[Sky City] March in Spring: Heading to the Land of Women with My Bestie (Finale)

Prologue: A Long-Overdue Promise

The March wind, carrying whispers of earth and blossoms, gently tapped against the windowpane. I sat at my computer, staring at photos of Lugu Lake on the screen—that expanse of sapphire water, silent as a sleeping dream. The floodgates of memory burst open, and suddenly it was 2013 again: four girls on a self-drive trip through Sichuan and Yunnan, our laughter, our singing, the dust swirling behind our wheels—all still so vivid.

I am Sky City, and after more than a year, I've finally returned.

After coming back from Tibet in September 2013, I married my boyfriend of five years in December. No sooner had the wedding ended than I discovered I was pregnant—before I could even pack my bags for the next adventure. Plans never outrun change; I've long since made peace with that. Ten months of pregnancy, a bittersweet journey. Now my baby is six months old, and that restless heart of mine, trapped by domestic routines, is starting to itch again.

One evening in late January, a TV drama flashed scenes of Lugu Lake, and it hit me again. The water was so clear, so still it made my heart ache. I dialed my bestie's number, and her excited shriek came through the line: "Let's go! Right after the New Year!" But she's a working girl with only four days off, while I wanted to fly out the next day. So the plan got shelved until the eighth day of the lunar New Year.

Flights, train tickets, itineraries—everything was ready. Then fate played its trick again: the day before departure, my bestie had to postpone due to health issues until after the Lantern Festival. I nearly lost it. Rescheduling, canceling, rebooking—the back-and-forth dragged on for over ten days, and the thought of ending our friendship flashed through my mind countless times.

It wasn't until we finally set off that the weight lifted. Maybe because I'd waited so long, or maybe because the anticipation had mellowed into calm acceptance, this trip felt less like a wild thrill and more like something that was simply meant to be.

Chapter One: Shuhe, Spring's Palette

Flying into Lijiang, Reunited with Sunshine

At 7 a.m. on March 7th, our direct flight from Kunming to Lijiang took off right on time. An hour later, we landed at Sanyi Airport. A China Auto Rental staff member was already waiting nearby and greeted us warmly. Checking the car, signing the contract, loading the luggage—it was all second nature by now; we were regulars.

As we drove away from the airport, the sun hung high overhead. The damp gloom of the southern "returning wet" weather was swept away in an instant. Northerners might not understand, but for those of us who've suffered through that sticky humidity, this moment felt like rebirth. Caidan was already snapping photos with her phone, and the three of us in the car were chattering like escapees from an asylum.

Under the brilliant sun, heading toward the snow-capped mountains, we were on the road.

Meet the Crew

First from the left, our finance minister—Meiling, in charge of all money matters, meticulous to a fault. Second, yours truly, also serving as driver (tough luck). Third, my bestie Heiniu, who shared the driving with me in Lijiang but sadly had to fly back to Nanning early. Fourth, the irrepressibly cheerful Caidan, our resident comedian; she can drive but rarely takes on mountain roads, so I was behind the wheel most of the way to Lugu Lake.

Oh, and I still carry my Mafengwo luggage tag everywhere I go. See how much I love you? Mwah.

K2 Hostel: Traveling Solo Doesn't Mean Traveling Alone

Following the GPS, we arrived at K2 International Youth Hostel in Shuhe. This was my 20-somethingth youth hostel. My first was in 2012 at Yi Jia Youth Hostel in Luoyang, and it completely blew me away: every inch of the hallway walls was covered in graffiti and messages left by fellow travelers. In the evenings, strangers from all over the world gathered in the common room to play games, naturally bonding. The best thing about hostels is this: setting out alone doesn't mean you're alone on the road. Trust between people shines brightest here.

In early spring, while many cities are still freezing, Lijiang is already bursting with flowers. Shuhe is gentler, softer than Lijiang's Old Town—fewer tourists, yet every corner exudes an irresistible charm. I thought I'd never like Lijiang—too commercial, too romanticized. But this time, I found myself warming to her. I liked her springtime look: flamboyant, colorful, alive.

