On January 12, Lhasa experienced its heaviest snowfall in recent years. From the direction of the Medicine King Mountain, the white walls of the Potala Palace perfectly connect the strip of white clouds on the horizon with the snowy ground below.
Every summer, a large number of people ride their bicycles from all over the country to the foot of the Potala Palace; or start from here and head for Yadong or even farther to Kathmandu. To protect themselves from the piercing ultraviolet rays of the plateau, they are fully equipped with helmets, sunglasses, magic scarves, and cycling suits. They are the cyclists of Tibet.
The Cyclist Who Can’t Stop
25 Years Riding 12 Tibet Routes
Winter is the quietest time in Lhasa. Across from the Second Senior High School on Najin Middle Road, there is an inn called “Sky.” Due to the off-season and the approaching Lunar New Year, the innkeeper has gone back to his hometown inland for the holidays. A small dog lies lazily in the sun at the entrance, and during the owner’s absence, it is accompanied by an old friend who is a seasoned cyclist.
This cyclist temporarily stays at Sky Inn. On cycling forums, he calls himself “Lone Rider.” The plateau in winter is dry and oxygen-thin. Even cyclists known for their endurance and tenacity rarely choose this time to come to Tibet. “Last winter I rode from Damxung to Shiquanhe in Ngari. It was extremely cold, with temperatures as low as minus twenty or thirty degrees. My sleeping bag even froze. Most people really can’t take it,” said “Lone Rider.”
This “Lone Rider” is actually named Li Congming, a craftsman. Of medium height, with dark skin and a strong build, “his bicycle tracks span all 31 provinces, municipalities, and autonomous regions of the mainland, covering nearly 100,000 kilometers.”
If it weren’t for a report 25 years ago, Li Congming might still be living a peaceful life in his rural hometown. In 1989, at just 20 years old, Li Congming read an article in Liaoning Youth titled “Solo Hiking Around China,” which deeply moved him. Unable to contain his excitement, driven by passion and impulse, he packed a simple point-and-shoot camera, rolled up a few old clothes, and set off on an ordinary women’s bicycle, beginning his long cycling journey.
And once he started, he never stopped for 25 years.
In the 1990s, very few people in China were involved in outdoor sports, especially long-distance cycling. In the eyes of family and friends, Li Congming, who came from a farming background, was undoubtedly an restless “outsider.”
“Back then, I was poor, couldn’t afford gear, let alone any training. I had just learned to ride a bike when I set off. I often fell on the road, didn’t know how to fix my bike when it broke down, and had to learn everything through trial and error,” said Li Congming.
Being an “outsider” always comes with a price. Over the years, Li Congming has faced numerous dangers: encountering wolves in the primeval forests of Changbai Mountain in the northeast; falling off a cliff on icy roads while cycling in Shennongjia, Hubei in winter; experiencing sandstorms in the Taklamakan Desert of Xinjiang... But Li Congming also encountered unexpected surprises: seeing Mount Namjagbarwa at Sejila Pass, spotting rare black-necked cranes in the wetlands east of Nyingchi County, and witnessing the wonders of nature at the “Seventy-Two Turns” in Bangda...
After all these years of cycling, what Li Congming can’t do without is still Tibet. “The southern Sichuan-Tibet route, the northern Sichuan-Tibet route, the Yunnan-Tibet route, the Qinghai-Tibet route, the Tang-Tibet Ancient Road, the Xinjiang-Tibet route, the China-Nepal route...” So far, Li Congming has continuously cycled 12 Tibet routes, totaling 720 days and covering 23,221 kilometers.
“Tibet’s scenery is magnificent and its cultural heritage is profound. I especially love the simplicity, warmth, and kindness of the people here. Tibet’s high altitude makes it difficult for most people to adapt, but I enjoy challenging limits,” said Li Congming.
Li Congming is not alone. On every long cycling trip, he meets like-minded friends, often exchanging experiences and sharing joyful moments from the journey. Later, he even prepared a notebook specifically for cyclists to leave messages.
On one page of Li Congming’s message book, three flamboyantly written characters appear: Jiao Kangping.
