Antler Bay

Antler Bay

Antler Bay is a national AAAA-level tourist attraction.

In spring, Antler Bay comes alive with lush grass and singing birds, as a faint layer of fresh green adorns the barren slopes and tree branches after winter. You’ll be amazed to find that the snowflakes dancing in the sky can be so beautiful when drifting over the emerald valleys. In an instant, the most tender scenery of Xinjiang throughout the year unfolds before your eyes — truly “a profusion of blossoms gradually bewitch the eye, and the shallow grass can barely hide a horse’s hoof.”

Located in Shawan County, Xinjiang, Antler Bay is 92 km from the county seat and accessible via the Tianshan Highway, making it conveniently reachable. It is one of the best pastures on the northern foothills of the Tianshan Mountains, situated in the low hills and valleys of the Habahiga Mountain area, stretching from Danangou in the east to Bayingou in the west, bordered by the steep and lofty Habahiga Mountain to the south and the government seat of Bortongu Township to the north. The terrain is gently undulating, and the grassland spreads boundlessly across 50 square kilometers. This area was once home to the Tianshan wapiti, and herds of these deer would shed their antlers annually, leaving behind numerous antler shells in the mountain streams and along the water’s edge — hence the name Antler Bay.

The average winter temperature in Antler Bay is -14°C, while the summer average is 20°C, with annual precipitation exceeding 600 mm. The area boasts lush water and grass, with numerous cattle and sheep. Ride the horses across the plains and let them gallop freely as the distant horizon appears and disappears amid the cool breeze, instantly invigorating your spirit. The scenery here is richly layered and thoughtfully arranged, vividly showcasing the saying “one mountain has four seasons, ten miles have different weathers.” The Ili Kazakh Autonomous Prefecture and Tacheng Region have held Aken storytelling festivals and ethnic minority sports events here, attracting massive gatherings and creating unprecedented scenes of festivity.

With only a short three-day holiday, Antler Bay was the obvious choice — closest in location, serene, little-known, and with a touch of mystique. A six-hour drive is considered very close for Xinjiang.

When there was still one hour left to reach our destination, light rain began to drizzle outside the window, with a faint mist lying ahead. The temperature dropped sharply, especially after entering the mountains, where the verdant pine trees and grassy slopes were all enveloped in a hazy veil of peaks. This is a branch range of the Western Tianshan Mountains, where two glacial streams cascade down the mountaintops like two silver dragons, rumbling loudly. Various wildflowers had already begun to bloom competitively in the crevices of the rocks, and the stones by the river were remarkably smooth and gently colored — they surprisingly lacked the rugged, strange appearance typical of western stones.

Declining the invitation of my companions, I followed a Kazakh woman alone to a homemade natural hot spring on her property. For just 3 yuan and with no time limit, I thoroughly enjoyed a relaxing hot spring soak. The wilderness was silent, filled only with the faint sound of rustling woods, the soft patter of rain, and the warm smile of the Kazakh woman.

Through the mountain wind, I spent a night without stars or moon. The next morning, we set off toward Antler Bay. The rain that hadn’t stopped all night faithfully accompanied our journey.

We were mentally prepared that Antler Bay lay even deeper in the mountains. My feet pressed tightly against the two bottles of liquor packed in my bag. I silently imagined how I’d sneak out of the campsite at night after arriving in Antler Bay, inviting the mythical “Deer Staff Elder” and “Crane Pen Elder” to drink heartily on the grassland. Of course, the ideal scenario would be for the rain to stop, the sky to clear, and for the moon and stars to accompany me as I lay or sprawled on the thick green meadow, carefree and utterly content.

But unfortunately, when we were still one hour away from the destination, the rain gradually turned into snow. And the deeper we went, the bigger the snowflakes became, until they were swirling wildly, battering the window frames, and the world outside had transformed into a glistening white expanse.

The road to Antler Bay had disappeared.

Looking toward a visible arc-shaped green mountain in the distance ahead, it loomed under the grayish-white sky. Could this be the place where the deer herds often roam? The unceasing snowflakes fell silently yet powerfully, and the mountain grew even whiter.

It wasn’t the accumulated snow of winter. Though thick, the snow lay softly and loosely on the green grass, with only an occasional frozen grass stem boldly poking out, curiously peering at the rare humans disturbing its slumber.

Despite the slippery path, some brave souls climbed up to the mountaintop, waving their clothes and shouting loudly, “Antler Bay, here I come!” The boisterous voices shook the snow from the pine branches, making it fall in flurries.

Of course, the legendary, clever, and beautiful herd of deer was nowhere to be seen. It seemed they had deliberately conjured up this snowstorm to hide their whereabouts from something — or someone.

We had no choice but to turn back. When the car returned along the original route, the weather was not what the usual forecasts would describe as a switch from rain to snow. Right at the boundary between the former rain and snow zones, we encountered a marvelous sight: snow continued to fall on one side, while light rain persisted on the other.

Looking back, snowflakes filled the sky, and the horizon was a vast white blur; looking forward, droplets of rain fell amid a sea of lush green. That was the answer — wherever the white snow swirled must be Antler Bay. Although I didn’t truly enter Antler Bay this time, I could already feel its fresh aura, and my longing for it grew even stronger, as if it were just within reach.

I returned to Antler Bay half a year later. In the setting sun, cattle quietly grazed on the golden-sunlit slopes. It’s said that if you venture deeper, you can spot deer herds and even find their oddly shaped shed antlers. At this moment, Antler Bay embraced me with a gentle, forgiving heart, like a young mother — humble, beautiful, and affectionate — revealing to me all the dreamlike sceneries I had imagined.