Lugu Lake: A Journey of Reconciliation with Time

People often say the most cliché thing about travel is: "It doesn't matter where you go, it's who you go with." But this time, I have to admit it's true.

This trip might have been the shortest journey I've taken in years, and perhaps the closest to home. Yet without a doubt, it was the happiest. Not because Lugu Lake is stunning—though it absolutely is, breathtakingly so—but because the people beside me were those who have been in my life from the very beginning.

From the moment we're born, some people are destined to be our lifelong friends, playing different roles at different stages of life. Once, they brought us into this world, teaching us what "having" and "not having" mean. Now, it's our turn to show them the world, to tell them how vast the sky is and how wonderful life can be.

Thank you, my dear friends. Thank you, Lugu Lake.

When the压抑 of urban work becomes a habit, travel becomes a luxury. And when travel itself becomes a habit, being able to bring along those who have accompanied us the longest becomes truly precious. My friends have long passed their prime years. They're no longer suited for "trekking mountains and wading waters" or "partying all night." What they need is peace, comfort, and the gentle embrace of being emptied by the world.

Thank you, Lugu Lake, for giving us exactly that.

Itinerary: The Most "Premium" Blank Slate

Day 1: Transfer in Kunming, overnight in Kunming
Day 2: Leisurely stroll around Lugu Lake
Day 3: Another leisurely stroll around Lugu Lake
Day 4: Yet another leisurely stroll around Lugu Lake
Day 5: Return to the mortal world

Silence speaks louder than words. This was probably the most "advanced" itinerary I've ever made—no plans, no guidebooks, no must-visit spots. Before departing, I did research routes, but year-end work was too hectic, and I couldn't figure anything out. So I threw myself "naked" into Lugu Lake, relying entirely on luck. Fortunately, I met a driver who rivaled the one I had in Daocheng Yading—he accompanied us perfectly for four days.

Eating, playing, sleeping—pure bliss.

My Dear Friends

My mother—a woman who never misses a photo opportunity.

My father—a man who forever wanders around with a backpack.

Her mother, also my mother—a woman who constantly asks, "Do you want something to eat?"

Her father—a man who speaks with his diaphragm. (Dad, sorry I forgot to take a solo shot of you. Luckily, you photobombed Mom's pictures, or there wouldn't be a single one.)

My third mother—the new mother. A woman who silently holds my camera bag and carries my tripod while I take photos.

And this handsome guy—over.

My sister—a mother who loves photos naturally has a daughter who loves them too.

Good Morning, Morning Mist

Seven in the morning, at the inn. Everyone else was still asleep. I got up alone and walked to the small dock.

The air was so fresh it made you want to cry. The temperature was around 1 to 3 degrees Celsius—pleasantly quiet. The ducks on the lake didn't fuss; they silently searched for food. The lake surface was as calm as ever, with Goddess Mountain shrouded in mist. The sun was rising on the other side of the mountain, the temperature was rising, and fog began to form.

Like a fairyland.

I couldn't bear to break the silence. In a flash, I launched my drone and flew it above 60 meters. The sky began to brighten. Through the lens, I captured a small boat, with swirling mist viewed from above like rolling waves. What should have been a fisherman's scene turned into "Life of Pi" in my shots.

Let's give the fisherman his true form back. He was probably the earliest riser in the village. I waited a long time, but no second boat appeared on the lake.

The wind picked up, and the mist swept toward me. When was the last time I felt this? It was like walking into a Muji store and putting your nose to the humidifier. The sensation grew stronger, and finally, I took a deep breath—chemical-free, additive-free, fragrance-free, pure organic negative ions, and free of charge.

We always fantasize about immortals. On that fairy island, are there rippling waters? Are there wild birds playing? Is there mist swirling?

Daylight came. Friends, time to wake up.

Sunrise at Daluoshui Pier

Lugu Lake before sunrise was still cold. Just look at our "Monchhichi Yang." Daluoshui Village is relatively developed, and quite a few people came to watch the sunrise. Luckily, I'd learned the skill of grabbing a good spot in Myanmar. I set up my tripod by an unremarkable lakeside and quietly waited for sunrise.

The sun didn't show itself for a while, but I fell in love with that tree.

Finally, sunrise arrived. People rushed to photograph the sun, but I, being experienced, seized the most beautiful light—not the sun itself, but the light falling on them.

