March Peach Blossom Trip to Tibet (Part 1): Lhasa, Nyingchi, Pome
On March 25, 2017, my son X.J. and I flew from Xiamen to Lhasa, and upon arrival we chartered a car for an itinerary: Lhasa → Nyingchi → Pome → Baxoi (with visits to Ranwu Lake and Laigu Glacier) → Pome → Milin → Gyaca → Zetang → Lhasa. The trip lasted 11 days in total (7 days of charter plus 4 days spent in Lhasa), and we flew back to Xiamen on April 4. In 2002 I had been to Lhasa for a conference and heard that wild peach blossoms are in full bloom in Nyingchi from late March to early April. My son’s vacation coincided, so ‘seeing peach blossoms’ became the main theme of our Tibet trip.
Two weeks before departure, I contacted Master Deng to arrange the charter. He’s from Sichuan, drives a 7-seat Buick GL8, and travelers online praise him for ‘always putting guests first.’ He quoted 8,000 yuan for the seven-day journey. I haggled a little, and he said his bottom line was 7,000—mine too—so we quickly sealed the deal, and I sent a 500-yuan deposit via mobile phone.
In Tibetan travel custom, the charter fee covers all vehicle costs (fuel, repairs, tolls, parking, etc.), while other expenses (entrance fees and the driver’s meals/accommodation) are paid separately by the tourists. Using online information, I planned a seven-day itinerary, and Master Deng agreed it was roughly workable:
D1: Lhasa (altitude 3,650 m) → Maizhokunggar → Mi La Pass (5,013 m) → Midstream Rock scenic spot → Gongbo’gyamda → Xiuba Village ancient fortresses → Kading Valley scenic area → Bayi Town in Nyingchi (2,800 m).
D2: Bayi Town → Gala Peach Blossom Village (Nyingchi) → Sergyi La Pass (4,780 m) → Lulang Viewing Platform → Lulang Town → Pailong Natural Barrier → Tongmai Bridge → Suotong Village (rapeseed flowers) → Bakha Village (snow mountains) → Galang Peach Valley → Pome.
D3: Pome → Midui Glacier → Ranwu Lake → Ranwu Town → Laigu Glacier → Ranwu Town → Ranwu Lake → Pome.
D4: Pome → Tongmai → Lulang → Sergyi La Mountain → Nyang River scenery → Milin (under Nyingchi City).
D5: Milin → Nanyi Valley scenic area → Milin Peach Village → Yarlung Tsangpo scenery belt → Lhünzê → Gyaca.
D6: Gyaca → Gyaca Grand Canyon → Dagu scenic area → Sangri County → Yumbu Lhakhang → Changzhub Monastery → Shannan (Zetang).
D7: Shannan (Zetang) → Yarlung Tsangpo Viewing Platform → Gonggar → Yamdrok Lake → Chushul Bridge → Lhasa.
We left Xiamen on March 25 with a connecting ticket: 7:40 Xiamen Airlines MF8401 to Chengdu, then at 12:50 transfer to Air China CA4112, arriving in Lhasa around 15:00. We got up early and reached Xiamen Gaoqi Airport at 6:30, already bustling with tour guides waving colorful flags. At 11:00 we landed in Chengdu, where Shuangliu Airport’s terminal was nearly deserted—a sharp contrast to Xiamen. We didn’t leave the arrival hall; we just transferred our bags. I insisted on a window seat, which made my son scornful—he called me a ‘country bumpkin’ and said comfort was key, so I should pick an aisle seat. The flight was delayed, taking off at 13:23. By 14:30 we saw snowcapped mountains, and I snapped wildly with my camera. Only then did X.J. realize the advantage of a window seat. This was my second trip to Tibet, so I’d had the foresight, and he had to admit ‘the old ginger is still the spiciest.’
Approaching Lhasa, the plane descended along the broad, flat Yarlung Tsangpo Valley and touched down at Gonggar Airport at 15:30. Master Deng was waiting outside the terminal and greeted us with a khata scarf—when in Tibet, follow local customs. We got into his Buick GL8, crossed the Yarlung Tsangpo via the ‘Yajiang Grand Bridge,’ and took the airport expressway toward downtown Lhasa. Master Deng showed us his ‘Tourist Transport Itinerary’—he said all official tourist charters have one, and their license plates start with ‘藏AL.’ He explained the car belonged to his company; he was effectively an employee, splitting the charter fee 50-50 with the company. The company covers all operation-related costs, and after deducting fuel from his half, the rest was his. But the company didn’t find him clients—he had to do that on his own.
