Travels Under the Sun – A Journey Along the Nujiang in November 2020
The year 2020 was surely one to remember. At the start of the year, news reports showed that National Highway G219's Nujiang section in Yunnan (also known as the Beautiful Road) and the Deqin–Gongshan Road (linking Gongshan and Deqin) had both been repaired and opened to traffic.
I’d been hoping to travel along the Nujiang for two years, originally planning to take the Bingzhongluo–Chawalong–Chayu route, but the road conditions were so poor that after reaching Markam I had to detour to Daocheng Yading instead.
Now I could finally make it happen, but the COVID-19 pandemic held me back. By June, domestic travel was allowed, yet Yunnan then entered its rainy season, which stretched all the way to early November. As soon as it ended, I booked flights for mid-November and set off.
Our itinerary went like this:
Day 1: Shanghai to Kunming by air, then on to Dali.
Day 2: Dali to Tengchong.
Day 3: Tengchong.
Day 4: Tengchong to Lushui.
Day 5: Lushui to Bingzhongluo.
Day 6: Bingzhongluo to Shangri-La.
Day 7: Shangri-La to Lijiang.
Day 8: Lijiang to Kunming.
Day 9: Kunming to Shanghai.
At Kunming Changshui Airport’s car park, we picked up our rental from the designated area and headed toward Dali.
I’d been to Dali many times already, so this visit was just a stopover.
The next morning we set off toward Tengchong.
While preparing for the trip in Shanghai, I’d checked Yunnan’s weather and found the temperatures similar to Shanghai’s, so I packed quite thick clothes. But once there, the highland sun was so scorching that short sleeves were more than enough.
We arrived in Tengchong around midday. Our accommodation was a B&B converted from a standalone villa, set among a cluster of different villa styles halfway up a hill, overlooking downtown Tengchong. The whole area was incredibly peaceful—a truly liveable spot.
After a short rest (mainly to dodge the midday sun, as it was too hot), we headed to the Rehai Scenic Area in the southwestern part of the city, a geothermal zone inside a gorge.
Following the paths uphill, we passed more than a dozen different hot springs, finally reaching the “Rehai Great Boiling Pot,” where the water gushes out at a scalding 98°C. One popular tourist activity is buying a string of eggs or duck eggs in a plastic mesh from local vendors and cooking them in the pot (one of Yunnan’s so-called “Eight Oddities”: eggs sold on a string). There were also plenty of people sitting in the shade soaking their feet in the hot spring water, supposedly to cure athlete’s foot—haha.
Inside the scenic area there’s a hot spring swimming pool and a hotel; staying there would make soaking in the springs quite pleasant. But we didn’t envy them, because our B&B (Waitwind Hot Spring Inn) provided hot spring water at set times in the evening, so we could enjoy a thermal bath right at our lodgings.
Leaving Rehai, we went to Heshun Ancient Town, an important stop on the Tea Horse Road that flourished for over a century and is now swarming with visitors. The main streets and lanes are lined with inns and restaurants.
On the third morning, after a thoughtfully prepared breakfast by the B&B host, we drove to Ginkgo Village. The village wasn’t large, and we finished exploring it in about an hour.
Unfortunately, the ginkgo trees were only half-yellow, and the village lacked good planning and tidiness; it felt a bit dirty and messy, so the scenery wasn’t all that impressive. Had it not been for Yunnan’s half-price ticket policy in the second half of the year, the attraction really wouldn’t have been good value.
So we returned to the B&B early to avoid the harsh afternoon sun, and at dusk we went back to Heshun for a casual stroll (the town ticket is valid for three days).
The fourth day’s plan was to go from Tengchong to Lushui, a drive of just four hours, so we had a leisurely breakfast and got everything together before setting off.
After a stretch of highway, we switched to provincial roads. Yunnan’s climate is so perfect for flowers and greenery—the roadsides were often bursting with blossoms, making the drive a real pleasure.
After a while on the provincial road, the Nujiang River came into view and accompanied us along the way. The rainy season had passed, so the river’s flow seemed modest, with a subdued greyish-green hue. We joked that it was a “Nujiang” that wasn’t angry at all (nù jiāng means “angry river”).
From the start of the provincial road, we passed three border checkpoints. While understandable for preventing drug smuggling and illegal crossings, for us tourists the repeated stops were rather annoying.
When we reached Lushui, we rested a bit and then strolled around the town. We couldn’t help but be impressed by how well this small frontier town in the southwest had developed.
The fifth day was more tiring, as we had to drive from Lushui to Bingzhongluo—nearly seven hours—so we set off early.
National Highway G219 was in great shape after repairs, but there was construction of rest areas, leisure trails, and bicycle paths along the roadside, so building materials often took up half the road. Luckily, traffic was light, so it didn’t slow us down much.
