Nature on Victor42

Xinjiang Travel Guide Exploring Nature and Ethnic Cultures

hi@victor42.work (Victor42) — Mon, 13 Apr 2026 11:03:00 +0000

Fresh off a trip to Xishuangbanna, I couldn’t wait to plan my next adventure. The destination—Xinjiang.

The furthest west I’d ever been was Dunhuang. I was completely clueless about traveling in Xinjiang, knowing only that the Tianshan Mountains split it into North and South. I had a very fuzzy idea of what each region offered or what to expect.

Xinjiang is massive. To narrow down my options, I spent two nights heavily researching, organizing, and verifying info with AI to build this conceptual travel guide. It breaks down the travel experience across Xinjiang’s prefectures through two lenses: natural scenery and ethnic culture. Pairing this with a deep dive into Xinjiang’s administrative and topographical maps helped me form a solid baseline understanding of the region. It was a game-changer.

Of course, this is just a starting point. This guide is far from exhaustive, paints in broad strokes, and likely contains a few blind spots. I’ll have to rely on my own eyes and feet to fill in the blanks and make corrections.

Part 1: Natural Scenery

A breakdown of signature landscapes across Xinjiang’s 14 prefectures.

Overview: The Geographic Logic of Xinjiang

You can sum up Xinjiang’s geography in one phrase: Three mountains sandwiching two basins.

Altai Mountains — Northern grasslands, forests, and lakes
Junggar Basin — Northern Gobi, deserts, and oases
Tianshan Mountains — Grasslands, snow peaks, and canyons (The North/South divide)
Tarim Basin — Deserts, Gobi, oases, and desert poplars
Kunlun Mountains & Pamir Plateau — Ultra-high peaks, glaciers, and alpine lakes

Northern Xinjiang vibe: Grasslands, lakes, forests, snow mountains — lush, abundant, scenic. Southern Xinjiang vibe: Deserts, Gobi, canyons, desert poplars — vast, epic, rugged. Eastern Xinjiang vibe: Flaming Mountains, Yardang formations, extreme heat — harsh, unique.

Northern Xinjiang (7 Prefectures & Cities)

1. Ili Kazakh Autonomous Prefecture — The Jiangnan Beyond the Great Wall

The Ili River Valley opens westward, catching moist Atlantic currents. It boasts the highest rainfall and lushest vegetation in Xinjiang, earning the nickname “Wet Island of Central Asia.”

Landscape	Highlights	Tags
Kalajun Grassland	A “3D Grassland” and World Natural Heritage site with distinct vertical layers	World Heritage, 3D Grassland
Kuerdening	World Natural Heritage, the most intact reserve of Tianshan Schrenk’s spruce	World Heritage, Spruce Forest
Nalati Grassland	One of China’s top six grasslands, famous for its “sky meadow” landscape	5A Scenic Area, Sky Grassland
Tangbula Grassland	A “Hundred-Mile Gallery” featuring endless flower fields along highway S315	Scenic Gallery, Road Trip
Sayram Lake	Xinjiang’s highest and largest alpine cold-water lake; the “last tear of the Atlantic”	Alpine Lake, Deep Blue
Guozigou Bridge	A spectacular suspension bridge cutting through Tianshan	Engineering Marvel
Zhaosu Grassland	Hometown of heavenly horses, massive July rapeseed fields, gateway to glaciers	Horse Culture, Glaciers
Xiata Ancient Trail	Historic pass crossing Tianshan to the Muzart Glacier; a hiker’s paradise	Glacier Hiking, Ancient Trail
Qiaxi Forest Park	Virgin spruce forests, Ili’s hidden gem with fewer crowds	Primeval Forest, Niche

Summary: Alpine grasslands + spruce forests + glacier trails + alpine lakes. This area offers the most concentrated and diverse natural beauty in Xinjiang.

2. Altay Prefecture — The Oriental Switzerland

Located at the southern foot of the Altai Mountains. Its forest-lake-snow-mountain scenery, centered around Kanas Lake, peaks in autumn.

Landscape	Highlights	Tags
Kanas Lake	Deep alpine lake famous for color-changing water and “lake monster” legends	5A Area, Photography
Hemu Village	Tuva settlement with rustic cabins, birch forests, and morning mist	Tuva Village, Autumn Colors
Baihaba	The “Northwest’s First Village” on the border, mixing Kazakh and Tuva cultures	Border Village, Rustic
Koktokay	Global Geopark featuring the granite Shenzhong Mountain at the Irtysh River source	Global Geopark
Wucaitan (Rainbow Beach)	Yardang landforms by the Irtysh River with stunning sunset views	Yardang, Sunsets
Ulungur Lake	Xinjiang’s second-largest freshwater lake; great for winter ice fishing	Lake, Fishing

Summary: Alpine lakes + primeval forests + Yardang landforms + border villages. Mid-September to early October is the golden window.

3. Bortala Mongol Autonomous Prefecture — Gateway to Sayram Lake

Landscape	Highlights	Tags
Sayram Lake	Xinjiang’s highest (2071m) alpine cold-water lake with a scenic ring road	Alpine Lake, 5A Area
Hariturege	Primeval forest canyon at the source of the Bortala River	Forest Canyon, Niche

Bortala is small, but Sayram Lake is its crown jewel. It sits perfectly on the route from Urumqi to Ili, making it a must-pass destination.

4. Tacheng Prefecture — Grasslands and Borders

Landscape	Highlights	Tags
Ganjiahu Forest	The world’s largest primeval Haloxylon forest reserve	Desert Forest, Ecology
Lujiaowan	Summer alpine meadows in the Barluk Mountains	Alpine Pastures
Baketu Port	Border crossing offering views into Kazakhstan	Border Port

Tacheng’s scenery is scattered and less commercially developed, making it ideal for deep, niche exploration.

5. Changji Hui Autonomous Prefecture — Tianshan’s Northern Gateway

Landscape	Highlights	Tags
Heavenly Lake (Tianchi)	Xinjiang’s most iconic attraction; an alpine lake beneath Bogda Peak	5A Area, Iconic Landmark
Jiangbulake	Alpine meadows blending with rolling seas of golden wheat (July-Aug)	Meadows, Wheat Fields
S101 Highway	The “Tianshan Geographic Gallery” featuring Danxia landforms and canyons	Road Trip, Danxia

Right next to Urumqi, Changji is home to the postcard-perfect Tianchi (a half-day trip) and the increasingly popular S101 road trip route.

6. Urumqi City — The Metropolis

Landscape	Highlights	Tags
Nanshan Scenic Area	Pastures and forests on the northern Tianshan slopes; a quick 1.5h drive away	Suburban Pasture
Bogda Peak	Eastern Tianshan’s highest peak (5445m); visible in the distance	Snow Mountain

Urumqi is primarily a transport hub. While nature isn’t its main draw, Nanshan is a great weekend escape.

7. Karamay City — Yardangs and Gobi

Landscape	Highlights	Tags
Urho Ghost City	One of China’s top three Yardang landscapes; features wind-eroded castles	Yardang Landforms, 5A
Ailik Lake	Karamay’s only natural freshwater lake; an oasis in the Gobi	Lake, Niche

Karamay is defined by its Yardang landscapes. The Ghost City is a classic pitstop on the drive to Kanas.

Southern Xinjiang (5 Prefectures)

8. Bayingolin Mongol Autonomous Prefecture — Xinjiang’s Largest

Covering a quarter of Xinjiang, Bayingolin spans across Tianshan, featuring both the lush north and the arid south.

Landscape	Highlights	Tags
Bayinbuluke Grassland	China’s second-largest grassland; famous for Swan Lake and sunset river bends	Alpine Grassland, Sunsets
Bosten Lake	China’s largest inland freshwater lake, bordered by vast reed marshes	Large Lake, Reeds
Luntai Poplar Forest	World’s largest primeval desert poplar forest; turns golden in late autumn	Poplar Forest, Desert
Luobu Village	Desert oasis home to descendants of the Lop Nur people	Desert Oasis, Culture
Tianshan Stone Forest	A rare high-altitude geological marvel near Bayinbuluke	Stone Forest, Niche
Kumtag Desert	The closest desert to any urban area in the world	Desert, Hiking

Summary: Incredible geographic diversity. From Bayinbuluke in the north to the Tarim poplars in the south, it’s the only prefecture containing grasslands, massive lakes, and deserts.

9. Aksu Prefecture — The Canyon Kingdom

Landscape	Highlights	Tags
Tianshan Grand Canyon	Giant reddish-brown canyons often called “China’s Colorado”	Red Canyon, 5A Area
Wensu Grand Canyon	Even larger than Tianshan Canyon; a massive mix of Danxia and Yardang	Grand Canyon, Danxia
Tomur Peak	The absolute highest peak in the Tianshan range (7443m)	Ultra-High Peak
Tarim River Source	Headwaters of China’s longest inland river	River Source
Shaya Poplar Forest	Primeval forests along the middle reaches of the Tarim River	Poplar Forest

Summary: Canyons are the main event. Keziliya and Wensu are jaw-dropping geological wonders.

10. Kizilsu Kyrgyz Autonomous Prefecture (Kezhou) — Gateway to the Pamirs

Landscape	Highlights	Tags
Oytak Red Mountain	Volcanic landforms meeting glaciers; an “ice and fire” spectacle	Volcano & Glacier
Muji Crater	The “Eye of the Pamirs,” 1500-year-old craters amid plateau wetlands	Crater, Wetlands
Karakul Lake	Glacial lake at 3600m offering stunning mountain reflections	Plateau Lake

Kezhou’s scenery clusters at the Pamir Plateau entrance. Oytak and Muji are brilliant niche spots for photographers.

11. Kashgar Prefecture — The Pamirs

Landscape	Highlights	Tags
Pamir Plateau	The “Roof of the World” (4000m+); core stretch of the Karakoram Highway	Plateau, Epic Road
Muztagh Ata	The “Father of Ice Mountains” (7546m); a landmark of the Pamirs	Ultra-High Peak
Baisha Lake	Half white sand, half turquoise water; the Pamirs’ most beautiful lake	Plateau Lake, White Sand
Karakul Lake	Famous for its flawless reflections of Muztagh Ata	Plateau Lake
Panlong Ancient Road	A winding road with over 600 hairpin turns	Highway Landscape
Tashkurgan	Plateau town housing the Stone City ruins and the gateway to Pakistan	Ancient Town, Border

Summary: The Pamirs are the crown jewel here. This is the highest and most “extreme” landscape zone in Xinjiang.

12. Hotan Prefecture — Heart of the Taklamakan

Landscape	Highlights	Tags
Taklamakan Desert	The world’s second-largest shifting sand desert; the “Sea of Death”	Shifting Desert
Desert Highway	Cuts straight through the Taklamakan; an incredibly isolating drive	Extreme Highway
Niya Ruins	The “Pompeii of the East” hidden deep in the desert	Ruins, Exploration

Hotan is all about the desert. It is the driest place in Xinjiang, defined by desolate, vast beauty.

Eastern Xinjiang (2 Cities)

13. Turpan City — Fire and Extreme Heat

Landscape	Highlights	Tags
Flaming Mountains	Red mountains known from Journey to the West; summer temps hit 80°C	Extreme Heat, Landmark
Grape Valley	An oasis canyon entirely shaded by grape trellises	Oasis Canyon, Orchard
Kumtag Desert	Urban desert walkable from Shanshan county	Urban Desert
Karez System	Ancient underground irrigation system	Water Conservancy
Tuyugou	Oldest Uyghur village featuring ancient Thousand Buddha Caves	Canyon Village, Culture

At -154m, Turpan is the lowest and hottest place in China. The landscape contrasts extreme heat with cool oases.

14. Hami City — Eastern Gateway

Landscape	Highlights	Tags
Dahaidao	Spectacular Yardang formations; a Mars-like no-man’s land	Yardang, No-Man’s Land
Barkol Lake	Transition zone between Tianshan grasslands and the Gobi	Alpine Lake
Hami Ghost City	Massive Yardang landforms second only to Urho	Yardang Landforms

Dahaidao is a recently hyped destination, perfect for off-roaders and serious photographers.

Cross-Regional Landscape Comparisons

High-Altitude Lakes

Lake	Location	Elevation	Vibe
Sayram Lake	Bortala	2071m	Deep blue, highest alpine lake
Kanas Lake	Altay	1374m	Color-changing water, forests
Tianchi	Changji	1910m	Iconic landmark
Karakul Lake	Kezhou/Kashgar	3600m	Mountain reflections
Bayinbuluke	Bayingolin	2500m	Swan habitat, winding rivers
Baisha Lake	Kashgar	3300m	The most beautiful Pamir lake

Deserts & Gobi

Landscape	Location	Vibe
Taklamakan	Hotan/Bayingolin/Aksu	Shifting sands, massive scale
Kumtag	Turpan/Qiemo	Deserts touching the city
Urho Ghost City	Karamay	Premier Yardang landforms
Dahaidao	Hami	Mars-like no-man’s land

(Condensed for brevity while maintaining utility).

Travel Planning Guide (Nature)

Northern Xinjiang (Nature Focus)

Top Pick: Ili (5-7 days): Grasslands, forests, lakes, and glaciers. Highest density of scenery.
Add-on: Altay (3-4 days): Unbeatable autumn colors at Kanas and Hemu (Best in Sept-Oct, contrasting Ili’s June-Aug peak).
Pitstops: Sayram Lake, Tianchi, Urho Ghost City.

Southern Xinjiang (Geography Focus)

Pamir Plateau (2-3 days): Muztagh Ata and plateau lakes.
Canyon Route (Aksu): Tianshan and Wensu Grand Canyons.
Desert & Poplars (Bayingolin/Hotan): Taklamakan Highway and Luntai poplars (late October).

Eastern Xinjiang (Extremes)

Turpan (1-2 days): Flaming Mountains, Grape Valley, and extreme heat.
Hami (1 day): Dahaidao off-roading.

Part 2: Ethnic Culture

Based on data from the 2020 Seventh National Population Census.

I. Overall Demographics

Xinjiang is a highly diverse region with a resident population of 25.85 million:

Uyghur: 11.62 million (44.96%)
Han: 10.92 million (42.24%)
Other Minorities (Kazakh, Hui, Mongol, etc.): 3.31 million (12.80%)

Core Insight: While Uyghurs are the largest single ethnic group, they do not hold an absolute majority. The Han-to-Uyghur ratio is nearly 1:1, with over a dozen other minorities spread across the region.

II. Spatial Layout at a Glance

Northern Xinjiang

Urumqi, Karamay, Changji, Bortala, Tacheng: Han majority, modern urban vibe.
Ili River Valley: A multi-ethnic melting pot.
Altay: Kazakh majority (The only prefecture where a non-Han group exceeds 50%).

Southern Xinjiang

Kashgar & Hotan: The cultural core of the south, heavily Uyghur (~97% and ~93% respectively).
Aksu & Kezhou: Uyghur majority.
Bayingolin (Korla): An outlier in the south with a Han majority (~59%).

III. Two Distinct Cultural Experiences

Xinjiang has many minorities, but Uyghur and Kazakh cultures offer the most distinct and tourism-ready experiences.

The Uyghur — Oasis Agricultural Civilization

Geography: South of Tianshan, oasis towns around the Tarim Basin.
Lifestyle: Settled agriculture and vibrant bazaar trading.
Experiences: Exploring massive bazaars in Kashgar, walking through ancient labyrinthine streets, visiting mosques, and enjoying oasis orchards.
Food: Polo (pilaf), baked samsa, naan-pit meat, and hand-pulled noodles.
Top Destination: Kashgar. It is the absolute heart of Southern Xinjiang and the most perfectly preserved “living” city on the Silk Road.

The Kazakh — Steppe Nomadic Civilization

Geography: North of Tianshan, from the Ili Valley to the Altai Mountains.
Lifestyle: Seasonal nomadic herding, transitioning between summer and winter pastures.
Experiences: Staying in white yurts, witnessing grand seasonal migrations, and experiencing equestrian culture (horse racing, sheep tossing).
Food: Boiled mutton, Naryn (noodles with meat), mare’s milk, and baursak (fried dough).
Top Destination: Ili. It offers the most mature combination of stunning grassland scenery and accessible Kazakh herder culture.

Part 3: Travel Logistics

Flights from Hangzhou to Xinjiang

Urumqi: Direct flights available. The universal hub with the most options.
Kashgar: Direct flights available. Ideal for heading straight to the Southern core.
Altay: Direct flights available. Perfect for chasing Northern autumn colors without layovers. Note: Other cities require layovers in Urumqi or stopover flights.

North vs. South Quick Comparison

Vibe	South Xinjiang (Uyghur)	North Xinjiang (Kazakh)
Core Hubs	Kashgar, Hotan	Yining, Altay
Best Seasons	Spring/Autumn (Avoid summer heat)	Summer (Grasslands), Autumn (Altay)
Pace	Slow, cultural, wandering bazaars	Long drives, hiking, massive landscapes
Language	Uyghur dominant; Mandarin limited	Mandarin widely spoken

Final Itinerary Tips

First-Timers: Go North (Ili). The visual impact of grasslands and lakes is unbeatable, and the infrastructure is very forgiving.
Plenty of Time (10+ days): Fly direct to Kashgar for 3-4 days in the South, fly back to Urumqi, then spend 5-6 days in Ili to experience both worlds.
Autumn Chasers: Fly direct to Altay in late September to catch Kanas at its golden peak.
Southern Xinjiang Notes: Keep a translation app handy, expect security checkpoints, and prepare for intense summer heat.

Part 4: Commuting Analysis

Xinjiang is massive—a level of vastness hard to grasp for those used to the densely populated provinces of Eastern China. When traveling on a tight schedule, commuting time becomes a critical factor.

The following data is based on real-time queries from the Amap (Gaode Maps) Driving Route API, grouped by Xinjiang’s 14 prefectural-level administrative divisions. Distances and times represent the estimated driving distance and time from the nearest airport to the attraction. Please note that road conditions vary significantly by season and weather; these values are for reference only.

