Crazy Self-Drive from Lhasa to Ngari – Part 2

Itinerary – Part 2

From Shanghai to Lhasa, then all the way west, aiming for the Guge Kingdom in Zanda and Pangong Tso in Ngari, hugging the border with Nepal and India. We’re going to go peak after peak and lake after lake (in Chinese, both words are homophones, hence the pun) across Ngari.

Day 7 600 km

Altitude: over 4,650 m

Saga – Lake Manasarovar – La’ang Co – sacred Mount Kailash – Gurla Mandhata – Fenghuang Ancient City – Darchen

Woke up, headache still going strong. Left at 7:30 a.m., continuing west. The road was truly empty—no cars, let alone people. After crossing the second mountain pass, suddenly there was snow everywhere, as if we’d been transported into a frozen world.

At just past 3 p.m., we reached Lake Manasarovar, one of the three great sacred lakes. Its Tibetan name means “invincible turquoise lake.” It lies 30 km southeast of Mount Kailash in Ngari, at 4,588 m, one of the world’s highest freshwater lakes. Legend says it is the consort of sacred Mount Kailash, hence the pair “Sacred Mountain and Holy Lake.”

Manasarovar has some of the clearest water ever measured in China, with visibility up to 14 meters, crystal clear. The pure water mirrors the blue sky, vast and open. Flanked by the snowy Gurla Mandhata peaks, the scenery is simply sublime. Devotees believe the lake is nectar bestowed by the Buddha, able to cleanse physical impurities, wash away the five mental poisons, and even prolong life.

* This spot is the best place to see both lakes, and it’s on the way to Pulan’s old town. On the way back, you might even catch a glimpse of Mount Kailash!

To the west lies the “Ghost Lake,” known in Tibetan as La’ang Co. It’s said to be Manasarovar’s sister lake, connected by an underground channel. Curiously, Manasarovar is freshwater, while La’ang Co is bitterly saline—so much so that nothing grows on its shore, giving it the name “poisonous black lake.”

We drove south along La’ang Co for over an hour to Fenghuang Ancient City, an abandoned old town. The car crawled up a 30-degree gravel slope—my heart ached a little for our trusty ride, Little White.

We entered an empty monastery and climbed the old city walls by hand. To the south lay the Himalayas, the farthest reach of the Chinese border we could touch.

From Pulan County we turned back north toward Darchen, passing the twin lakes again. This direction and angle are the best for viewing Mount Kailash. But we scanned every mountain range and still couldn’t find the sacred peak.

Alright then, back to the hotel, wash up, and sleep. Another high, cold night—it snowed. Altitude over 4,650 m, another 150 m higher. Gaining a little each day, improving a little each day. If you can sleep, you’re blessed.

Day 8 200 km

Altitude: over 3,700 m

Darchen – Zanda Earth Forest – Guge Kingdom – Zanda

Stepping out of the hotel, a glance to the left—hey, isn’t that Mount Kailash! Miss E shrieked, jumped out of the car in one swift move to get a close-up of the sacred mountain, didn’t even close the door, and there I was, blocking the hotel entrance. May good luck follow us!

Mount Kailash is the main peak of the Gangdise Range, located in Baga Township north of Pulan County in Ngari, at about 6,656 m. It’s recognized worldwide as a sacred mountain and considered by many Buddhists to be the center of the universe. Stretching along the borders of China, India, and Nepal, it’s often called the “Roof of Ngari.” Its four faces are strikingly symmetrical, resembling a round-crowned pyramid.

Beyond admiring its majestic exterior, the main purpose of visiting Mount Kailash is the kora (circumambulation). Pilgrims and travelers who come each year to circumambulate usually stay in Darchen at the mountain’s foot, the starting and ending point of the kora. The small town has plenty of guesthouses and eateries, making it the base camp for trekkers. There are inner and outer kora routes: the outer kora is a large circuit around Kailash, about 56 km, best done in two days on foot, with accommodation near Zharepu Monastery at roughly 5,100 m.

From Darchen to Zanda it’s only about 200 km, but we ended up crossing four mountain ranges. The roads were well built but very narrow, with hairpin turns. Fortunately, we only encountered two other cars the whole way. While crossing the fourth range, we were stunned by landforms resembling Zhangye’s rainbow Danxia. You have to admit, China is vast and full of incredible natural wonders.

