This post tracks our ongoing effort to stitch together a modern version of the Tea & Horse Trail that connects Lijiang with Zhongdian/Shangri-la. Much of September and October was spent retracing and documenting the various alternative routes, which were identified based on interviews with old folk who live along them and remember the days of the caravans.

Joseph Rock introduced this region to the Western world through his articles and photographs in National Geographic in the 1920s and 30s. Rock lived for many years in the village of Yuhe, which sits in the shadow of the Jade Dragon Snow Mountain just north of Lijiang. This picture was taken in his bedroom, on the upper floor of the house pictured below. Rock first visited this area in 1922; after money for his expeditions dried up, he settled in Yuhe from the early 1930s until he was forced out in 1949, writing an ethnographic study of the Naxi people and compiling a dictionary of the Naxi dongba priests’ pictographic script.

Rock’s former residence is now a museum to the man and his work in China (15 yuan entrance, unless the old gentleman who now owns the place likes the look of you).

The old trading routes leading north from Lijiang run three main ways. One leads to the plain around Lashi Lake, which can just be seen in the photo above, and then over the range to the Jinsha River; the middle trail is the one I’m standing on to take this photo, leading to Wenhai Lake and then over a low pass almost immediately below the Jade Dragon; finally a somewhat circuitous route leads around the east side of the Jade Dragon and then down to a ferry across the Jinsha a couple of kilometers below Tiger Leaping Gorge.

Wenhai is an easy half-day’s trek from the small town of Shuhe (itself 5 km north of Lijiang). You can see where the trail leads down to the lake on the far side of this photograph, about a third of the way along from the right. From the town of Baisha, another trail, now upgraded to a dirt road, enters this basin just off the left of the picture. The lake is full of fish, but it has been contracted by a local family who don’t allow fishing. I suggested they think about selling permits, but there aren’t enough tourists yet to encourage them. A couple of pleasant guesthouses have been opened on the north shore, one owned by Lao He, pictured below. There are no signs, though, so should you want to visit and stay, call Lao He’s son on 13578393318 for directions.

Lao He showed me the way to the pass and then down the mountain to the Jinsha River. He remembered large caravans passing Wenhai when he was a child.

Lao He’s village by Wenhai is populated by Naxi farmers. Further up at the pass itself is the Yi village of Xuehua. Naxi people on the far side of the mountain recalled that in the old days they were greatly afraid of these Yi and did their best to travel in groups to avoid being attacked and robbed. Once over the range, however, the villages once more become Naxi – the man above is also named He; he welcomed us into his home in the village of Changshouping, offering a snack of apples and walnuts and a chance to play with his monkey.

This sad character, named Xiaoshahou, was bought by Mr He’s daughter, who is serving in the army in Simao in southern Yunnan. He cost about 600 yuan.

Mu Guoqing, 80, lives in the village of Ximing just a few hundred yards above the south bank of the Jinsha River. He is Naxi, originally from Baisha on the other side of the mountain, but moved into the valley 60 years ago when he was part of the road crew building the modern highway from Lijiang to Zhongdian. Before that road was built, Mu remembered the caravans making the journey from Baisha in half a day (it took me a day and a bit). He recalled that the main ferry crossing for caravans travelling this route was a few kilometers downstream, close to the entrance to Tiger Leaping Gorge.

Mu Guoqing shows me his bullet wound, courtesy of Tibetan rebels who, Mu said, killed more than 100 people before the Communists “liberated” the region north of the Jinsha River. Mu said that the PLA didn’t fight the Tibetans: following “nationalities policy” the rebels, once quashed (I’m not sure how this could be done without fighting, but this is what Mr Mu said) were only fined for the massacre of Mu’s workmates. On the far side of the river, a Naxi gentleman remembered his father telling him how in 1949-50 they worked the fields by day, then retreated across the river in the evening for fear of attack by Tibetans.