1. Urumqi City

Airport: Urumqi Diwopu International Airport

Attraction	Distance	Driving Time
Heavenly Lake (Tianchi)	73 km	56 min
Nanshan Scenic Area	143 km	1h 39 min

2. Changji Hui Autonomous Prefecture ⚠️ No local airport; uses Urumqi

Airport: Urumqi Diwopu International Airport

Attraction	Distance	Driving Time
Heavenly Lake (Tianchi)	73 km	56 min
Jiangbulake	236 km	2h 38 min

3. Ili Kazakh Autonomous Prefecture

Airport: Yining Airport

Attraction	Distance	Driving Time
Kalajun Grassland	123 km	1h 47 min
Nalati Grassland	245 km	3h 09 min
Kuerdening	152 km	2h 11 min
Tangbula Grassland	227 km	3h 13 min
Qiaxi Forest Park	179 km	2h 57 min
Zhaosu Grassland	183 km	2h 39 min
Xiata Ancient Trail	270 km	4h 02 min

4. Altay Prefecture

Airport: Altay Xuedu Airport

Attraction	Distance	Driving Time
Kanas Scenic Area	229 km	3h 12 min
Hemu Village	260 km	3h 46 min
Baihaba Village	248 km	3h 59 min
Wucaitan (Rainbow Beach)	106 km	1h 19 min
Ulungur Lake	106 km	1h 44 min
Koktokay	290 km	3h 29 min

5. Tacheng Prefecture

Airport: Tacheng Qianquan Airport

Attraction	Distance	Driving Time
Barluk Mountains	180 km	2h 48 min
Ganjiahu Haloxylon Forest	486 km	6h 39 min

6. Bortala Mongol Autonomous Prefecture

Airport: Bole Alashankou Airport

Attraction	Distance	Driving Time
Sayram Lake	131 km	2h 01 min
Hariturege	61 km	1h 01 min

7. Karamay City

Airport: Karamay Airport

Attraction	Distance	Driving Time
Urho Ghost City	92 km	1h 27 min
Ailik Lake	91 km	1h 44 min

8. Bayingolin Mongol Autonomous Prefecture

Airport: Korla Licheng Airport

Attraction	Distance	Driving Time
Bosten Lake	76 km	1h 08 min
Luobu Village	80 km	1h 31 min
Luntai Poplar Forest	197 km	2h 43 min
Bayinbuluke	376 km	5h 18 min
Kumtag Desert	661 km	8h 32 min

9. Aksu Prefecture

Airport: Aksu Airport

Attraction	Distance	Driving Time
Wensu Grand Canyon	49 km	42 min
Tianshan Grand Canyon	305 km	3h 33 min
Shaya Poplar Forest	252 km	3h 10 min

10. Kizilsu Kyrgyz Autonomous Prefecture (Kezhou) ⚠️ No local airport; uses Kashgar

Airport: Kashgar Airport

Attraction	Distance	Driving Time
Oytak Red Mountain	99 km	1h 36 min
Muji Crater	367 km	4h 13 min

11. Kashgar Prefecture

Airport: Kashgar Airport

Attraction	Distance	Driving Time
Baisha Lake (Pamirs)	158 km	3h 01 min
Karakul Lake	190 km	3h 26 min
Tashkurgan Stone City	290 km	4h 45 min
Panlong Ancient Road	329 km	5h 34 min

12. Hotan Prefecture

Airport: Hotan Airport

Attraction	Distance	Driving Time
Taklamakan Desert Highway	351 km	6h 33 min
Niya Ruins	371 km	5h 11 min

13. Turpan City

Airport: Turpan Jiaohe Airport

Attraction	Distance	Driving Time
Grape Valley	15 km	21 min
Karez Folk Custom Park	13 km	20 min
Flaming Mountains	39 km	39 min
Tuyugou	58 km	57 min

14. Hami City

Airport: Hami Airport

Attraction	Distance	Driving Time
Hami Ghost City	38 km	53 min
Dahaidao	171 km	3h 31 min
Barkol Lake	195 km	2h 45 min

6 Days and 5 Nights of Spring Leisure in Jinghong Xishuangbanna

hi@victor42.work (Victor42) — Thu, 09 Apr 2026 18:17:00 +0000

Visiting Xishuangbanna in late March was a brilliant decision; our family of three returned completely fulfilled.

You might not believe it, but I actually ran a statistical analysis on historical flight prices from Hangzhou to Xishuangbanna. While there were no groundbreaking conclusions, I did spot four distinct price peaks: Spring Festival, the Water Splashing Festival, summer vacation, and National Day. The window between the Spring Festival and the Water Splashing Festival is a clear trough—possibly the lowest of the year. Taking time off to travel then offers incredible value.

I’ve always thought the map of Yunnan Province resembles a short-legged camel. Xishuangbanna sits at the southernmost tip—right on the camel’s hind leg—bordering Myanmar and Laos.

The Xishuangbanna Dai Autonomous Prefecture is vast, comprising three county-level divisions. Jinghong City is the capital and houses the only airport. While Menghai and Mengla counties offer Pu’er tea culture, botanical gardens, and border tours, we kept our family leisure trip strictly within the Jinghong area (the red circle). Our farthest excursion was to Wild Elephant Valley, just an hour’s drive away. For first-time visitors, this red circle easily packs a week’s worth of activities.

We arrived on the evening of Day 1 and kept things light. We grabbed some Dai-style rice noodles near our hotel—the combination of fresh mint and Sichuan peppercorns was absolutely phenomenal. Strolling down the palm-lined city streets, the tropical vibe hit us immediately.

Day 2: Primeval Forest Park & Gaozhuang

Primeval Forest Park

Located just outside Jinghong, this park features a narrow, linear layout—you walk to the end and head back the same way. From the entrance inward, it’s divided into three main stops: Golden Lake, Aini Village, and the Tropical Rainforest.

Aside from general sightseeing, each area hosts scheduled activities. Golden Lake features the signature peacock flight, Aini Village offers interactive folk dances, and the Tropical Rainforest hosts a mini water-splashing party.

We took the sightseeing buggy straight to the farthest point: the Tropical Rainforest. Stepping off, we passed through a food and shopping plaza into the monkey sanctuary.

Unlike traditional zoos, there are no visible fences here. It feels more like wild macaques have naturally gathered due to long-term feeding.

Further in lies the primeval forest loop, which eventually brings you back to the monkeys.

There’s also a paid jungle trekking course, but the minimum age is six, so my daughter couldn’t participate yet.

This rainforest is worlds apart from the woods back in Zhejiang. Thanks to abundant sunlight and rainfall, the vegetation is hyper-dense. Fierce competition forces trees to grow straight up; their trunks remain bare while all the foliage clusters high up in the canopy.

To support their massive weight and absorb surface water, these giants develop extensive root systems that boldly break through the soil. One root structure even looked exactly like a peacock’s flowing dress.

Undergrowth plants have their own survival tactics, evolving massive leaves to capture whatever sunlight trickles down. One banana leaf was larger than my daughter.

Even rough-barked trees are completely overrun by moss, wasting zero surface area. Despite the sunny weather, the rainforest is so humid that you can see water constantly dripping from the moss even at high noon.

The strangler fig is a quintessential feature of Xishuangbanna’s rainforest—a brutal display of botanical usurpation.

We all know banyan trees create their own mini-forests by dropping aerial roots that turn into new trunks. But do those aerial roots serve a purpose before hitting the dirt?

I used to think they didn’t, assuming the main tree supplied all the nutrients. However, a strangler fig’s aerial roots must function independently. Its seeds are deposited high in host trees via bird droppings, germinating in the humus of branch crevices. The aerial roots extract moisture directly from the air as they descend. Once they strike soil, they explode in growth, rapidly transforming into a fully grounded plant and thickening their exposed vines into massive wooden cages.

Often, multiple strangler figs colonize a single host, wrapping it from top to bottom, starving it of light and water. If their growing roots chafe against each other and expose their inner tissues, they can even fuse together, sharing water and nutrients in a process called “natural grafting.” Eventually, the host tree rots away inside, leaving the massive, hollow strangler fig complex standing in its place.

It’s not just the figs. Relentless vines creep everywhere, easily snapping thick bamboo. The flora here is ruthless, crushing competitors to claim dominance.

Next time you hear the phrase “law of the jungle,” don’t picture a polite, temperate forest—picture this tropical battlefield.

Leaving the rainforest zone, we crossed a suspension bridge into Aini Village.

The Hani people call themselves Aini, and this area showcases their culture through exhibits, artifact displays, and interactive dances. There’s also a somewhat out-of-place Dendrobium (orchid) pavilion.

While browsing the cultural boards, I made a fascinating discovery: they have a calendar operating on a base-13 cycle. A prime number!

Our modern astronomical calendars trace back to the Babylonian base-12/60 systems. We count to 10 on our fingers, but they used their hands differently. If you use your right thumb to count the three joints on your other four fingers, you easily count to 12 on one hand. For every 12 on the right hand, you raise one finger on the left hand. Five fingers on the left times 12 equals 60. That’s the origin of our 60-minute hours and 12-sign zodiac.

So, seeing a base-13 system blew my mind since it lacks an obvious anatomical basis.

After digging deeper, I realized it’s not strictly a base-13 mathematical system. A 13-day cycle begins and ends with the “Rat.” This reflects the Hani philosophical view of cycles: a cycle must overlap with the start of the next one to signify renewal and continuity. It’s much like a musical scale (Do, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Ti)—there are only seven distinct notes, but we always sing the eighth “Do” to complete the octave.

The Hani still operate on a 12-zodiac daily loop. Further research revealed their main traditional calendar is actually a 10-month system inherited from the ancient Qiang people. A year is divided into 10 months of 36 days each (exactly three 12-animal cycles). The remaining 5 or 6 days are artificially inserted as “New Year days.” Ultimately, it’s still rooted in a 10/12 framework.

Leaving the exhibits, we headed upstairs to the Aini Village plaza.

At one end was the Dendrobium pavilion, where I saw orchids growing directly on tree bark for the first time.

Visitors could join in on traditional bamboo-clapping and circle dances. Because many ethnic minorities in China share cultural roots, you’ll see variations of these dances across the Southwest.

We took the buggy back to Golden Lake for the peacock flight.

The event began with a lengthy over-water dance performance featuring themes like the Peacock Dance and the Dai King’s parade.

However, watching a massive flock of peacocks swoop down from the hills toward the stands was undeniably breathtaking.

Animal flight falls into three categories: powered flight, soaring, and gliding. Birds, bats, and insects use powered flight to actively overcome their weight. Eagles and albatrosses soar, utilizing thermal updrafts to stay aloft without flapping. Gliding is basically a controlled fall over a distance—which is what peacocks do. They can glide down from high places, but they have to walk back up.

That said, they can easily clear this lake, which makes them far superior to chickens.

Afterward, there was a paid feeding session. My daughter had a blast. The peacocks’ cyan and blue plumage looked spectacular in the warm sunset light. Peacocks and elephants are undoubtedly the twin animal superstars of Banna.

In hindsight, our itinerary here was flawed. I hadn’t checked the show schedules closely. The performances are highly overlapping; if you catch one, you automatically miss the others. This poor scheduling wasted over an hour and a half of our time just waiting around.

A smarter approach: catch a peacock flight right at the entrance, head straight to the rainforest (join the water splashing if interested), hit Aini Village, and then leave.

Gaozhuang and the Night Market

We grabbed a taxi to Gaozhuang and visited Wat Pha Sorn Kaew (the Grand Golden Stupa) after dinner.

Completed in 2013, it’s a completely modern temple that gets a facelift every year.

Free from historical constraints, the architects heavily integrated modern technology. The interior feels more like a luxury hotel than a traditional Theravada temple.

The extensive use of blue genuinely creates a serene, “pure land” atmosphere.

Being a modern structure, the lighting was clearly designed from the ground up. It looks best at night, so coming after dark was a huge win.

(A gallery of stunning night shots follows)

The stupa marks the highest point in central Gaozhuang, offering a bustling aerial view of the Starlight Night Market.

The periphery of Gaozhuang is lined with uniquely designed, towering hotels that frequently appear in Banna’s tourism ads.

Day 3: Ancient Village & Buddhist Temples

Mandiu Ancient Village

I specifically mapped out this niche destination. It’s a traditional Dai village that rarely makes it onto standard tour routes, offering a glimpse into more authentic local life.

We arrived just before the local morning market closed.

We lingered at a fruit stall, essentially turning it into an all-you-can-eat buffet of egg fruit, milk fruit, yellow dragon fruit, sugar apples, and tamarind.

The village has an old well. The pavilion above it is clearly new, but it captures the right aesthetic.

Despite being an “ancient” village, it’s not isolated in the deep woods. Locals embrace modern life; many homes are being converted into restaurants and guesthouses.

We caught a slice of local life: an elder sitting in the distance, playing a bamboo flute-like instrument.

Walking further uphill brought us to the ancient temple at the peak.

The exterior walls featured fascinating murals. Unlike typical Chinese Buddhist art, the style oddly evoked medieval European religious paintings.

Inside, there was a small blackboard, likely used for teaching Dai or Mandarin.

The Dai script is full of loops and hooks, distinctly different from Thai. Despite sharing cultural roots, the two languages diverged long ago and are mutually unintelligible today.

Outside stood a Bodhi tree. In Buddhism, it represents a portal to another realm, and its form here genuinely imparted a sense of inner peace.

Nearby was a small rubber plantation. My daughter always asks how things are made, so it was great to show her exactly where tires and pacifiers come from.

The village is compact and quiet, largely free of tourists, allowing us to soak in the tranquility.

Prajna Stupa

This is the largest silver-white stupa in Jinghong.

It’s just a stupa, not a temple, so there’s no interior to explore.

Smaller standalone statues surround it.

You simply walk the perimeter. It’s a bit out of the way, but since we had a chartered car, it was an easy detour.

Manting Park

Manting Park is a major urban hotspot. It encompasses the former Dai King’s palace, royal gardens, and an elephant education center.

Its true draw, however, is travel photography. Unlike active temples that enforce dress codes (no bare shoulders or knees), this park offers stunning Dai architecture with no wardrobe restrictions. The palace area was completely overrun by tourists dressed as “Dai maidens.”

The architecture we see today is a modern reconstruction. Personally, I think their obsession with gold outshines even the Ming and Qing emperors.

Artifacts are displayed outside the palace. As the “hometown of peacocks,” the bird’s motif is woven into every cultural facet.

Historically, this region was known as “Mengle” under the Dai kings. “Meng” means “place” in Dai, a prefix you’ll see everywhere on the map. “Le” simply refers to the Dai people.

Similarly, “Man” means “village,” as seen in Manzhang Village (“Zhang” meaning elephant). Dai grammar is interesting—the common noun comes first, and the distinguishing modifier follows.

Even the name “Xishuangbanna” translates to “Twelve Thousand Fields,” originating from a Ming Dynasty administrative tax division. It stuck.

Rushing to the elephant show, we passed a fig-like Ficus tree dropping fruit that looked exactly like figs inside.

The elephant conservation and education efforts here are commendable. (I’ll bundle the elephant facts into the Wild Elephant Valley section).

The presentations were entirely educational—focusing on feeding and health checks rather than unnatural, crowd-pleasing tricks.

At the end, the elephants splashed the audience in greeting.

We exited the elephant park and walked along the garden’s far bank, passing a small white stupa near the exit.

Wat Rajabhoj (Zongfosi)

Manting Park connects directly to Wat Rajabhoj.

Visiting during the day reveals layers of intricate details that are lost in the dark.

One gate in particular looked noticeably older than the rest.

I spotted a stone stele with unfamiliar characters—likely related to the life of the monk it memorializes.

In Dai culture, even dragons are depicted with elephant tusks and trunks.

Day 4: Wild Elephant Valley

This long, narrow park stretches from southeast to northwest. The southeast section houses the elephant enclosures and paid trekking. The middle section features tropical flora, fauna, and commercial areas. The vast northwest is a wild elephant habitat accessible by cable car and boardwalks.

Elephant Science & Rainforest Trekking

We booked the rainforest elephant trek and headed straight to the enclosures, catching another educational session while waiting.

Here, handlers inspected an elephant’s teeth. Elephants will only hold their mouths open like this for people they deeply trust.

Some fascinating facts we learned:

Elephants replace their teeth 5 times, maxing out at 6 sets. Wild elephants grind through them faster eating tough bamboo, usually dying around age 60 when the last set wears out. Captive elephants eat softer food and can live into their 80s.
Asian elephants have 5 front toes and 4 back toes; African savanna elephants have 4 front and 3 back.
Their digestive efficiency is terrible—only 40% of food is absorbed. During our trek, the elephant dropped fresh dung packed with undigested grass. Calves sometimes eat their mother’s dung to acquire essential digestive probiotics.
Asian elephants operate in matriarchal societies. Males leave the herd upon reaching adulthood.
The folding of an elephant’s ears indicates its age.
A trunk contains zero bones, only muscle. Its true dexterity comes from a small “finger” at the tip (Asian elephants have one, African elephants have two). This functions like a primate’s opposable thumb, allowing them to pick up objects as small as a soybean—a critical evolutionary trait for tool use.

The trek involved following an elephant through the rainforest, feeding it at a designated spot, snapping photos, and returning, all accompanied by expert commentary.

Afterward, we spotted a mother and calf on a side path.

Calves have to learn how to use their trunks; this one was playfully stepping on its own nose.

During the trek, tropical insects buzzed around us. A girl in our group screamed, thinking they were bees.

One landed on my hand. It was actually a hoverfly—a harmless, aphid-eating master of flight that mimics bees as a defense mechanism. Unlike bees, hoverflies can hover perfectly still and even fly backward.

Flora, Fauna & Folk Performances

We didn’t linger in the middle section.

We grabbed lunch and stumbled upon an ethnic performance featuring the Wa people’s intense hair-swinging dance.

On the way to the cable car, my daughter found a tiny snail in the orchid garden and happily carried it around.

Wild Elephant Habitat

A 30-minute cable car ride took us over several valleys to the summit.