Entering the city, we drove along Beijing Road past Potala Palace Square and soon spotted the ‘Aviation Hotel,’ which I’d booked through Ctrip. We chose it for its proximity to the Potala Palace, Jokhang Temple, Ramoche Temple, and Barkhor Street. Before leaving us, Master Deng handed us two small cans of oxygen. He said that as soon as he saw the ID numbers we’d provided when booking, he worried and rushed to get oxygen—because I was the oldest traveler he’d ever served (77 years old). He added that these cans were for tonight’s emergency; larger oxygen canisters were in the car for the journey. Our plan was to leave for Nyingchi early the next morning, which he strongly approved—Nyingchi’s altitude is much lower than Lhasa, so heading there right after arrival is a very reliable way to avoid altitude sickness. He kept stressing that we’d better rest at the hotel tonight to prevent any reaction; we’d return to Lhasa later, by which time we’d be acclimatized and could explore the city then.
The window of our room framed a side view of the Potala Palace. The hotel had free wifi, so I used WeChat video to connect with family back in Xiamen, ‘bringing’ them to Lhasa to see the Potala. We stayed in the room until 18:30, feeling fine, and then gathered the courage to go downstairs and walk to the nearby Potala Palace Square. The square entrance had a security check; matches, lighters, and such were prohibited—probably a fire-precaution measure for the Potala. Fifteen years ago I’d stayed at the ‘Lhasa Hotel’ near Norbulingka; right after checking in I walked along Beijing Road past the Potala Square to the Jokhang. I felt no discomfort that day, but the next afternoon a slight headache hit me. Today I wasn’t worried because we’d leave for Nyingchi early tomorrow.
Fifteen years flew by in a blink, and Lhasa had changed enormously. The Potala looked the same, but the square below had been completely renewed. Back then I used a public toilet near Chakpori Hill; it felt like a crude ‘outhouse’ in a rural area. Now the square’s public restroom was almost star-rated, and near Chakpori there was even a fancy Western restaurant. All corners of Potala Square were adorned with beautiful flower beds (artificial flowers).
At 20:00 the Lhasa sky was still bright. We planned to try Tibetan dinner and found a ‘Gangdise Tibetan & Nepali Restaurant’ on Yutuo Road, east of the square. With the server’s help we ordered a few dishes and found them acceptable. After dinner we walked back to the hotel, taking some nice night photos of the Potala at the intersection of Kang’angduo South Road and Beijing Road. We returned to the Aviation Hotel at 21:45; apart from feeling slightly short of breath, we had no obvious altitude sickness symptoms.
On March 26, X.J. woke up with obvious altitude sickness—he was groggy and miserable. I was okay, just a mild headache. I hadn’t slept well either, dreaming all night as if worrying about something undone. Hotel breakfast started at 7:00; after eating, Master Deng arrived and we set off at 8:00. We first took National Highway G318, then near the ‘Education City’ east of Lhasa we got on the ‘Lhasa-Nyingchi Expressway.’ Highways in Tibet are free; you just show your ID card. The expressway runs parallel to G318. At 8:41 we passed through Dazi Tunnel, at 9:01 we saw Ganden Monastery, and at 9:20 we exited the expressway at Maizhokunggar back onto G318; the expressway continues alongside but wasn’t completed.
At 10:47 we reached a three-way junction in Riduo Township, Maizhokunggar County. Master Deng pointed out a dirt road on the right leading directly to Sangri County (Shannan); we’d pass through Sangri on our return to Lhasa. Ahead was Mi La Mountain; the expressway’s Mi La Tunnel was under construction, boring into the mountain, while we wound up the old G318. As we climbed in altitude, roadside snow patches grew. At 11:16 we reached the summit; the pass stone marker stated altitude 5,013 meters. I’d been here in 2002 on the way from Lhasa to Nyingchi; we had just crossed the pass and gone downhill when we hit a landslide and had to turn back to Lhasa. Back then the stone marker read 5,020 meters. Clearly the highway had been rerouted, and the pass elevation slightly lowered. X.J. was still badly hit by altitude sickness; he only glanced out the car before retreating to rest. I asked Master Deng to snap two ‘I was here’ photos for me.
