Ten Days on the Sichuan-Tibet Highway: When Life is in Full Spring—Chengdu to Lhasa, Self-Driving the Most Beautiful Scenic Route on 318

📍 Lhasa · 👁 8782 reads · ❤️ 33 likes

"The air was getting worse, I had to hit the road. I drove a 1988 station wagon, turning onto 318 in the night, where it was hard to tell if it was fog or toxic gas." — Han Han, '1988: I Want to Talk with the World'

This is the earliest memory I have of National Highway 318. Time has wandered for a decade, and regarding 318, we began approaching it from Chengdu, spending ten days to live out a road novel!

Setting off from Chengdu at just over 500 meters above sea level, we embarked on this journey of more than two thousand kilometers.

Rain City Ya'an, as the locals say more vividly: 'Ya has no three days of sunshine, never leave home without your umbrella.' The whole city is embraced by rain year-round, gentle and unhurried, filled with the earthy charm of a modern small town. Standing on the bridge, you almost feel transported back to the era of the 'Blue-robed Qiang Kingdom.' The story along the highway began right here.

Heading west, we gradually bid farewell to the scenery in the rearview mirror. Passing through a tunnel, we entered the 'innards' of Erlang Mountain. The saying 'A thousand-mile Sichuan-Tibet line, Erlang Mountain a natural barrier' no longer holds true today. We've spent decades waiting for this unobstructed passage, and the hardships endured are well worth a moment of gratitude.

Luding, a city on the banks of the Dadu River. The iron-chain bridge may not look as it once did, but people still walk across it in droves. Just like 'one generation eventually grows old, but there are always those who are young,' the same goes for history.

The textbook lesson 'The Storming of Luding Bridge' has faded, but the name 'Luding Bridge' itself has never been erased. That's the magic of memory: sometimes the answers we painstakingly seek are already summed up unwittingly as life's 'truths'—simple, clear, and deeply etched.

Hailuogou lies on the eastern slope of Gongga Snow Mountain; it’s more precisely a viewing platform for the peak. Glaciers and ice falls are everywhere—more spectacular in winter, I imagine. Strolling through Moxi Ancient Town, reliving the atmosphere of days gone by, adds a touch of charm.

Red Rock Beach glows even more vividly in the morning mist. The red stones scattered everywhere are steeped in century-old legends, and as you gaze upon them, they reveal a seductive, lovely air all their own. Time slips by quietly, and what we unwittingly forget becomes real and endearing again.

After leaving Luding, we arrived at the place sung about in that folk song—Kangding. Over nearly a hundred years, the 'Kangding Love Song' has become a calling card for the area. The words sung may have subtly changed, but what endures is that simple, all-embracing sentiment.

Zheduo Mountain, the first snow mountain after entering Tibetan areas, has an elevation over 2,000 meters higher than Kangding. Even in summer, you need some thick clothing. Of course, 'Zheduo' literally means 'many bends,' and the road twists and turns like a winding ribbon—it'll give you a thoroughly invigorating ride!

Beyond Zheduo Mountain, new sights awaited us. In late summer, Xinduqiao was still a vast expanse of green, but the sky was bright and visibility excellent, painting a visual feast of light and shadow through the mountain forests. The vegetation was gathering strength, and in the breeze, it already sent imaginations of autumn ahead.

Actually, from Xinduqiao onward, Tibetan flavor became more and more pronounced. Architecture, prayer flags, and costumes streamed into view with increasing frequency as we moved.

Gao'ersi Mountain now has a tunnel, which certainly helps avoid many accidents. But the old road, nicknamed the 'Cloud Viewing Platform,' sits at 4,412 meters and offers an unobstructed panorama of the peaks of western Sichuan. If you love adventure and can't afford to miss it, you can savour the magnificent view all to yourself.

The mountains were 'flying in the sky' as we sped through the tunnel, and I thought of that train in the film 'Kaili Blues.' The time that bursts into brilliant fireworks fades away, while in the darkness the river valley below roars and churns. After a sharp descent, we reached Yajiang on the banks of the Yalong River, at just over 2,500 meters. We chose to rest here.