From above, the rainforest looks like a chaotic, interconnected web of vines, making it hard to distinguish individual trees.

Compare that to this orderly bamboo forest I photographed in Anji, Zhejiang years ago. The competition here is far more subdued.

We scoured the water sources below for wild elephants.

Staff advised looking for heavy dung concentrations as indicators of frequent visits.

At the summit’s observation deck, my daughter and I geeked out over the extensive insect exhibits.

We spotted large red ants on nearby trees. I initially feared they were invasive, highly aggressive Red Imported Fire Ants, but they were actually native Weaver Ants, which build nests by folding leaves and are mostly defensive.

We didn’t see any wild elephants. The odds are notoriously low. You have to remember: we are just guests here. The elephants don’t exist to serve tourists. Our real job is to appreciate their environment and observe the incredible ecosystem in peace.

The boardwalk down featured brilliant exhibits on insect camouflage. We saw a “walking popcorn”—likely a planthopper nymph that secretes a massive waxy disguise to fool predators.

We somehow took a wrong turn and ended up exiting through the North Gate, passing a small theater playing adorable clips of local elephant sightings.

Day 5: Tropical Flowers Garden

A solid alternative to the further-out botanical gardens. It’s professionally zoned and culminates in a popular white sand beach. Our ticket included fish and deer feeding, plus a “miracle fruit” tasting.

The fish at the entrance were ravenous, practically climbing over each other out of the water for food.

Nearby was Torch Ginger, whose massive “petals” are actually bracts protecting tiny real flowers inside.

We saw tall, slender betel nut trees, a common sight in Jinghong.

And avenues lined with Royal Palms. It functions beautifully as a local walking park.

We caught a rubber-tapping demonstration. Kids loved poking and pulling the elastic, half-dried rubber.

We also found Cassia fistula pods (Sausage Tree). The shell is rock hard, but smashing it open revealed neat, segmented compartments.

At the fruit orchard, we tried the “miracle fruit.”

First, we tasted painfully sour lemons and papayas. Then, we ate the berry. Afterward, the sourness vanished completely—the lemons tasted like honey! The effect lasts up to half an hour.

A sudden tropical downpour trapped us for 20 minutes. It was actually quite pleasant. The rainforest is unique in that it essentially generates its own rain via massive transpiration from the dense canopy, creating a localized water cycle.

Post-rain, we explored the orchard, spotting Jabuticaba and Oleaster.

A local showed me the trick to picking Oleaster: the large, deep red ones are sweet, while the smaller, yellowish ones are incredibly astringent.

Across the bridge, the sun hitting the coconut terraces was stunning.

We also saw dense clusters of Thai cherry blossoms (actually a legume, not a true cherry or Thailand’s national flower).

My daughter played at the artificial white sand beach, which had a great Southeast Asian resort vibe and transitioned into a lively party spot at night.

Local Life & Logistics

Geography & Hotels

Xishuangbanna functions about an hour behind Beijing time socially; you easily find yourself eating dinner at 8 PM. In late March, temperatures ranged comfortably from 20-35°C with very few mosquitos.

I mapped out four main hotel zones:

Gaozhuang: Built for tourists. Luxury, nightlife, and heavy traffic jams. Skip if you want authentic local flavor.
City Center: Where we stayed. The heart of local life, great logistics, and minimal traffic.
Sunac Resort: A self-contained bubble for families who don’t plan to explore much.
Outskirts: Great budget options with few attractions nearby.

Transportation & Food

If you aren’t staying in Gaozhuang, chartering a car is essential. It guarantees a ride back from remote spots like Wild Elephant Valley, and local drivers offer invaluable tips.

Our driver recommended an incredible hillside restaurant overlooking Gaozhuang.

Our family loves Southeast Asian flavors—mint, lemongrass, curry—so Banna was culinary heaven.

We devoured Dai rice noodles, Myanmar street food (crispy banana pancakes, meat wraps, pounded chicken feet), and customizable bean soup breakfasts.

We also tried a wild mushroom hotpot. It’s strictly timed for 35 minutes to ensure toxins are cooked out, and they even keep a sample of the broth on file just in case! It tasted exactly like a rich “Buddha Jumps Over the Wall” broth.

Other highlights included stir-fried wild flowers, passion fruit fish, and an incredibly refreshing mint beef dish.

We even tried a deep-fried bug platter (bamboo worms, bee pupae, and cicadas)—mostly they just tasted like cooking oil.

Honestly, even if you skip the tourist sites and just walk around eating, it’s worth the trip.

Observations

Dai architecture is ubiquitous—gold and silver accents with sharp, soaring eaves on everything from airports to flea markets and even temporary construction sheds.

You hear two dominant accents here: the local Dai accent ending sentences with “ga,” and the Northeastern Chinese accent from the massive influx of drivers and service workers.

The air was sometimes hazy, a result of cross-border slash-and-burn farming in Laos.

We loved browsing the local farm markets, discovering everything from edible wild flowers to massive tilapia and pressed chili cakes.

Expenses Breakdown

Finally, here’s our expense breakdown. The trip totaled roughly 13,000 RMB.

Traveling during the off-season is the best. Flights accounted for half the budget, and the rest was well-balanced.

When it comes to travel planning: honestly, there’s a simple, repeatable process. Once you string all the key elements together in the right sequence, the itinerary practically writes itself.

For the full breakdown, you can check out this article: A Step-by-Step Guide to Travel Planning.

Dunhuang Revisited - A 5-Day Family Trip

hi@victor42.work (Victor42) — Fri, 12 Sep 2025 00:28:00 +0000

It’s been four years since my last visit, and my daughter is finally old enough for a proper long-distance trip. The goal was to introduce her to the desert and Gobi, a landscape starkly different from the lush mountains and rivers of southern China.

Traveling with a kid raises the bar for transport and lodging. We narrowed it down to three well-established desert destinations: Mingsha Mountain in Dunhuang, Shapotou in Ningxia, and Xiangshawan in Inner Mongolia.

I’d been to Dunhuang before and written a detailed travelogue about it: Dunhuang Self-Drive 5 Days 4 Nights, covering all the main attractions.
Shapotou in Ningxia offers a unique combination of desert and the Yellow River.
Xiangshawan in Inner Mongolia is less scenic and more of a desert resort, but it’s commercially well-developed with plenty of attractions, including a water park.

After much discussion, my wife and I decided on a return trip to Dunhuang. Familiarity meant fewer potential pitfalls, plus we had a chance to visit the Yadan Geopark, which we missed last time. Having only been to the great Northwest once before, our decision to revisit the same city speaks volumes about its charm.

As of 2025, there’s a single direct flight from Hangzhou to Dunhuang, which departs in the afternoon and arrives in the evening. It was my daughter’s first flight, and she was thrilled.

Our itinerary dedicated the first and last days to travel, leaving us with three full days for exploring. We tackled the West Route to Yadan on day one, saving the next two for Mingsha Mountain and Crescent Lake.

West Thousand Buddha Caves

This was a stop along the West Route on our way to Yadan.

The famous Mogao Grottoes are also known as the Thousand Buddha Caves and are located east of Dunhuang. To the west lies a similar, smaller complex: the West Thousand Buddha Caves. For the average tourist who has already seen Mogao, a visit here isn’t essential, which explains the tranquility and lack of crowds.

We’ve visited Mogao before, and while our daughter is likely too young to appreciate the grottoes fully, giving her a quick glimpse was a good introduction. This place was perfect for that.

We joined a guided tour of four caves, where photography was forbidden. The statues here are more heavily damaged, but the murals are on par with those at Mogao. A few details were particularly striking and unique to this site:

The only tent-style grotto ceiling in all of Dunhuang, sloping down from a central beam in a nod to nomadic culture.
Partially restored statues from the Republic of China era, offering a rare look at their inner construction: a wooden core wrapped in straw and coated with mud.
A layered mural created by the Shazhou Uyghur regime. They whitewashed over original Sui and Tang dynasty frescoes to paint their own. Over the centuries, the whitewash has faded, allowing the older artwork to peek through, creating a fascinating overlap of two distinct artistic periods on a single wall.

Other features, like the predominantly male-like appearance of Sui dynasty Buddhas and the distinct representations of disciples Ananda and Kasyapa, are also seen at Mogao and serve as valuable resources for studying ancient history and fashion.

Yadan Geopark

Yadan is the final destination on the West Route, a road that literally ends there.

The first sight of Yadan is guaranteed to be awe-inspiring. Even for desert veterans, it’s an entirely new experience.

The perfectly flat terrain, the uniform horizontal textures of the yardang formations, and the vast, distant horizon combine to stretch one’s sense of space to the absolute limit. It’s a stunning display of order emerging from the chaos of nature.

The feeling is akin to gazing upon a sea of clouds from an airplane window.

The landscape’s formation is a story of natural order.

A diagram from Yadan’s official website clearly illustrates its geological evolution.

During the Middle Pleistocene (c. 300,000–100,000 years ago), this area was a freshwater lake that deposited perfectly level layers of soil. In the Late Pleistocene (c. 100,000–10,000 years ago), the land rose, the lake dried up, and the exposed layers were subjected to extreme temperature shifts. This, combined with persistent, powerful winds, began to carve the landscape much like water carves a canyon. The wind sculpted long, ridge-like yardangs, which were then further eroded into walls, towers, and pillars, destined to one day crumble back into dust.

The Yadan landscape is in a constant state of flux. What we see today is its geological prime. In tens of thousands of years, these magnificent structures will be gone.

Sightseeing Bus

The first leg of the tour is a bus ride with stops at designated viewpoints.

Our first stop was a police station built right into a yardang—a relic from the area’s initial development.

Many of the park’s yardangs have been named for things they resemble, the most striking being the “Peacock Standing Gracefully.” It’s remarkably lifelike. My daughter, however, was far more impressed by the swings at the rest stop, where we happily passed the time.

Of all the formations we saw, the most spectacular has to be the “West Sea Fleet,” a vast and rare collection of massive, ridge-like yardangs.

Here’s a GIF to give you a sense of the scale.

Vegetation is sparse here. Instead, black gravel acts as an anchor, securing the soil and protecting the landforms from wind erosion.

Electric Off-Road Vehicle

I’ve sketched a rough map; the red line is the bus route. It’s high-res enough to save. Based on my observations, there are at least three types of off-road vehicle experiences:

At the “Peacock” stop, there’s an “Off-Road Vehicle Station.” We skipped this one. Staff explained it follows the main road but allows you to stop anywhere. I suspect it takes the small blue loop on the map during the return journey.
At the start of the blue route, there’s another station where we rented a self-drive vehicle for ¥298. You can stop whenever you like but must stick to a designated gravel path. It’s a low-speed electric cart; the route takes about 20 minutes non-stop.
The electric cart route ends at the park’s prime sunset spot. Here, you’ll find more powerful off-roaders and boat-shaped “desert assault buses.” Staff said these could take you deep into the Gobi along the green route and back. I’m not sure how far in they go.

We took our time on the electric vehicle route, stopping frequently for photos and a Hami melon snack on the Gobi, turning a 20-minute ride into a nearly two-hour adventure.

A gallery to showcase the beauty of Yadan:

Former World of Warcraft players would surely appreciate my excitement, seeing landscapes reminiscent of The Barrens, Thousand Needles, and Shimmering Flats come to life. I felt an undeniable urge to just walk off into the deep Gobi alone.

While the park names these formations after familiar objects—some fitting, some a stretch—I believe that if you strip away human projections, its raw, natural form is a masterpiece of pure beauty.

Mingsha Mountain & Crescent Lake

We spent the next two days at Mingsha Mountain and Crescent Lake, an ideal desert playground for kids.

It’s rare to find a desert attraction so conveniently close to a city in China. It offers all the wildness and romance of the desert, yet it’s only a ten-minute taxi ride from our hotel. The ticket is valid for three consecutive days of unlimited entry, and it’s even free for residents of nearby cities like Jiuquan and Jiayuguan (check the official account for current policies).

The park has several gates, but the central one is the main entrance where taxis drop you off. The view upon entering is shown above, but it’s even more stunning at sunset. The interplay of light and shadow gives the dunes a dramatic, three-dimensional quality. I have more photos in my previous Dunhuang travelogue.

The park is split into two zones. The East Zone is geared towards adventure and “conquering nature,” with paid activities like hot air balloons, off-roading, and paragliding. The West Zone evokes the romance of the ancient Western Regions, featuring the camel camp, Crescent Lake, and sightseeing carts.

We had done the East Zone activities on our last trip, and they’re mostly unsuitable for young children, so we headed straight for the west. Under the midday sun, we found a shaded spot by Crescent Lake for our daughter to play freely in the sand.

This is one of my favorite spots in the park. Just out of frame to the lower left is Crescent Lake. The shape, layers, and curving ridge of this particular dune are perfect, projecting a sense of solitary power.

As the sun began to dip, we started exploring. My daughter absolutely loved the camels and rode one each day. Time was the only thing stopping her from going for another round.

We visited Crescent Lake and the Yuequan Pavilion on its shore. The small, lush courtyard feels wonderfully surreal set against the vast expanse of sand.

In the middle of the endless desert, this pristine little courtyard feels almost like a mirage.

From a vantage point above, the reflection of the towering dune in the water creates a stunning optical illusion, like a deep abyss.

For centuries, Crescent Lake has been sustained by natural groundwater. However, with the water table declining in recent years, the city of Dunhuang now artificially replenishes its groundwater to maintain the lake’s water level.

This small body of water supports a surprisingly vibrant ecosystem. We saw flocks of sparrows, a resident magpie, and even a stray cat.

As evening approached, the dunes began to take on a dramatic, three-dimensional texture. We decided to climb the nearest peak to watch night fall over the lake.

The dunes appear deceptively close. It’s only when you see the tiny silhouettes of people on the summit that you grasp their true scale.

We reached the top just in time to see the lights around Crescent Lake switch on, their glow complementing the fading sunset.

The nearby Crescent Lake Town is a new addition since our last visit. The park has added several new shows, which was a welcome surprise.

At 8:30 PM, the Starry Sky Concert kicked off in the town. There were no live singers, just a DJ playing a setlist over powerful speakers aimed at the dunes, with a host pumping up the energy. Tourists, glow sticks in hand, covered the entire hillside. The younger crowd belted out Power Station’s “Dang” with infectious enthusiasm during the mass singalong. I even saw a woman in her twenties, there by herself, spontaneously break into a street dance. Everyone was completely immersed, and the energy was contagious.

The concert was a surprise, as we had only intended to climb the dune for the view. On the other side, the rising moon illuminated a completely different world—one of perfect tranquility.

As the concert neared its end, a swarm of lights appeared from behind a distant dune. My first time seeing a drone show in person was here, in the middle of the desert.

The next day at the park was for more sand play and camel riding, but we had a “secret mission.” In the afternoon, we visited a photo studio outside the park where my wife and daughter got a “Feitian” (flying Apsara) makeover, transforming into an ethereal mother-daughter duo. These studios are everywhere and offer full photo packages, but we opted for just the costumes and makeup, with yours truly behind the lens.

We focused on portraits that day, so I didn’t take many landscape shots. After the photoshoot, we skipped the concert and headed back to the city for a celebratory dinner.

A Turbulent Return

On our last day, we had a flight back to Hangzhou. We chose a connecting flight through Lanzhou to avoid the early morning direct one. While the trip out was smooth, the return flights were uncomfortable. My daughter started feeling dizzy as we approached Lanzhou.

After a 30-minute rest in Lanzhou, we boarded the next plane. The descent into Hangzhou was turbulent, and my daughter succumbed to motion sickness.

To complicate matters, a thunderstorm was raging in Hangzhou. Our plane aborted its landing attempt at Xiaoshan Airport and had to divert to Wenzhou to wait for clearance. The Wenzhou airport was packed with other diverted flights, all queued up. After a long wait, the weather in Hangzhou finally cleared, and a 40-minute flight later, we landed.

By the time we got a taxi home, it was past 1 AM. We had spent over 10 hours on planes—as long as an international flight—leaving everyone drained. But my daughter’s motion sickness lingered. Halfway home, she got sick again all over the taxi, followed by several more episodes. We finally got home, cleaned up, and fell into bed after 2 AM.

She probably won’t want to get on a plane for a few years. But it was a test, and it was a clear sign that we’re not quite ready for long-haul international travel just yet.

Travel Notes

Visiting Dunhuang in early September is far more pleasant than in April, as you avoid the risk of sandstorms. Temperatures are about 10°C warmer, and a short-sleeved shirt with a light, long-sleeved sun-shirt is perfect for both day and night.

The West Route is a long haul. There are no public buses, and taxis won’t go that far, so your options are a tour, a chartered car, or self-driving. Yadan is a two-hour drive one-way from the city, and the basic park tour takes another two hours. If you go to Yadan, you’ll have time for at most one other stop on the route. It’s an incredible place for sunset, but with a young child’s bedtime and Dunhuang’s sunset being two hours later than Beijing time, we had to pass.

We chartered a car for the day and had a great chat with our local driver. I was surprised to learn that Dunhuang has hydropower; he used to work at one of the local stations. Despite the flat terrain, it plays a supporting role in Dunhuang’s energy mix.

The driver pointed out two common types of trees in the area: poplar and Lombardy poplar. The photo above was taken at the West Thousand Buddha Caves, so I’m not sure if these are the same. He explained that all the roadside trees are irrigated through underground pipes every 20 days or so. With maybe only five rainy days a year and rarely more than a drizzle, it’s a testament to the immense, unseen effort required to maintain greenery in a desert city.

Commercially, the Shazhou Night Market in downtown Dunhuang has grown exponentially in the last four years. What was once a single short food street is now a sprawling network of six or seven alleys filled with restaurants, souvenir shops, and photo studios.

Across from the market’s south gate, we stumbled upon a restaurant called “Chen Lao Ba Mutton Fen Tang.” We loved it so much we went twice, and our daughter ate heartily. The owner was incredibly passionate, coming over to explain the different cuts of lamb on our plate. Seeing us trim the fat off, he looked genuinely shocked and exclaimed, “But that’s the best part! What are you even eating?!”