Mi La Pass marks the boundary between Maizhokunggar County (Lhasa) and Gongbo’gyamda County (Nyingchi). Descending, we entered Gongbo’gyamda. By 12:15 we reached Songduo Town in Gongbo’gyamda, altitude 4,170 meters. Master Deng and I got out for lunch; X.J. stayed in the car, didn’t want to eat. Master Deng wanted something light; I had little appetite too. We ordered two Yangzhou fried rice and a soup. I’d wanted noodles, but the owner said cooking noodles takes trouble—you need a pressure cooker, otherwise they stay undercooked.
After lunch we continued. The under-construction expressway still paralleled G318. The Nyang River appeared by the roadside; it rises in the Mi La Mountains, flows east through Gongbo’gyamda, and joins the Yarlung Tsangpo in Bayi District, Nyingchi. At 14:50 we stopped at ‘Taizhao Ancient Fort.’ The site is across the Nyang River; after buying tickets you could cross a covered bridge to enter. But netizens said there’s nothing inside, so we just took photos from the riverbank and moved on.
Soon we passed the ‘Midstream Rock’ scenic spot—a towering boulder in the middle of the Nyang River, with a small viewing pavilion onshore. But we saw neither the rock nor could reach the pavilion, as the area was under construction and screens sealed off the pavilion. Moreover, the road here was very narrow, and Master Deng said it wasn’t safe to stop. At 15:30 we skirted the outskirts of Gongbo’gyamda County town; a ‘Quanzhou Second Bridge’ crossed the river into town, but we bypassed it without crossing. The county is paired with Fujian for pairing assistance; there’s also a larger ‘Quanzhou Great Bridge’ in town.
At 16:08 we exited the expressway at Bahe Town, where a branch road leads to ‘Basum Lake.’ It wasn’t in our plan—online sources say Basum Lake is most beautiful in autumn, and its altitude is higher than Lhasa, while X.J. was already fighting a splitting headache and just wanted to reach Nyingchi. So we left the expressway and returned to G318, heading toward Nyingchi.
At 16:16 we reached ‘Xiuba Ancient Fortress.’ We paused briefly in the parking lot to take photos. We already knew from travelers that the 100-yuan-per-person ticket wasn’t worth it; the fortress is visible right from the road. A Tibetan woman shooed us away, saying we couldn’t stay in the lot without tickets since it’s part of the scenic area. Peach trees at the foot of the fortress were blooming, which reassured us—we’d been worrying whether Nyingchi’s peaches would be out yet.
Continuing on G318, the Nyang River and the unfinished expressway kept us company. At 16:34 we passed ‘Baiba Town.’ The river was a clear blue, and bursts of pink peach blossoms and green willows appeared along the banks—a vibrant spring scene.
At 17:10 we arrived at ‘Kading Valley.’ Tickets were 20 yuan per person. X.J. stayed in the car; I bought a ticket and went in alone. There’s a mountain gully with a gurgling stream and the ‘Kading Heavenly Buddha Waterfall’ hanging high, but not much else to see. Still, the cheap ticket drew many visitors—a stark contrast to the deserted Xiuba Fortress.
Around 18:00 we reached ‘Bayi Town,’ in Bayi District of Nyingchi, the seat of the city government. Fujian Province assisted in its development, so many local names relate to Fujian. We checked into a hostel called ‘Linzhi Meet Inn’ on a small street—a triple room for 158 yuan. X.J. went straight to bed. Master Deng and I went out for dinner at a ‘Food City’ near Fuqing Road Square. I had noodles; he had porridge and small dishes. We brought back porridge, buns, and steamed rolls for X.J., but he only managed a few sips of porridge. Master Deng said if we’d listened to him and rested at the hotel last night, X.J. might not have been in this state. He kept praising my fitness, saying he’d prepared all that oxygen but I didn’t need it at all. Yet from what I know, altitude sickness isn’t directly about physical fitness. In 2002 I met a People’s Armed Police company commander on the plane; he said he was strong and fit, but every time he returned to Tibet from leave in Sichuan, he had to lay low for about a week to get past the altitude reaction, while his wife, far less fit, would arrive and immediately bustle about with no problem.
On March 27, we checked out at 8:20 and went back to Fuqing Road for breakfast at the same ‘Food City’—Master Deng said it’s open 24 hours. X.J. felt much better after sleeping. After breakfast he even cheerfully took photos in the small square outside—a memento of ‘I’ve been to Nyingchi.’