I spent two days traipsing along both banks of the river, looking for the old ferry crossings and asking locals which way the caravans went after they reached the north side. They were unanimous in saying that the caravans which came over from Wenhai went to Chongjianghe via the valley by the entrance to Tiger Leaping Gorge, basically following the line of the modern road until the trail climbed high onto the ridge that leads to Shi’erlangan (see below). For caravans that went via Lashi Lake, however, the ferry was further upstream at Axi, from where the caravans went in the opposite direction before climbing onto the plateau by a path close to Jinjiang. You can see a basic map of these routes here. I’m afraid some of the place names aren’t there, but that’s Google Maps for you…

On the north bank of the Jinsha I got lost for more than an hour in this cornfield in Xinren, looking for the ferry to Axi that, allegedly, still plies its trade for 4 yuan a crossing. I never did find my way to the riverside. The pass leading from Lashi Lake to the Jinsha is concealed by the tree left of center.

Here’s where we really started to make some progress. This photo is taken from the lower end of Tiger Leaping Gorge; the broad plain on the far side of the river belongs to the small town of Daju. If you were to walk off the right hand side of this photo and up the mountain, the trail would take you onto the Lijiang plain north of Baisha (see the map link above). Where the river bends around out of sight, there is still a working ferry. From this point, the caravans used to trek straight up to the multiethnic group of villages at the base of Mt Haba, the fourth highest mountain in Yunnan (5,396 meters), and then took one of two routes: in summer, they went over the Haba range to join the main trail from the top of Tiger Leaping Gorge; when the pass was closed by snow, they continued north on the east side of the Haba range – a slightly longer but lower route.

Xu Xinmin worked on the caravans during their final days in the late 1940s and early 50s, hauling tea from Dali to Zhongdian via his home village of Haba. He had to look after five mules at a time. In 1957 he was part of a caravan that went all the way to Lhasa, carrying equipment to print money in the Tibetan capital and so help connect the Tibetan economy with the rest of New China.

The “Haba Snow Mountain Mosque”, one of two recently built mosques at the base of Mt Haba. The population here is a tapestry of Hui Muslim, Naxi and Yi. The Hui and Naxi inhabit the more desirable areas lower in the valley, while the Yi occupy the heights – a familiar pattern in Yunnan’s multiethnic regions.

This is the Yi village high above Haba Village. Beyond this, the trail continues to climb for several hours before reaching the ridge, more than 3,700 meters above sea level (at the Jinsha River the day before, we were fewer than 2,000 meters above sea level). Locals said no one other than woodcutters and herders walked this way any more, as a modern road now connects Haba with villages to the north. There is also a “Tea & Horse Trail” footpath for tourist trekkers leading north from Haba to the White Water Terrace, but Xu Xinmin said this was definitely not part of the old trading route.

This was a lovely time to be walking these high trails. It could be freezing at night, but by day when the sun shone the temperature was perfect. The rainy season was behind us by this point, as well, and the autumn colours were approaching their very best.

You see some unusual things high in the mountains, as well. While chatting with a small group of Yi men who were cutting rhododendron roots to make into bowls and cups for sale, an older Hui gentleman walked by carrying this beautiful antique rifle. “What are you hunting for?” I asked. “Nothing,” he said, “This is to scare wild animals away from me and my [yak] herd.” What kind of wild animals, I wondered? “Bears, wolves, leopards…” It doesn’t do to trek alone here.

This is a percussion lock rifle, one step up from the old flintlocks and probably the technology of choice for advanced Western imperialists during the Opium Wars.

This is where the old fellow grazes his yaks. From here, the summer caravan trail bore left, crossing the Haba range and joining the main trail to Zhongdian at Tuguan.

From Tuguan, the trail immediately climbed once again onto the distant ridge in this picture. From here it is just a few minutes walk to the most precipitous and celebrated stretch of Tea & Horse Trail in the Zhongdian area…

The trail is known as Shi’erlangan, which is actually the name of the stony mountain in the picture above. You can see the trail as a white scar starting across the mountainside from the top right of the photo.