An after-dinner stroll through the quiet local streets outside the market offered a novel and atmospheric experience, with their khaki-colored walls, warm yellow lamplight, and distinctly desert-like poplar trees.

A breakdown of our trip expenses:

After two trips, we feel we’ve now checked off all the major highlights of Dunhuang. Perhaps our next visit will be a stop on a grander Qinghai-Gansu loop tour—an adventure we’re already looking forward to.

When it comes to travel planning: honestly, there’s a simple, repeatable process. Once you string all the key elements together in the right sequence, the itinerary practically writes itself.

For the full breakdown, you can check out this article: A Step-by-Step Guide to Travel Planning.

Why Isnt the Summer Solstice the Hottest Day of the Year

hi@victor42.work (Victor42) — Wed, 23 Jul 2025 16:54:00 +0000

For most of China, the dog days of summer are just around the corner. July and August bring a special kind of misery where a quick lunch run can feel like you’re losing a layer of skin. Late last August, a colleague and I pondered why summer drags on for so long. His theory involved some myth I can’t recall, but I confidently declared, “It’s the concrete. It soaks up a ton of heat and takes a couple of months to let it all go.”

I immediately knew that sounded a bit too simple. It felt right, but it wasn’t very scientific. So, today, let’s get to the bottom of it.

We all know the summer solstice hits around June 21st. It’s the longest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere, when the sun is directly over the Tropic of Cancer (23.5°N latitude, near Shantou).

In theory, this is when we get the most solar radiation. After the solstice, the sun’s direct rays head south, and the days start getting shorter. So why are July and August even hotter?

It Starts with a Lag

Let’s begin with something we see in daily life.

Think about this: if you live in a concrete building, you’ve felt how it stays cool in June even when it’s hot outside. Opening a window is pure bliss. But come September, the crisp autumn air is a lie the moment you step inside your oven-like home.

This is especially true in South China during the “Huinantian” (Resurgence Days) in May and June. Hot, humid air condenses on the cool indoor surfaces, turning walls and floors into a dewy mess. This proves that buildings have a significant thermal lag.

My concrete theory was looking good until I remembered the 24 Solar Terms. Our ancestors knew about the “dog days” of summer long before concrete existed. This phenomenon is older than our cities; it’s baked into the Earth itself.

Earth, the Giant Thermos

To understand this, picture the Earth as a giant thermos, its surface a mix of oceans and land.

The ocean is a massive water tank with an incredible ability to store heat. It can absorb huge amounts of energy with only a slight temperature increase.

Land is more complicated. It’s a mix of water, rock, soil, and man-made structures.

Water is the key player, acting like a sponge for heat. It’s a small part of the land’s mass but holds the most heat.

Rocks and soil, on the other hand, are terrible at long-term heat storage. They have a lower specific heat capacity and are poor conductors. I once visited the Mingsha Sand Dunes in Dunhuang, where the surface sand was scorching, but just a few inches down, it was cool. The heat doesn’t travel deep.

Urban structures like concrete and asphalt are even more extreme. They have a similar heat capacity to soil but are darker, especially asphalt, which absorbs over 90% of sunlight. With no moisture, they can’t “sweat” to cool down. They bake all day and radiate heat all night, creating the urban heat island effect.

But none of this explains why temperatures keep rising after the solstice.

Here’s a better analogy: the leaky balloon. The sun pumps air into the balloon (Earth), while the Earth radiates heat back into space (the leak). On the solstice, the pumping is at its strongest. For two months after, the pumping weakens, but it’s still faster than the leak. The balloon keeps inflating.

Similarly, after the solstice, the Earth still absorbs more heat than it radiates. The planet’s heat reservoir keeps growing until, one day during the “dog days,” intake equals output. That’s the peak. After that, we finally start to cool down.

This is like “carbon peak.” It sounds bad, but it marks the point where the growth rate finally turns negative—a trend reversal.

In this process, water plays the decisive role. Water is the Earth’s most powerful “heat sponge,” capable of absorbing enormous amounts of heat with only a slight increase in its own temperature. The specific heat of water is 4-5 times that of sand and rock, meaning it can store far more heat in a much milder way.

The diurnal temperature range of a place is largely determined by the presence of water. In lush, vegetated areas with ample moisture, the temperature difference between day and night is small. In arid deserts, the difference is extreme.

To take it to an extreme, what if the Earth had no water or atmosphere? We have a perfect real-world example: the Moon. Without water as a “heat sponge” and an atmosphere as a “thermal blanket,” the heat absorbed during the day is almost entirely radiated away at night. The Moon’s surface temperature can soar to 127°C (260°F) during the day and plummet to -173°C (-280°F) at night. With such rapid heating and cooling, the phenomenon of thermal lag would cease to exist.

So, when we complain about the weather, let’s not forget the Moon. Our planet, thanks to the gentle “thermostatic suit” of water and atmosphere, has avoided becoming a hellscape of alternating extremes. They are one of the greatest miracles that allow life to thrive on Earth.

The Air Blower Barrel: The Subtropical High

But the Earth’s own heat accumulation isn’t enough to explain the suffocating heat of the dog days. The real knockout punch comes from an old acquaintance from the weather forecast: the subtropical high. What is it, exactly? A mass of air?

Yes and no.

Picture this: in a large river, a stable vortex forms in a specific spot due to the flow patterns. The vortex itself seems permanent, but the water molecules within it are constantly being replaced. The subtropical high is a magnificent, stable air vortex in the Earth’s atmosphere.

The one that affects China the most is the Western Pacific Subtropical High. Its raw material comes from the equator. Air, heated to a scorching temperature at the equator, rises to high altitudes and then splits into two streams, one north and one south. The northward stream cools at high altitude, sinks, and traces a huge arc, landing around 30°N latitude to form this massive high-pressure system.

If it’s a current of air, why doesn’t it just dissipate?

To understand its stability, we can imagine it as a bottomless, topless air blower barrel:

The Top: Hot air from the equator rises, deflects, cools, and sinks, continuously pouring into the barrel.
The Squeeze: The air pouring in compresses the space inside the barrel. This compression causes heating, resulting in a hot-over-cold air structure inside. This stratification prevents vertical convection. The hot air above acts like an invisible lid, letting air in but not out.
The Walls: The trapped air naturally tries to escape horizontally. But as it blows outward, it’s deflected to the right (due to the Coriolis effect in the Northern Hemisphere). At a certain point, it bends 90 degrees, creating a clockwise “wind wall.” Other air trying to escape from the inside collides with this wall, preventing the wall from deflecting further inward. These forces merge, strengthening the wind wall and creating a balance that contains most of the air.
The Leaks: At the bottom, however, this air barrel wall becomes less sturdy due to friction with the ground. It leaks air in various directions, forming the trade winds and westerlies.

We’ll discuss the “Coriolis effect” in detail in the next chapter; for now, just focus on the wind wall. Ever walk into a mall in the summer and feel that blast of air from an air curtain pointing straight down at the entrance? The door is open, but it’s two different worlds inside and out. That’s the blocking effect of a wind wall.

This is how this high-pressure vortex maintains its relative stability.

The subtropical high, this “air blower barrel,” is a living thing. Its shape and position are constantly changing. When it expands northward and envelops your city, the weather forecast will say the area is under its “control,” a very fitting term.

Imagine the scene from the movie Independence Day where the alien mothership slowly emerges from the clouds and hovers over the city—the subtropical high brings that same sense of oppression.

It makes you feel scorching hot in two main ways:

Sinking Air, Cloudless Skies: Inside the high, the air sinks. This presses the hot surface air down, preventing it from rising to meet the cold air above, which suppresses cloud formation. The result is a clear, sunny sky, allowing the sun to launch a direct physical attack on you.
Transporting Moisture, Muggy Heat: The high often packages and delivers the hot, humid air from over the tropical oceans. High humidity prevents your sweat from evaporating, effectively crippling your body’s cooling system. This is a magic attack.

It’s crucial to note the difference between how the body feels heat from ground radiation versus heat from water evaporation. The former is “sensible heat,” the latter is “latent heat.”

The ground radiates heat via infrared radiation, transferring some of its stored energy to your house, your body, and the surrounding air. The ground cools down, but for you, it’s a heating process—that roasting feeling you get on a summer evening.

When water evaporates, it absorbs a large amount of “sensible heat” and converts it into “latent heat” stored in the water vapor molecules. This heat, which was on the ground or on your body, suddenly seems to vanish into thin air. This is true cooling. Of course, the heat hasn’t disappeared; it’s just been carried away to the heavens by the water vapor.

So, in July and August, you can experience two very different kinds of summer heat. When you’re away from the subtropical high and only dealing with ground heat, it’s a relatively dry heat. You can ride a bike in the hot wind and barely break a sweat. When the subtropical high hits, it’s the kind of heat that makes your clothes stick to you, so muggy you don’t even want to speak.

These are two different summers. One is the summer of a vibrant, energetic high-school athlete; the other is the summer of a sweaty, stressed-out recent grad hunting for a job.

The Coriolis Effect

Now let’s dive into the Coriolis effect, also known as the geostrophic deflection force, and see where the “barrel wall” comes from.

This force is fascinating. It’s not a real push or pull but an inertial phenomenon.

Imagine a cannonball fired from the equator, aimed straight for the North Pole. There are two ways to understand the Coriolis effect.

From the perspective of an observer on the ground:

When the cannonball launches from the equator, in addition to its northward velocity, it carries a huge west-to-east inertial velocity from the Earth’s rotation (about 1670 km/h or 1040 mph). As it travels north, the latitude increases, the circumference of the latitude line decreases, and the rotational speed of the ground below it slows down. But the cannonball, due to inertia, maintains its high equatorial speed. Consequently, it “outruns” the ground beneath it, causing its path to curve eastward. For a northbound cannonball, this is a deflection to the right.

Conversely, if fired from the North Pole towards the equator, the cannonball’s initial east-west velocity is zero. As it flies towards the equator, the ground beneath it is moving eastward at an increasing speed. The cannonball “can’t keep up” and lags behind, deflecting westward. For a southbound cannonball, this is also a deflection to the right.

From a God’s-eye view:

Watching from space, you’d see the rotating Earth move the cannonball to the side. You’d notice that when the cannonball launches from the equator, its initial direction isn’t straight up but diagonally up and towards you. Ignoring gravity, it would travel in a straight line in space. But gravity pulls on it, essentially “taping” this straight line onto the Earth’s surface, making it follow a “straight line on a curved surface.” This is also known as a great-circle route, the shortest path on a sphere. You can see this by stretching a string on a globe. The cannonball would travel northeast, reaching a high latitude where its direction is due east, then curve southeast, its latitude decreasing until it returns to the equator.

It was aimed north, but it passes the North Pole to the northeast. To someone on the ground, doesn’t that look like a rightward deflection?

So, the Coriolis effect isn’t a force; it’s an illusion. We are spinning but often forget we are. We only realize something is amiss when things don’t travel in the straight lines we expect.

The famous Foucault pendulum experiment in science history used this principle to prove the Earth’s rotation. It’s also why atmospheric phenomena are always spinning.

But wait! Sharp-eyed friends might spot another issue. What if the cannonball is fired horizontally at a mid-latitude, with no initial north-south velocity? Why does it still deflect? The “different speeds at different latitudes” explanation doesn’t seem to cover this.

Congratulations, you’ve entered the deep end of the Coriolis effect. You’ve discovered an important fact: physically, the Coriolis effect isn’t driven by a single principle. The north-south deflection is mainly due to the conservation of angular momentum, but the east-west deflection is primarily caused by the balance of centripetal force.

First, let’s reiterate an important concept: Gravitational Force ≠ Gravity.

Gravitational force (F) is due to the Earth’s mass; it exists whether the Earth spins or not and points towards the Earth’s center. Centripetal force (f) only exists with rotation; the faster the spin, the more centripetal force is needed. It points perpendicularly towards the Earth’s axis of rotation. These two forces have different directions. The part of the gravitational force that remains after accounting for the centripetal force is the gravity (mg) you feel. Of course, since gravitational force is very large and the required centripetal force is very small in comparison, the direction and magnitude of gravity are very close to that of the gravitational force.

Note that gravitational force is constant, while centripetal force isn’t a force an object actually receives; it describes the force required for an object to maintain its orbit at a certain speed.

So, for a cannonball at rest, the gravitational force is constant. The component of gravity in the direction of the centripetal force (let’s call it the centripetal component) provides just enough force to keep it stationary.

If fired eastward, the gravitational force is unchanged, but its orbital speed is now its own speed plus the Earth’s rotational speed. It’s moving faster than its latitude. The centripetal component of gravity can’t provide enough force to hold it. It has a tendency to fly off into space, opposite to the direction of the centripetal force. This outward tendency can be split into two components: one perpendicular to the surface and one along it. The perpendicular one doesn’t affect deflection but creates the interesting Eötvös effect (which we won’t get into, or we’ll never finish). We’re interested in the motion along the surface. The cannonball will move towards a lower latitude where more centripetal force can be provided. So, it moves south, deflecting to the right.

If fired westward, the same logic applies. Its combined speed is slower than its latitude. The centripetal component is now excessive, creating a tendency to pull it towards the axis of rotation. Along the surface, this manifests as a northward movement, which is also a rightward deflection.

Once it deviates from a pure east-west path, the angular momentum factor starts to play a role in the north-south direction, ensuring the cannonball continues to deflect.

Studying this leaves a strange feeling. How can this be? Can multiple physical laws combine to form a new one? Is this some kind of nesting doll? But mathematicians see it differently. The formula they derived for the Coriolis force is:

$$ {\displaystyle {\vec {F_{c}}}=-2m({\vec {\omega }}\times {\vec {v}})} $$

I won’t explain it in detail, but this formula covers both east-west and north-south cases simultaneously. Oh, so two different things in physics are the same thing in math… Sorry, my mistake.

Let’s stop here with the Coriolis effect. We have enough information to explain the thermal lag. In short, the existence of the Coriolis effect allows the subtropical high to maintain its “barrel wall,” trapping the high-pressure air inside and creating this unique atmospheric phenomenon.

A quick reminder: in everyday life, the Coriolis effect is not very noticeable. The direction of the vortex in your toilet or sink drain is mainly determined by the shape of the basin and the initial disturbance of the water, not this force.

The Conspiracy of the Thermos and the Air Blower

Alright, back to the main topic. We can now summarize. After the summer solstice, two factors conspire to keep the weather getting hotter:

The Thermos: The Earth’s continued accumulation of heat.
The Air Blower: The external heat delivered by the subtropical high.

Which factor has a greater impact? That’s like asking in a gas explosion whether the gas or the spark is more to blame.

The heat stored by the land, especially by the “heat sponge” of water, is the gas filling the air. It determines the baseline and duration of the heat. On one hand, it stores a massive amount of heat in early summer, preventing the surface temperature from rising too quickly, which is why the solstice isn’t the hottest day. On the other hand, the heat it has accumulated peaks in July and August, finally causing a significant rise in near-surface temperatures, creating a kind of “stone pot bibimbap” baking heat.

At this point, the intense heat is like gas filling the air, just waiting for a spark.

And the humid, scorching blast from the subtropical high is that fatal spark, making you feel like you’re about to explode. This is the inescapable reality of the dog days of summer.

Well, after all that, I know you don’t feel any cooler. Neither do I. Even the toothpaste in my bathroom is warm.

Finally, on the topic of summer, you might also be interested in this: Why Can the Summer Sun Shine on a North-Facing Wall?

Zhejiang Museum of Natural History Anji

hi@victor42.work (Victor42) — Wed, 27 Jul 2022 10:48:00 +0000

I recently visited the Zhejiang Museum of Natural History’s Anji branch, a place I’d been meaning to check out. It’s located in Anji County, Huzhou, about an hour’s drive from Hangzhou.

I opted for the afternoon session (12 PM - 4 PM), which is longer. But for a museum enthusiast like myself, time flies. Four hours for six halls means prioritizing – you can’t see everything in detail.

The recommended order is: Geology, Behring, Ocean, Natural Art, Dinosaur, and Ecology. Being my first visit, I moved quickly, took fewer pictures, and focused on the exhibit texts.

Geology Hall

The introduction is striking: a spherical screen displays Earth’s 4.6-billion-year evolution. Surrounding it, small exhibits showcase rocks and meteorites – granite, metamorphic, sedimentary, even meteorites from Mars and the Moon.

If you’re familiar with Earth’s history, the intro’s brilliance is clear: 4.6 billion years of dramatic change, with life somehow emerging in a volatile environment. From there, the epic of life’s evolution unfolds in the following six halls.

The introductory video is surprisingly detailed, covering major geological events.

Snowball Earth: A massive global ice age. Expanding glaciers reflected sunlight, reducing heat absorption and creating a feedback loop that froze the entire planet. The photo depicts volcanic activity, caused by crustal movement, which reversed this process.

Snowball Earth

Pangaea: The second instance of all continental plates merging into a supercontinent. Pangaea’s center, far from oceans, became vast Gobi deserts – the video is quite realistic. Pangaea eventually broke apart, forming today’s continents and oceans.

Pangaea

East African Rift Valley: Crustal movement is separating the African and Arabian plates, creating a rift valley spanning East Africa. Notably, our human ancestors would eventually emerge from this region.

East African Rift Valley

The Geology Hall’s central theme is the geological time scale. Everything pre-Cambrian is grouped as Precambrian. Subsequent periods each have displays of equal size and format, showcasing typical life and environments.

I suggest initially skipping the displays on the opposite side of the corridor. Focus on the main displays along one side – the hall’s core. Familiarity with evolution and taxonomy enhances the “epic of life” experience: primordial life in the oceans, the Cambrian explosion, Devonian plants conquering land, amphibians emerging, Mesozoic reptile dominance, and mammal takeover after the dinosaur extinction. It’s a whirlwind tour of life’s history.

Cambrian Display

Don’t overlook the small globes beside the displays. Each shows the continental distribution of that period. Unfortunately, they’re positioned too low; even for children, the ocean dominates the view. You need to crouch to see the landmasses, discouraging interaction.

