Behind the Wheel of the Volvo V90 Cross Country: Seeking Another Mysterious Shade of Yunnan

What kind of place is Lijiang, Yunnan? I've heard of people eloping here with their beloved, others quitting their jobs in frustration and coming here, and still others arriving drawn by a longing deep in their hearts... What I discovered is that those who come never really talk about their reasons, but they're always happy to share the beauty they've found. All along the way, as I drove the Volvo V90 Cross Country on this trip to Lijiang, a voice kept telling me: if you just come, you'll find your answer.

"Green grows the grass, white spreads the mist; there is a beauty by the water's edge." That line captures my own "reasonable" interpretation of the almost perfect partnership between lake and boat—reasonable, of course, only to me. I love the sight of ripples spreading across the lake, stirred by a breeze, skimmed by a bird, or broken by a pebble. But what I love most is that moment when a small boat rests on the lake, touching it lightly, filled with a quiet delight that soon settles back into calm. The way the little boats bob on Lugu Lake, sending gentle rings across the water, fulfills every fantasy I ever had about "By the Water's Edge." I could lose myself in that scene forever.

Around Lugu Lake, villages dot the shore. The Mosuo homes are built in a distinctive style, mostly log houses with notched corners, their roofs made of wooden planks instead of tiles. The interior layout reflects the matriarchal structure of the family: the main room with the hearth is the center of the home, beside it are spaces for the elderly and young children, while a separate two-story building serves as "guest rooms," with the upper floor providing living quarters for young women and their "Axia" (walking marriage partners), preserving traits of the ancient matriarchal clan system.

Before coming here, I didn't know much about Lugu Lake, but after looking into it, I found it's worth noting that the lake sits at 2,700 meters above sea level, with an average depth of about 40 meters and a maximum depth of 73 meters. The whole lake looks like a flawless, enormous pearl set in the southwest of China. It straddles the border between Sichuan and Yunnan—one side belongs to Yanyuan County in Xichang, Sichuan, the other to Ninglang County in Lijiang, Yunnan, both over 200 kilometers from their respective cities.

The Volvo V90 Cross Country's City Safety system can detect and identify vehicles, pedestrians, cyclists, and even large animals, and it works even in the low light of dawn or dusk. The City Safety system is like an excellent co-driver: it steps in when needed, but the rest of the time it quietly watches over you.

Tips: You need to buy a ticket to enter the scenic area—100 yuan from the Yunnan side, 80 yuan from Sichuan. After visiting Tibet, my initial fear of high-altitude landscapes has turned into a growing fascination. As it happens, Lugu Lake is also a high-altitude lake, known as the "Pearl of the Plateau." Among its peaks, Gemu Goddess Mountain rises to 3,754.7 meters, the highest around the lake.

The wind is strong by Lugu Lake, and at sunset, waves kick up as the water laps softly ashore. Compared to ocean waves, these are far gentler. The small boats sway gently on the ripples—utterly mesmerizing.

The islands in the lake are graceful and varied, the water as clear as a mirror, dotted with algae blooms. Small boats gliding slowly across the emerald surface, and the occasional Mosuo folk song drifting between water and sky, add an ancient charm to Lugu Lake. No matter how many people have witnessed her beauty, to me, she remains a pristine lake far from the noise, an untouched virgin.

Daluoshui Village is a must-see for most visitors to Lugu Lake. Along its shore, the wooden houses of Mosuo families now mostly serve as guesthouses. It's busy and lively.

What you might not know is that Xiaoluoshui Village lies on the northern shore of the lake, tucked into a small valley with mountains on three sides and the lake in front. It's the last village on the Yunnan side of Lugu Lake, and the border between Yunnan and Sichuan runs right at the village entrance. The road around the lake is clearly split here: gravel on the Yunnan side, asphalt on the Sichuan side. With only about twenty families, it's an ancient and traditional Mosuo settlement. Few travelers come here; it's like a lonely wild goose, quietly waiting. In recent years, though, more visitors who "stray off the beaten path" have "discovered" it, turning it into a popular destination.

Thoughts of old towns evoke images of what cities across China once looked like, so I much prefer ancient towns with their timeless charm to cookie-cutter modern cities. The beauty of Lijiang is shown perfectly in its old town.

Driving to Baisha Old Town, I thought that although it isn't as bustling as Lijiang's old town, it doesn't feel lonely at all—it has more than enough history of its own.

Unlike Lijiang Old Town, here you can see the distant snow-capped mountains right away. Beneath those peaks, Baisha Old Town offers a different kind of beauty. Wandering its lanes, you feel the traditional Naxi way of life still preserved.

Baisha Old Town is part of the World Heritage site "Old Town of Lijiang." It's the birthplace of the Mu clan, the ruling family of Lijiang's tusi (chieftain) system, and the most authentic Naxi village with the strongest Naxi heritage. Baisha was the ancient capital of the Naxi and once the political, economic, commercial, and cultural center of Lijiang.

