Go slow in Sichuan and Tibet

I dreamed of Aden several times, but all I dreamed of was my own body, lying on the ground like a straw, with a vague face.

I looked at it, just like the golden cicada who came back from Du Lingyun to learn the scriptures. I saw a dead body floating down from the upstream, but someone said in mid-air, "Don't be afraid, it's you."

From 2000 to 4800, the whole journey is 35 kilometers, and it takes 15 hours to walk with load.

Go, go, go ... 15 hours just do this one thing, and after that, the original me is dead, and I can't stop walking for a completely new life.

Along the way, rotten wood is ferocious, and the wasteland is thousands of miles away. The world is magnificent, and the flesh is like dirt.

The ever-changing climate on the plateau has plummeted from sunny and spring-like 28 degrees Celsius to zero, and suddenly there are snow-capped mountains, hail and thunder.

The illusion that the body reaches its limit and almost dies due to lack of oxygen. It's like having a dream. It's just a dull pain in the temple, so it's so real and numb.

There are no horses and porters. I can only grit my teeth and move forward with my eyes closed. You can rest, but you can't give up, because you will never retreat.

You feel that you have fallen from heaven to hell and returned to earth.

But we can finally see clearly: how powerful is faith?

The five of us set off at six in the morning that day. It's not light yet.

We found a guide to take us on the route of Tibetans crossing mountains and mountains.

Uncle Guide is a native Tibetan. He is in his fifties, with a dark face and limited Chinese. He always smiles. He was wearing a camouflage military coat that could not see the color clearly, and his back was covered with bedrolls and dry food. He is very experienced in this road and told us that today will be very hard. It is estimated that it will take more than ten hours to get dark.

This is not an ordinary road.

Starting from Kas village, it passes through a valley with dense virgin forest, which is called "Hell Valley" by local people.

Then take a steep uphill "paradise road" overlooking the two peaks of Yangmai Yong and Xiannairi.

Finally, I went down the mountain, arrived at Luo Rong Cattle Farm, and returned to the "human world".

When the prayer flags at the entrance of the village disappeared from sight, the stream became the only road sign. The more you walk, the more desolate you become. Scattered mani piles and wooden bridges by the water have become the only remains of mankind.

I counted silently until about 1 1 reached the wooden bridge, and we left the stream.

Uncle dipped the empty coke bottle in the spring water and then filled it up. There will be no more water on the mountain.

The fleece shirt has been soaked with sweat, and the soft and steep slope of the legs has just begun.

The forest is dark. Foot roots and greasy moss. Trees attached to tussah silk will gradually die, and trees that die naturally will fall down and become swaddling clothes for mushrooms and fungi. Hanging tussah is like a witch with long hair and waist, and her face is ferocious.

This is the valley of hell. This is like the haunt of Baku Yumemakura's ghost at night. Behind every tree hole, there is a peeping eye. Strange birds crow in the distance, which still makes people's backs cold in broad daylight.

At first, we had a rest every 40 minutes. Later, the rest interval became shorter and shorter. When resting, you can stand, but never sit, because once you sit, you can't stand up.

My husband Cui Daoxue, a sports background, is ahead. Miss Tao is thin, but she and her boyfriend grew up climbing mountains, and they tied for second place. Only the little fat man and I fell far behind and made a pair of he is my brother. My height 164, weight 45kg.

I ignored Cui Dao's urging. Walking is like an old lady climbing stairs, taking small steps, talking less and drinking water. In yoga class, abdominal breathing is used to adjust the heart rate, and the heart rate is kept within 140. When you really can't walk, you meditate on the heart sutra and clear your mind.

But I still think it is too difficult. Thin oxygen tests vital capacity. In order to maintain basic activities, breathing difficulties seem to burst the lungs. Without air, any movement becomes slow motion. Once the force is too strong, the temple hurts like an explosion.

Throw away all competitiveness, don't be a champion, I just want to be the one who walks to the finish line alive.

The forest came to an abrupt end, and at the end of a narrow path, my eyes suddenly opened up.

The sunshine is warm as a waterfall, and it is sprinkled on my head, making me close my eyes.

I feel very happy ... very happy.

No wonder some people say: this is a road to heaven. After experiencing the gloomy and steep hell valley, trembling legs seemed to cheer and ushered in a gentle slope. The altitude has become higher unconsciously.

