t discuss luxury. We booked all accommodations through Ctrip; if you carefully read the reviews before booking, you’ll generally be satisfied, and the value is decent (though prices for the places I checked rose after we set out). Based on personal experience, I’ll recommend a few—not as ads, just to help friends choose. The Daocheng Genie Window Theme Hotel in Shangri-La Town has a restaurant; their homemade yak hotpot is excellent, and it’s next door to the police station and the courthouse—don’t get into a fight there. The Nyingchi Shell Hotel—the smiles of the family running it will melt your heart, and it’s not far from the famous main branch of the Salt Gang Mushroom King Restaurant. The Nagqu Sanyi Hotel (some search engines only list Sanyi Business Hotel, which isn’t the same) has great facilities, falls into the comfort category, and is reasonably priced (far better than Lhasa hotels of similar price). The key is, the whole hotel is oxygen-supplied, making it a top choice for those with altitude sickness. The parking lot is spacious. Because we hit the road early, we didn’t try their free breakfast, so I can’t comment, but the Halal restaurant on the second floor is excellent—flavorful and generous portions of beef and lamb. If you pass through Baoji on your return trip (I skirted big cities like Xining and Xi’an on the way back because entering and leaving them takes too much time), I recommend the Baoji Intercity Hotel, comparable to the Nagqu Sanyi Hotel. Its breakfast beats many four- and five-star hotels, and there’s free late-night snack at 9 p.m.
About a Few Rumors
Some say Tibetan kids will ask you for things; we experienced none of that. Even though it was summer vacation and they were home, most villages were empty of people. Some say you need to get speed-limit slips on certain sections—that’s outdated. Now it’s all section-based speed monitoring. The solution is simple: drive normally, stop to enjoy the scenery when it’s beautiful, and your average speed will drop.
The most physically demanding stretch is from Nagqu to Golmud. So, while your body is still up for it, fulfill that dream of driving the Sichuan–Tibet–Qinghai loop. If you’re not dying to see Hoh Xil and the majestic Kunlun Mountains, skip the Qinghai-Tibet highway. After visiting Namtso, you can ship your car back from Lhasa and fly or take a train home, or return via the northern Sichuan-Tibet route on the G317.