Compared to Lijiang Old Town, it's far less commercialized, with fewer tourists. What you're more likely to see are locals going about their daily lives, moving quickly but full of positive energy—something that draws you in. Now and then, you'll hear a young man on a motorbike approaching from a distance, then stopping to chat with a neighbor or friend in their distinctive dialect about everyday matters. It feels deeply real and full of life.

The heart of the old town is Sifang Street, a bustling market center in its day. Later, when the Naxi ancestors built Shuhe Old Town and Lijiang Old Town, they took Baisha as a model, making the central square a trading hub and naming it Sifang Street—"Sifang" meaning "accessible from all directions, a place of justice." Because Baisha's Sifang Street was built so early and never remodeled to fit modern commercial templates, it's not as neat and orderly as those in Shuhe or Dayan Old Town.

Personally, I really like the climate here. The season when I took this road trip isn't very warm, but it's pleasantly cool with sunshine, and white clouds dance gracefully against the blue sky overhead—bright one moment, overcast the next. When the sun falls on you, it's toasty.

Though Sifang Street's lanes are narrow, luckily the Volvo V90 Cross Country comes with a 360° surround-view camera that gives a bird's-eye view, plus parking assist sensors front and rear that warn of obstacles, so I could easily reverse and park even in tight spaces.

Parking the car, I'd slip into a lane off some little corner. What meets the eye are mostly stone walls built of red bricks, so old and full of the marks of time that you just want to keep pressing the shutter. The photos might all just be red bricks, but for me, they capture not only my mood at that moment but also a beautiful connection between me and this place.

It reminded me of childhood days in my hometown, running and playing chase or hide-and-seek with friends. Strolling through the village, you feel as if time has stopped—or maybe even turned backward—reminding you of those simple, happy days. Looking up, the sky is a pure blue, the snowy mountains a pristine white, dogs laze at the roadside, and the whole old town feels as plain and gentle as a Naxi elder. Even time slows its pace here.

When I used to think of Yunnan, Yulong Snow Mountain was always the first thing that tugged at me, and I have an inexplicable obsession with snow-capped peaks. I feel that no matter how tough the trail or how awful the weather, nothing will stop me from climbing. Driving the Volvo V90 Cross Country toward Yulong Snow Mountain, as the altitude rose, the vegetation grew sparser in color. After "washing my eyes" with the dazzling white snow and then heading back down, the scenery I'd passed on the way up brought a whole new feeling. That's what a road trip gives me—harmony of time, place, and people. All the beauty of the journey fills my eyes and stays deep in my heart.

Yulong Snow Mountain is actually a massif, not a single peak. Its 13 peaks run from south to north, the highest being Shanzidou at 5,596 meters, with year-round snow. The snow line lies between 4,800 and 5,000 meters, so spotting the snowy peaks is a matter of luck. In spring, there's plenty of snow, but weather often means the mountains play hide-and-seek with you. The last snow mountain I visited was the Matterhorn in Switzerland; before that, it was Sochi in Russia. Every time I see a snow mountain, it feels majestic and mighty. Up close, yet there's still an indescribable sense of distance. That, I think, is the allure of snowy peaks—and why I keep traveling, seeking scenes that never casually appear in everyday life.

Coming down from the mountain, a light rain began to fall, adding a layer of hazy mystery to the spring greenery. At this altitude and season, it felt cold. I turned on the Volvo V90 Cross Country's heater and the bespoke Bowers & Wilkins car audio system.

The sound of raindrops outside intertwined effortlessly with the music inside, suddenly making the music feel alive. That's the joy a road trip brings me.

Over hills and mountains, the Volvo V90 Cross Country's 4C active adaptive chassis and 48-volt mild hybrid system handled every kind of road condition with ease, whether flat or hilly. Looking out at the grandeur of Yulong Snow Mountain, the ice and snow lingered—here the deepest silence of winter still lingered.

Down at the foot of the mountain, after Blue Moon Valley, peacefulness returned. The sky began to overcast, revealing a color quite different from the snow mountain—blue. Blue Moon Valley lies at the eastern foot of Yulong Snow Mountain, commonly called "White Water River." It's world-famous for its towering snowy peaks, jade-blue lake water, and majestic yet delicate gorge scenery. Named for the crescent shape of the valley and the brilliant blue water, it's said to be the prototype for the Blue Moon Valley described by James Hilton, the British author of Lost Horizon.

Perhaps because of its romance, many couples make the trip here to take wedding photos—and rightly so. With this landscape and this experience, I imagine that decades from now they will still remember the vows and memories made at the foot of the snow mountain. Maybe they'll travel again, returning to the Blue Moon Valley where they once posed for those photos.

Haruki Murakami once said: "I really like these few words, and I'm always searching for beautiful sentences, thinking they can make me feel a little better." For me, travel is the same: I love searching for beautiful scenery, for no other reason than to make myself feel a little better. Right now, I'm driving along the road that hugs Lugu Lake. Seabirds keep me company, green hills lean close, gentle waves rise on the calm surface, and the deep blue of the lake merges with the pale blue of the sky into the most beautiful scene of the journey. I'm grateful to the Volvo V90 Cross Country for being with me all the way.