Near noon we arrived in Zanda, passed the border checkpoint, and went straight to the viewing platform of the Earth Forest National Geopark. Apart from deep breathing (maybe also from oxygen shortage), I didn’t know how to express my excitement. Why had I only just learned that in Tibet, in Ngari, in Zanda, there was this place called “Earth Forest”—which sounded so ordinary—and yet it was so mind-blowing!

I thought we’d just gaze from the overlook, but then we followed the GPS toward the county town for food and discovered the winding road cuts right through the earth forest, taking us deep inside for an immersive experience.

The Zanda Earth Forest is a special geological formation created by tectonic uplift, where ancient lakebed sediment was carved by water over eons and then weathered into these shapes. The “trees” of earth rise and fall by tens of meters in countless fantastic forms. Driving through feels like circling the giant toes of colossal beings. As a distinctive landform complex, it displays wave-like undulations, layered forests, steep and gentle slopes, forming mighty clusters along both banks of the Sutlej River—one of the world’s rare “earth forest” wonders. These strange “earthen mountains” originally formed when ancient lake deposits were lifted by the Himalayan orogeny, then shaped by dropping water levels, rising lakebeds, climate, and river erosion. The steep cliffs look like awe-inspiring castles, watchtowers, and pagodas, making it one of Ngari’s famous natural sights.

Yet some 1,100 years ago, under the same afterglow, there stood the palaces and temples of the once-mighty Guge Kingdom. From the crumbling ruins left today, you can imagine the scale back then—far surpassing the scene before us now.

Guge Kingdom Ruins

Since setting the Ngari itinerary on April 1st, the Guge Kingdom had been my phone’s wallpaper and the farthest point—or rather, the climax—of this trip. A mysterious kingdom. Why was it built inside an earth forest? Why did 100,000 people vanish overnight, without a trace?

Ticket price: 65 yuan, cash only. But when we got to the ticket office, it was free admission. The highest altitude is over 3,900 m, and it took two hours to climb up and down, gasping for breath, resting three steps here, five steps there. At the base, bright sunshine; halfway up, strong sandy winds; at the summit, thunder and grains of ice falling—this crazy weather was unbeatable.

Guge Kingdom was established in the first half of the 10th century, with 16 successive kings. Its palace fortress expanded from the 10th century onward, reaching its zenith before collapsing after the fall of the Tubo dynasty in the 17th century. The ruins are surrounded by city walls with watchtowers at the corners. Everywhere you see clusters of buildings and caves colored like the earth itself—massive in scale, precise in layout, and imposing in presence.

From the entrance at the foot of the mountain, a path leads uphill. Halfway up, a few well-preserved temple buildings remain: the Red Hall, White Hall, and Tara Hall. Their interior walls are covered with exquisite murals, bold in style and rich in color, still vivid after all these years. These murals record the royal lineage of Guge and reflect the region’s political, economic, and cultural life—rare in China and highly valuable for viewing and archaeology. However, the doors are usually locked and require a guide to open. When we visited, someone had hired a guide, so we got to appreciate the halls alongside them.

A hidden passageway halfway up connects directly to the royal palace at the summit. There’s one relatively intact building said to be the old Guge assembly hall. Most of the murals inside depict esoteric dual-figure Buddhist deities, with bold lines and strong colors. Below them, the torments of hell are shown in vivid detail, all sorts of gruesome punishments. The border features a long row of dozens of nude dakinis, each alluring, elegant, and unique. Too bad the door was locked tight and we couldn’t see inside.

Leaving the ruins and a few hundred meters south, a path along the cliff edge leads to a cave opening about 2 meters above the ground—this is the mysterious corpse cave of Guge. Inside there are three chambers filled with decomposed bones, supposedly the remains of Guge soldiers and monks massacred by the Ladakhis. Strangely, the skeleton are all headless, the reason still a mystery. A ladder pieced together from wooden planks lets you climb up and peek inside. Because of the dry climate, the bodies haven’t fully decayed and emit a strange smell mixed with butter—those with weak stomachs beware. Sadly, the corpse cave is now off limits.

We’d planned to watch the sunset at Guge, but the real issue wasn’t the icy pellets on the summit—it was that the sun doesn’t set until 9:30 p.m. We couldn’t wait that long. We headed back early to Zanda town for snakehead fish hotpot, ordering a health-conscious broth. Eating live fish made us incredibly happy.

Day 9 600 km

Altitude: over 4,300 m

Zanda – Pangong Tso – Shiquanhe

Accommodation: Shiquanhe (oxygen-diffused)

We drove 6.5 hours from Zanda to Pangong Tso, the farthest point of our trip. If we’d continued along National Highway 219 for another four hours and crossed the Kunlun Mountains, we’d have entered Xinjiang. Give me two more weeks’ vacation and I’d have driven all the way there.

