Walking in Tibet – The Qinghai-Tibet Highway

Walking in Tibet (Part 4) – The Qinghai-Tibet Highway

Compiled from January 11 to 24, 2022

After two days of rest in the holy city, on the last day of June, the car slowly drove past the Potala Palace Square. I looked up at this palace, the highest and largest in the world, thinking that I never expected to enter Lhasa for the second time in a cycle of one year. Now, sitting by the computer reminiscing about these moments, we have already entered Tibet three times—something I never even imagined. That is why Meili wrote "Tibet: Poison and Antidote." What do we come to the holy land for? I often ask myself. Is it to understand impermanence? All conditioned things are impermanent, just like the epidemic in Wuhan at the beginning of the year, when in an instant people faced life and death. Facing impermanence is indeed painful, but it also forces growth. If we can gain some understanding of impermanence, then perhaps coming to the holy land has been worthwhile.

Let's set aside impermanence for now. Today is the 16th day of the trip. From today, we will leave Lhasa and head north along National Highway G109—a "heavenly road" that crosses the entire Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, the highest and longest route in the world. Is this route dangerous? Is it like the rugged and fierce Yunnan-Tibet Highway, or the Sichuan-Tibet Southern Route, prone to landslides and collapses?

Route: Lhasa → Nagqu → Tanggulashan Town → Golmud

Distance: 1155 km

Time: June 30 to July 2, 2020 (3 days)

Cost: 300 yuan per person

Main attractions: Nyainqentanglha Mountains, Tanggula Pass, Tuotuo River, Hoh Xil Tibetan Antelope Viewing Platform, Sonam Dargye Protection Station in Hoh Xil National Nature Reserve, Kunlun Pass

1. Lhasa → Nagqu

We left Lhasa at 8:40, crossed the Damqu River at 9:30, and entered G109. Wow, wow! The sky of Tibet, the clouds of Tibet—you can never describe what the clouds look like. They transform, enveloping you, or you follow them, watching them drift before and behind your car. The land is vast and boundless. Having traveled all seven routes into Tibet, the Qinghai-Tibet Highway is the most expansive. It truly deserves to be China's No. 1. Think about it: on the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, known as the "Roof of the World" and the "Third Pole," how vast is it? It stretches from the western section of the Qinling Mountains in the east, to the Himalayas in the south, the Pamir Plateau in the west, and the Kunlun, Altun, and Qilian Mountains in the north, covering an area of 2.5 million square kilometers. On this roof of the world, with an average altitude of over 4,500 meters, an asphalt road was built from Xining in Qinghai to Lhasa. This secondary highway was constructed entirely on permafrost, making it the world's first highway of its kind fully paved with black asphalt in a high-altitude permafrost zone. Han Hong's song "Heavenly Road" perfectly captures the wonder of this route. At this moment, the car incessantly plays: "Early in the morning, I stand on the green pasture, seeing the divine eagle draped in the glow of dawn... That is a magical heavenly road, bringing the warmth of humanity to the borderlands..." I listen to the song and take photos. An altitude of 4,500 meters no longer poses any threat to me. My head is clear, my ears are not ringing. I raise my phone, photographing straight roads, curves, ascents, and descents. Ha ha, the screen is full of the magical heavenly road winding beneath the blue sky and white clouds.

The road is good, so we speed joyfully ahead. Seeing several cars parked up ahead, oh, we've arrived at the Nyainqentanglha Mountains viewing platform. We pull over, stretch our legs, and gaze at this sacred mountain. In Tibetan areas, especially on the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, I particularly love the rolling mountain ranges. They are connected to and clustered with numerous deserts, basins, valleys, and lakes—majestic and looking down on all sides. That is why Tibetans regard them as blessings, incarnations of all deities. The Nyainqentanglha Mountains lie entirely within Tibet, stretching from Lake Namtso in the west to Bomê County in the east, about 1,400 kilometers long, with an average altitude of around 6,000 meters. The main peak, Nyainqentanglha, stands at 7,162 meters, meaning in Tibetan "the sacred grassland god."

Leaving the viewing platform, the car once again dashes forward like a wild horse. But don't get too pleased. As travel writer Hong Chen warns in "Off-Roading Tibet," the Qinghai-Tibet Highway, though the safest and best road, is also the "deadly line" with the most traffic accidents. Caution, caution—that's another story. It's like: a good road makes people careless; good days often make people lose ambition. Look at the road surface below—uneven, sometimes bulging, sometimes sinking. This is characteristic of high-altitude permafrost. On such roads, the car must glide up and down according to the curvature, somewhat like a roller coaster ride; otherwise, it's a bumpy, uncomfortable experience. After another three hours of driving, we were hungry, and the car needed a rest. We quickly pulled over, drank some hot tea, ate a piece of bread, and took a beautiful photo on the famous Qinghai-Tibet Highway!