Before we finally reached a stretch of relatively flat grassland, we wound up through the Eighteen Bends of the Sky Road to an altitude of over 4,000 meters, crossed Jianziwan Mountain, and the dizzying experience at last came to an end. Here were vast grasslands and fir forests, herds of cattle and sheep, and mists swirling just so. Breathing became a little easier as we gradually acclimatised to the four-thousand-meter height.

Litang, the 'City in the Sky,' soon came into view. The highest county town on the entire route, and the hometown of Ding Zhen, its sudden burst of fame has indeed made this small town livelier than before. Letong Ancient Town, the Thousand-Household Tibetan Village, and other traditional cultural sites are already full of character. And the 'Sounds of the Himalayas Micromuseum,' which blends heritage with modernity, is well worth a visit. It displays many ancient Tibetan musical instruments and magical scores, lullabies, hoofbeat sounds, a chanting experience room, sounds of the grasslands, voices of Mount Genie, and more. If you're fascinated by sound, you might find your inspiration here.

As we debated whether to push on, we glanced southward. Sure enough, people are fickle—we decided to detour to Daocheng Yading. Heading south from Litang, the scenery outside softened, the saturation of the images deepening. Mountains, rivers, and lakes were no rarity, and the forests and valleys grew ever more graceful.

My first impression of this name came from a postcard back in my school days. Because the journey was so long, I hadn't been able to make it a destination sooner. Later, it gained buzz after appearing in the movie 'I Belonged to You,' and many people come here largely because of that.

This scenic area on the eastern edge of the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau bears unmistakable highland features. Most of the time the weather is clear, and when you gaze into the distance, three sacred peaks stand majestically: Xiannairi in the north, Jambeyang in the south, and Xanadu in the east—truly awe-inspiring. Over a thousand alpine lakes lie scattered among jagged rocks, as pure as jade, with the famous Five-Color Lake and Milk Lake creating utterly spectacular views. Hence it is hailed as the Last Shangri-La.

On the road leaving Daocheng and heading back to Litang, a friend kept sighing that Daocheng nowadays is no longer what it once was. It has gained the hallmark of this era, turning into a destination after people were bombarded with information, and silently its original mystery is fading away.

Of course, no one knows which place will be the next to explode with information. Perhaps all we can do is stay forever on the road!

Back on National Highway 318, shortly past Litang, we reached the Maoya Grassland. At the peak of its grassy season, the grassland was dotted with seas of flowers. Our eyes couldn't take it all in, so we just let them wander, basking in this pure world.

Beyond Maoya, we reached the foot of Haizi Mountain, over 4,500 meters high. Altitude sickness was easy to come by, but the whole journey was destined to be a struggle with it. The visual assault of one stunning scene after another made it all worthwhile. Around a bend, two sapphire-like lakes lay quietly at the mountain's base—these were the Sister Lakes. That sudden revelation nestled itself into our travel treasures.

On the banks of the Jinsha River, the upper reaches of the Yangtze, where it heads east to the sea, Batang County at a relatively lower altitude offered us a brief respite. From the Jinsha River Bridge near Zhubalong, not far ahead, Sichuan and Tibet officially part ways. Crossing the first mountain in Tibet, Zongla Mountain, we ended the day's journey in Markam.

Today the weather was fine. Setting off from the Jinsha River Bridge and continuing along 318, the next stop was Zuogong. Along the way we crossed Lawu Mountain, the Lancang River, and Zhuka, with altitudes rising and falling sharply—be mentally prepared for that.

The Lancang River is what becomes the Mekong outside China, here in its upper reaches. At the bottom of the valley, Zhuka sits at 2,600 meters. The whole way, mountains and gorges stretched on endlessly, though this was only the beginning of the road ahead.

Next came Jueba Mountain, the most treacherous part of the Sichuan-Tibet line, as if skimming the edge of the mountainside. Then the Dongda Mountain Pass at 5,000 meters. The whole stretch was heart-stopping; even recalling it now leaves me breathless. Yet the stunning beauty made up for much of the dread along the way, the contrast between grandeur and insignificance quietly echoing through your very life.

Stopping in Zuogong to take some oxygen and steady ourselves, the ride seemed smooth, but actually it held many near-breaking moments for us. Perhaps that is the allure of a self-drive journey.