You were as excited as young girls, spreading your wings at the rising sun. Every time I see your posts on social media, it's always: crooked photos, no focal point, repetitive—and if it's a video, usually three clips expressing the same thing.

What woman doesn't love her own beauty? But the person who once captured your beautiful moments is no longer young. The fathers looked at my mirrorless camera, OSMO, and drone, only able to reminisce about their old film cameras.

Thank heaven for giving me to you. Let me represent the older generation and take photos for you.

"Oh, we were here last time—almost ten years ago."
"Yeah, last time, we took a seven-hour bus from Lijiang."

Ten years. Ten years ago, we were just starting college. I wonder if you took out your camera back then, at the same angle, and captured the same memory. Imagine ten years from now, we'll walk to the same pier. Lugu Lake will still be the same lake. But will we, you, or they still remember the carefree joy we had?

Visiting a Mosuo Home

A peaceful land nurtures simple people. Among the vast sea of humanity, China has 56 ethnic groups, but the Mosuo are not officially listed among them. Here, "free-range" is a way of life. Children are always "other people's children"—they can walk into any home in the village, and adults will treat them as their own. This might be the best example of a harmonious socialist society.

There aren't many people in the village. Women work at home, men go out for labor, and neighbors treat each other like family. Our guide girl received warm greetings at every house we passed.

We followed her into her grandmother's house. The grandmother holds the highest status in Mosuo families. Out of respect for privacy, I didn't take photos. The stories and customs of the grandmother's house were fascinating to an outsider, and I admired the族人's faith. The attic in the courtyard was where the younger sister lived. Before "walking marriage"—or rather, before formal marriage—the man had to find a way to climb up to the attic to meet her at night.

The "Kingdom of Women" doesn't mean women are valued over men; it's just that the division of labor differs from us Han Chinese. We gathered in the courtyard to listen to explanations while the men of the house worked on decorative carvings. It happened to be harvest time for corn, and the golden ears brought out the city-dweller's joy in us—one friend instantly transformed into a villager.

If I were to describe Mosuo culture, ten travelogues wouldn't be enough. Some cultures have to be experienced—when I tell you, you won't understand; only when you listen for yourself will you get it. That feeling in the moment is important. Like now, I've actually forgotten what that beautiful guide told me.

Ascending Goddess Mountain

Where there's a lake, there must be a mountain. To enjoy a panoramic view of the lake, we decided to go up. Before the cable car, there was a slide. You were clearly inexperienced—aside from "ahhh haha" sounds, your clumsy skills caused a traffic jam. You shouted for me to take photos while the staff member said in his simple Sichuan dialect: "Hurry up, I can't even move, and you're still taking pictures—you're blocking the people behind."

The cable car was a bit long, and we kept looking back. At first, you two sisters spread your wings like birds. There wasn't much to see around, but your novelty made you pull out your phones to snap photos. Afterward, you'd wait to ask me: "Baby, there are too many photos on Mom's phone—how do I export them?"

It didn't take long. One of you was still lively, while the other was frozen stiff from the cable car ride, forcing a smile only when the camera was aimed.

The weather at Lugu Lake was so good it could make you explode with joy. Goddess Mountain was right there. There were no goddesses on the mountain—the immortals weren't home, and monkeys ruled the roost. We were a bit out of breath climbing at high altitude, but after a series of battles with the monkeys, we actually forgot our fatigue. One mischievous monkey even pounced on me, but I dodged with a quick turn—bro, I've evolved; you're still just a monkey.

Monkeys are monkeys after all. Goddess Mountain should still belong to the goddess. You two—do you remember sitting side by side as childhood friends? Make a wish—just for peace, health, and family happiness. Leave our wishes on Goddess Mountain, let them ride the wind and drift over Lugu Lake.

Wishing you eternal health.

Looking back at Lugu Lake, it was already noon. It was getting hot, and more people were coming up. We headed down.

On the Road

Chartering a car around the lake doesn't allow for stopping everywhere. Sitting in the car and enjoying the lake view is also a pleasure. Sometimes there's a lonely island, sometimes a lonely boat. There are too many nameless places, but one famous spot stands out—Lige Island. Unfortunately, this famous attraction met the least crowd-loving version of me. We drove past in a flash and only checked in at the viewpoint.