Pangong Tso, known in Tibetan as “Tsomo Ngala Rinpo,” means “bright, narrow lake.” It lies about 12 km north of Rutok County in Ngari, an “international lake” straddling the border between China’s Rutok County and Indian-controlled Kashmir. The lake is long and narrow, running east-west for about 155 km. The water is fresh in the east (within Chinese territory) and saline in the west (near the Kashmir border).

The scenery around Pangong is beautiful, surrounded by mountains with snow peaks in the distance. The water is clear, with visibility of 3–5 meters, and shifts between deep green, pale green, and dark blue depending on light, depth, and brightness—truly stunning. At night, the starry sky reflects on the broad surface, quiet and profound, offering a different, magical charm.

The lake has over a dozen islands of various sizes, the most famous being Bird Island. More than 20 bird species can be found, with numbers reaching tens of thousands. The main ones are bar-headed geese, brown-headed gulls, fish gulls, tufted ducks, and ruddy shelducks, with geese and gulls the most numerous. A 30-minute boat ride from shore takes you to the island, though landing is prohibited to protect the birds—you can only circle it and admire this incredible avian kingdom.

Too bad the weather didn’t cooperate today; we couldn’t see Pangong’s beauty.

Day 10 580 km

Altitude: over 4,700 m

Ngari – Paryang – Rainbow Desert – Zhongba

Accommodation: Zhongba (oxygen-diffused with Gulu Bubble)

The return trip, mostly mountain roads.

After seven hours of driving, we reached Zhongba. Unexpectedly, we experienced multiple seasons in one day—from icy snowscapes to desert to Danxia landforms, with blazing sun one moment and heavy snow the next. Heater on in the morning, then AC at noon. Clothes on, clothes off, clothes on again. We were busy and happy.

Every day we were in the mountains. I felt like we crossed more than 50 peaks on this leg alone. Along the way we saw herding families, mainly raising yaks and sheep. The animals roamed freely through villages and onto the road. I never honked—just quietly followed or waited for them to pass. After all, this is their domain, and they can enjoy absolute freedom. Maybe because the grass hasn’t turned green yet, the cattle were very thin. In this icy land, they’ll fatten up once spring arrives and the grass grows.

Zhongba is a tiny county town, basically just one main street. We found a steamed bun shop run by an Anhui couple. They’d come to Tibet three months ago because they heard there was money to be made. The lady boss’s fried rice noodles were delicious, the dumplings were handmade, and they even had purple rice porridge. Eating southern food (non-Sichuan/Tibetan) actually brought tears to my eyes.

Day 11 620 km

Altitude: over 4,500 m

Zhongba – Shigatse

Accommodation: Shigatse (oxygen-diffused)

The return trip, mostly mountain roads.

Today we had to drive nine hours on mountain roads, so we got up very early, leaving before dawn at 7 a.m. The early bird gets the reward: driving east into the sunrise, winding through the mountains in the dark, we saw a gorgeous sunrise. Then we passed through desert, snow, and Danxia landscapes again, with strong sun and dramatic clouds while heavy snow fell. Such magical weather and terrain.

Finally back in a city, we headed straight for a Nepali restaurant. Getting closer and closer to Lhasa.

Day 12 350 km

Altitude: 4,300 – over 5,200 m

Shigatse – Nyenchen Tanglha Viewpoint – Nagchen La Pass – Namtso – Damxung

Accommodation: Damxung (oxygen-diffused with Gulu Bubble)

We slept in a bit, then continued the return trip. I’d thought three days of backtracking would be boring, but every national and provincial highway brought new surprises and shrieks of delight—never dull. Even on roads we’d traveled before, going the opposite direction revealed fresh perspectives and scenery. In Tibet, there are surprises everywhere, and moments that make you scream.

We spent over three hours winding through big mountains. Each time, we’d guess the altitude from our body’s reaction: “We must be at 4,900 m now?” We’d check—oh wow, over 5,000 m. Oh-oh-oh, 5,432 m, crossing the highest point of our entire journey, the Shugela Mountain Pass. After more than ten days, 4,500 m no longer felt like much; at over 5,000 m, talking just left us a bit short of breath, that’s all.