Cretaceous Display

The displays are exceptionally well-crafted. Plant specialists might spot small yellow flowers from the Cretaceous onward, aligning with the prevailing theory of angiosperm (flowering plant) origin in that period.

Cretaceous Display - Small Yellow Flowers

After experiencing the main timeline, return to the hall entrance and explore the other side. As the Zhejiang Museum of Natural History, the geology section highlights Zhejiang’s history and contributions.

Zhejiang formed from the merging of two landmasses. Check your map app’s terrain view to see the rift valley in western Zhejiang’s hills.

Rodinia: A supercontinent, like Pangaea, where landmasses were joined. Rodinia existed much earlier than Pangaea.

Rodinia

Evidence of Glacial Movement

Remember Snowball Earth? The discovery of tillite was key to proving such extensive glaciation. The principle resembles these scratches, but is more definitive.

Tillite forms from slow-moving glaciers. The immense force scrapes up various rocks, incorporates them into the glacier, and crushes them. Disparate rocks become tightly compacted. When unearthed, geologists recognize glacial action as the only explanation. Tillite’s global distribution proves past global glaciation.

Golden Spike

The display’s explanation is concise. Let me expand on Golden Spikes. They’re essentially standards for demarcating geological ages.

Earth’s 4.6-billion-year history requires division into periods, similar to China’s dynasties. Given the vast timescale, multiple divisions are needed. The Qing Dynasty is subdivided into Qianlong, Jiaqing, and Daoguang. Geology uses six levels, from largest to smallest. The most familiar are:

Archean
Proterozoic
Paleozoic (The names of first four periods come from British locations where corresponding strata were initially discovered)
- Cambrian (Explosion of life, appearance of mollusks and arthropods)
- Ordovician (Appearance of chordates)
- Silurian
- Devonian (Fish dominated)
- Carboniferous (Plants with lignin grew tall. Bacteria and fungi to decompose it hadn’t evolved, so buried wood formed thick coal seams)
- Permian
Mesozoic
- Triassic (Dinosaurs emerged)
- Jurassic
- Cretaceous (Dinosaur extinction)
Cenozoic (Mammals rose)
- Tertiary
- Quaternary

So, what are Golden Spikes? They’re based on fossils of specific, representative species. These species, distinct from predecessors and reflecting major environmental shifts, mark the boundaries between geological ages. Organisms are markers; they divide geological time.

The hall features numerous interactive displays. If interested, you can explore them for a deeper understanding of the hall’s theme.

Coal Formation

A somewhat overlooked installation on the second floor provides a fitting conclusion to the Geology Hall, echoing the opening’s depiction of Earth’s evolution. Beneath us lies the profound history of Earth and life. On a geological timescale, what mark will our modern civilization leave? What should it leave?

Behring Hall

This hall is named after Kenneth Behring, a businessman and philanthropist who donated numerous wildlife specimens, primarily displayed here. It’s essentially the terrestrial animal hall.

1st Floor: Terrestrial Animals and Environments

The first floor focuses on terrestrial animals from different continents, showcasing representative species from Africa, North America, and Australia. Africa has the largest exhibit, representing the hall’s biodiversity centerpiece.

This scene is vast; I only captured a portion. The specimens’ lifelike poses and movements evoke a Serengeti National Park experience.

Perhaps due to my familiarity with nature documentaries, the animal specimens didn’t hold my full attention. I took fewer general photos, focusing instead on the text explanations and the animals’ survival strategies.

How different African savanna herbivores utilize resources, partitioning niches to avoid competition and maximize resource use.

A must-take photo: African large animal group portrait.

Warthog Specimen

The specimens’ postures have a scientific basis. A warthog raising its tail signals to predators: “I’m healthy and strong; you likely can’t catch me. Consider another target.”

A pertinent question, aiding understanding of natural selection and the predator-prey arms race.

While less diverse in large animals than Africa, North America and Australia are key to this hall’s species evolution exhibits.

Why are species on different continents so distinct?

Mammalian evolution has three stages:

Prototheria: The most primitive. Like the platypus, they lay eggs and secrete milk through their skin – unlike most mammals, but they’re classified as such.
Metatheria: Marsupials like kangaroos, Tasmanian wolves, and koalas. Born underdeveloped, they require a pouch to complete development.
Eutheria: Placental mammals like mice, antelopes, and gorillas. A newborn antelope can stand and run soon after birth, fully developed at birth.

Placental reproduction clearly offers better offspring protection. Combined with other advantages, it led to placental mammals outcompeting the other two groups globally. However, Australia’s early isolation by oceans, before placental mammals appeared, allowed marsupials to dominate, while they were replaced elsewhere.

South America also retains many marsupials. The Bering Strait land bridge provided a narrow passage from Eurasia and Africa to North America. The Isthmus of Panama later reconnected, allowing placental mammals into South America. Their late arrival explains the survival of South American marsupials, which even spread back into North America.

Cats, highly efficient predators, occupy the top of the food chain in most terrestrial environments. The museum dedicates a significant section to them.

Cat Family Tree

A bit of a feline tongue-twister: Lions are Pantherinae; cheetahs are Felinae. Cougars are Felinae; jaguars are Pantherinae.

Cat Family’s First Great Migration

In short: Cats originated in Southeast Asia. Their unique lifestyle led to remarkable dispersal. Adult cats must leave their families and establish new territories. Their large territories necessitate long migrations, leading to rapid occupation of available land.

Cat Family’s Second Great Migration

Both migrations resulted from falling sea levels, creating new land bridges. Comparing this with the cat family tree, small cats initially spread to all continents (except Australia), followed by large cats from Eurasia and North America expanding into Africa and South America.

2nd Floor: Animal Evolution

The second floor highlights species evolution, focusing on adaptations to environments. For instance, the entrance introduces convergent evolution, where different species evolve similar features for the same function. Wings are a prime example: birds, bats (mammals), and insects have evolved different wing types, all achieving flight.

Sideways or forward-facing eyes provide different advantages.

Pupil shape, like eye position, relates to vigilance or hunting.

Advantages of different pupil shapes (zoom may be needed).

The bird section is a highlight, visually comparing bird beaks to human tools to illustrate diet and feeding. I found the pelican amusing – a living net. However, I question the flamingo’s depiction, as they don’t primarily eat fish. This might be an inaccuracy.

Bird Beak Shapes and Functions

The next display continues, adding bird feet. You can deduce a bird’s diet and habitat from the beak and foot combination. Birds are categorized into seven groups based on feet:

Wading birds: Shallow-water dwellers, non-swimmers, relying on water for food. Long necks and legs. Small webs between toes aid traction on mudflats. Example: Cranes.
Waterfowl: Aquatic birds, capable of floating and swimming, some diving. Fully webbed toes act as paddles. Example: Ducks.
Landfowl: Ground-dwelling, flight is secondary. Leg strength supports walking. Example: Chickens.
Songbirds: Branch dwellers, small, known for singing and nest-building. Thin legs grip branches naturally. Example: Magpies.
Running birds: Ground-dwelling, large, flightless. Strong legs, enhanced running ability. Example: Ostriches.
Climbing birds: Inhabit vertical spaces (tree trunks, cliffs). Two toes forward, two backward, for stability. Example: Parrots.
Birds of prey: Aerial hunters. Sharp, hooked claws grasp prey. Example: Eagles.

Classification of Bird Feet

Combination of Bird Beaks and Feet

For comic relief: Shoebill

Following the bird section, examples of animal appearance and behavior adapting to the environment are presented.

The Same Species in Different Environments

Mimicry, such an ingenious behavior, deserves more detailed explanation.

Exit Corridor

Descending from the second floor, you enter the exit corridor. Here, you’ll find a biography of Mr. Behring and his contributions to science education. One side features a sobering timeline of animal extinctions since the 17th century, culminating in the northern white rhino, which went extinct in the wild in 2018.

Animal Extinction Timeline

Northern White Rhino Extinct in the Wild

Public attention often centers on animals, particularly large ones. However, since industrialization, the number of extinct small mammals, reptiles, insects, marine animals, and plants is far greater. The full timeline is truly disheartening.

Ocean Hall

I spent 2.5 hours in the first two halls and started to lose steam by the Ocean Hall, taking almost no photos.

Honestly, the Ocean Hall isn’t as impressive as the first two. The layout is confusing. You ascend a spiral ramp to the 2nd floor, descend another to the 1st, and then find yourself disoriented, forced to explore radially outwards. The hall’s narrative also feels disjointed, lacking a clear storyline.

The ascending spiral has its moments, captured in this short video: 【浙江省自然博物馆安吉馆-海洋馆入口-哔哩哔哩】. Ocean-themed photography lines one side of the corridor, the vibrant colors of the marine world creating a strong visual impact.

The 2nd-floor section follows an ecosystem approach, showcasing environments like rocky shores, estuaries, mangroves, kelp forests, and coral reefs. The deep sea should be included, but it’s understandably absent due to our limited knowledge. The exhibits are mostly text and image-based, lacking specimens and dioramas due to space constraints.

On the descending spiral, several large marine animal specimens (or perhaps models) are suspended overhead.

Reaching the 1st floor, you enter an enclosed area. Small live aquariums are interspersed with display boards, featuring common marine life such as fish and jellyfish.

Branching out from this central area, you’ll find exhibits on marine mammals, cephalopods, polar ecosystems, deep-sea exploration, the marine economy, and marine conservation – a somewhat scattered arrangement.

Ocean Sunfish Internal Structure

I quickly moved on after this.

Natural Art Hall

This hall was impressive, but I didn’t linger, eager to reach the Dinosaur Hall.

The Natural Art Hall’s theme is simple: no geological or biological expertise needed. Just bring your eyes and appreciate nature’s beauty directly – a quick visit.

1st Floor: The Beauty of Life

The 1st floor celebrates the beauty of life. Leaves, wood grains, butterflies, beetles, shells, feathers, and more are displayed artistically. These natural creations are stunning individually, and their collective display is breathtaking.

Colorful butterfly ornaments

Beetle display case

Beetles in nature are even more vibrant, many with an iridescent sheen. I suspect limitations in specimen preparation and collection prevented showcasing their full splendor. Beetles belong to Coleoptera, the most diverse order of insects, and indeed, of all animals. This species richness results in a stunning variety of appearances.

Narwhal

This Arctic whale’s horn remains a mystery. While once thought to break ice for breathing, newer research suggests a more significant role in mating and reproduction.

Shells and color wheel

This exhibit highlights nature’s difficulty in synthesizing blue pigments. As the color wheel approaches blue-violet, the shells become mostly grayish-white. While blue butterflies, flowers, and feathers are common, these organisms don’t actually create blue substances. They employ microscopic structures, a clever optical illusion using other colors.

Golden pheasant neck feathers spread out

2nd Floor: The Beauty of Non-Life

The 2nd floor showcases the beauty of non-living things – specifically, rocks and minerals. I’m no expert, so I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.

Malachite, the blue color comes from copper

Vivianite

Tanzanite

Tanzanite was my personal favorite, likely enhanced by the lighting. The visual effects of transparent substances under light are quantum phenomena at the crystal and atomic levels. The beauty of minerals is, in essence, the beauty of physics.

Aquamarine

Dinosaur Hall

Short on time, I still decided to explore this hall thoroughly. It was packed with kids, clearly the museum’s main attraction for them.

Stepping inside was breathtaking. A projector mapped images onto a dinosaur model, perfectly synchronized. The projections cycled through the skeleton, internal organs, muscles, and skin – an internal perspective rarely seen.

Here’s a hidden gem: easily missed if you’re focused on the dinosaur, it’s a light strip on the entrance floor, pointing to a wall displaying chordate classification.

It’s a metaphor: as chordates, we trace the evolutionary path, witnessing its branching, ultimately finding our place – placental mammals. See the short video: 【浙江省自然博物馆安吉馆-恐龙馆入口处-哔哩哔哩】

Chordate evolutionary tree

Dinosaur Classification

The second exhibit expands on the chordate evolutionary tree, introducing the dinosaur family.

Dinosaur evolutionary tree

Dinosaurs are taxonomically divided into two groups based on hip structure: Ornithischia (bird-hipped) and Saurischia (lizard-hipped). Ornithischians have a pelvis resembling modern birds, while saurischians resemble other modern reptiles.

However, birds didn’t evolve from ornithischians. Birds’ true ancestors are theropods, a saurischian subgroup. The pelvic similarity between ornithischians and birds is likely convergent evolution.

I witnessed a funny scene here. A mother, explaining the dinosaur family tree to her child, misread it, saying: “Dinosaurs are divided into bird-armed and lizard-armed, got it?” She then quizzed her child: “What kind of dinosaur is Triceratops? Bird-armed. What about Tyrannosaurus Rex? Lizard-armed.”

A classic “tiger mom” moment: expecting mastery from her child without understanding it herself.

Triassic Period

The Dinosaur Hall is chronologically arranged: Triassic, Jurassic, Cretaceous. Each period features representative species and environments, with numerous fossils and reconstructions.

Dinosaurs originated in the late Triassic.

Across the corridor, the Triassic oceans are depicted. Dinosaurs were land-bound – ichthyosaurs and pterosaurs don’t qualify – but their contemporaneous existence justifies their inclusion.

Ichthyosaurs, marine reptiles returned from land, initially swam like lizards, wriggling their bodies. Later forms swam like fish, using only tail fins – a significant adaptation for deep-sea life.

Mixosaurus, with limbs too reduced for walking on land.

Nothosaurs (pachypleurosaurs) also returned to the sea, but differently. They remained in shallow waters, using webbed toes to paddle and hunt small fish.

Nothosaurus

Meanwhile, on land, dinosaurs thrived. Herrerasaurus, though only 3-6 meters long, was a top predator. Its forelimbs were evolving for hunting, with five fingers reduced to three.

Jurassic Period

By the Jurassic, land predators had become even more formidable. As you can see, Yangchuanosaurus was much more robust, reaching up to 10 meters in length.

Yangchuanosaurus

On the herbivore side, sauropods (part of the saurischian group) were diversifying. These were the giants with long necks and tails, like Diplodocus, Brachiosaurus, and Mamenchisaurus.

Take a look at the skulls, especially the teeth. Different tooth structures reflect different feeding strategies – much like the division of labor on the African savanna. Nature always finds a way.

3 types of skulls and tooth functions

The Jurassic section features a fascinating “Death Trap” scene. Note Guanlong’s appearance – it sports feathers on its forelimbs. Guanlong, a tyrannosauroid, is related to T. rex. As a kid, I always saw dinosaurs depicted as scaly. Later research revealed that some carnivorous dinosaurs likely had feathers. While still debated, it’s now the prevailing view.

Guanlong profile

Cretaceous Period

By the Cretaceous, feathers were even more widespread. Velociraptor, a small dinosaur, was closely related to modern birds. Check out the feathers on its forelimbs and tail; it probably had downy feathers all over.

A classic Cretaceous herbivore is Triceratops, one of the last dinosaurs. The caption notes something interesting: while most assume the frill and horns were for defense, recent theories suggest they were primarily for courtship.

Courtship again! First the narwhal, now this. A recent study even suggests giraffes’ long necks evolved for mating, not reaching leaves. Love seems to trump survival – the wild romance of animals. →_→

This Triceratops fossil is remarkably complete, preserving most of the key bones. The display, of course, is a model.

Across from Triceratops stands its frequent adversary, Tyrannosaurus rex. Standing beneath it, gazing up at that massive jaw… the sense of intimidation is palpable.

Don’t scoff at its tiny arms – judging by the skeleton, it could easily win an arm-wrestling match.

While on the first floor of the Dinosaur Hall, look out the windows. The museum has some hidden Easter eggs. One window overlooks a dinosaur sculpture on the lawn – a nice touch.

Dinosaur Lifestyle and Other Reptiles

The second floor of the Dinosaur Hall is smaller. You’re greeted by an animatronic T. rex, surrounded by kids and parents snapping photos.

This floor explores dinosaur behavior. It highlights how challenging it is to study ancient animal behavior from fossils. Consider breathing: we can infer about bird ancestors by studying living birds, but the respiration of ornithischian dinosaurs, which have no living descendants, remains a mystery. Respiratory systems leave few skeletal traces, and soft tissues rarely fossilize.

CT scans of skull interiors might offer clues about breathing.

Another major theme on the second floor is the marine and aerial reptiles of the era.

Two different types of pterosaurs and their periods

A 10-meter wingspan – imagine that.

Marine reptiles also have their evolutionary tree.

Ecology Hall

This hall is massive, but I only had 40 minutes left. I had to speed through, but I grasped the main points.

It begins with the Biosphere 2 experiment, a failed attempt at a self-contained ecosystem. Why did it fail? Keep that in mind. The hall underscores ecosystem complexity from multiple perspectives.

The hall dedicates considerable space to explaining ecosystem components: producers, consumers, decomposers, their functions, food chains, and how water, carbon, nitrogen, and phosphorus cycle through nature. It adopts a wider view, focusing on interspecies relationships and interactions, rather than on individual organisms.

This small display exemplifies this. While the previous five halls would’ve highlighted a single moment in a pine moth’s life, here, its entire life cycle is shown. I’ve often seen the larvae and adults, but never connected the two.

Given the ecological theme, the hall meticulously recreates species’ habitats. The initial exhibits realistically depict several natural environments.

Beetles in their element.

There was a truly impressive section I couldn’t photograph due to time constraints. It consisted of dioramas, akin to those in the Geological Hall, each portraying a different environment and its characteristic species: subtropical desert, North American prairie, alpine tundra, and so on. The animal specimens and settings were incredibly immersive, resembling exquisite crystal balls.

Next, a unique circular area presents interspecies relationships and interactions, each accompanied by a short nature narrative and a realistic scene. This space truly highlights the museum’s creative approach.

Check out the short video: 【浙江省自然博物馆安吉馆-生态馆物种相互作用-哔哩哔哩】

Here’s another interesting point, one most people (myself included) likely haven’t considered: Ecosystems vary not just by location, but also by altitude within the same location.