The University Teacher Who Cycles to Tibet
Doing Something to Be Proud Of
In the summer of 2012, 32-year-old Jiao Kangping set off from his hometown of Hengyang and, over 50 days, cycled along the Yunnan-Tibet route all the way to Potala Palace Square.
As a teacher at Hengyang Normal College, Jiao Kangping’s connection with the bicycle began in 2011. That summer, a student cycling to Lhasa left a deep impression on him. Soon after, he also got the idea of cycling to Lhasa. “It’s a place everyone yearns for. I felt that if I didn’t do it now, I might never have the chance later.”
Cycling to Tibet was a hard-to-understand decision in the eyes of many relatives and friends. “Many of them tried to dissuade me, but I stuck with it. Cycling requires a brave heart. Only by going out can you realize how big the world is,” said Jiao Kangping.
Before the trip, to get ready, Jiao Kangping cycled around the outer ring of Hengyang City daily, covering nearly 40 kilometers, and persisted for half a year. Unconsciously, he found not only his physical strength improving but also feeling cheerful and confident every day.
During the more than one month cycling the Yunnan-Tibet route, sometimes covering 140 kilometers in a day, Jiao Kangping encountered many difficulties. What impressed him most was the “Seventy-Two Turns” in Bangda—a section of treacherous mountain road known worldwide. Starting from an elevation of 3,100 meters at its lowest point, it climbs all the way to the Yak Pass at 4,658 meters, then spirals down to the town of Bangda at 4,100 meters, featuring a downhill stretch of over 40 kilometers. It is said that at the “Seventy-Two Turns,” roughly 2 out of 10 cyclists will fall. “Looking back, I still feel a lingering fear,” said Jiao Kangping.
In the blink of an eye, more than a year has passed. Just this week, Jiao Kangping completed another semester of teaching. He said, “Often, giving up only takes a second, but perseverance is the hardest part. It’s just like going to Tibet. I believe that in one’s lifetime, there should be at least one moment when you forget yourself for a dream, give everything without expecting anything in return, and go all in—just to do something in your prime that you can be proud of.”
Nowadays, the task of cycling to Tibet has long been successfully completed, and cycling has become a daily hobby for Jiao Kangping. “I still go cycling whenever I have time. Cycling not only builds the body and tempers the will but also allows you to connect with nature.” Jiao Kangping plans to take his 7-year-old son on a cycling trip to Beihai this month and return to his hometown of Tianshui before the New Year. “For children, this can lay a foundation for facing life bravely and strongly in the future,” said Jiao Kangping.
In recent years, more and more people like Jiao Kangping have cycled to Tibet along traditional routes such as the Sichuan-Tibet and Yunnan-Tibet routes during the summer. In Li Congming’s view, this is a good thing. “Riding to Tibet is something to be proud of. Especially for today’s youth, who haven’t endured much hardship, cycling to Tibet can greatly change their outlook on life and the world, and is highly beneficial for their future paths.”
However, another cycling friend of Li Congming, Xiao Hei, expressed concern about the Tibet cycling craze. “Nowadays, many young people follow trends, thinking that cycling to Tibet is a cool thing. They act on impulse and set off without considering the potential dangers along the way.”
Xiao Hei, the Owner of the Open-Minded Hostel
Can you afford to slow down, think it over, and then set off?
Xiao Hei, a post-80s individual, graduated from the School of Journalism at Nanjing University. In 2003, he cycled along the Sichuan-Tibet Highway all the way to Lhasa. As a broke student, he spent two full years preparing for the ride to Tibet. Financially, he saved up for the journey by working part-time at fast-food restaurants; physically, he kept up his stamina through running and cycling training. At the time, few people were cycling to Tibet, so he did everything possible to gather route maps and travel tips for the trip.
After graduating from university, Xiao Hei went to work at Wuxi TV Station in Jiangsu. During that time, leveraging his professional skills, he produced and directed the documentary “Cycling on the Horizon.” This film significantly boosted the domestic cycling craze. “For a while there, I had to host cyclists from all over the country at the station every day.”