The trail seemed to be going on for a very long way. We joked, “Are they building it all the way along the Nujiang to Bingzhongluo?” Looking back, that might still be a possibility.
The scenery along the way was quite nice, and with the weather being as good as ever, driving was pleasant. We passed several interesting spots: Stone Moon, the First Bend of the Nujiang, and Peach Blossom Island.
By the time we reached Peach Blossom Island, we were already on the edge of Bingzhongluo town. There’s a viewing platform from which you can see both the island and a distant view of the town.
Bingzhongluo is said to be a place “where gods and men dwell together.” From that viewing platform, it truly deserved the title, but once you get into the town itself, you might be disappointed. The main street was a mess—cars parked haphazardly, dust and litter everywhere.
Since it was still early, we drove on to Qiunatong, passing Wuli Village on the way. Wuli is nicknamed “Little Switzerland,” but looking across the Nujiang, I saw little resemblance to the Switzerland I’ve been to. Rural construction in remote parts of China still has a long way to go.
We drove around Qiunatong once and couldn’t understand where all the gushing praise in travel guides came from. A bit deflated, we returned to Bingzhongluo. Maybe the timing was off—perhaps it would be better when autumn colors deepened.
During the previous two days’ driving, we’d seen new resettlement housing for poverty-alleviation relocation along both banks of the Nujiang. These low-rise apartment blocks were painted in bright colors on the outside. I wondered if the relocated villagers could adapt to life outside the mountains.
Day six was another tough one, from Bingzhongluo to Shangri-La.
But unexpectedly, the Deqin–Gongshan Road, which had only been fully open for just over half a year, was riddled with landslides and washouts practically from Pengdang onwards, especially as we crossed Gaoligong Mountain and Nushan Mountain.
Once over Nushan, road conditions gradually improved, and by the time we got onto the Dewei Road, it was smooth. Although the bad roads made driving a slog, the scenery along the way was stunning.
Even luckier, shortly after passing through Deqin County on National Highway G214, we stopped at a viewing platform. On four previous trips past Deqin (twice I had even stayed overnight at Feilai Temple specifically to see Meili Snow Mountain), I’d never managed to catch a clear view. This time, it revealed itself in all its glory. Against the brilliant blue sky, it was exceptionally majestic and beautiful. Although I didn’t witness the fabled “golden mountain at sunrise,” this moment felt infinitely wonderful.
As we neared Shangri-La, we caught another glimpse of Napa Lake from a high point on G214.
Entering Shangri-La, you can feel its growth: more vehicles, plenty of accommodation choices. This time we stayed at the newly opened Ramada Hotel and even had a fairly authentic Cantonese dinner at its restaurant—a nice reward for our rather humble meals over the past few days.
Day seven was leisurely: Shangri-La to Lijiang.
In the morning, we visited Pudacuo National Park, which I hadn’t seen in over a decade. But in mid-November, the highland temperatures in Shangri-La drop dramatically in the early morning and evening; after sunrise it was only -5°C, causing multiple warning lights to appear on the car—probably due to the cold. So we drove cautiously to Pudacuo, worried the car might have issues that could affect the rest of the trip. The entire stretch of road to Pudacuo was under construction, dust flying everywhere.
After touring Pudacuo and starting the car again, all the warning lights had disappeared. I figured the warmth of the sun after we arrived had got things back to normal.
The low temperatures also made the park’s scenery feel a bit bleak, and it was overcast, with the sun only peeking out occasionally, so the views weren’t very rewarding.
As soon as we left Pudacuo and got back on G214, the sun burst out brightly. I could only think: maybe Pudacuo wants us to come back in spring or summer.
I’d expected the rest of the day’s journey to be uneventful, but then the section of G214 entering Lijiang was closed for some reason. We had to follow the navigation onto another national road, then a short bit of highway into town. That road wound through the mountains, and from a hilltop we unexpectedly caught a distant view of Lashi Lake—a pleasant little surprise.
Lijiang’s development borders on unbelievable. My first visit was for a conference, and on the walk from my hotel (Guanfang Hotel) to the Old Town, I saw nothing but farmland and grassland. On my second visit, Lijiang had become a bustling little city. Later, on a fourth trip, and this time around, Lijiang already felt like a large, well-developed city.
On day eight, we took the highway from Lijiang back to Kunming.
I thought it would be a boring drive, but right after leaving Lijiang, at a rest area we saw a nameless little lake. Bathed in morning light, with its red earth and greenish-blue water, the scenery was unexpectedly lovely.
At the Shuanglang Service Area, we had only planned to refuel, but we ended up enjoying views of Erhai Lake from the service area’s observation deck.
These two chance encounters made us sigh: more free scenery like this, please—we’d take a dozen!
While driving on the highway, I sometimes mused: maybe next time on this route, we could take the highway all the way to Shangri-La. The country’s road construction has been incredible these past few years; Tengchong is also about to get high-speed rail soon.