On the green grassland, patches of pink and magenta azaleas are dotted with cold gray and pine green lonely valleys. The blue sky in Wan Li has been washed, the clouds are white without any impurities, and the soul seems to have been purified and become pure without desire.

Baixueding in the distance is the first of the three sacred mountains in Daocheng, with an altitude of 6032 meters.

According to legend, the three bodhisattvas turned all beings into three snow-capped mountains. Avalokitesvara Buddha incarnates the immortal as the sun, Manjusri Bodhisattva incarnates Yang Maiyong, and Vajrayana Bodhisattva incarnates Shenodoji Mountain.

On the plateau in June, the snow line has faded, but it has not completely melted. There is no vegetation above the snow line, and the rocks are exposed. Rock contains a substance similar to mica, which can reflect silver or golden light, and looks like Jinshan Yinshan from a distance, which is dazzling.

She is so solemn and sacred, standing at the foot of the snowy mountain, it is hard not to feel love and an impulse to worship.

You can often see some stone houses in the mountains, which are very small and made of ordinary shale slices. That's a rest stop built by Tibetans themselves.

There are stoves, metal kettles and utensils in the room to make a fire. The door is covered with oil paper and there are two tree sticks. Uncle said that they are used to resist "door panels" and avoid wild animals at night.

There are many Tibetans digging Cordyceps in the mountains, and Cordyceps is their main source of income. Only dig for two months a year. There are as few as 35 trees and as many as a dozen trees every day. According to the purchase price of 60 yuan per tree, the income can reach 40,000-60,000, much more than building roads and receiving tourists.

Cordyceps sinensis is a gift from Bodhisattva, from which children's tuition and women's dowry come.

For two months, I ate dry food, lived in the mountains, and couldn't see my family in that simple stone house. Cordyceps is hidden under the grass, which is the same color as the meadow and attracts attention. Men, women and children, lying on the ground, grasping the grass with their hands, touching the ground with their noses, searching inch by inch, even if there is only a small leaf, is hope.

Seeing us foreigners, they smiled simply and said in fluent Chinese, "Do you want Cordyceps? Buy a freshly dug one! "

Sitting in a brightly lit office building, you can never imagine the barrenness and hardship of the plateau unless you see it with your own eyes.

You have already exceeded your physiological needs, and you may not be able to imagine that such efforts have nothing to do with self-realization, just to survive, to eat enough and to go to school.

I have never thought about what these three words mean before. Until one day, I went to the No.1 celestial burial platform of Mount Everest in Shanghai, and listened to the Lama talking about the owners of those relics: babies who died young, teenagers who fell off cliffs, and old people who died in various ways, but all of them were stripped naked and returned to the posture of the fetus curled up, suffering from blood and fire. Sacrifice the eagle, and the soul will return to heaven, leaving nothing behind. This is the plateau. Life and death are too common, too common, so we look at them lightly.

I have also met people who have climbed mountains and mountains. Meeting a smile, Tashildler said, and they nodded and recited the scripture aloud. Some people don't talk, but kowtow during the forbidden word practice period. Practice is the only lamp in a limited life.

We found an empty stone house at the foot of the mountain and made a fire for lunch.

The guide put the spring water on the fire, boiled butter tea and took out a bun to chew. We also took out our own dry food and chewed hard. Out of the window is the abyss, clouds are rolling and clouds are comfortable, a beautiful scenery is presented, and dry food is not so hard to swallow.

I asked my uncle for a sip of tea. Black brick tea was filled with ghee, salty and fishy. I couldn't tell what it was, but I drank it like nectar.

After eating, I lay down to rest. Almost instantly, I was put down by my sleepy head and fell asleep.

I slept for an hour, but when I woke up, the world had changed color. I don't know where the sun went, but Yang Maiyong's treasure top has completely disappeared in the dark clouds.

The tour guide uncle urged us to start quickly, the weather is going to change.

I stared blankly at the dark clouds that seemed to collapse, wondering what the word "bad weather" meant.

Non-stop progress, the dark clouds are getting thicker and thicker, and the sky is low and suffocating. It is raining.

The rain in the south of the Yangtze River is soft and long, so it is romantic even without an umbrella.

