Now, I’ll summarize the common questions people ask. If you have any other questions, feel free to ask me again.
Sichuan-Tibet Route:
Expenses: Including daily accommodation and meals. I started counting from the day I arrived in Chengdu until the day I left Lhasa, including the round-trip train tickets. My total expense was just over 3,000 yuan. During this period, I didn’t visit any paid attractions because we were enjoying the scenery all along. Mountains, grasslands, glaciers, rivers, snow-capped peaks... pretty much everything you can imagine was there.
Food and Accommodation: Around 20 yuan per night for lodging—that’s roughly the price. Meals averaged 10–15 yuan per person. When cycling the Sichuan-Tibet route, my breakfast was usually fried rice with eggs, lunch was steamed buns, and I only ate at restaurants for dinner. For lodging, I generally followed the travel guides, and there was always a place to stay with acceptable prices.
Time: I arrived in Chengdu on July 15, 2010, and reached Lhasa on August 8. Most of that time was spent cycling. I only stayed two days in both Chengdu and Lhasa.
Note: You might ask, how could the cost be so low? Or perhaps, how could it be so high? After all, you’re going to Tibet—there are no karaoke bars on those mountains, and no drinks are sold on Gossul Monastery Mountain. At most, you might get charged a 1-yuan “privacy fee” for taking a dump in a makeshift pit latrine covered with yak hides by Tibetan herders. Think about it—what else is there to spend money on besides eating, drinking, relieving yourself, and enjoying the wild scenery on the Sichuan-Tibet route? Also: please don’t randomly give things to Tibetan kids. Charity doesn’t prove your kindness—they’re naturally kind and innocent children.
Xinjiang-Tibet Route:
Expenses: This trip on the Xinjiang-Tibet route cost 4,000 yuan, including a 44-hour hard-seat train ride from Shanghai to Ürümqi, a 36-hour hard-seat ride from Ürümqi to Kashgar, and the train fare back home from Lhasa. The Xinjiang-Tibet route has about 1,000 kilometers of uninhabited area—buy fewer drinks and carry more water. There probably aren’t many places to spend money anyway.
Food and Accommodation: About 1,000 kilometers of the route involved camping, so expenses here were minimal. Once you leave Yecheng, it’s pretty much uninhabited until you reach Rutog, where you can start feeling the vibe of a city again. Once inside Tibet, you don’t need to camp every day—you can find guesthouses to stay in, with prices around 20–30 yuan. Coke prices: 4–5–6 yuan; bottled water: 3 yuan. In the uninhabited area, my main food was instant noodles and oatmeal. Sometimes I ate instant noodles for all three meals for a day or two—it got so bad that you’d feel disgusted at the sight of noodles afterward. One thousand kilometers of uninhabited area = one thousand kilometers of wind, sand, dust, Tibetan antelopes, and various forms of self-inflicted hardship. You won’t be spending much here. With the help of an auntie, we bought whole lamb legs for 20 yuan per jin at markets in Purang and Zhada, then had them cooked at restaurants for a processing fee of either 10 or 30 yuan—the lamb legs were absolutely delicious. Thanks to Auntie Tianya from Jinan.
Time: Started with a train ride from Shanghai on July 7, 2011. Spent a full day in Ürümqi, arrived in Kashgar on the evening of July 11, began cycling from Kashgar on July 15, finished the ride on August 16 in Lhaze, took the bus to Lhasa on August 17, and left Lhasa by train to Xining on August 18. The journey included time for circumambulating sacred mountains, visiting the Zhada Tsangpo Valley and Guge Kingdom, and stopping in Purang. There wasn’t much rest, as we were mostly on the move, so the overall time was relatively short.
Note: Prices in the uninhabited areas of the Xinjiang-Tibet route vary greatly. Try to stock up on supplies in suitable locations. Food prices at the Thirty Mile Camp store were fair—I recommend buying more there. Same goes for Duoma Township. Buy extra there to avoid higher prices elsewhere. Keeping your energy up is crucial, so make sure you eat enough. I once met a pampered girl from Shanghai who wouldn’t eat pork, greasy food, or spicy food—and ended up hitchhiking all the way to Lhasa from day one of the ride. It’s worth noting that it’s best not to eat pork when leaving Yecheng or when close to Lhasa, as the pork there isn’t fresh. You’ll notice the stench of pork fades the closer you get to Lhasa—it’s all shipped in from there and spoils en route. As for transporting your bike to the starting point: if you have money, you can choose express delivery or rail freight—costing around 170 yuan per shipment. For us common folk, the method is to remove the front and rear wheels and pedals, and stuff the bike under the hard seat on the train. Sleeper cars are even more convenient—but it’s still advisable to spend 20 yuan hiring a “Little Red Cap” porter to help get it on the train in advance. China’s crowded, you know how it is. Travel enough, and you’ll realize it’s not just an age of “who your dad is,” but also an age of “who you know.” Those with connections can get help from the train conductor to secure a spot, while the rest of us have to fight for space—if the attendant finds your stuff, they’ll give you trouble. My Sichuan-Tibet trip went relatively smoothly. But when I went to Ürümqi, not only did I endure a 44-hour hard-seat ride, but I was also charged for excess luggage on that damn train.
As for the Qinghai-Tibet and Yunnan-Tibet routes, I haven’t traveled them, so I don’t know the situation there. The Yunnan-Tibet route overlaps with the southern Sichuan-Tibet route after crossing the Jinsha River Bridge. As for the Qinghai-Tibet route, I saw it from the train window while sipping tea, leaving Lhasa. I watched those brave souls cycling the Qinghai-Tibet route, foolishly hunched over, struggling up the slopes. I wanted to say: I was just as foolishly hunched over back then. To this day, I still can’t figure out that utterly foolish question only a fool would ask: why do so many fools travel in such a foolish way every year? Eventually, I came to this conclusion: only a real fool would think you’re a fool for doing something foolish. As the saying goes, very wisely: walk your own path, and let the fools talk. Keep going—your dreams are in your hands. Don’t let others’ doubts stop you. The road to Tibet isn’t as terrifying as the rumors say—it’s just that there are more cliffs and rapids. Other than that, it’s really not that bad. (Reposted)