The road was excellent today, and the weather was cooperative. By 16:23, we arrived at the Sanyi Hotel in Nagqu. After settling in, we stepped out to find a cozy little restaurant. I don't know what the name means; I only know it serves Hui Muslim cuisine. A piece of bread had sustained us until now. We ordered a grilled lamb chop and a plate of fried noodle slices—a bit of indulgence to reward our tired bodies and minds.

2. Nagqu → Tanggulashan Town

A ringtone sounded—oh, it's 6:30. I checked my phone: July 1st, the first day of July, the Party's birthday. Interesting. Just the right opportunity to cross the highest point of the Qinghai-Tibet Highway, the Tanggula Pass at 5,231 meters, to test my endurance.

The hotel breakfast was good. After eating and drinking our fill, I sat in the passenger seat at 7:40. I glanced at Mr. H's face—he seemed okay. He said he slept reasonably well, with a headache that eased after midnight. At Nagqu, an altitude of 4,500 meters, everyone's altitude sickness is different: he had headaches and drowsiness, while I had little sleep and was hyperactive.

The road continued as yesterday; the sky remained blue with white clouds. The car still played Han Hong's "Heavenly Road." Traveling the heavenly road under the open sky, looking at the vast land, with the road at our feet—if we don't advance, we retreat. Life can only push forward!

After three hours of driving, oh, ahead—that snow-covered mountain range should be the famous Tanggula Mountains. I don't know how many times I've sketched this mountain range on paper, imagining its grandeur and majesty. Standing on the Qinghai-Tibet Highway at over 5,000 meters, looking at the 6,000-meter Tanggula Mountains, they remain imposing. That's why in Tibetan they are called "the mountains on the plateau." This magical mountain range, spanning the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, is the one we learned about in textbooks since childhood—the source of the Yangtze River. Its northern side gives rise to the Yangtze and Lancang rivers, while its southern side gives rise to the Nu River. Clearly, this mountain range is famous. It runs east-west, with its western end penetrating the Changtang region, serving as the boundary between Tibet and Qinghai Province. Crossing the mountains brings you into Qinghai.

The car continued. An hour later, we arrived at the Tanggula Pass, at an altitude of 5,231 meters—the highest point of our trip and of the Qinghai-Tibet Highway. It is said that this section had the harshest construction environment and the most complex geology. At 5,231 meters, we easily challenged it—no fatigue, only excitement. We started acting silly: making peace signs, throwing our hats, raising hands and stretching legs. Traveling the heavenly road under the open sky, ha ha, there is a sense of bravery and invincibility.

With a heroic mood, still listening to Han Hong's even more heroic "Heavenly Road," we continued forward. At 16:17, we reached the border between Qinghai and Tibet. We had already crossed the Tanggula Mountains and entered Qinghai Province. We got out to take a photo with the iconic archway: "Welcome to Tibet again!" Yes, we will return. In a few days, we will step back into Tibet and travel along the Tang-Tubo Ancient Road—that's content for a later chapter. At 16:56, we arrived in Tanggulashan Town and checked into the Golmud Anya Boutique Hotel.

Arriving in Tanggulashan Town, we realized how busy the Qinghai-Tibet Highway, built in 1954, is. Large trucks come and go without stopping. This is a distribution center. Trucks parked along the roadside clogged the newly expanded G109. The source of the Yangtze River, the Tuotuo River, is about one kilometer from where we stayed. Looking at the dusty roads, we decided to skip it and quickly ducked into a small eatery near the hotel. He had a bowl of beef noodles, I had an egg noodle—that was our dinner for the day.

3. Tanggulashan Town → Golmud

Wow, wow, it's so cold! Wearing a down jacket, I huddled my head and arms, quickly scurrying into a breakfast shop next to the hotel. The little shop was warm, with a coal stove burning brightly. As Hong Chen mentioned earlier, even in summer, you need to bring winter clothes. So, wearing a cotton-padded jacket, warming by the fire, eating hot noodles—it was warm and satisfying, filling us with energy for another push onto the Qinghai-Tibet Highway.

At 7:15, we started the engine. Leaving the hotel, we turned right to a gas station. Today, we were entering the Hoh Xil uninhabited area. People need to eat, cars need fuel. After refueling, we merged back onto G109. A few minutes later, the car slowly crossed the Tuotuo River Bridge. Why did we come to Tanggulashan Town? To see the Tuotuo River. The sky was blue, the water was blue. The Tuotuo River flowed quietly, gently, and winding into the distance—toward the Yangtze River. Truly, "Fine streams gather to form an ocean; tiny specks of dust accumulate to make a mountain."