Then we headed to the ‘World Royal Cypress Garden,’ about 8 km east of Bayi Town along G318. It has a giant ancient cypress called the ‘King of Cypresses.’ Originally a regional primitive cypress forest reserve, it was turned into a park with Guangdong’s assistance. Off-season tickets cost 15 yuan per person. The garden is full of tall, stout cypresses unique to the middle and lower Yarlung Tsangpo valley—the ‘Yarlung Tsangpo Cypress.’ The largest one, near the entrance, is about 50 meters tall and requires 12 adults to wrap around. A stone marker declares it the ‘World King of Cypresses,’ aged 3,233 years (as of 2013). Its massive trunk is bedecked with colorful prayer flags; several Tibetan worshippers were circumambulating the tree, as local legend says it’s the life tree of Shenrab Miwoche, founder of the Bön faith.
At 9:20 we left the cypress garden, continuing east on G318 to ‘Gala Village,’ which hosts a ‘Peach Blossom Garden’—the main venue for the local ‘Nyingchi Peach Blossom Tourism and Culture Festival.’ Peach trees grow everywhere in the Nyingchi region, but Gala’s blossoms are closest to Nyingchi city and right beside the highway, so it was chosen as the main venue. We heard that this year there were also branch venues in Pome, Milin, Gongbo’gyamda, and other places.
From the cypress garden to Gala took about seven to eight minutes. We saw lots of police on the way; we guessed some VIP was attending the peach festival, but upon arrival we learned the festival had opened on March 25, and today was just supporting activities. The Nyingchi Peach Blossom Festival started in 2002; this was the 15th edition, and ticket prices had gradually risen to 30 yuan per person. We bought tickets and entered, and a sea of peach blossoms immediately filled our eyes. The trees here are all wild, probably related to the ‘wild peach’ (hairy peach) of inland China—they bloom first, then leaf out, unlike the ornamental ‘flowering peach’ (Prunus persica) commonly seen in parks, which sprouts green leaves while blooming. Nyingchi’s wild peach flowers aren’t as large or vividly colored, mostly pale white or pink. Yet unlike the dwarf peach trees inland, these are all big real trees, with thick trunks and dense, spreading branches. The blooming scene is wild—countless flowers cover the towering canopies in layered clusters, set against the blue sky, creating a rare spectacle that made us feel the trip was more than worthwhile.
On a high slope in the garden stands a viewing tower. Climbing to the top, we were utterly awestruck: the dense peach blossoms stretched like a great swath of blushing clouds from our feet far into the distance. Across the valley, high mountains were swathed in magnificent clouds and mist, while the Nyang River flowed quietly past. Willows along its banks had just sprouted tender green, intermingling green and peach pink into a stunning spring tableau. We stood there, enchanted.
At 11:00 we left the peach garden, only to find G318 temporarily closed; no vehicles were allowed on the road. So we had to wander in the parking lot. While waiting, we chatted with a police officer on duty. He told us the closure was for a bicycle race; athletes from across the country were competing on G318, and the parking lot itself was the finish point. The road had been closed since 9:30. Fortunately we’d left the cypress garden early, or we’d have been stuck. The officer also said that today every police officer in Nyingchi, regardless of branch, had to be on the streets—traffic police alone weren’t enough, and he himself wasn’t a traffic cop. In the parking lot, several ‘Tibetan pigs’ ran around freely. They were small, but their meat is said to be excellent; they behaved just like dogs, scurrying about in search of food, completely unafraid of people.
Around 11:20, after the last two female cyclists arrived, the road reopened and we drove on. To our right, the ‘Bayi Grand Bridge’ spanned the Nyang River, linking to the Nyingchi Airport Expressway. We didn’t cross but kept on G318 toward Pome. The highway began to climb. At 11:47 we saw Nyingchi Town, the old county seat; after Nyingchi was upgraded from county to city and the seat moved to Bayi, this place became Nyingchi Town in Bayi District. The town lies at the foot of Sergyi La Mountain, at about 3,000 meters, slightly higher than Bayi Town. As we continued, snow patches appeared by the road; first-time snow-seeing tourists were stopping to take pictures. We ran into more Tibetan pigs here, still dog-like, happy to mingle with people.
Further up the mountain, at 11:54 we stopped at the ‘Nyang River Scenic Viewing Platform.’ The cluster of roof-tops below was Nyingchi Town we’d just passed; farther off were the Benzri Sacred Mountain and the fertile Nyang River delta. High mountains in the distance were cloaked in thick clouds, only their snowy peaks peeking through.
