During the Dragon Boat Festival holiday, organized by Big Camel, our group of 11 set off from Beijing, regrouped in Chengdu, and arrived by car at Chuanzhusi on the afternoon of the 10th. That night, we abandoned the vehicles and camped at the entrance of Kakagou. After passing through Wenchuan, feeling somewhat dazed, we looked at the newly built Wenchuan Middle School and thought of the lives lost. The small bodies under the rubble huddled together as if seeking warmth. Oh children, the world isn’t really cold—why didn’t you get to see the warm sunshine?
My gear wasn’t very expensive but it worked well. The sleeping bag was great, and I slept soundly through the night. The water bottle that Wushuang hung outside the tent was covered in ice, and there was a thick layer of frost outside. Huadan complained that she hadn’t slept a single minute all night. Brother Xiaoma had boasted earlier about his newly purchased sleeping bag from the US, but after a night of light sleep, he said it was really cold and that he’d wear fleece pajamas to sleep tomorrow. We started late, and the pack horses carried our gear as we set off in a grand procession. My phone lost signal early on, and the radios were all left in the car, so communication basically relied on shouting.
The horse team wound its way through the valley, with the scenery constantly changing around us. Sometimes we descended into the gully, sometimes we climbed uphill, continually crossing crystal-clear streams. The grass was lush and the forests dense, with alpine rhododendrons as tall as the horses. It’s a pity that they had already bloomed. Had we come half a month earlier, we would have walked through an ocean of green grass and flowers. The journey to Caohai Camp was only 10 kilometers, but we experienced a variety of terrains: ridges, meadows, dense forests, low bushes, streams, towering mountains on both sides, and snow-capped peaks looming in the distance. The air was fresh, the ultraviolet rays intense, the forest offered shade, and everything felt completely natural, untouched by human hands. You could clearly see the vegetation growth line—thick woods below the mountainside, bare rocks above. Looking down, we realized we were already at an altitude of 3,800 meters.
After admiring the beautiful Changhai Lake, we set up camp nearby. We started a fire to cook, and Big Camel climbed halfway up the mountain to chop down a dead pine tree and carried it back down. A few team members experienced altitude sickness, but I, Daxia, and Xuema were fine. Jing was tending to the guide’s injury—very professionally. I took the guide’s axe and chopped some wood for a while—it was hard physical work. Big Camel also took a few photos of me. Since I wasn’t suffering from altitude sickness, I felt relieved. After dinner, we lit a bonfire. Big Camel, Xuema, Bingkuai, and Daxia drank the highland barley wine given to us by the guide, gazed at the starry sky, sang songs, and had a good time. Wushuang set up her camera and captured star trails.
The trek from Changhai Camp to the mouth of Aweng Valley was quite challenging. Along the way, we had to cross a 4,200-meter mountain pass. The road was rugged, and those with altitude sickness faced great difficulties. Fortunately, everyone was fairly skilled at riding. The horses struggled uphill, especially with the steep incline, and the pack horses slipped from time to time. However, not a single rider dismounted, and all of us made it over the pass. Standing at the pass, the snow-capped mountains loomed right in front of us—so close yet so far, majestic and overwhelming. We couldn’t bear to leave and stayed there for a long time.
After three nights of camping, considering the team’s altitude sickness conditions, Big Camel and Brother Xiaoma decided to shorten the itinerary. We left the pack horses and gear behind, traveled light, and planned to exit the valley a day early. In the morning, after taking their medication, the team members with altitude sickness quickly set off. The horse team moved swiftly, trotting all the way to the foot of Hongxing Rock. We abandoned the horses and hiked up to Hongxinghai Lake, reaching the source of the Min River. Meltwater from surrounding snow-capped mountains gathered here to form Hongxinghai Lake, which the Tibetans call a sacred lake. The lake water was crystal clear, reflecting the snow mountains. It was so serene and yet so vast. We sat by the lake, purifying our minds. At that moment, I suddenly understood the meaning of one word: “sacred.”
After descending, we continued our rapid march and reached the valley entrance before dark. Seeing the road ahead marked the end of our soul-purifying journey.
Qicang Valley Travel Tips: Take nothing but photos. Leave nothing but footprints.