In Xiao Hei’s view, cycling is a form of spiritual practice. “When you ride out alone, free from distractions, you gain a lot of insights.”
Over his 10 years of cycling, Xiao Hei has also faced some life-threatening moments. The most challenging ride he recalls was along the Bingchacha route, a historic packhorse trail from Bingzhongluo Township in Gongshan Dulong and Nu Autonomous County, Yunnan Province, to Zayü County’s Chawalong Township in Tibet. His friend Li Congming’s recollections also confirm the treacherousness of the Bingchacha route: “In 2012, when I rode the Bingchacha route, heavy snow blocked the roads. I had to carry my bike and luggage while crossing three high-altitude mountains, all over 4,000 meters. The distance from Zayü to Chawalong is just 200 kilometers, but it took me nearly half a month. I almost met with disaster several times.”
Nowadays, when Xiao Hei talks about the dangers on the road, his tone is very calm. “Over the years, I’ve been through so much that my mental resilience has become extremely strong—there are hardly any difficulties I can’t handle now.” Xiao Hei’s outdoor adventures didn’t stop at cycling. In May 2010, he completed his first ascent of Mount Everest. Yet cycling remains his favorite sport. “Cycling is a low-barrier, accessible activity. Compared to mountaineering, it costs less, suits people of all ages, and offers great freedom,” says Xiao Hei.
In 2010, Xiao Hei arrived in Chengdu on his bicycle. It’s the starting point of the Sichuan-Tibet Highway. After cycling around the city for over half a year, he found an ideal spot on Dongjiaochang Street and opened a youth hostel called “Xianren Youth Hostel” (Idle Souls Hostel). He said, “Life goals vary greatly, and paths of living are wonderfully diverse. Whether you’ve achieved a little success or are still struggling hard, there’s always a place where life needs to pause, where you can slow down and reflect. Even when you set off again, you can proudly say your youth once ‘idled.’” Within just half a year of opening, Xianren Youth Hostel became a hub for offline gatherings among cyclists.
As one of the earlier cyclists to enter Tibet, both Li Congming and Xiao Hei have now taken their cycling beyond the bikes themselves. They aim to contribute something to the larger community of cycling enthusiasts. Not long ago, Li Congming completed hand-drawn maps of 12 Tibet routes and is currently planning to write a book titled “The Complete Guide to Cycling Routes to Tibet” for future travelers.
Meanwhile, Xiao Hei, who serves as the China Operations Director of an outdoor club in France, is planning a service project along the Sichuan-Tibet Highway right from his hostel. Xiao Hei said that every year, numerous accidents of varying scales occur on the Sichuan-Tibet Highway. He plans to launch a support vehicle service this summer along the highway to provide safety assistance for cyclists.
With just over a month to go until Tibetan New Year, once the holiday is over, Li Congming will embark on another journey across the uninhabited Qiangtang Plateau in northern Tibet. Even if all goes smoothly, he won’t return to Lhasa until September. Li Congming’s WeChat profile description perfectly explains all this “madness”: “As long as I live, I’ll keep cycling—this is my Chinese Dream.”
Editor’s Postscript
With today’s publication of “Ride When You Must—Exploring the Snowlands,” our focus on urban fitness culture comes to a temporary close.
Almost imperceptibly, fitness culture has become a phenomenon in large and medium-sized cities. Through this series of reports, we’ve discovered that whether it’s Olympic sports like soccer and badminton, or non-Olympic activities such as tai chi and outdoor pursuits, there is no shortage of enthusiasts. The numbers of “running buddies,” “ball-playing friends,” “martial arts partners,” and “cycling pals” continue to grow, their circles expanding wider and wider. Within these groups, they not only exercise their bodies but also redefine ways of socializing and enjoying life.
Sports are for the masses. If this enthusiasm and demand for sports among the public can be well guided and served, it will certainly promote and enhance competitive sports in return, creating a virtuous cycle of shared development. Given the current state and trends of national fitness, our relevant authorities need to plan ahead and accelerate steps toward transforming sports culture.