Farther on, snow grew deeper. X.J.’s altitude sickness had mostly eased, and he was full of enthusiasm. At 12:09 he spotted a broad snow-covered slope and shouted to stop. Master Deng was reluctant, saying better snow scenes lay ahead, but X.J. worried about ‘missing the village after passing it’ and insisted. Master Deng complied. Over the next few days, Master Deng would often offer his opinion, but the final call was always ours.
We took some photos and moved on. The mountain snow scenery grew increasingly lovely; under the blue sky, fluffy white clouds seemed so low they almost merged with the snowy slopes. Tibet is magical that way—barely an hour before we’d been amid peach blossoms and willows, and now we were in an icy, snowy world. At 12:25 we reached the summit. A tall stone marker beside the road declared it ‘Sergyi La Pass’ on G318, altitude 4,720 meters.
Sergyi La Pass is the best spot to view the ‘Namcha Barwa’ snow peak. However, this peak is perennially veiled in cloud and mist, rarely revealing its true face, earning it the nickname ‘Shy Maiden Peak.’ We lingered about 20 minutes; the ‘shy maiden’ showed only its peak for a fleeting moment through the clouds, sparking a flurry of cheers and shutter clicks.
At 12:40 we descended. Soon we passed the ‘Lulang Forest-Sea Viewing Platform,’ a ticketed spot. Master Deng said this season’s wildflowers hadn’t bloomed yet, so there was nothing special to see, and a little farther ahead was a free pull-off with the same view. So we kept going. At 12:57 we saw lots of vehicles parked—the free viewpoint. Below was a vast sea of forest blanketing the hills; in the valley, a long brown strip must have been ‘Lulang Pasture.’ Winter had left the grassland dry and yellow, not yet turned green.
This spot, besides Sergyi La Pass, is another place along the Sichuan-Tibet Highway to glimpse Namcha Barwa. Lying at the easternmost tip of the Himalayas, Namcha Barwa’s summit rises to 7,782 meters, making it the 15th highest peak in the world. Since all 14 higher peaks exceed 8,000 meters, Namcha Barwa is the tallest among the world’s 7,000-meter-class snow peaks. When we first arrived, Namcha Barwa was still shrouded in cloud, but a sudden gust of wind swept the clouds away, revealing both Namcha Barwa and its counterpart, ‘Gyala Peri’ (7,294 m), in all their clarity. The moment was fleeting, so we quickly asked Master Deng to snap a precious photo of father and son standing between the two peaks. A Tibetan girl nearby was selling matsutake; they smelled nice, but Master Deng said dried matsutake goes for a thousand yuan per catty, so the 30–40 yuan packs couldn’t be genuine.
We continued downhill and reached Lulang at 13:23. Lunch would be the famous local ‘stone-pot chicken.’ But the original ‘Stone-Pot Chicken Street’ along G318 had been demolished for the new Lulang town; Master Deng’s friend’s restaurant was nowhere to be seen. Only one lonely shop remained by the roadside, with a ‘Stone-Pot Chicken’ sign and several vehicles parked out front. While we hesitated, Master Deng got a call saying his friend had relocated to the central square of the new town, so we drove straight there.
The restaurant was almost full, mostly tour groups. But the stone-pot chicken was not worth recommending. A medium-sized pot of matsutake stone-pot chicken, just enough for three, cost about 500 yuan. The chicken came in chunks, and you couldn’t tell if it was a whole bird. On my way to the restroom past the kitchen, I noticed the so-called ‘stone-pot chicken’ was actually cooked in a regular iron wok, then poured into a stone pot for serving. When our medium pot arrived, Master Deng found no matsutake in it, so he called the owner, who brought a supplementary plate. But we couldn’t tell if the mushrooms were real or not; they tasted unremarkable anyway. One ingredient, ‘palm ginseng,’ was distinctive—shaped like a tiny palm, it’s a local wild plant, possibly a root.
We left Lulang at 14:40 for Pome. At 14:50 we passed Zhaxigang Village; Master Deng said that’s where old Lulang used to be, with many guesthouses, and his earlier clients had stayed there. Lulang’s pastoral scenery was gorgeous, and construction was everywhere—several large, high-end hotels were almost ready. But early in the season, there weren’t many tourists.