Mount Everest serves as a prime example. Its 8,000-meter elevation encompasses seven ecosystems, with distinct differences between the windward and leeward sides.

The hall also explores how various natural factors influence ecosystems. While discussing rainfall, I came across an engaging interactive exhibit.

The diagram indicates that visitors can drag the screen below to alter the rainfall in the animation, which in turn changes the vegetation. The museum’s intention was to allow visitors to modify precipitation and observe the ecosystem’s response. Sadly, the device malfunctioned; regardless of the dragging, the animation consistently displayed a rainforest.

Further along, there’s more on ecosystem roles and conservation, but I’ll skip the details.

Near the exit, the initial question is finally answered: Why did Biosphere 2 fail?

Naturally, the answer extends beyond those few lines. A small theater screens a film about Biosphere 2. I was eager to sit, watch, and enjoy the yogurt I’d packed. However, with closing time nearing, I only managed a brief look.

The film noted that Biosphere 2 contained an overabundance of decomposers, disrupting the balance with other system components.

Conclusion

My overriding feeling during the latter half was a lack of time; I had to rush. Even so, the museum was thrilling overall. I highly recommend it.

Two minor issues:

While the video content is high-quality, some footage is quite blurry, likely from older sources.
Insufficient lighting. I frequently encountered text panels in dimly lit corners, making them difficult to read.

Finally, some advice for those planning a visit to the Zhejiang Museum of Natural History, Anji:

Book the afternoon session; it’s an hour longer than the morning one.
Even with the four-hour afternoon session, prioritization is key:
- If you have kids interested in animals, concentrate on the Behring Hall, Ocean Hall, and Dinosaur Hall.
- For those keen on the broader evolutionary narrative, focus on the Geological Hall, Behring Hall, and Ecology Hall.
- If you simply want to appreciate nature’s beauty, prioritize the Behring Hall, Natural Art Hall, and Ecology Hall.
The museum is less than a 30-minute drive from Anji town, so you can grab a bite there beforehand.
The museum offers convenient underground parking.

5-Day Self-Driving Tour in Dunhuang

hi@victor42.work (Victor42) — Wed, 14 Apr 2021 20:57:03 +0000

Spring had just arrived in Dunhuang in early April, a couple of months before peak season. Despite the Qingming Festival holiday, it wasn’t crowded. Some sights, like desert plants or the Populus euphratica forest, weren’t yet in bloom.

Day 1: Departure and Dunhuang Museum

We flew from Hangzhou, connecting in Lanzhou before heading to Dunhuang. The landscape changed dramatically as we approached – a stark contrast to the south.

Dense, snow-capped mountains appeared below the clouds – the Qilian Mountains. Lower down, melted snow revealed dark rock. The terrain flattened into a dark brown Gobi desert, the boundary between the two strikingly clear. Further on, wind and temperature shaped the land into vast yellow sands. Finally, Dunhuang, a desert city, emerged through the clouds. The whole scene felt like an amazing 4D movie or game cutscene.

I’d hoped to avoid sandstorms, but the airport wind was fierce. The kind that makes you chase your hat, only to get a mouthful of sand.

One gust, a mouthful of sand, and you’re ready for adventure?

Luckily, we’d rented a car. We picked it up and went straight to the hotel. After dropping our bags, we visited the Dunhuang Museum. (Museum = geography and history lesson. Skip ahead for pictures if you prefer.)

Geography

Dunhuang, a county-level city under Jiuquan, is Gansu’s westernmost city. It’s closer to Hami in Xinjiang than Jiuquan, acting as a key passage to Xinjiang.

Dunhuang is inseparable from the Hexi Corridor. It forms a line with Jiuquan, Zhangye, Jinchang, and Wuwei to its east, connected by a single highway. Gansu’s map looks like a bone: the larger southeastern part is Gannan (centered on Lanzhou), while the middle and northwest are roughly the Hexi Corridor.

The Hexi Corridor’s geography is unique – a narrow passage with obstacles on either side. The Qilian Mountains lie to the south, with the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau beyond. The desert of western Inner Mongolia is to the northeast. Mountains from the Tianshan range are to the north. The corridor connects to Gannan and central China in the southeast, and to Xinjiang (the ancient Western Regions) in the other direction.

The Hexi Corridor is the Silk Road’s throat; Dunhuang is its gateway.

History

Most Chinese dynastic conflicts were within the Great Wall. It separated northern nomads, while the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau isolated plateau peoples and Central Asian civilizations. The Shu region blocked South Asian forces. Imagine ancient Han Chinese territory as a water bag with one opening: facing northwest, towards Dunhuang. This location gave Dunhuang an extraordinary historical role.

Civilization thrives on exchange, not just resources. Contact with the Western Regions began in the Western Han Dynasty. Zhang Qian’s mission, despite two captures by the Xiongnu, established relations and connected the Silk Road. The Han Dynasty controlled the Hexi Corridor, with Dunhuang at the forefront of cultural exchange. At its peak, the Protectorate of the Western Regions directly administered the area. The Han Great Wall and Yumenguan’s beacon towers witnessed this.

Silk Road trade wasn’t just China and the Western Regions. Cleopatra VII loved silk, as records and artworks show. Eastern goods spread throughout the civilized world.

During Wang Mang’s reforms, the Western Regions rejected his regime, cutting ties with the East. The short-lived Xin Dynasty fell, and the Eastern Han regained control.

After the Eastern Han, history focuses on the Three Kingdoms, overlooking the Wei Kingdom’s control of the Hexi Corridor and the open Silk Road. It remained generally open through the Wei, Jin, and Southern and Northern Dynasties, despite harassment from the Xiongnu, Xianbei, Rouran, and Turks.

The Sui and Tang Dynasties were the Silk Road’s golden age. Exchanges peaked. Jingjiao (Nestorianism), seen in “The Longest Day in Chang’an,” was introduced to China. The Tibetan Empire, a unified dynasty, arose. They invaded the Hexi Corridor and Western Regions, cutting off the Silk Road. Tang-Tibetan wars lasted nearly 200 years, with the corridor repeatedly lost and regained. Princess Wencheng’s marriage was to appease the defeated Songtsen Gampo. The Tibetan Empire, at its strongest, even captured Chang’an and attacked the southwest, allied with the Nanzhao Kingdom. It eventually collapsed from internal divisions. Zhang Yichao, from Shazhou (Dunhuang), led an uprising, captured the Hexi Corridor, and surrendered to the Tang, reconnecting the Silk Road.

After the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms, the Song Dynasty was too preoccupied with the Liao, Jin, and Western Xia to regain control.

The Yuan Dynasty was brief but unified central China, the Western Regions, and the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau for the first time, solving the Han dynasties’ foreign affairs issues. Unity is key to stability. Even after Genghis Khan, with the Mongol Empire split, civilian exchanges continued. This vast empire was a highway for East-West exchange. Silk Road exchanges continued for over a century under the Yuan. Marco Polo witnessed China’s prosperity during this time.

The Ming and Qing Dynasties were relatively closed, and with rising maritime trade, the overland Silk Road declined. The Qing rebuilt Shazhou City, upgrading Dunhuang, but had little interest in opening it for trade.

Mogao Caves and Buddhism

Dunhuang’s geography and history are just the backdrop. The Mogao Caves and Buddhist culture are its soul.

Buddhism originated in India in the 6th century BC, spreading to China during the Western Han Dynasty. Ashoka made it the state religion of the Mauryan Dynasty, promoting it widely. Many Chinese sites still have Ashoka Temple and Pagoda. Most Eastern civilizations, including the Han, Western Regions, and plateau peoples, accepted Buddhism.

However, India, Buddhism’s birthplace, lost its status. Under colonial rule, it gave way to Persian and Arab religions. Its future shifted east, to Dunhuang. Dunhuang’s rulers represented Buddhist civilization, regardless of wars and changes.

Historical changes might have destroyed the city, but for the Mogao Caves, it was a crucible, forging today’s treasures.

We’ll discuss the Mogao Caves later (Day 3).

Museum

Here are some museum photos. There are many high-definition replicas of Mogao Cave art, for close observation.

A model of Mogao Cave 45 (High Tang period). The highlight: 7 statues with excellent expressions.

The Bodhisattva statue, the “Beautiful Bodhisattva,” depicts the ideal High Tang female image.

Han Dynasty documents. The beauty of this writing is clear.

A delicate Buddhist painting: the Nine-Tiered Pagoda of the Three Realms.

I missed photos of other interesting items. Chain mail, unearthed in Dunhuang, was one. Originating in Europe, it appeared in Dunhuang during the Han and Tang, showing surprisingly fast technology transfer. It was precious equipment, worn only by those of rank.

Leaving the hall, we saw a cute modern pixel painting, imitating the Mogao Caves’ Nine-Colored Deer murals.

Day 2: Yumen Pass and Yangguan Pass

We took the western route on day two. The original plan: West Thousand Buddha Caves first (a prelude to Mogao, with more detailed explanations), then Yangguan Pass and Yumen Pass. Finally, Yadan Ghost City for sunset among the wind-eroded rocks.

But Yadan Ghost City had closed last year, reopening to be announced – probably for periodic maintenance.

So, we adjusted: Yumen Pass first, working our way back, hitting as many spots as possible.

The Solar Power Tower

Near Dunhuang, we found a solar power station. I’d noticed neat squares in this area on the map, thinking it was a new tech district.

We detoured to the entrance and found it was a CGN photovoltaic project. For a remote desert city like Dunhuang, clean energy is ideal.

Behind the plant, a tall tower emitted a dazzling white light, with beams converging at the top, like Red Alert’s Prism Tower. It’s a solar thermal station, with thousands of mirrors forming a huge concave mirror. It boils water to drive a steam turbine. Energy efficiency is about 15%, lower than photovoltaics, but it generates AC, easier to connect to the grid.

This bright tower kept us company throughout the day, emphasizing the Gobi Desert’s flatness.

Yumen Pass

After nearly 2 hours, we were surrounded by barren landscape. Some sections had desert vegetation.

Three roads lead into the Yumen Pass scenic area, each to different ruins.

The right road leads to Dafangpan City and a beacon tower, 12 kilometers away, requiring a shuttle bus (fixed times, so you wait). The bus only stops for 30 minutes, not enough for photos and enjoying the view.

Dafangpan City’s full view. A Han Dynasty granary, opening to the south.

A beacon tower on the other side of the road.

Dafangpan City details, some with a Yadan feel. The small holes might be ventilation.

A small lake on the northeast side.

Back at the start, the left road leads to the Han Dynasty Great Wall ruins, 5 kilometers away, also requiring a bus (15-minute visit).

The ruins are shorter than expected, under 3 meters at the highest. The Han Great Wall is 136 kilometers long, from Guazhou to Dunhuang, blocking the Hexi Corridor’s entrance. This 300-meter section is the best-preserved in the country.

Two thousand years ago, soldiers used reeds and gravel to build it in layers. Different weathering rates create horizontal stripes.

One end connects to a beacon tower, always built on high ground.

The Great Wall wasn’t built all at once under Qin Shi Huang, but extended over dynasties. The Han Great Wall was built when Emperor Wu conquered the Western Regions. It included facilities for beacon fire transmission, troop garrisoning, transportation, and farming – a complete defense system.

The beacon fire system appeared as early as the Western Zhou Dynasty (“playing with the feudal lords with beacon fires”). The Han system was complex, with different signals for different situations, materials, and times of day.

Petrified firewood, seen in the museum. Soldiers collected reeds and Salix matsudana branches (unlike weeping willows, these grow upwards). They were plastered with mud for stability. The layered structure is visible.

Returning from the Han Great Wall, one road leads to Xiaofangpan City (Yumen Pass), a small castle and the scenic area’s core, just a few minutes’ walk.

The interior isn’t large, but you can stand on the wall.

A close-up of the outer wall, made of reeds and sand.

North of Xiaofangpan City, a modern observation deck lets you experience looking north. It’s flat between the tower and mountains, making it easy to spot enemies.

Yangguan Pass

Yangguan Pass has few ruins, mostly reconstructions. Siege weapon models are displayed in front of the antique-style pass.

Wang Wei’s line “West of Yangguan, there are no old friends” is literally true. Yangguan Pass was a border crossing, requiring a pass (equivalent to a passport). “Guanzhao” (关照) originally meant a pass, but soldiers would protect those with passes, evolving into its current verb meaning.

Beyond this pass, a beacon tower is the only remaining relic. It’s farther than it looks – you’ll need transport (battery cars, donkey carts, horses, camels – different prices).

I recommend riding a camel. The four of us swayed, the setting sun on our faces. The camel bells were the most beautiful part. The Mingsha Mountain camels (visited later) lacked bells. It was near closing, and the wind and bells made the experience vivid.

The handsome white camel leading the way.

The camel team arrived at the beacon tower. Looking back against the light, the scene was desolate and lonely – awe-inspiring.

Don’t rush back; the real highlight is ahead. Walk higher, and the scenery behind the mountain will take your breath away.

That’s my friend, not me.

Looking back, the same desolation.

You can pay extra to have the camels take you along the Yangguan Road, to a valley and sandy area. The guide claimed it’s a well-preserved ancient road.

It’s questionable, as the ancient Yangguan Road led out of the pass. But the stele of the ruins is at the beacon tower, so it might be true. The experience is what matters.

A Gobi traveler in the afterglow, looking like someone heading towards the vast Western Regions. An amazing end to a day on the western route!

Day 3: Mogao Caves

The Mogao Caves are very close to the airport, even closer than downtown Dunhuang. The site is split into two parts. First, you visit the Digital Exhibition Center, where you watch two short digital films, about 10-20 minutes each.

The first film is a regular movie with actors, providing background on Dunhuang’s history and the Mogao Caves. The second is a 360-degree dome movie, which uses digital models to showcase some of the best caves.

The actual caves are about 12 kilometers from the Digital Center. A buffer zone separates the two, and you must take the park’s shuttle bus—private cars aren’t allowed.

Stepping off the bus, the sheer scale of the Mogao Caves is immediately apparent. Over 700 caves exist, with almost 500 containing statues and murals. However, only around 60 are open to the public. Some caves, like those in the photo, were monks’ living quarters and lack murals. Mogao stretches for 1.7 kilometers, and this is only a small part.

Mogao Caves are a World Heritage Site, a national treasure, but what are they? Historically, they served as a temple complex for monks and a place of worship for believers.

During the Northern and Southern Dynasties, a monk named Le Zun arrived at Sanwei Mountain. He witnessed a golden light, “like a thousand Buddhas,” and began carving caves into the cliff face. This marked the beginning of the Mogao Caves.

From that point on, it was like a chain reaction – more monks and believers came to carve caves and create statues. Construction continued from the Northern and Southern Dynasties through the late Tang Dynasty. During the Song and Yuan Dynasties, local rulers maintained the site, but new construction largely ceased.

The cave area is a separate zone; once you exit, you can’t re-enter. You can’t wander freely – your ticket dictates how many caves you can visit. Booking in advance usually gets you an “A” ticket, granting access to 8 random caves with a guide. Caves open on a rotating basis for preservation. The guide unlocks each cave and locks it after your visit, minimizing damage to the murals from temperature, humidity, and light.

Photography is prohibited, so I’ll use official Mogao Caves or online images.

Mogao Cave 29

Built in the mid-late Tang Dynasty, with murals repainted during the Western Xia period.

Official introduction: http://tour.dha.ac.cn/content.aspx?id=530741411143zh

This is the caisson ceiling of Cave 29. A caisson ceiling is a recessed decorative ceiling in Chinese architecture, adorned with painted patterns. The vibrant greenish-blue, seen extensively in many caves, comes from malachite green, a natural copper-based pigment.

The Western Xia and the contemporary Uyghurs left behind many caves in Mogao, each with distinct features. The walls are often covered with neatly arranged, repeating Buddha images, representing a thousand Buddhas.

Mogao Cave 329

Built in the early Tang Dynasty, with statues renovated in the Qing Dynasty.

Official introduction: http://tour.dha.ac.cn/content.aspx?id=027193821344

This cave also features a 360-degree VR image from Digital Dunhuang: https://www.e-dunhuang.com/cave/10.0001/0001.0001.0329

Careless Qing Dynasty renovations left these statues somewhat crude, resembling those in a small, local temple. The main draws of this cave are the murals and caisson ceiling. I find the Tang Dynasty murals the most exquisite. Unlike the thousand-Buddha backgrounds of the Western Regions, the Central Plains dynasties’ murals tell stories. These “sutra transformation paintings” (jingbianhua) are a pioneering art form, using paintings to depict Buddhist scripture stories, akin to murals in Western European churches.

The north-side mural depicts Shakyamuni’s birth. Before becoming a Buddha, Shakyamuni was an Indian prince. His mother, Queen Maya, encountered a Bodhisattva riding an elephant descending on clouds. The elephant touched her belly with its trunk, and she became pregnant, giving birth to Shakyamuni from her armpit. The armpit birth relates to the Indian caste system. Shakyamuni’s Kshatriya family, second only to Brahmins, had their caste status associated with the arm.

The south-side mural depicts Shakyamuni’s enlightenment. Witnessing birth, old age, sickness, death, and life’s impermanence, he sought truth and escape from worldly constraints. He rode a horse, with four heavenly kings holding its hooves, and flew over the city wall, escorted by singing and playing apsaras (flying deities) to the mountains for ascetic practice.

The figures’ dark skin is due to the oxidation of the lead-based red pigment used for skin tones. Other colors fade, but the skin tone changes completely, requiring some imagination.

The caisson ceiling is a Mogao masterpiece. The central lotus pattern represents Buddhism’s Western Pure Land. The layered details are rich yet organized. The outermost layer features flying apsaras playing musical instruments.

Flying apsaras are Buddhist deities of song, dance, and flower scattering, capable of flight with just two silk ribbons. They appear in almost every cave, lively and elegant.

On the north wall is a Maitreya sutra transformation painting. Note the technique: figures face forward, while buildings are viewed from above, with a near-large, far-small perspective. This predates Leonardo da Vinci’s perspective painting by almost a thousand years.

Mogao Cave 328

Built in the early Tang Dynasty, it remains unrenovated, preserving the original early Tang style.