I don't like elaborating on places I haven't truly visited, nor do I like places too shrouded in commercialism. Before coming, everyone told me this was Lugu Lake's off-season. But beauty is divided by seasons, not by peak or off-peak. Lush greenery is beauty; desolate scenes are also scenery.

I specifically picked a few spots and asked the driver to pull over by the roadside. I loved the rows of poplar trees standing straight. The advantage of the off-season was that there were no cars on the road, so we could take photos freely. Whenever there was a photo op, this friend never missed out. And there was one person who silently followed me every time I got out to take pictures by the roadside. He wasn't there for photos—just to watch for oncoming traffic.

I searched for a while, but he had hardly any photos. Like those poplar trees, he stood guard in silence.

The Exquisite Zhami Temple

I haven't visited many temples, but Zhami Temple is undoubtedly the most exquisite one I've ever seen. Located in Yongning County near Lugu Lake, it's about an hour's drive from the lake area—not exactly a standard stop on a Lugu Lake tour. Aside from us, there were only a few monks in the entire temple, creating a mutual resonance with the quiet Lugu Lake thirty kilometers away.

The local Mosuo people follow the Daba religion and Lamaism, and this temple is where their faith finds its home. The courtyard is surrounded by different temple halls. A monk led us to the main hall for prayers. This is a sacred place utterly devoid of commercialism—no entrance fees, no donation boxes. In the backyard, there was an unfinished temple where painters were still decorating.

Curious, I went over and chatted with them. Seeing my interest, they invited me upstairs to see the completed paintings. The colors were indeed vibrant, set against the blue sky, radiating a religious aura. The temple was small—it took about forty minutes to walk through. Compared to the hour-long drive, it might seem not worth it. But the moment you step inside, the entire atmosphere makes you afraid to speak loudly. That moment of silence is worth savoring.

The Dear Inn

A reality TV show made this area famous. Many of our group were fans, so we couldn't miss it. We boarded a boat at Luowa Pier. The boatman proudly claimed he had driven for Liu Tao and complained that the director had cut his interaction with Yi Yangqianxi.

The silent lake, the playing seagulls, a small boat cutting through the water's heart—peaceful, pure. Princess Island stood alone in the lake, silent and serene. The sun shone brightly, and we smiled back. Shared joy is double joy. The boat approached Princess Island, but the boatman didn't seem keen on letting us land, insisting there was nothing to see. As guests, we followed along, skipped it, and headed straight for the Dear Inn.

The inn had been "mythologized" by the show. In reality, not many people stay there, and the price isn't high. The main issue is its remote location—access depends entirely on boats. As qualified fans, we had to take the obligatory photo. On the platform where Liu Tao and her crew had walked countless times, you left your group photo.

On the way back, you happily started singing. At first, I was a bit embarrassed, but gradually I was infected by your voices. The boatman laughed too: "This group is fun—you're lively." You were like children, holding out bread while seagulls circled around you. I remembered being at the Window of the World square as a child, holding a box of corn for ten yuan, attracting a flock of pigeons.

Thank you, Xiaoxiao, for capturing a candid shot of me working. At the end, the boatman tidied up his boat and waited for the next group of guests.

Wandering Through the Millennial Grass Sea

I don't know why, but the Grass Sea had always been the place I most wanted to visit. I've seen too many lakes and mountains, and the Inner Mongolia grasslands have plenty of grass—but grass in water? Forgive my narrow perspective; I'd never seen it before. The off-season was great—you couldn't even describe the tourists as "sparse"; accurately, there were almost none.

We chartered a boat at the dock for eighty yuan per person. I joked with the boatman: "How long can we go for?"
"As long as you want."
Clearly, business was slow.

It was my first time seeing a female boatman—the Kingdom of Women indeed lives up to its name. The lake surface was like a mirror, reflecting the sky, clouds, mountains, and grass all into the water. Locals said that in spring, small white flowers float on the lake, beautiful, called "water-natured poplar flowers." In summer, the grass is a lush green. I said I liked the golden color—because gold represents money.

The boatwoman was professional, always steering into the reeds to create a path. The boat got stuck in the reeds, perfectly stable. "Old Yu," who hadn't caught any fish that morning, started bustling around at the bow. Everyone had a chance to pose—some entered prayer mode, some were laid-back, like father like son. Of course, some people were naturals at striking a pose.