Driving along, at 15:19 we suddenly saw a speed-zone sign with a time interval. Before being photographed, Master Deng quickly pulled over. Tibetan highways use point-to-point speed checks; if you go too fast, you need to find a spot to stop and burn time, or you’ll face fines. Worse, your driving license can be downgraded—a bus driver forced to drive a car would earn much less. Master Deng used to drive a big bus; after a penalty, he had to switch to a smaller vehicle. We idled away the required time and moved on, only to hit another stop for roadwork ahead. A long queue of cars sat under snowy peaks; on the Sichuan-Tibet Highway even a random traffic jam offers gorgeous views.
Further on, we reached the area of old G318’s massive landslide, known as the ‘Pailong Natural Barrier.’ Now the road has been rebuilt with multiple tunnels to prevent landslides. At 15:51 we passed the ‘Layue Open-Cut Tunnel,’ a new landslide-protection structure. At 16:04 we passed Pailong Town; its former single street had been entirely revitalized. A side road here marks the starting point for trekking to the Great Bend of the Yarlung Tsangpo, with a border checkpoint. The blue-green Parlung Tsangpo River began to accompany us from here all the way to its source at Ranwu Lake.
At 16:05 we entered the newly built ‘Parlung No. 2 Tunnel,’ emerged to the ‘Polonggou Grand Bridge,’ then soon entered ‘Parlung No. 1 Tunnel.’ These two tunnels and one bridge let today’s G318 completely bypass the old ‘Pailong Natural Barrier’ landslide zone. To the right of Parlung No. 1 Tunnel’s entrance, you can still see the old, dangerous road, blocked by large concrete blocks. That old Sichuan-Tibet track was a single dirt lane clinging to the cliffs above the Parlung Tsangpo, notorious for fatal accidents.
At 16:19 we reached ‘Tongmai Grand Bridge.’ Here the ‘Yiong Tsangpo’ merges with the Parlung Tsangpo; the combined flow heads south to eventually join the Yarlung Tsangpo. The bridge spans the Yiong Tsangpo, just a few hundred meters from the confluence. Before this grand bridge was built, the spot was the feared ‘Tongmai Natural Barrier,’ a notorious bottleneck on the old Sichuan-Tibet Highway. Even now, you can see three bridges side by side over the Yiong Tsangpo, each with a story: the northernmost single-tower suspension bridge is the current G318 ‘Tongmai Grand Bridge,’ majestic and completed by the end of 2015. The middle double-tower suspension bridge is the ‘Tongmai Bridge,’ built in 2000 as an emergency replacement after a reinforced-concrete bridge was washed away. That year, the dam of ‘Yiong Lake’ upstream burst, sending a debris-laden flood that destroyed the concrete bridge and severed the highway; soldiers rushed to erect this temporary bridge. Because it was a rush job, vehicles could only cross one by one, and the bridge even collapsed twice with fatal consequences, making this the famous ‘Tongmai Natural Barrier.’ The southernmost simple bridge, only for pedestrians and horses, predates the middle one; it served during collapses of the Tongmai Bridge but is now abandoned. With the completion of the Tongmai Grand Bridge, this stretch of the Sichuan-Tibet Highway is smooth and scenic; tourists stop for photos, and nowadays ‘Tongmai’ means beauty, not danger.
We paused at the bridgehead for about 20 minutes, taking in the view and snapping pictures, before crossing at 16:40. After the bridge, we drove through Tongmai Town without stopping. The scenery beyond was even more spectacular. At 17:14 we hit another temporary road closure for maintenance; X.J. and I got out to admire the view—green trees framing snowy peaks, the azure Parlung Tsangpo winding alongside the road. Beauty is everywhere on the Sichuan-Tibet Highway.
When the road reopened, we pressed on. Not far ahead should be ‘Suotong.’ From online sources I knew Suotong would have rapeseed flowers right now, but Master Deng disagreed—he’d never heard of rapeseed blooming this early there. At 17:29 we spotted the Suotong Village sign; I immediately grew alert and scanned ahead. Soon we saw a vast expanse of yellow behind a wooden fence by the roadside, so we stopped at a gap. A chair sat by the gap, but no one was on duty. Just as we were about to crawl through, a Tibetan woman emerged from a hut opposite, demanding 5 yuan per person. X.J. and I paid 10 yuan (I didn’t pay for Master Deng, the driver, and she didn’t object). Only once inside did we realize this wasn’t just beautiful rapeseed—snow mountains formed the backdrop. The 10 yuan was absolutely worth it.