The Serendipitous Cherry Blossoms

Speaking of K2, I have to complain about the GPS. The front desk said the south gate parking lot was closest, but the navigation took us around the north gate twice. We ended up hauling our luggage across half the old town to find the place. But thanks to that mishap, we stumbled upon a cherry blossom tree ablaze with fiery blooms at the north gate. A gentle breeze rustled the clusters of delicate flowers, clinging stubbornly to the branches, refusing to let a single petal fall. In that moment, all the exhaustion was worth it.

The coffee table in the hostel's common room was also a riot of spring colors, with tiny flowers competing to bloom. Compared to the lifeless artificial flowers in big cities, this place was in a league of its own.

Slow Time in Shuhe

After checking in, we dumped our luggage, freshened up, and went on a "sweep" of the old town. The tourists were few, the peace unbroken—a far cry from the chaos of Lijiang's Old Town. The scattered houses nestled against the hills and waterways, each doorstep adorned with spring's palette. Sunlight bathed every corner of the town, lazy vines soaking in the warmth.

We found an open-air café by a small stream, soaking up the season's essence. The tender leaves by the creek were like tiny crescent moons, translucent and tinged with pale yellow, clustered together to form umbrellas of green life. Under the sun, they blazed like flames—fierce and dazzling.

Our Promise

Heiniu, my bestie—a cool, handsome girl. I once told her that if she were a guy, I'd marry her. They say the highest form of friendship is when others think you're a couple. I say the best friendship is: "You've been clueless for years, but I never leave."

We're both married now. This trip was our first time traveling together. We'd made so many plans: to go to Tibet together, to stand in awe beneath the Potala Palace, to gaze up at the snowy mountains, to daydream by Yamdrok Lake; to go to Daocheng, to run wild in the last pure land on the blue planet; to go to Inner Mongolia, to gallop across the vast grasslands… But every time, it was me alone, carrying my backpack, visiting the places we both longed for.

We made a pact: we had to travel together at least once—no matter the time, no matter the destination.

Finally, the chance came. Lijiang wasn't new to either of us. We chose it because of her limited time off and because of our ultimate destination—Lugu Lake. Sadly, she couldn't make it to that final stop with me. Regretful, yes, but I was already grateful.

The Price of Apples

Lijiang is famous as a slow city, where people seem perpetually at leisure. But the fruit in Shuhe was outrageously expensive! Heiniu and I are fruit fiends. We picked four apples, and my heart bled at the checkout. Thumbs down to the apple seller! The apples were delicious—thumbs down! Her attitude was great—thumbs down! Because I could only eat one—thumbs down! Hahahaha.

After finishing an apple, we decided to get deep and philosophical. You can't just eat expensive apples without some soul-searching, right?

Encounter at K2

They say Lijiang is the city of romance. And we had our own little encounter at K2. After wandering the old town, we returned to the common room for coffee, milk tea, and internet browsing. Suddenly, a girl from the front desk came over with an ice cream, saying a guy had bought it for Meiling. We looked around but couldn't spot the mysterious benefactor, so we started teasing Meiling. Seconds later, another guy walked up with an ice cream—this time for me. I didn't even get a clear look at his face. Married woman here—not my game. But Meiling's still single. Sneaky grin.

The Crystal Ball: Pain and Beauty

I brought a crystal ball on this trip. Eight centimeters in diameter, thick and heavy. Credit for the idea goes to a friend on Weibo, @HippoTT. But when I tried to shoot with it, the sunlight focused through the glass, burning my hand in just two seconds. I flinched, and the ball dropped straight to the ground. Still jealous of me? Come on, feel the burn!

Chapter Two: Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, the Mountain's Touch

Morning Rice Noodles

We set off for Jade Dragon Snow Mountain early the next morning, before Shuhe had even woken up. The chilly old town was silent, every door tightly shut. We found an elderly Naxi woman in the K2 hostel's kitchen, who cooked us four bowls of rice noodles. Turned out, this forced choice was a blessing—the three girls devoured theirs in seconds. Their gluttonous expressions proved the noodles were top-notch. If any noodle brand doesn't hire them as spokesmodels, it's a waste.