We left the reeds and continued forward. Sailing through the reeds, invisible from the outside, the boat moved silently along the waterway. In the Grass Sea, there were two patches of grass that were said to have accumulated over a thousand years. You could walk on them—a bit like a swamp, a bit like a sponge bed, quite interesting.

As more people ventured out, everyone was taking photos. Mutual photography became the norm, and a scene in itself. Sitting at the bow, you felt like you were back to the simplicity of being in love. The hardworking "Old Yu" was still pushing the boat with all his might. The best way to express joy was through song—the lead singer took the initiative, and this time's track: "Qinghai-Tibet Plateau." The older ones were busy singing, while I, as a young person, quietly enjoyed the scenery. Saying "quietly" is a bit dishonest—after all, the elderly have strong bodies, strong lungs, and loud voices.

I truly fell in love with the reeds. I often see wedding photos taken in reed fields, producing so-called "super大片." Now, immersed in the reed marsh, I fell in love with the golden glow. Under the sunlight, there was no winter lifelessness; every reed reflected a longing for life. Viewed from above, the Grass Sea looked like a fluffy blanket spread across the center of Lugu Lake.

Next year, or some year, I'll come again. Then, when the "water-natured poplar flowers" bloom, and when the grass turns lush green.

From One End of the Bridge to the Other

Not far from the Grass Sea is the "Walking Marriage Bridge." Legend has it that lovers from opposite sides of the lake built this bridge to meet. Since it's a beautiful story, it must have a loving couple—like you, like us, like her and the one carrying all her gear.

The driver said he'd wait for us at the other end. What should have been a twenty-minute walk took us over an hour—if we'd only walked twenty minutes, it would have been an insult to the scenery. On both sides of the bridge, the light and scenery were different: one side hazy, the other crisp. There were relatively more tourists here—relatively speaking.

Group photos were always the most exciting and happiest moments. We and you always smiled so purely. The bridge was a great place for photos—whether jumping high or sitting quietly. At the other end of the bridge, there was no more "sea," replaced by a poplar forest. This place was definitely a posing paradise—except the promised artistic vibe was only achieved by Xiaoxiao. Your poses gave away your age.

Walking on the village path, you two were the most eye-catching pair—not because of your looks, but because of your outfit combination: red and green, a perfect match! After taking this photo, the sharp-eyed Xiaoxiao discovered a secret. Follow me—the secret lies under the bridge. If you read my travelogue and venture there, I wish you luck in finding another photo spot. If you get "arrested" by the locals, don't mention my name. If you must give a name, call me "Lei Feng."

Passing under the bridge, a vast reed field stretched out, a touch of red amidst a sea of gold. Next to the reeds was a poplar forest—shoot freely, no one around. During the New Year holiday, no one! The weather started to cool down; we couldn't stay too long. Time to go. Next year, will these "flower buds" bloom? Just as we were about to get in the car, I spotted a tall, graceful reed—solitary, proud, resilient.

A Secret Little Beach

"Driver, can you take me to a lakeside spot with no people? I want to take some photos."
"No problem."

Thank you, driver. This was a perfect piece of pure land. I don't know how others felt, but I'm sure this person was having a blast. Not satisfied with just enjoying himself, he even recruited an assistant. He kept playing, in every way possible—looked professional, but at most, the stones he threw caused only two ripples. In the end, this friend got completely lost in his own fun.

As children, your happiness is our greatest comfort. Every time I pick up the camera, press the shutter, and take a group photo of you, my heart swells with joy. Well... when it was finally time to leave, he still hadn't had enough—until he strained his assistant's back.

Because of this pure land, we came again the next day—to take a 2018 family portrait. Before leaving, I bought team uniforms for everyone, to show that we are a family. We huddled together for warmth, faced the distance together, and looked forward to the future together.

Sunset at Zhaojia Port

The sun had worked hard all day; it was time to set. If it hadn't, I wouldn't have had the energy to keep going. Actually, this sunset wasn't as beautiful as I'd imagined—maybe everything else was too beautiful, overshadowing it. The girl who had captured the morning light came again.

We met a child playing by the lake. I teased him for a while, then he ran back. I thought he was shy, but he actually went to get his gear—his camera was better than mine. This kid even knew how to adjust the aperture.

The sun dipped behind the mountain in an instant, and the temperature plummeted. Goodbye, Lugu Lake sun.

