In the Creases of Time, Reuniting with Shangri-La's Four Seasons

Some places, once encountered, become a lifelong obsession. For me, Daocheng Yading is exactly that.

Eight years ago, I set foot on this land for the first time. Back then, I had no idea what high altitude meant, what trekking entailed, or how fate was quietly planting seeds for the future. Eight years later, having finally collected all four seasons here, I sit at my computer typing these words. The wind outside my window still seems to carry the scent of Luorong Pasture's meadows, and my nostrils recall that thin, crisp air.

This was a promise eight years overdue.

A Death, and a Rebirth

October 2011. Autumn in Chongqing carried a damp chill. I was a sophomore in college when I received a life-changing phone call—my best friend from middle school, who had jumped into a river to save a drowning classmate in another city, never made it back to shore.

The friends who had promised to accompany me to his funeral never showed up at the station. Their phones rang endlessly with cold automated prompts. Alone, I boarded a long-distance bus. During that bumpy ride, I thought seriously about the weight of "friendship" for the first time. I wasn't trying to guilt anyone—it was just that in that moment, so-called "brotherhood" felt as thin as paper when faced with reality.

For two weeks after returning to school, I was a ghost. Then I overheard someone from the neighboring class planning a trip to Daocheng Yading—a place I'd never heard of. As a kid who grew up in Xinjiang and had never been to high altitude, I impulsively joined them.

That was my first trek, my first taste of what it means to have your body in hell while your heart soars in heaven. After climbing for over four hours to reach Milk Lake, I collapsed on a rock, gasping for breath. Before me, the snow-capped Mount Yangmaiyong was so beautiful it made me want to cry. In that moment, I understood: life is so short and fragile. Instead of agonizing over hollow relationships, I should spend my limited time experiencing the landscapes truly worth remembering.

Eight Years, Dozens of Trips, One Obsession

Starting in autumn 2011, I became obsessed. I returned again and again. I saw the golden autumn forests burst into color. I got soaked in the drizzles of western Sichuan's rainy season. I witnessed the meadows come alive in early summer. But winter—winter always eluded me.

Every time I came back from Yading, friends urged me to write a travelogue. I always dodged: "I'll do it once I've seen all four seasons." Deep down, I knew I was leaving myself a reason—a must-come-back excuse.

Then, at the end of 2019, a few friends planning a road trip said they wanted to go to western Sichuan to "cleanse their lungs." I had just returned from India with my lungs full of various "flavored" particles, and I was desperate for a good rinse. Aba's grasslands in winter were nothing but endless snowfields. Lixian and Maoxian were too close, too easy. When I said "Daocheng Yading," everyone agreed instantly.

And so, I embarked on this "stamp-collecting" journey—to collect Yading's winter and fulfill that eight-year-old promise.

The Highway Song: Finding Myself on Route 318

With the Yagang Expressway open, it took us less than four hours to go from Chengdu to Kangding. The winding mountain roads over Erlang Mountain have been replaced by tunnels and bridges. Convenient, yes, but it lacks that old "entering Tibet" ceremonial feeling.

When we crossed Zheduo Mountain, the world outside the window was already pure white. Sunlight broke through the clouds and scattered across the snow, blinding us. At Tagong Grassland, we caught the golden half-hour—Yala Mountain turned from white to gold, then to pink, before fading into twilight. The entire grassland was ours alone. The wind howled past our ears; prayer flags snapped in the breeze.

In that moment, I felt it: these eight years of waiting were worth it.

Changqing Chunke'er Temple: Cultivation in Light and Shadow

Litang, the highest city in the world at 4,200 meters, is the birthplace of Tsangyang Gyatso. Every time I pass through, I remember his poem: "You see me, or you don't see me, I am there, neither sad nor joyful."

In the afternoon at Changqing Chunke'er Temple (Chorten Gompa), sunlight slanted against the vermillion walls. The temple was nearly empty, save for occasional chanting drifting from the halls. We leaned against the walls for photos, the light carving our silhouettes into sharp relief. A young monk stopped out of curiosity and tied blessed knots around each of our wrists. "A cultivation encounter with kindred spirits," he said.