I'm really not a foodie. I used to travel northwest a lot and could never get used to noodles—the pain of a southern girl, who understands? But after many trips, I've slowly come to accept them. As for the famous "crossing-the-bridge" rice noodles, they just don't do it for me. My friends polished theirs off, while I barely finished two or three bites.

At the Foot of the Mountain

Shuhe to Jade Dragon Snow Mountain is only 20 kilometers. To avoid speeding tickets, we kept to the limit. The mountain seemed so close, yet it took nearly half an hour to reach the scenic area gate. After buying tickets, we drove another 7 kilometers to the parking lot.

The entrance fee only covered the scenic area and the shuttle bus to and from the parking lot. To go up and see the glacier, you had to buy a separate cable car ticket. It felt like a lot of money just to look at some ice, but hey—we were already here. I splurged and bought four tickets for the main cable car, then transferred to the scenic bus to the halfway point.

Jade Dragon Snow Mountain soars over 4,600 meters above sea level. The thin air at high altitude can cause oxygen deprivation—commonly known as altitude sickness. At the base, locals hawk oxygen canisters, warning of the dangers. I didn't need one. I've been to Tibet multiple times, even trekked around Mount Kailash at over 5,000 meters. Altitude sickness is mostly in your head; you adapt.

Taking Photos with My Life

The wind was fierce on the mountain, but the sun was scorching—a clash of fire and ice. Despite all our layers, we were roasting like dogs. The crystal ball burned me a second time. I was literally risking my life for those photos.

And that guy who took our picture? Don't you walk away—I promise I won't hit you. My eyes were closed, and you still clicked the shutter.

Now, let me tell you about Meiling. Born in the '90s, a total goofball, carefree to the core. When I tried to take her photo, I was afraid she'd fall asleep. No exaggeration—this girl can sleep anywhere, anytime, if she's tired. The three of us were green with envy.

The Magic of Panoramic Mode

As the only photographer on this trip, I had to look professional. My technique might be lacking, but my posing game had to be on point. The three people in the photo were actually shot using a phone's panoramic mode: as the photographer starts panning, the model stands at one edge of the frame. Once the model is out of the frame, they run around behind the photographer and re-enter the frame from the other side. Repeat as many times as you want, and you can have multiple versions of yourself.

There's a flaw in the shot—I somehow ended up looking disabled. Sneaky grin.

An hour was more than enough for Jade Dragon Snow Mountain. The sun gave me a high-altitude sunburn on my cheeks. When in Rome, I guess.

Chapter Three: Chasing Lugu Lake, Starry Skies over the Land of Women

Fate and the Passat Guy

Finally, our main destination: Lugu Lake. My second time here. This trip was all about shooting the night sky (even though I forgot my tripod—it didn't dampen my excitement one bit, especially when I saw the sea of stars).

The road from Lijiang to Ninglang was closed for construction. What should have been a four-hour drive turned into double that via the Yongsheng detour. Oh. My. God.

Early in the morning, Heiniu had a 10 a.m. flight back to Nanning. After another breakfast from the Naxi grandma at K2, we raced to the airport. Time was tight, and we pushed the speed limit—but stayed within it.

Here's a little story: our rental car had no GPS or speed camera detector. Just as we were running out of time, a silver Passat with a YunP license plate zoomed past us, slowing down only at speed camera zones. That's when it hit us—the Passat driver knew where the cameras were. So we sped up to follow him, matching his pace: fast when he was fast, slow when he was slow. Best part? He was handsome. The four of us went crazy chasing him, teasing Meiling the whole way. Three of us were married, Meiling was single—we had to fight for her happiness!

The Passat guy seemed to catch on. He kept a steady distance, playing along. When we reached the airport, Meiling and the Passat guy rolled down their windows at the same time. Want to know what happened next? Nothing. We were headed to domestic departures; he was headed to domestic arrivals. Better to remember than to meet. In the world of wanderers, we part ways like rivers flowing to the sea.

After dropping Heiniu off, we drove toward Lugu Lake. The atmosphere quieted without her. It also meant I was the only driver now. Just then, a text from Heiniu came in: she'd made it to the gate with four minutes to spare. All thanks to that handsome Passat guy.