The rain on the plateau, like a whip, like a small knife to cut meat, is cold and painful on the face.

The little fat man who laughed and laughed all the way finally stopped laughing. He seems to have a cold and a fever, and he almost doesn't want to talk anymore. Five people walked at a very slow speed, miserable.

But this bad weather doesn't sympathize with us. Soon, it began to hail, and the snow particles as big as beans crackled on the jacket. Trembling all over, teeth chattering.

I met two tourists from Aden before and asked us how to get to Daocheng. Dressed as a backpacker, there is no guide. Look at the weather, we have to cross the valley of hell. It's really sweating for them.

The rain falls and stops, occasionally a ray of sunshine pulls out several diagonal lines, and more often it is only cold rain and strong wind. The jacket is flooded and my fingers are stiff with cold. Although the scenery is beautiful, I can resist a strong desire for photography, so I wrapped my camera in a plastic bag and put it in my bag, and went on wholeheartedly.

Suddenly, a blue lake appeared in front of us, and everyone was refreshed.

The milk sea has arrived.

This means that we are still a third away from the camp.

It seems that there are hot buttered tea, warm sleeping bags and bonfires.

Na Pianhai, it's getting closer. Thick glaciers reflect the blue light of the lake, like sapphires embedded in silver rings.

Between rugged rocks and grasslands, Gesanghua only blooms at an altitude of more than 4000 meters. This kind of flower is lavender, which is inconspicuous at first glance, like a pile of dry sticks. Once it blooms, the scene is spectacular. Strangely, that kind of purple, no matter what camera is used to record it, is far less vivid than what the naked eye sees.

Gesanghua is a symbol of the plateau. This kind of flower is prickly and tenacious, just like the character of Tibetan women who dare to love and hate. Tibetan women are not flowers in a greenhouse, but gentle and kind mothers and fierce and stubborn lovers.

Milk Sea is a valley surrounded by mountains. It looks very close from the slope to the lake, and there are still ten minutes' journey.

A large group of wild rock sheep are grazing by the lake. They always carefully keep the distance of 200mm focal length, but this is the first time to look at them face to face.

A large pile of mani piles on the roadside, under the umbrella of five-color banners, are filled with stones brought by practitioners and walkers from all over the world. Scattered pieces of paper, pick up one with scripture and a winged horse printed on it. This is the wind horse paper thrown by the people who crossed the mountains to the top of the mountain. It is said that people can realize their wishes quickly.

I think this paper is very beautiful. I put it in my pocket and soon forgot it.

Can you not leave? I really want to stay and camp by the lake.

But we still need to feel the camp before dark. Before I left, I scanned the panorama of mountains and rivers with my eyes for the last time and fixed this beautiful place inch by inch in my memory.

?

From Milk Sea to Luo Rong Cattle Farm, it is basically a gentle downhill and stone steps. The altitude dropped slowly, and the feeling of tinnitus eased a little. But it rained harder and harder, and there was no intention of stopping.

It is said that it takes gas to go up the mountain and legs to go down the mountain. I can't feel my legs anymore. I just walked mechanically to prevent myself from falling. This road is fragmented in memory. I can't remember where I went and what scenery I passed. I only remember that the clothes on my back were cold and wet, and I was tired, hungry and had a splitting headache. I am chanting Amitabha, don't catch a cold, don't get altitude sickness, and go home safely.

The steps of the green slate have been soaked in rain and are particularly slippery. There are mountains on one side and cliffs on the other. Only two people are allowed to pass sideways in the narrowest place. The kind-hearted guide uncle grabbed the backpack strap on my shoulder and said, "I'm not afraid. I'll take you there. I'm not afraid."

He said several times to help you with your backpack, to help you with your backpack. I said, "Uncle, you are as old as my father. How can I throw my luggage to you? " He smiled, his face wrinkled: "Oh, oh! (Tibetan: Good) "

This section of the road is really difficult to walk. Uncle actually drank cold spring water from the mountain, and he was already a little uncomfortable and had diarrhea. But he kept putting up with it for fear that we would worry about him and sent us to the camp all the time. Only then did I know that I quickly dug out Norfloxacin from my bag and gave it to him, but he kept saying thank you.