At 17:40 we set off again. Master Deng, while driving, praised my thorough research, saying normally he’d talk nonstop to clients, but this time he barely spoke because we already knew everything. A little farther, we saw more rapeseed flowers and farmhouses—this must have been the actual Suotong Village. In the clearing ahead, many cars were parked and tourists swarmed the rapeseed fields. But here, without the snowy backdrop, the scenery wasn’t as stunning as where we’d just stopped. Further along, at 18:00 across the Parlung Tsangpo, we saw large swaths of peach blossoms at the foot of snow peaks—gorgeous. Indeed, peach trees are everywhere around Nyingchi and Pome, but most are too far from the road to be noticed. Only a few villages accessible by road are famous, though their blossoms aren’t necessarily the best.
At 18:13 we came to Guxiang Lake, actually a wide, gentle stretch of the Parlung Tsangpo, with continuous snowy peaks on the far side—extremely beautiful. There were public toilets and a pavilion by the road, but they seemed abandoned and broken. I guessed someone had once tried to develop a pay-to-enter scenic area, but with the lake hugging the highway over such a broad area, they couldn’t fence it off for fees, and the effort came to nothing.
At 18:30 we turned right off the highway, crossed a village bridge, and entered Kaba Village. The online travel series ‘Xinjiang’ featured its host Kuanglu cycling solo across China’s southwest and northwest; he mentioned that at the 4,036-kilometer mark of G318, there’s a village called ‘Kaba’ ringed by snow mountains—a breathtaking place. Since we were passing by, we went in for a look. Now the village has several tourist hostels, some quite large. While wandering, a Tibetan man called me over; he was the owner of a guesthouse. I quickly explained we were staying in Pome tonight and just looking around. He said it was fine and handed me a business card, asking me to help promote his place. His guesthouse was sizable, backed by snow peaks with a garden out front.
At 18:45 we left Kaba, rejoined G318, and continued along the Parlung Tsangpo toward Pome. Peach blossoms and snowy peaks appeared everywhere; the river was a brilliant blue, reflecting fluffy clouds, green trees, blue sky, and snowy peaks—a scene like a painting.
By 19:20, another wide stretch of water appeared, with people playing at the shore. We didn’t stop. Soon we saw a side road entering a mountain valley on the left; this was Galang Village, famous for its peach blossoms every March–April, hence ‘Galang Peach Valley,’ also a Pome branch venue for the Nyingchi Peach Blossom Festival. A small stream called the ‘Podu Tsangpo’ ran alongside the valley road, crossing under G318 to join the Parlung Tsangpo. Master Deng suggested we go into the valley now to sightsee, but X.J. noticed the valley had already lost sunlight; he feared the light would be poor for photographing blossoms and decided to leave it for our return from Pome the day after tomorrow, heading now to that wide water we’d passed. Master Deng wasn’t keen—it meant backtracking a bit—but X.J. had the final say.
That wide water was also part of the Parlung Tsangpo channel, formed where the Podu Tsangpo joins nearby. Under the setting sun, snowy peaks were mirrored in the lake, and the lakeside scenery was beautiful. We took some photos, then continued. At 19:29 we passed a ‘Glacier Town’ gateway on the highway; Pome is known as the ‘Glacier Capital’ for its many glaciers. Then we spotted more distant, unreachable peach orchards. Soon after, we entered Pome County town—‘Zhamug Town’—at 2,700 meters, ringed by snowy peaks, with the Parlung Tsangpo and G318 running right through.
We checked into the ‘Pome Impression’ hotel, whose owner is from Dali, Yunnan. I asked about arranging driver accommodation, but he flatly refused. Master Deng stepped in, murmured a few words, and the owner fell silent. Later Master Deng explained that Tibetan hotels usually provide free lodging for drivers, but if guests book too few rooms, the owner may not think it worthwhile. He’d brought many guests before, so when he spoke up, the owner stopped objecting—‘not for the monk’s sake, but for the Buddha’s.’ We’d had a late, heavy lunch, so none of us felt like dinner; we skipped it.
After settling in, it was past 20:00; the Pome sky was still bright. Outside our window, the courtyard was full of blooming peach trees, making me wonder if Tibet might be the original homeland of the peach. Before bed, Master Deng called to ask if we wanted to book tomorrow’s room, because the owner said if we didn’t reserve now, when we returned from our excursion tomorrow we might not get the same hotel. X.J. decided to book one more night.