After viewing the Tuotuo River, the road was still the same as yesterday. The car continued bumping along the Qinghai-Tibet Highway. In just a few minutes, before I could even take out my camera, three Tibetan antelopes darted across the road. These are treasures of Hoh Xil! Isn't this what we came to see? Unfortunately, we didn't even get a clear look at their white rumps before they ran off. But I managed to snap a photo with my phone. Looking closely later, the antelopes indeed had two conspicuous white patches on their rumps.

"Hoh Xil" is a romantic name. After crossing the Tanggula Mountains, we had entered the Hoh Xil region. The greenery dwindled, the sandstorms grew stronger, and everything was barren. The name "Hoh Xil" doesn't evoke "beautiful green mountain" in Tibetan or "beautiful girl" in Mongolian at all! Because of the high altitude and harsh living conditions, the area has remained free from human pollution and destruction. Thus, when crossing the Hoh Xil uninhabited area, people might be lucky enough to see Tibetan antelopes. I held my camera, phone in hand, eyes wide open, searching for prey. Ah, in the distance, we saw wild donkeys. Wild donkeys are wary of humans. The car had to crawl slowly to get a good look at them, but not all drivers have such patience. If a car zoomed past, they would sprint away on all fours. So we never got a good photo of their tall, sturdy bodies.

We continued forward. The surroundings were always gray, barren mountains and degraded grasslands. No houses, just an occasional vehicle. Truly an uninhabited area—so desolate that I sat in the car, bored, still searching for living creatures. After this spot, there was nothing else. No matter how wide I opened my eyes, I didn't see them. About an hour later, we saw a place with some human presence. Upon closer inspection, it was the "Hoh Xil Tibetan Antelope Viewing Platform." Full of hope, we climbed the platform. Drinking the wind, squinting, we watched for more than ten minutes—not even a single antelope hoof. Not everyone can see these treasures. We were lucky. People should be content.

Since we didn't see any antelopes, we didn't linger. According to the Amap, we needed to cover 411 kilometers in 8 hours today. Ahead, we also needed to cross the Kunlun Pass. Heavy task! Move forward.

I opened the "Western Self-Drive Strategy Map" that I bought yesterday and double-checked the strategy. Hmm, we should be near "Wudaoliang." But I didn't see any place offering accommodation or food. Forget it, we continued. An hour later, we arrived at the Sonam Dargye Protection Station in the Hoh Xil National Nature Reserve, right next to the road. We could park here. We quickly found a sheltered spot, opened the trunk, and prepared self-heating meals. These self-heating meals were very convenient. In this wilderness, hungry and cold, being able to eat a hot meal was a blessing. With our backs against the car as a windbreak, we ate quickly. I checked my watch—it was already 1:00 PM. We had only covered half the distance, with over 200 kilometers to go. No dawdling; we got back in the car and drove on.

After eating, I felt drowsy. The landscape outside was still barren, without a blade of grass. I grew groggy. Vaguely, I sensed ups and downs, then a turn and another climb. Suddenly, a heavy rain arrived. The surroundings became noisy—the rumble of trucks rose and fell. Visibility was extremely low. I jolted awake. Oh, this is one of those sections marked in red on the map: "Many trucks, hidden risks." Who isn't afraid of death? I pressed against the window, eyes wide, trying to see through the layers of rain and fog. Hey, outside, snow was falling in flurries. It is said that the Kunlun Mountains are cold all year round. Indeed, here in July, snow was still drifting.

With two pairs of eyes fixed on the road ahead, we let one truck pass, dodged another, and finally crawled to the Kunlun Pass. This pass, at 4,767 meters, is a major gateway on the Qinghai-Tibet Highway, named after the valley pass. Writing this, I pause for a long time. When traveling through our country's beautiful landscapes, I waver between writing about what I see and hear or not. If I don't write, I feel free and easy, just enjoying the trip. If I write, I can reflect and think again—an opportunity to accumulate knowledge or catch up on lessons. For example, in the photo below: at the pass of the Kunlun Mountains, the "ancestor of all mountains" and "vein of dragons," why is there a statue and a monument? At the time, I didn't have a chance to look closely. Now, sitting by the computer, I look at the picture and, with curiosity, search Baidu: Oh, it's about an incident in the 1990s when a township Party secretary, to protect Tibetan antelopes, was shot dead by poachers. On a night in January 1994, Sonam Dargye, then Party secretary of Suoga Township, led four team members to capture 20 poachers in Hoh Xil, seizing 7 vehicles and 1,800 Tibetan antelope skins. While escorting the criminals near Sun Lake (where Tibetan antelopes cross the Qinghai-Tibet Highway annually from June to July to give birth), they were ambushed. His life stopped at 40, right there in Hoh Xil. After his death, his ashes were scattered by Sun Lake in Hoh Xil and at the Kunlun Pass, where I was standing. Seeing this, the image of over a thousand bloodstained antelope skins came to mind. Who wouldn't be moved by this statue, holding a young antelope and standing tall at the Kunlun Pass? If you just finish the trip without thinking deeply, you lose the meaning of travel. For me, I am still used to supplementing this knowledge; otherwise, January 21, 2022, would have been another day spent in a haze. After all, in our era, we should uphold heroes.