Thank him for his kindness all the way. I can't say thank you a hundred times. Ask him what gift he wants, but he doesn't understand, or "oh!" " "With a smile. After chatting for a long time, I finally understood what I meant, but he didn't want anything else, as long as I sent him a photo of Bula Palace and asked him to worship at home every day. ...

Before dark, the last trek finally came to an end. At the end of the mountain, surrounded by trees, a green grassland gradually appeared.

The winding river runs through the green grass, and the riverbed is covered with golden gravel and dark pebbles. The young shepherdess led the chestnut horse, which formed a quiet and beautiful picture.

This kind of picture has only appeared in dreams before, and I once thought I was so tired that I was hallucinating.

My lips are frozen, my legs are numb, my senses are a little out of order, and I can't even feel the pain, but my ears have not disappeared.

A tinkling pastoral bell, approaching from a distance, is getting closer and closer ...

Cui Dao raised his mobile phone behind him and photographed my rickety back, but I didn't know it at the time. In the video, a group of horses ran head-on and happily separated from me, just like a rock separating a rushing river. I stood alone on the grassland, holding a mobile phone, neither avoiding nor talking, as if immersed in another silent world.

I felt the ground shaking when the horse rushed at me.

They opened their curious eyes and rushed straight at me, then turned sharply and passed by.

I forgot to dodge. Maybe I simply know that they are saying with their eyes: there is no harm between us.

Luo Rong cattle farm. Here we are. Finally arrived.

Lonely journey, no matter how many people accompany you, those who struggle with fatigue are lonely, and those who feel the peak are also lonely. My eyes are sore and my throat is tight. You ask me how moved I am? This is something that * * * is destined to enjoy, and it is necessary to get the certificate step by step. There is no shortcut.

I thought that when I arrived at Luo Rong Cattle Farm, all the self-abuse would end immediately. But this is not the case.

There is still a distance of12km from Luo Rong Niuchang to the tourist center camp (Longlongba). Fortunately, they are all flat grasslands. The sun has set, and everything around us has been dyed deep indigo by night. It was not until nine o'clock in the evening that we arrived at the visitor center.

The visitor center is still under renovation. This is why the scenic spot is closed.

After work, the workers get together to keep warm. When they saw that we were soaked to the skin, they immediately gave up the best position, dried our clothes and poured butter tea for us to drink.

These workers from Sichuan, Henan and other places are responsible for the reconstruction and construction of scenic spots, and they chatted with us.

When we came, the village chief said that the visitor center could put up tents for the night. An elder sister said: In the past, tourists who crossed on foot spent the night here, pitched tents, or put sleeping bags on benches, and then went down the mountain the next day.

We have taken off our clothes to dry and our sleeping bags have been laid. Suddenly, a leader of the scenic spot walked outside the door, saying that there was no decoration here and tourists could not be received, so he had to go down the mountain immediately.

Five people stared at each other, silly.

It was raining heavily in the dark, and we didn't even have the strength to speak. The little fat man still has a fever, and breathing is as difficult as pulling a bellows. I'm afraid I'll get pulmonary edema if I toss around again.

The tour guide uncle also helped us communicate with the leaders. I can't understand what they said in Tibetan.

The leader made some phone calls, and finally he told us that we could find a sightseeing battery car, take us out of the scenic spot, find a family hotel to stay, and return to Daocheng the next morning.

Although I don't want to move, battery cars and hotels have to pay for themselves, but there is no other way to think about it. Living in a place is much better than sleeping on a bench.

Sitting in a drafty car on all sides, the cold rain is ruthless, and the clothes that have just been aired are wet again.

A thunderbolt exploded overhead, and lightning lit up the surrounding pine trees dozens of meters high, which was particularly ferocious.

Cui Dao untied his only windproof clothes and wrapped me tightly in his arms. I shivered, put my hand into my pocket to keep warm, and suddenly touched the wind horse paper I found during the day. Without hesitation, I reached out and threw it into the endless darkness outside the car-

Go back to where you came from!

Goodbye! Daocheng

Christine, designer, travel photographer, self-media writer and founder of "Slow Travel". I like slow-paced travel and experience local life in depth. I have traveled in Southeast Asia, India, Sri Lanka and other places for three years, pursuing Xuanzang's footsteps, looking for the holy land of Buddha and focusing on the meaning of life.