Official introduction: http://tour.dha.ac.cn/content.aspx?id=744635762684

The main Buddha retains the Western Regions beard and hasn’t been completely de-gendered.

On the left is Kasyapa, Shakyamuni’s chief disciple, an ascetic monk with a furrowed brow and solemn expression.

On the right is Ananda, Shakyamuni’s cousin, known as “the most learned” for his memory and long exposure to the Dharma. His expression and posture are more relaxed than Kasyapa’s.

The asymmetrical number of supporting Bodhisattva statues is due to the theft of one by American Langdon Warner; it’s now in Harvard’s Arthur M. Sackler Museum.

Mogao Cave 17

Built in the late Tang Dynasty, this is the famous Library Cave that brought global renown to the Mogao Caves.

Official introduction: http://tour.dha.ac.cn/content.aspx?id=178377696853

Digital Dunhuang VR image: https://www.e-dunhuang.com/cave/10.0001/0001.0001.0017

The door is numbered 16-17, representing two caves. The larger cave was under renovation during our visit. Cave 17 is the small side cave.

The statue of the monk Hong Bian in meditation is a memorial built by his disciples. The mural behind depicts his daily practice, with maids, nuns, a backpack, and a water bottle on the Bodhi tree.

In the early 11th century, the statue was moved, and this cave was sealed with over 50,000 Buddhist scriptures, paintings, and documents, covering over 700 years of social history from the Jin Dynasty to the early Song Dynasty. These are incredibly valuable relics. Two main theories explain the sealing: the refuge theory suggests monks hid the scriptures to protect them from war; the abandonment theory posits they were discarded documents that, out of respect, couldn’t be destroyed, so they were sealed away.

In 1900, a Taoist priest, Wang Yuanlu, was clearing sand. The guide pointed out sand lines on the cave entrance – oblique scratches from accumulated sand rubbing against the wall, the highest almost reaching the door top. Wang Yuanlu noticed a crack in the wall, revealing brick, not rock. He broke through and discovered the 50,000+ relics.

He reported it to the government, but the Qing Dynasty showed little interest in文物 protection. Foreign explorers arrived and bought batches of scrolls at low prices. Over 40,000 of the 50,000+ relics were lost overseas.

A photo of the Library Cave and scrolls taken by American Aurel Stein.

Frenchman Paul Pelliot selecting relics in the Library Cave.

Mogao Cave 292

Built in the Sui Dynasty.

Official introduction: http://tour.dha.ac.cn/content.aspx?id=864712375785

This cave has an innovative layout: three groups of Buddha statues (1 Buddha + 2 disciples each). The front is the present Buddha Shakyamuni, the south is the past Buddha Dipankara, and the north is the future Buddha Maitreya.

Besides the Three Buddhas divided by time, there are Three Buddhas divided by space. The Eastern Medicine Buddha (Pure Lapis Lazuli World) is for present-day well-being. The central Shakyamuni Buddha (Saha World) is Buddhism’s leader. The Western Amitabha Buddha (Land of Ultimate Bliss) guides beings to escape suffering. Some Buddhists believe the Three Buddhas in space are all incarnations of Shakyamuni.

Sui Dynasty Buddha statues differ greatly from Tang Dynasty ones, lacking realistic proportions and having large, square heads. The past Buddha Dipankara and future Buddha Maitreya have similar images. The common big-bellied Maitreya image is based on a later cloth bag monk.

The commonly seen Maitreya Buddha statue today.

The cave’s top features a pair of lions, now humorous due to oxidation, making them look lightning-struck.

Mogao Cave 61

Built during the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms period.

Official introduction: http://tour.dha.ac.cn/content.aspx?id=816484388973

Digital Dunhuang VR image: https://www.e-dunhuang.com/cave/10.0001/0001.0001.0061

This cave has a horseshoe-shaped altar, but the Buddha statue is destroyed. A lion’s tail shape at the remaining connection suggests it enshrined Manjushri Bodhisattva, whose mount is a lion.

Behind the altar is a massive “Map of Mount Wutai” (Manjushri’s dojo), 13 meters long and 3.6 meters high, detailing roads to Mount Wutai, Buddhist pilgrimages, and local life. I saw a high-definition replica in the Mogao Caves Art Museum (these two pictures are from there).

Another highlight is the donor mural near the entrance. This cave was a merit hall built by secular believers, so the donors are like sponsors’ logos – prominently displayed.

After the Tibetan Empire’s decline, Zhang Yichao established the Guiyi Army, seized Dunhuang and Guazhou, and submitted to the Tang. The Cao family, the second ruling family of the Guiyi Army, built this cave. The murals depict Cao family women, their peach-shaped hairstyles indicating Uyghur identity. Uyghur is a Turkic language, and its pronunciation is close to that of the modern Uyghur ethnic group.

Picture from the art museum. Left: Uyghur lady married into the Guiyi Army. Second from left: Han Chinese, but married into the Uyghur regime and dressed in Uyghur attire. Third from left: Different hairstyle, a woman from Khotan (a Buddhist regime in today’s Hotan, Xinjiang). This shows the Guiyi Army’s delicate balance through marriage alliances. The fourth from the left, taller and in Han attire, is the family’s true mistress, but she yielded the first three positions out of courtesy.

Mogao Cave 96

Built in the early Tang Dynasty and commonly called the Nine-Story Building, this is the largest structure in the Mogao Caves.

Official introduction: http://tour.dha.ac.cn/content.aspx?id=525124140728

It’s magnificent from the outside, fully utilizing the cliff’s height.

Photographed by Warner in 1924. The external building had vanished; only the cliffside Buddha statue remained after thousands of years. The current building is a reconstruction.

The 35.5-meter-high statue of Maitreya Buddha is China’s largest indoor Buddha. Carved from the cliff, its details were created with plastered mud. It’s a stone-core clay statue, unlike the smaller clay-core statues.

The Buddha’s left hand, palm up, is the Varada Mudra (fulfilling wishes – compassion). The right hand, palm forward, is the Abhaya Mudra (removing suffering – mercy). Compassion and mercy are distinct.

Mogao Cave 148

Built in the High Tang Dynasty, renovated in the late Tang, Western Xia, and Qing Dynasties, this is Mogao’s largest reclining Buddha cave.

Official introduction: http://tour.dha.ac.cn/content.aspx?id=659662000840

The delicate, natural clothing folds reflect High Tang Dynasty customs.

Reclining Buddha statues depict Shakyamuni’s death, signifying his escape from reincarnation and suffering. This is the Nirvana Buddha, and the cave’s shape echoes this, with a coffin-lid-like top.

Densely packed disciples and believers show sadness. The guide noted one (not pictured) with higher understanding, smiling, happy for the Buddha’s Nirvana.

The three walls feature a huge Nirvana sutra transformation painting, depicting events before and after Shakyamuni’s Nirvana: 66 scenes, 500+ characters and animals – a masterpiece.

Part of the Nirvana sutra transformation painting (from the art museum). Four strong men carry the body, with Bodhisattvas, monks, and believers seeing them off.

The body was cremated, and the Buddha’s relics were distributed for safekeeping and worship.

Art Museum

Visiting the caves is rushed, for preservation, minimizing human impact. The explanations are roughly equivalent to this travelogue’s content, hard to remember fully. I recalled this information gradually after returning and researching.

Therefore, visiting the Mogao Caves Art Museum afterward is essential. Here, you can calmly examine details.

The museum displays models of typical caves, representing different architectural forms.

Zen caves: monks’ living quarters, without statues or murals.

Central pillar caves: usually large, with a truncated pyramidal front roof and a flat back roof. Believers circumambulate the central pillar.

Hall caves: similar to central pillar caves, but without the pillar; the statue is in a front wall niche.

Central altar caves: large dome, no pillars, an altar instead of a pillar.

Nirvana caves: rectangular, coffin-shaped, themed around Buddha’s Nirvana.

The murals depict numerous buildings from different periods.

And scenes of secular life, like this hunting scene.

Also, landscapes.

One depicts the end of the world.

Murals are also key for studying makeup. Tang Dynasty women shaved their eyebrows and repainted them, unlike other dynasties.

Scenes of music and dance.

Clothing, hairstyle, and dance posture indicate this is the Hu Xuan dance of the Western Regions, which appeared in Tang Dynasty celebrations, reflecting frequent cultural exchange.

These are imaginations of celestial music: instruments sounding without human players.

War scenes, too. This group shows Zhang Yichao’s army recovering Shazhou and Guazhou.

The most interesting are Buddhist stories. This is the Nine-Colored Deer, one of Shakyamuni’s previous lives. It saved a drowning man, who promised secrecy. The queen dreamed of the deer, and the king offered a reward. The man, tempted, revealed the secret. The deer, surrounded, told the king the truth. Moved, the king forbade harming it. The ungrateful man was covered in sores.

Besides murals, there are other relics. This “Rules of the Women’s Society of Guifang Lane” was a Tang Dynasty folk organization with membership rules and signatures. It was entirely female, evidence of Tang Dynasty openness.

A long star chart scroll, very different from modern constellations. I only recognized Vega.

Leaving the museum, returning to the bus stop. Looking east, across the valley, is Sanwei Mountain, where Le Zun saw the thousand Buddhas.

I was told at Yangguan Pass that the Mogao Caves might close permanently in three to five years for maximum mural protection. Tourists would then only see digital reproductions. Whether true or not, closure will happen eventually. I hope digital visits can better showcase its charm.

The Digital Dunhuang website, mentioned earlier, is a treasure trove with VR images of representative caves: https://www.e-dunhuang.com/index.htm.

The 2008 NHK documentary “The Full Beauty of Dunhuang” (about 3 hours) is also well-produced: https://v.qq.com/x/page/c052998o5ua.html.

“Encore Dunhuang” Performance

That evening, I saw the “Encore Dunhuang” performance. Many historical, cultural, or folk custom sites have performances; “Encore Dunhuang” is truly special.

The venue is next to the Mogao Caves scenic area.

It’s a large-scale recitation performance, communicating with ancient Dunhuang souls through a modern guide’s perspective, traversing millennia. Uniquely, for the first hour of the 1.5-hour show, the audience has no seats. They follow the plot, moving through historical scenes, experiencing major Dunhuang events up close.

I didn’t take pictures; it must be experienced. The most shocking scene, for me, was Wang Yuanlu transporting relics. The Bodhisattva manifested, and numerous flying apsaras broke through the wall, vividly restoring the Bodhisattvas’ solemnity and the apsaras’ agility.

Stargazing

After the show, I was still itching for something to do. With all the sites closed, I looked for some natural beauty.

We drove about 20 minutes out of Dunhuang, taking a small dirt road off the highway. We had no idea where it led; it was pitch black. We cut the headlights; only a faint glow from Dunhuang remained on the horizon. Obviously, 20 minutes wasn’t nearly enough to escape the light pollution.

Still, the stars were much better than anything in Hangzhou. No Milky Way, but they were the brightest I’d seen in over a decade, rivaling the skies from my childhood in Nanchang. Every star in the Big Dipper outshone Jupiter in Hangzhou’s night sky. I used the Dipper to locate Polaris, but it was dimmer than the seven, meaning there were some clouds. Conditions weren’t perfect.

No matter – the next day at Mingsha Mountain, we saw an even clearer sky.

Day 4: Mingsha Mountain and Crescent Spring

Our plan to visit Baima Pagoda, a lesser-known attraction, was thwarted by road construction.

Leiyin Temple

Since it was the first workday after the Qingming Festival, we headed to Leiyin Temple near Mingsha Mountain. It’s a modern temple, not ancient. The spacious grounds and widely spaced buildings, with minimal landscaping, give it a palace-like feel – quite unlike the compact, nature-filled temples of Jiangnan.

Some halls are built in the Tang Dynasty style, featuring traditional dougong (bracket sets). Others are in the later Ming and Qing styles.

Tang Dynasty dougong. (Image source: internet)

It’s a pleasant spot to unwind, but not essential.

Mingsha Mountain (Singing Sands Mountain)

Mingsha Mountain and Crescent Spring are two separate areas. Mingsha Mountain is where the action is: camel rides, dune buggies, and gliders. We tried them all, and it’s worth experiencing the desert from different angles.

Unlike the rocky Gobi on the West Line, here it’s all sand dunes.

As a Southerner on my first Northwest trip, I was mesmerized. I’d never seen anything like it.

The dune buggies were the best value. A pro driver accompanies you, but you can take the wheel on flatter sections. It’s tough to steer on sand; the wheels drift, requiring real effort to keep straight. We probably hit 40 km/h, and many sections were sloped – a real thrill.

Only this activity lets you pay extra to access a special area. Atop the mountain, there’s a desert botanical garden, with low-lying plants spread across the valley – a stark contrast to the dunes.

My friend’s silhouette. The desert’s charm is palpable.

These plants are almost person-high up close.

The buggy ride includes sand sliding at Jade Maiden Peak, offering panoramic views: Dunhuang city to the north, Gobi mountains to the east, and dunes to the west and south. The peak has steep, almost 60-degree slopes. Sand sliding is surprisingly safe; the friction is high, requiring effort to move even on steep inclines.

Mingsha Mountain (Singing Sands Mountain) gets its name from two sound phenomena. Strong winds create a rumble, reportedly audible in Dunhuang city. Sliding down the dunes also produces a hum, especially noticeable with multiple people. The exact cause remains a mystery.

Next, we took a glider. It’s powered, with a rear propeller, taking off from a small airstrip. The flight circles Mingsha Mountain for about two minutes, passing over Crescent Spring.

From above, Crescent Spring resembles jade inlaid in the dunes.

Camel riding was next, though I didn’t take photos. Hundreds of camels rested at the camp – a unique sight. The ride passes several photo spots before returning, taking over an hour. Having tried the other activities, and ridden camels at Yangguan, it was less thrilling. Still, desert camel riding is a distinct experience. The constant stream of camel trains at Mingsha Mountain creates a Silk Road caravan ambiance.

Crescent Spring

We headed to Crescent Spring, hoping for a sunset view.

The angled sunlight creates sharp light/shadow lines on the dunes, enhancing their three-dimensionality.

We miscalculated. Crescent Spring, fed by an underground river, lies in a depression surrounded by dunes. Reaching the edge, we realized the sun was already blocked.

The buildings near Crescent Spring felt like a paradise: flowers blooming within the walls, contrasting with the vast desert outside.

Walking the corridor, I kept expecting a Jiangnan garden landscape outside each window – a surreal feeling.

From the tallest building, you can see fish in the crescent-shaped lake.

A friend captured Crescent Spring’s transition from day to night.

Crescent Spring at twilight: incredibly peaceful.

Dunes illuminated by twilight.

After dark, stars emerged. Despite the light pollution, the clear sky offered excellent viewing. My phone captured this; imagine the naked-eye view.

A bonfire party campsite lies over 10 kilometers behind Crescent Spring, accessible with a camping package. It’s reportedly a good stargazing spot.

Day 5: Heading Back

No activities were planned. We returned the car and flew out at noon, with a 3-hour layover in Lanzhou, arriving back in Hangzhou that night.

We lucked out with the weather, avoiding sandstorms. A heavy sandstorm greeted us on arrival, but it cleared by evening. The weather improved steadily, only to worsen again two days after we left. I forgot to update my weather app and saw Dunhuang’s weather turning. The small square in the center is Dunhuang city.

Spring in Dunhuang is beautiful, but unpredictable.

A week after returning, I still dreamt of the Gobi Desert and the Buddha murals.

Tips for Dunhuang

Having planned the entire trip myself, from flights to hotels, here are some practical tips based on my experience:

City Life

Dunhuang is a surprisingly clean desert city. You get the natural beauty of the Northwest with the tidiness of a major city.

Water isn’t as scarce as you might expect. A reservoir supplies the city, and a good-sized river runs through the center. Parks along the river even have a Jiangnan feel.

Dunhuang is two hours behind Beijing time. Sunset in spring is around 8 PM. While 2 AM feels like midnight and 10 AM feels like 8 AM, attractions and restaurants generally operate on Beijing time, especially in the off-season. Most places close after 9:30 PM Beijing time, leaving only the night market and some late-night BBQ spots. Plan accordingly if you want both sunset views and a proper dinner.

At about 1200 meters above sea level, altitude sickness isn’t a concern.

Forget outdated online guides claiming poor network coverage on the West Line (Yumenguan, Yangguan) and the need for cash. Mobile payment is standard in this tourist city.

Climate

Dunhuang experiences significant temperature swings, up to 15-20 degrees Celsius between day and night. In early April, it’s pleasant, nearing 20 degrees at noon, and hotter in the desert. Nights are around 5 degrees and chilly with wind.

For a spring visit, pack for both spring and winter conditions. Avoid mesh shoes or clothes – you’ll be shaking out sand forever.

The desert sun is intense, even in spring. Sun protection is crucial: hats, sunglasses, and scarves are a must. Sunscreen is essential for the ladies.

Even dressed like this, I ended up with a tan resembling a Dunhuang mural.

Peak season is July and August, with scorching daytime temperatures.

Food

This section is time-sensitive (2021). Restaurant brands may change.

Local specialties include donkey meat with yellow noodles (驴肉黄面) and braised mutton with pancakes (胡羊焖饼). Expect lots of donkey meat, mutton, and noodle dishes. Shacong (沙葱) is a tasty local vegetable, often served in a cold salad. Apricot peel water (杏皮水) is the local drink, similar to sour plum soup. Xinjiang and Sichuan cuisine are also widely available.

Our first meal was at the Shazhou Night Market – a tourist trap with mediocre food. We found much better options later.

We asked locals for recommendations, and they pointed us to highly-rated restaurants on Dianping (大众点评, a Chinese review app). Dianping is a more reliable source than the local tourism bureau.

Cheng Bianbian BBQ (城边边烧烤): A popular BBQ joint, open late – expect a queue. The grilled meats and lamb chops are excellent, with a unique, slightly sour flavor (vinegar in BBQ is new to me!). Their fresh fruit yogurt is also worth trying.