Hero Sonam Dargye's wish has been fulfilled: the state established the Hoh Xil Nature Reserve, and the Kunlun Mountains were listed as a World Geopark. (2020.07.02 - 14:40)

From the warm car, we dashed into the snowy, windy pass. So cold! Without clearly seeing the vast Kunlun, we took a few photos with a check-in mentality and fled back into the car. At that moment, all I felt was regret.

Kunlun Mountains World Geopark (Photo taken at 14:40 on July 2, 2020)

After passing the Kunlun Pass, the snow stopped, the rain ceased, and I became alert. The vast Kunlun didn't leave much impression on me, but in the tens of kilometers before entering Golmud city, the unnamed mountains left a deep impression: a gloomy sky, bare, reddish-brown mountain ranges, barren—they looked like human bodies, either lying face up or sidewise.

We queued for a long time to enter the Nanshankou checkpoint. Mr. H's guidebook said there is heavy traffic here, and indeed it was. Thank heavens, after 11 hours of driving, we finally arrived at our accommodation for the day—the Hanting Hotel—at 18:30.

We left the hotel to find food. Oh, that gray sky and land. "Golmud" is a Mongolian transliteration meaning "place with dense rivers," but we saw no rivers—only barren mountains and desert. Yes, Golmud city is located in western Qinghai Province, in the hinterland of the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, on the alluvial plain of the Golmud River in the middle-south of the Qaidam Basin. Isn't it just barren mountains and desert? With a gust of wind, everything turns gray. Covering our mouths against the wind, the two of us sat down in a small restaurant and ordered a bowl of wontons, a bowl of noodles, and a meat-stuffed bun to fill ourselves.

About 50 kilometers from the hotel, there is a scenic spot—the Qarhan Salt Lake, said to be the largest salt lake in China. To go or not to go—we were torn. If we go, due to the epidemic, the salt lake museum is closed, and the most spectacular "Ten-Thousand-Zhang Salt Bridge" can only be viewed from afar, not visited. If we don't go, it's so close. Sigh, we spent the whole evening torn.

At dawn, we were still undecided. After breakfast, we stepped out again to check the sky—overcast. The weather helped us make the final decision: not to go. In such weather, the emerald green saltwater and white land would not show their beauty.

The barren mountains around Golmud (Photo taken casually from the car at 13:13 on July 3, 2020)

4. Golmud → Madoi County

Once we gave up on visiting Qarhan Salt Lake, we felt relieved. We started the engine at 9:00. Departure!

The Qinghai-Tibet Highway generally takes Golmud as a reference point. The section from Golmud to Lhasa is the southern segment; from Golmud north to Xining is the eastern segment. Following the eastern segment, you can reach Caka Salt Lake, known as the "Mirror of the Sky." We had traveled this section many times, so we turned right to leave G109, thus concluding our journey on the Qinghai-Tibet Highway.

D16, June 30, 2020, Tuesday, Sunny: Lhasa → Yangbajain → Damxung → Nagqu, 329 km, 7.5 h, 8:40–16:23

Left Lhasa at 8:40. Dinner at Jiayuguan Yili Si BBQ (fried noodles, lid bowl tea) 170 yuan.

Checked into Nagqu Sanyi Hotel at 16:23, 298 yuan per twin room (including double breakfast)

D17, July 1, 2020, Wednesday, Sunny: Nagqu → Amdo → Tanggula Pass → Tanggulashan Town, 411 km, 9h16m, 7:40–16:56

Breakfast at hotel. Departed at 7:40. Fuel cost 322 yuan. Arrived at Tanggulashan Town at 16:56. Dinner (beef noodles and egg noodles) 45 yuan.

Checked into Golmud Anya Boutique Hotel, 160 yuan per twin room

D18, July 2, 2020, Thursday, Sunny with rain/snow: Tanggulashan Town → Tuotuo River → Kunlun Pass → Golmud, 415 km, 11h15m

After breakfast, departed at 7:15. Arrived at 18:30 at Hanting Hotel (Bayi West Road branch). Dinner (meat-stuffed bun, noodles, wontons) 44 yuan.

Checked into Hanting Hotel (Bayi West Road branch), Anya Boutique Hotel, 149 yuan per twin room (including one breakfast)

D19, July 3, 2020, Friday, Overcast: Golmud → Madoi, 576 km, 7h50m

After breakfast, departed at 9:00. Arrived at 16:50 at Madoi Lingxiang Inn. Dinner (Jiuding beef noodles) 94 yuan.

Checked into Madoi Lingxiang Inn, 200 yuan