Gather up the beautiful scenes and move on! After climbing Yela Mountain at over 4,600 meters and then dropping 2,000 meters in altitude, we arrived at the 'Nujiang 72 Turns' by the Nujiang River. If your courage falters here, it's best to stay silent. Spiralling down from the snowy peak, the countless hairpin bends—nature's challenge in total opposition to its gift—leave you speechless.

The Nujiang Grand Canyon at the foot of the mountain is called China's Grand Canyon of Colorado, with sheer cliffs as if carved by knives and axes—truly magnificent.

Traveling through the grand canyon, the altitude gradually dropped, and we entered a 'dreamlike realm.' Ranwu Lake changed colour with the shifting light and temperature, dotted with rocks and small islands, trees casting their dappled shadows, thin mist suffusing the air.

Not to be missed is a treasure behind Ranwu Lake: Laigu Glacier, a fairy-tale wonderland with glaciers you can almost touch. Surrounded by this icy spectacle, you feel as if transported to Antarctica, everything bathed in mesmerising blue, beauty that makes your heart flutter.

On the stretch to Nyingchi, Bomi was not to be missed. Along the way, you simply can't bear to miss a single sight. From here, Tibet's 'Little Jiangnan' holds pleasant surprises: an average altitude around three thousand meters, lush vegetation, high mountains and deep valleys, and a temperature so comfortable it seems made for living. When spring comes, peach blossoms flood the wilds.

Bumping along westward to Nyingchi, we passed through what was once Asia's largest debris flow area—the Tongmai natural barrier. Now the peril has become a smooth passage. Amidst high mountains and deep canyons, only the insignificant self was left to speak.

When we passed Lulang this time, we didn't linger long. Unlike my previous visit shrouded in mist, this forest felt much 'fresher.' The distant mountains, nearby woods, and the town's strollers all became bright and endearing.

By midday, the sun grew stronger, the temperature just right. We began to climb Sejila Mountain, at 4,728 meters. Looking back, we had unknowingly passed several high peaks, but the real gem was Namjagbarwa Peak, known as 'China's most beautiful snow mountain.' We missed the sunrise, but this scene of clouds parting to reveal the sun was rare enough—I'll just store it in my memory.

Winding down, after about an hour's drive, we reached Nyingchi. Now all I wanted was to empty my mind; the long journey was nearing its peak. A cup of afternoon tea by the Niyang River, and both natural beauty and historical sites grew tranquil.

Driving along the Lin-La Highway, we were almost at the final stop of our main route. Along the way, Basongcuo is worth a visit if you have time. The secret lagoon with its sailboats is indeed worth the trip—a natural scroll of high mountains and deep gorges, snow peaks and forests in the distance, the 'King's Throne' brimming with charm!

We paused at Mira Mountain Pass, where it was lively with fellow travellers—a famous check-in point on 318. Following the gaze of prayer flags and yaks, Lhasa was just within sight. After a short stop, we pressed on, probably driven by longing for the destination.

The stunning beauty along the Niyang River soothed the dust of this road. Under cover of night, we finally arrived in Lhasa. The moment the Potala Palace appeared before my eyes, the whole world lit up again!

The last day was left entirely for Lhasa, to thoroughly savour the joy of 'victory.' The sanctity of the Potala Palace speaks for itself, and Jokhang Temple's doorstep was still bustling with people. Their steps were slow, their eyes resolute; time had lost its importance.

A spin around Yamdrok Lake; the entire journey, too, should soon fade away.

The air is thin, and I must hit the road again. I drive a 2021 station wagon, continuing along 318 in the glow of the first morning sun.

Life is in full spring!

Itinerary Index

1. D1: Prelude (Chengdu to Hailuogou)

2. D2: Prologue (Hailuogou to Xinduqiao)

3. D3: Beginning (Xinduqiao to Daocheng Yading)

4. D4: Development (One-Day Yading Tour)

5. D5: Insights (Daocheng Yading to Markam)

6. D6: Sigh (Markam to Baxoi)

7. D7: Calm (Baxoi to Bomi)

8. D8: Turning Point (Bomi to Nyingchi)