Eating, Eating, Eating

Traveling with parents means you have to consider meals. At Lugu Lake, this wasn't an issue at all. Thanks to our driver, who took us to all kinds of off-the-beaten-path dining spots.

Strong Recommendation #1: Matsutake Chicken
Freshly slaughtered chicken, chopped matsutake mushrooms, pressure-cooked for twenty minutes, then served. Rich and fragrant, with the delicate aroma of matsutake, paired with the inn's homemade fermented tofu and a plate of dried chili. How good was it? Just look at this person's expression. If one person isn't enough proof, look at these two.

Strong Recommendation #2: Stone Pot Fish
Freshly caught big fish, about six jin (3 kg). Steamed in a stone pot for about five minutes. The high temperature makes the fish tender on the outside and crisp on the inside. Open the pot, eat the fish, and pair it with frost-kissed pea shoots—perfect. "I think it works."

Strong Recommendation #3: Dazhong Restaurant
That evening, we wanted a big meal, so we asked the driver to take us to a random small place. We went to Daluoshui Village, and at first, it felt off—we'd had a fifteen-yuan bowl of mediocre rice noodles there for breakfast. The driver said he usually eats there while waiting for guests, so we went in. It was less than ten meters from our breakfast "tourist trap." A few locals were scattered inside. Seeing a man at the door order a bowl of noodles that looked incredibly tempting, we ordered four bowls—absolutely delicious! Generous portions, great taste, low price. The local specialty, pork belly, was twenty-five yuan per serving—probably the most expensive item. All the spicy, oily dishes paired perfectly with a bowl of refreshing pea shoots—unbeatable.

Special Thanks: Driver Xiaoge

I always feel incredibly lucky—I meet wonderful people on every trip. I had originally planned to drive myself, but three days before departure, I was told the car was gone. Good thing it was gone, or I wouldn't have met this driver. Chao Chao grew up locally, simple and adorable. He told me that once, a woman chartered his van alone, and he was so embarrassed the whole way that he didn't dare talk to her or eat with her—so, single women going there... you can find him.

I'm not writing this as an advertisement, just to express my gratitude. When you're away from home, safety and happiness matter most. My parents were very grateful to him for taking us to all kinds of non-mainstream places and letting us eat real home-cooked food.

On New Year's Eve, we wanted to eat duck, but the restaurant was too busy to serve us. So Chao Chao, while we were resting, went and caught a duck himself. He told his brother that we were good people and took us straight to his brother's house for dinner. We were honored to be the first outside guests in their home.

Here, I'd like to thank the potato and pickled radish braised duck, sausages, cured meat, stir-fried small squash, stir-fried shredded potatoes, stir-fried lotus root, plain cabbage, and the farmer brother's homemade rice wine—they accompanied us through the last dinner of 2017.

Writing this has made me hungry. To make the hunger hit harder, here's a plate of stir-fried shredded potatoes! We ate quickly and rushed to leave—not for any other reason, but because the family hadn't eaten yet, waiting for us to clear the table.

Wishing your family happiness.

To You

Around that time, social media was flooded with "My 18 Years Old." Has anyone thought about how many people can remember eighteen years before that? I have no memory of it, but back then, we were surely in swaddling clothes, crying for milk. And you, as depicted in "Youth," were in your prime.

When your youth faded, you ignited ours. We can't say thank you—because "thank you" is too light. May the waters of Lugu Lake represent our most sincere love for you.

Final Notes: Some Possibly Useful Information

About Seasons: Lugu Lake's beauty isn't divided by peak or off-peak seasons, but the off-season has its advantages—fewer people, more tranquility, and an excellent experience. The golden reeds and morning mist in winter are sights you won't see in other seasons.

About Transportation: Chartering a car is the best way to circle the lake, especially when traveling with elders. Finding a reliable local driver can take you to many hidden gems off the beaten path.

About Food: Don't eat where the tourists gather. Follow the locals to find truly delicious food. Matsutake chicken, stone pot fish, and home-style stir-fries—every dish is worth savoring.

About Mindset: Don't be enslaved by "checking in." The most beautiful scenery at Lugu Lake is often not in the guidebooks, but in every moment you slow down and feel with your heart.

Finally, if you're traveling with parents or elders, remember one thing: They don't need a perfect itinerary. They need your company. That's the most precious part of any journey.