In the afternoon we planned to go to Namtso. The forecast said rain, so after much hesitation we went back to the hotel, only to see the sun come out. No more dawdling—we drove to Namtso. The scenic area is huge, with a 215 yuan entrance fee including the shuttle bus. You drive yourself to Namtso Village and then transfer to a park bus to reach the lakeshore.

But driving up the mountain, we hit strong wind and snow, with fog so thick we could barely see the winding road ahead. Ice pellets pelted the windshield at a 45-degree angle, clattering loudly, bouncing off the ground like ping-pong balls. If you can still see Namtso in this weather, it’s truly a sacred lake.

After crossing the Nyenchen Tanglha range, Namtso appeared before us.

Namtso—Tibetan for “Heavenly Lake”—is one of Tibet’s three great sacred lakes. Vast and expansive, it’s China’s second-largest salt lake after Qinghai Lake. The snow-capped Nyenchen Tanglha range lines its southwestern shore; on calm, sunny days, the majestic peaks reflect serenely in the water.

Legend says Namtso and Nyenchen Tanglha were lovers. But Nyenchen fell for another, Yamdrok Yumco (Yamdrok Lake). When he came to his senses, Namtso had already cried herself into a lake of tears. Nyenchen decided to transform into a mountain and stay by Namtso’s side forever. Yamdrok Yumco, losing the one she loved, also wept herself into a lake.

Sigh—even in a legend, the man strays, but the women are the ones who become “tso” (lakes). Hence, Namtso, Yamdrok Yumco.

We reached Namtso after 7 p.m., too late for sunset, but the weather was fair, with that post-snow sky glowing. Seabirds dotted the lake, yet it felt peaceful and serene—worthy of being the highest sacred lake.

* The Tanggula Range and Nyenchen Tanglha Range are not the same. (My geography is terrible.)

* Seeing tourists in the scenic area all sucking oxygen, I don’t recommend going to Namtso right after arriving in Lhasa. Save it for the return leg, because at over 4,900 m, you won’t handle it right away. We strolled around Namtso easily for an hour and a half, chatting and laughing—probably the envy of others.

Namtso also has another famous spot: Sacred Elephant Gateway. It’s a 5-hour drive over bone-jarring gravel roads; we gave up on that. If you take the northern Ngari route, it’s right on the way.

By the time we descended, the wind had died down and the sun was about to set. Mountain weather is so changeable—forecasts are useless here.

Day 13 180 km

Altitude: 4,200 – over 3,700 m

Damxung – Drepung Monastery – Lhasa

Accommodation: Lhasa (oxygen-diffused)

We slept in, and it was just a two-hour drive from Damxung to Lhasa. From County Highway 109, we hopped onto a section of the Beijing-Tibet Expressway. When we entered, we were given a speed-limit paper—a curious slip with the exact entry point and time written on it, to be handed over at the checkpoint when exiting. A very old-school way of controlling speeding.

Approaching Lhasa from the west, we took a detour to Drepung Monastery. Totally worth it.

Drepung, along with Ganden and Sera, is one of the three great monasteries of Lhasa. It lies at the foot of Genpeiwuzi Mountain in western Lhasa. The sprawling complex of white buildings cascading up the hillside looks from afar like a giant pile of rice—hence the name “Drepung,” which in Tibetan means “heap of rice,” symbolizing prosperity. Its full name in Tibetan means “Auspicious Rice-Heap, Victorious in All Directions.” It’s the most prestigious monastery in the Gelug sect. Founded in 1416 by Jamyang Choje Tashi Palden, a disciple of Tsongkhapa (the founder of the Gelug school), it sits in a hollow on the southern slope of Genpeiwuzi Mountain, about 10 km from Lhasa. Before liberation, it housed over 10,000 monks, making it the largest monastery in Tibetan Buddhism, with 141 estates and over 540 pastures.

We spent more than an hour at Drepung. The atmosphere itself filled you with incredible calm—sitting in the shade, a gentle breeze blowing, soaking up Tibet’s deep religious culture. We saw many locals in modern Han clothes prostrating fully inside the monastery. I’ve heard that locals willingly give all their savings to religion, with absolute devotion.

In the afternoon we returned to the InterContinental Hotel, emptied out Little White, and calculated that in ten days we’d driven 4,361.4 km. Thank you, Little White, for getting us back to Lhasa safely.

Last night in Lhasa—it called for a celebration. Crayfish and drinks came out. It’s only on the final day that we dared to let loose a little.

Day 14 4,000 km

Altitude: over 3,700 m to 0 m

Lhasa – Shanghai via Zhengzhou

A full day of travel back to Shanghai.