Seven Hours of Mountain Roads

Before we left, many well-meaning travelers advised me not to drive to Lugu Lake. The roads are terrible—all mountain passes, endless curves, and frequent accidents. But I'm stubborn. I had to try.

The road to Yongsheng was narrow but smooth, winding through flat terrain. After two hours, we reached Yongsheng. I wanted to keep going without stopping to reach Lugu Lake before dark, so we skipped lunch and snacked on dry rations in the car.

There were hardly any other vehicles on the road—just the occasional small truck. No tourists in sight. I started to wonder if we were lost.

After Yongsheng, the road got worse. Mostly flat, but we were constantly climbing and turning. Countless curves made it impossible to pick up speed. Every 50 meters, another sharp turn—uphill, downhill. Lugu Lake is nestled deep in the mountains, and now I truly understood. I drove until I was numb; every mountain we crossed felt eerily familiar.

Meiling was already in the arms of Morpheus, asleep in the bumpy car. Caidan kept trying to make conversation, worried I'd nod off from driving alone for too long. But I was so focused, so exhausted, that I couldn't afford to relax. It's like when you've pushed yourself to the limit—if you let go even for a second, you'll collapse. That was me.

Mountain after mountain, I drove for nearly seven hours straight until we finally reached Ninglang County. From Ninglang to Lugu Lake, the road improved dramatically—no more climbing, no more sharp curves. The moment I relaxed, I fell apart. Caidan took over the wheel. Only then did I realize my neck, back, and waist were screaming in pain. Even days after returning home, my back still ached. After having a baby, I've truly aged. Can't take the abuse anymore.

Starry Skies over the Land of Women

We arrived at Lugu Lake before 7:30 p.m. Because of the road construction, there were very few tourists, so we didn't need to book ahead. We checked into the陌上花开 Youth Hostel (Blossoms on the Path), had dinner in the dining hall, and settled in.

Night fell, darkness enveloping everything. Stripped of its golden daytime cloak, Lugu Lake sank into unprecedented peace and stillness. Along the shore, each household lit their lights, tiny sparks flickering in the dark. Stars began to appear on the horizon, faint at first, then gradually filling the black velvet sky like diamonds.

It had been so long since I'd seen such a canopy of stars. Far from the city's clamor, untouched by neon lights—just pure, unadulterated beauty. I stood by the lake, looking up, tears blurring my vision. In that moment, all the exhaustion, all the waiting, all the twists and turns—they were all worth it.

Epilogue: Riding Dreams Like Horses, Scattered to the Winds

March—the beginning of spring, a new beginning.

I've been to Lugu Lake. It has nothing to do with love; it's all about friendship.

This trip had no grand stories, no earth-shattering adventures. Just a few friends, a car, a stretch of road, and a sky full of stars. But it's these ordinary moments that become the most precious memories of a lifetime.

They say the meaning of travel isn't how far you go, but how many stories you bring back. I brought back the surprise of cherry blossoms, the pain on the snowy mountain, the exhaustion on the winding roads, and the awe beneath the starry sky. Most importantly, I brought back the time I laughed, joked, and went crazy with my besties.

Riding dreams like horses, scattered to the winds. Where will we meet next time?

Practical Tips:

1. Transportation: For Lijiang to Lugu Lake, it's best to hire a car or carpool. Self-driving requires caution—mountain roads have countless curves. Only attempt if you have extensive mountain driving experience.
2. Accommodation: In the off-season, no need to book ahead. In peak season, book well in advance. Youth hostels offer great atmospheres; K2 International Youth Hostel and Blossoms on the Path Youth Hostel are recommended.
3. Gear: Bring sunscreen, sunglasses, and a hat—the plateau UV is intense. If you want to photograph the stars, don't forget a tripod.
4. Altitude Sickness: Jade Dragon Snow Mountain is high. It's wise to prepare oxygen canisters, but don't stress too much—mindset is key.
5. Time: Lijiang to Lugu Lake normally takes 4-5 hours. If roads are under construction and you need to detour, allow 7-8 hours. Plan accordingly.