As we left, two young monks sat against a wall, scrolling through their phones. The way they looked at us was probably the same way we looked at them—full of curiosity about another world.

Winter in Yading: A Private Rendezvous with the Three Protectors

In winter, Daocheng Yading's tickets were half-price, and tourists were scarce. The vast ticket hall was empty except for us. We waited ten minutes for the shuttle bus to gather enough people to depart.

Since Five Color Lake and Milk Lake were closed for winter, we adjusted our route: take the sightseeing bus to Luorong Pasture, then hike back. This way, we could enjoy the long-trail scenery and still cover the short trail to see Xian Nai Ri and Pearl Lake.

The moment we stepped off at Luorong Pasture, Mount Yangmaiyong stood before us like a pyramid. The glacier beneath the snowcap glowed with an ethereal blue. Yaks grazed lazily on the meadow. Mount Xianuoduoji rose on the other side, its sharp edges as if carved by a knife.

On the hike back, we encountered "seven-colored auspicious clouds"—technically called a circumhorizontal arc, even rarer than a sun halo. My companions shouted excitedly: "We've got the seven-colored clouds, so where's the Purple Fairy?"

Pearl Lake was completely frozen, its ice a jade-like green. We mustered our courage and stepped onto the ice, lying down to fly a drone. From above, the frozen lake looked like a giant gem embedded between the snow mountains.

At dusk, we waited at Chonggu Meadow for the golden-hour glow on the peaks. Pink Xian Nai Ri looked like a shy maiden, while dark-gold Xianuoduoji stood in solemn majesty. The wind was fierce, and our hands were numb with cold, but no one wanted to leave.

Meili Snow Mountain: First Glimpse of Kawagebo

Leaving Sichuan's Shangri-La, we drove to Yunnan's Shangri-La. The Jinsha River's first bend snaked below us. The gorges of the Hengduan Mountains plunged dozens of meters deep, and the mountain roads seemed carved directly from the rock.

When we reached Nongwuding, dark clouds hung over the Thirteen Peaks of Meili. We waited in the wind until sunset, but the snow mountains never showed. Locals say that anyone who sees Meili Snow Mountain on their first visit will have good luck for the entire year. It seemed my luck hadn't arrived yet.

That night, we stayed at a hotel in Feilaishi, with a window directly facing Meili. The sunset painted the horizon pink. I prayed for clear weather the next day. As I lay in bed, the clouds were still thick. But at least we had tomorrow.

Final Thoughts

On this trip, I finally collected all four seasons of Daocheng Yading. From 2011 to 2019, from a clueless youth to a thirty-something adult, this land has witnessed my growth and transformation.

Some say Daocheng Yading is "the last pure land on the blue planet." To me, it's more like a mirror—bring whatever mood you have, and you'll see the scenery that matches it. Autumn's brilliance, summer's vitality, spring's hope, winter's stillness—each season speaks its own language.

And Shangri-La, whether in Sichuan or Yunnan, is just different facets of the same dream. Snow mountains, meadows, alpine lakes, prayer flags—they've always been there, neither sad nor joyful, waiting for those with whom they share a connection.

If you want to go, remember a few things: In winter, keep warm. Don't let your head get windblown, or altitude sickness will find you. Five Color Lake and Milk Lake are at high elevations—don't push yourself if you're not fit. Tagong Grassland's golden half-hour is around sunset—don't miss it. And don't treat travel as an escape, but as an encounter—an encounter with landscapes, and an encounter with yourself.

After all, what we spend our lives doing is nothing more than reuniting, in the creases of time, with a better version of ourselves.

Quick Tips: - Best Season: Autumn (mid-to-late October) is the most stunning. Winter (December–February) is less crowded and beautiful, but Five Color Lake and Milk Lake may be closed. - Winter Tickets: Half-price entrance at 75 RMB, shuttle bus at 120 RMB - Recommended Route: Chonggu Temple → Luorong Pasture (sightseeing bus) → hike back → Chonggu Meadow → Xian Nai Ri → Pearl Lake. Can be done in one day. - Things to Note: Stay warm and sun-protected; protect your head from the wind; bring snacks for the squirrels (they're fearless) - Where to Stay: Shangri-La Town has the best conditions. Yading Village is convenient but at high altitude.