Sadly, this now interrupts the trek. The new Jisha Hydroelectric Power Station is in the valley far, far below, and the slope above has been devastated by the construction work. Nevertheless, there is no reason why the path should not be reconnected. At present, this walled enclosure only occupies about 40-50 meters, and the trail is perfectly intact on both sides. But no pack animal could pass at present, and it’s not to be recommended for people, either. I was persuaded across by the two young men in the picture below, who come from the Yi village of Guanfeng on the other side of the mountain. There’s no picture of this part, as I was solely concentrating on not looking at the 500-meter drop next to my feet. It was hard to ignore, though. Never again

You can see the trail stretching away along the mountainside until it reaches a small plain, where a Lisu village named Yijia stands.

Shi’erlangan’s fame rests partly on this poem, inscribed in the rock by a official named Zhang Bingyi, who was sent to Zhongdian during the reign of the Qianlong Emperor (1736-95). The poem describes the difficulty of this trail and mentions a saying that Shi’erlangan is “on the border between the human and the spirit world” – true enough if one was to fall off. Zhang writes that he had never seen a path so steep, and that fear of it brought tears to his eyes. I know exactly how he felt. He also goes on to say, however, that having summoned up the courage and strength to walk across, his spirit soared.

A legend says that an image of the Bodhisattva Guanyin once appeared on the cliff face, hence locals also referred to Shi’erlangan as “Guanyin Ya”, i.e. Guanyin Cliff. Zhang Bingyi therefore had an image of Guanyin carved in the rock to reassure travellers.

My young Yi guides, Ji Guibao and Ji Hongsong, took ritual every bit as seriously as any Tibetan would. Before ascending the footpath to the image of Guanyin, we collected some pine branches, placed them on a pile at the base of the path, and then walked once around it. The packet of cigarettes had been left by a previously visitor, and the two Ji’s were put out that I had no such offering. I dug out a packet of biscuits and asked if that would be OK; they cheered up and said yes, biscuits would be fine, too.

From Shi’erlangan, the Tea & Horse Trail runs through pine forest and the odd Lisu and Yi hamlet before reaching the Tibetan Plateau, less than half a day’s trek further on.

This is Jisha, the first sizable Tibetan village in Xiao Zhongdian, and also the point at which caravans on the western route from Lashi and Jinjiang arrived in the Tibetan region. While peasants in the Jinsha valley were preparing to harvest corn, here at 3,200 meters above sea level they were already reaping the autumn barley.

The Zhongdian Tibetans are generally an hospitable crowd. The mother of this young lady, Yangzong Zhuoma, invited us in and treated us to yak butter tea, yak cheese, tsampa and fried eggs.

The leaves of the Euphorbia nematocypha turn swathes of the Xiao Zhongdian plain a brilliant red every autumn. It pays to be careful where you choose to take photos of this spectacle, however. There is a particularly lush area next to the highway a few kilometers before it reaches Diqing airport. A gaggle of local ladies lies in wait for the tour buses that stop here for the photo opportunity, then pounces to demand 10 yuan for the privilege of photographing “their” Euphorbia.

This vantage point offers one of the best views of the Xiao Zhongdian valley – and it’s still free of ticket collectors. The Tea & Horse Trail was easy going all the way from Jisha, basically a flat, two-day stroll into the old town of Dukezong, now the center of “Shangri-la” and the only [semi-] intact old town of this kind in all of Tibet.

For a modern caravan, however, the trail must divert from the Xiao Zhongdian plain in order to escape the highway. You can just see the footpath descending from the ridge in the center of the above photo. It comes down right behind the Jiantang Hotel, from where it’s a 10-15 minute walk towards the camera into the center of the old town…

…and a well-earned cup of yak butter tea on the veranda of a 180-year-old house. Cheers!