Huoyanyan BBQ (火焱焱烤肉): BBQ and Xinjiang cuisine, also open late. We went around 9 PM without waiting. We recall two noodle dishes: Xinjiang beef rice noodles and a soupy noodle dish (name forgotten).

Daji Jiang Donkey Meat Yellow Noodle Restaurant (达记酱驴肉黄面馆): A traditional, old-fashioned restaurant with waiters who look to be in their 50s. They likely only serve lunch and dinner. The yellow noodles and donkey meat are far superior to those at the Shazhou Night Market. The donkey meat is thickly sliced, and the noodles aren’t overly sour.

We mostly ate at Dicos and KFC otherwise, due to time constraints. Dicos is prevalent in Dunhuang.

Two other noteworthy mentions:

A small pastry stall at the Shazhou Night Market food street entrance serves breakfast. The grilled corn cakes are delicious, reminding my friends from Northeast China of their childhood.
“Liu Ajing” (刘阿晶) is a ubiquitous local milk tea brand. Their signature 3-yuan large ice cream cone is rich and creamy – I had it three times in five days.

Accommodation

Two main lodging options exist: near the Flying Apsaras statue (反弹琵琶雕像) in the bustling city center, close to the Shazhou Night Market; or near Mingsha Mountain, offering convenient sightseeing and scenic views.

Dunhuang is small, with most high-rises being hotels. A south-facing window guarantees a view of Mingsha Mountain, varying only in distance.

We stayed at the Bohui Wenhua Hotel in the city center, near the commercial district. It’s 3 kilometers from Mingsha Mountain, but the views are still great due to the dunes’ size.

I was highly satisfied with the hotel. Rooms were clean, tidy, and spacious – land seems inexpensive here. The staff were consistently friendly and helpful. They even called to inform me of Mingsha Mountain’s closure due to dusty weather on our first day.

Perhaps due to the off-season, the hotel provided complimentary breakfast for two days, even though our room didn’t include it. Breakfast was delivered to our room, with the option to schedule delivery the day before.

The light breakfast was a welcome change after days of BBQ, lamb chops, and fried chicken.

Transportation

Dunhuang is compact, no more than 10 kilometers across. In 2021, there were only four bus lines.

Parking is plentiful in spring. As a seasonal tourist city, public resources are designed for peak season, leaving ample availability in the off-season. Parking is free at all attractions except Mogao Caves.

Underground parking is rare. Parking fees are very low, capped at 20 yuan per night, with some places charging per entry. Renting a car is highly recommended for freedom and convenience.

Car rental companies are almost exclusively located at the airport, which is conveniently near the train station, allowing for easy pickup and return.

Heed speed limits. It’s easy to speed in this vast, sparsely populated area. Keep your navigation on. The speed limit from the airport to the city is 70 km/h, deceptively low for the wide, open road. There are also 40 km/h zones near schools. The West Line has frequent speed limit changes, so listen to your navigation. Average speed enforcement is in place near Yumenguan.

There are no gas stations on the West Line (to Yumenguan and Yadan), and the round trip is at least 200 kilometers, so fuel up beforehand.

Main Attractions

Dunhuang Museum: Visiting time: 2-3 hours. A 10-minute drive from downtown, with parking available. Free admission, but advance booking and ID card entry are required. The “Bowuguan” (博物官) WeChat mini-program offers audio guides for some artifacts.

Yumenguan Pass: Visiting time: 2-3 hours. The furthest point on the West Line (excluding Yadan), a 2-hour drive, accessible only by self-driving, chartered car, or a local day trip. Purchase tickets on the “You Dunhuang” (游敦煌) WeChat official account. Third-party platforms often bundle tickets with unwanted activities. The West Line is desolate; plan your meals. A restaurant is inside the Yumenguan scenic area, but there are no other dining options en route.

Yangguan Pass: Visiting time: 2-3 hours, potentially longer as it’s expanding. Also on the West Line, you’ll pass it en route to Yumenguan. Buy tickets on the “You Dunhuang” WeChat official account. Many farmhouses surround Yangguan, but their off-season availability is uncertain. A Dicos and possibly another snack place are inside the scenic area.

Mogao Caves: Visiting time: 3-4 hours. East of Dunhuang, near the airport (about a 20-minute drive). Staff will contact you a few days prior to confirm your digital movie viewing time. The visit begins with two digital movies, followed by a bus ride to the cave area. Movie showtimes are fixed, so punctuality is essential. Restaurants are available inside the Mogao Caves area, with additional farmhouse-style options closer to the airport.

Encore Dunhuang (又见敦煌): Visiting time: 1.5 hours. In the off-season, there’s one daily show at 8 PM. The theater is next to Mogao Caves, with its own parking. This performance and Mogao Caves are usually combined. Careful planning is crucial, down to the hour. Calculate your Mogao Caves visit completion time (based on the movie start time), factor in a meal (nearby or in the city), and arrive at the theater before 8 PM. The first hour of Encore Dunhuang is standing-room-only, moving between scenes. Strict security checks prohibit outside food and water.

Mingsha Mountain and Crescent Spring: Visiting time: 3-6 hours (excluding overnight camping). Spend an entire afternoon and stay for sunset. The scenic area is just 3 kilometers from the city. The ticket allows unlimited entries within three days – activate this by scanning your face at a machine near the gate. This makes dining easy, though restaurants are also available inside.

List of All Attractions

Grouped by location for easy planning. Must-see attractions are bolded.

East Line: Mogao Caves, Encore Dunhuang performance
West Line: Dunhuang Ancient City Film Base, Western Thousand Buddha Caves, Yangguan Pass, Yumenguan Pass, Yadan Devil City
South of the City: Mingsha Mountain and Crescent Spring, Leiyin Temple, Dunhuang Grand Ceremony performance
Guazhou Line: Yulin Caves, Suoyang City
Other in the City: Dunhuang Museum, White Horse Pagoda, Shazhou Ancient City, Silk Road Flower Rain performance

The West Line is a single road, listed from nearest to furthest. You can’t cover all five locations in one day; skip 2-3.

The Guazhou Line requires a trip to Guazhou County (part of Dunhuang City). The Yulin Caves are reportedly worthwhile, managed by the same unit as Mogao Caves, and feature many exquisite works.

Other city attractions can fill itinerary gaps.

Local small parks and minor attractions are excluded.

Expenses

Hotels and transportation are very inexpensive in the off-season. Dining costs are normal, and even fruit prices are comparable to Hangzhou. Our primary expenses were airfare and recreational activities.

Other People’s Guides or Travelogues

Here are some other guides and travelogues I found useful:

Comprehensive travelogue: https://www.mafengwo.cn/i/10927558.html
Comprehensive travelogue: http://www.mafengwo.cn/i/10546594.html
West Line travelogue: http://www.mafengwo.cn/i/16989550.html
Dunhuang’s three major performances: https://www.mafengwo.cn/gonglve/ziyouxing/14655.html

Behind the Scenes

I was in charge of planning this entire trip, and everyone I traveled with was really happy with the itinerary I put together.

Honestly, there’s a simple, repeatable process for planning a trip. Once you string all the key elements together in the right sequence, the itinerary practically writes itself.

For the full breakdown, you can check out this article: A Step-by-Step Guide to Travel Planning.

Song of the Grassland

hi@victor42.work (Victor42) — Fri, 21 Jun 2013 12:08:00 +0000

I rewrote a story I’d jotted down long ago. It’s strange how, with more life experience, I find it harder to dream up tales like this.

Our family lined up, facing the sunset, the air thick with a dull solemnity. I glanced at Mom beside me and quietly slipped back. The line of Thomson’s gazelles seemed endless. How long would it take Seto, our clan’s fastest, to run its length? Not that he’d be chosen; he was too quick, too wild. One accidental horn-poke to an elder’s rear, and he’d be in for it. Not my problem, really, but I dreaded his howl. It always triggered a response from the warthog herds. I’d considered trying the run myself, but… I wasn’t even grown. How could I manage that distance?

The grassland summer evening was still bright. I turned my back on the setting sun, my faint shadow trailing me. I saw my silhouette on a smooth rock, mimicking my chewing motions. Up a grassy slope I went, my shadow stretching to a distant tree, then more trees – the forest the adults spoke of. I hadn’t realized our grassland ended, but this dense, dark forest was clearly not our territory. The clan leader warned us away from it. I eyed the tall trees warily. If each was a blade of our grass, the gazelles within must be giants.

“Mia!” Mom’s gentle foot-stamp called me back. “Look this way. Respect the sun. Learn survival. Be devout, and you’ll hear the grassland’s song.”

“Or else? And what good is that song?” I rejoined the line reluctantly, hearing only insects, not songs. I studied Mom’s horns; one was chipped, shorter. She’d told the story: as a calf, she’d snagged it in a rock crevice while drinking, breaking it on the pull.

“Sun… song…” I nudged the dry grass with my horn. Grasshoppers scattered. One landed on my face. We stared at each other, oblivious to Mom’s nagging.

“Mia, are you listening?”

“Uh-huh!” I shook my head, sending the grasshopper sunward, its reddish wings flashing. I nuzzled Mom’s neck, leaning against her. Good, the sun was setting. This ritual would end, and the stars would appear.

Only a sliver of gold remained on the horizon – the grassland’s other end, perhaps. Baboons’ returning roars, though unpleasant, might scare off wandering hyenas. Hyenas couldn’t catch us, not even youngsters. But the spotted big cats could. Mom warned me about cheetahs, the only animals matching our speed. Annoying, really, chasing us from perfectly good grass. What was their point?

Midnight was my favorite. The grassland slept, and another world, mine alone, emerged. Mom would fan mosquitoes in her sleep, but my day began. The night sky mesmerized me. I’d tilt my head back, spin until dizzy, and collapse. Any other gazelle awake would see this odd, solitary dance.

“Ow!” A deafening howl. I feared the moon would be startled away. Horns rose in the herd. Unfair! I looked down. My foot was on Seto’s stubby tail. He glared, his handsome face twisted. The adults’ gossip made sense: Seto was timid, hence the loud voice; afraid of death, hence the speed. His expression shifting from fierce to horrified, I couldn’t help but laugh. The adults, feigning sleep, turned away. I met Seto’s mother’s gaze; she peeked from behind another, smiled knowingly, and lay back down.

“So quiet.”

“Your foot!” Seto gritted his teeth.

I was still on his tail. Stepping on a gazelle’s tail was like winning the lottery. “Oh… sorry.”

I lifted my foot, and Seto sprang up like a bullfrog after insects, dashing out of the herd, leaping in pain. I followed, glancing at the silent grassland.

Outside the herd, the grass rustled, mixed with adult whispers. I turned; silence. What game were they playing?

“Cheetahs don’t eat grass?”

“Of course not. They eat us!”

“Mom never said that!” I abandoned any thought of reclaiming grazing ground.

“No mistake…” Seto hung his head.

“What is it?” I circled him, about to bend down. A tear slipped from his cheek, flashing, disappearing into the grass.

“I saw it catch my mom, bite her neck…” His face was ashen. “I hid behind a rock. My current mom raised me.”

If true… well, it was true. I fell silent. The vast grassland, the cool breeze. We walked uphill. The dark forest was even quieter than the night sky. I changed the subject. “Ever been to that distant forest?”

“It’s dangerous. Humans live there.”

“Humans? Do they eat grass?”

“Some adults have seen them. They’re not sure what humans eat; they’ve never seen them eat. But they kill other animals, including us.”

“Uh… what’s that?” A dim firelight flickered in the forest.

“Let’s go back. It must be humans. They can make wood burn without thunder.”

I witnessed Seto’s speed firsthand. The scaredy-cat vanished in steps. What about being a gentleman? Fearful of pursuit, I didn’t look back, startling insects. I recalled Mom’s lessons: jump flexibly, turn to shake off fast, straight-running cheetahs. It should work for humans. I twisted, jumped. A glance back showed only the slowly rotating stars. No human pursuit.

Back with the herd, the stars seemed dimmer, though it wasn’t yet dawn. The adults were awake, smiling and nodding at me. Timid Seto slept behind his mother.

“Mia, don’t drink here!”

“Mom, I’m thirsty. I can’t walk.”

“Crocodiles. We cross upstream for new grazing.”

“Wildebeests and zebras are drinking here.” I neared the bank. The gazelle family streamed past.

“Mia, don’t!” Mom blocked me. “Mom loves you.” I was near the bank; Mom’s leg was in the river.

“Let’s go, Mia.” Mom’s serious face, always ordering. Her broken horn swayed. I was lost in thought, forgetting to answer.

The river exploded. Logs surged to the bank. Wildebeests and zebras cried their last, leaving only the churning water. Crocodiles’ bloody mouths dripped, dragging them under. The prey stilled.

I felt like stone.

Mom retreated, her asymmetrical horns swaying. “Run, Mia!”

I was petrified.

She became a splash. I backed away, watching the calm return. The river was fiery red. Mom surfaced briefly, her broken horn visible, then was dragged under. Blood splattered my face.

I couldn’t speak. My vision blurred, my face wet.

“Mia, get up. Thank the sun.” A tongue licked my face. Wet.

Wet.

I jumped up. Mom stood before me. I pressed my face to her back. The morning sun rose between her horns.

“Remember where you ran from yesterday?”

How could I? I’d returned by chance, frightened by unseen humans.

“The benevolent sun saved you, Mia.” Mom pointed left, where I’d passed. Thomson’s gazelles have good eyesight. I saw a pride of lions.

“Thank you, sun!” Louder than ever. Mom smiled. But I meant, thank you for returning my mom.

The withered grass was unappetizing; tender grass was scarce. I looked up. The family huddled together, a defense. Cheetahs usually targeted solitary gazelles.

Following the scent of tender grass, gazelle horns retreated on either side. I turned, saw Mom chatting with Seto’s mother, and bumped my head on a rock. Three young groundhogs popped out, ignoring me, standing, looking into the distance. Their three-lobed mouths twitched, whiskers swaying. The middle one wiped its face, then licked its paws.

I was close to these little guys. Their dark eyes reflected a bright light. Following their gaze – the sun had risen fully. Were they listening to the grassland’s song?

“What does the song sing?” I lay down before them.

They froze, then vanished into the rock crevices.

Even more timid than Seto. I was suddenly happy. Behind the rock was a burrow, a small stone blocking the entrance. I pushed it with my horns. It was deeply embedded, stubborn. Finally, I pried it open.

The cave was dim. The sunset slowly rose, brightening it. A mother groundhog lay in the center, startled but not defensive, only twitching her whiskers. The three little ones huddled behind her, trembling, pleading.

Other things lived in the cave. I found a scorpion in a dark corner, its tail and body severed, one claw twitching. Its dark red carapace was a death contract, reflecting a cold light. The mother groundhog tried to rise, fell back stiffly. Her neck was swollen.

“Mom!” I headed for the herd, hoping Mom could help.

Mom heard my call, raised her head. I saw the broken horn, but her eyes were strange. She froze, then knocked Seto’s mother aside, leaping towards me.

“Run, Mia, run!”

I didn’t dare look back. Far from the group, I leaped. A spotted paw slammed down!

“Oh my god! Where did this monster come from? Silent!” My heart pounded, limbs trembling, but I ran. Survival instinct. How would the cheetah eat? Like we eat grass? Like Seto’s mother? These thoughts, at this critical moment. For them, a missed meal. For me, maybe never seeing the starry sky again. Mom’s teachings: run straight, jump, turn, land, run…

Pale clouds and yellow grass blurred. Spots, yellow and black, claws, whistling wind. I thought I heard something. Mom calling? What?

Mom’s voice faded, ethereal. A dream? Like last night? Mom, wake me.

No relaxing. Practiced movements, a whirlwind underfoot. The sharp claws never touched. Hold on; the cheetah’s stamina was nearing its limit. Jump, turn, jump…

Violently shaking vision, darkening. The grassland’s end. The terrifying forest, but I’d rather believe the claw’s airflow was still behind me. I stomped on the familiar slope, horns brushing a branch. I plunged into the unknown.

After a while, I realized the cheetah couldn’t catch me here. No straight paths. My legs weakened, I collapsed. No spots. Reassuring. Maybe it hadn’t chased me this far. Grass everywhere; why eat Thomson’s gazelles?

Gasping, I saw only patches of sky. Noon, the sun blocked by thick clouds. Grassland storms. Without the sun, getting lost here would be terrifying.

Staggering up, the forest seemed as vast as the grassland, maybe bigger. I was just a gazelle.

I thought of Mom. The cheetah chased me far. Mom and the herd, and Seto, must have run far.

I wanted to go home.

The rainstorm didn’t scare me. Thunderstorms on the grassland, lightning flashing, rumbling shaking the earth. I’d hide under Mom, horns poking her belly. She’d lick my forehead. Warm tongue, cold rain, I’d always remember.

Would Mom feel the absence of my body heat now? I shook my wet fur, useless. Rain hammered my back, determined to penetrate. What now? Dangerous humans. Would they pounce silently, with no warning? The raindrops, hitting the soil, dissolving. Would I disappear like that? Silently? Rain flowed from my horns, into my eyes, to my cheeks. Warm rain.

“Mom! Mom! Mom!” I shouted desperately, my voice weakening. Swallowed by this rainy hell. Damp chill from the ground. I closed my eyes. A dream. I wanted to wake.

“Mia…”

Faint, familiar, near, far.

Mom, I’ll be good. No more crocodile rivers.

Mom, I’ll be good. One day, I’ll hear the grassland’s song.

“Mia…”

Not a dream. Mom’s murmur, right at my ear!

I rushed into Mom’s arms. Her breath, weak, like burned dry grass, turning to ash at a touch. My neck pressed against her ice-cold belly.

I screamed, jumped away. Mom collapsed. Her hind leg, bleeding profusely. A hideous claw wound. Mom had fought the cheetah. Rain fell into the wound, bringing more blood. Blood-stained footprints in the heavy rain. A raindrop knocked a leaf onto Mom’s cheek. Her other horn was broken too.

Yes, I should have known.

From the bloody footprints, a fast figure approached. If the cheetah dared return, I wouldn’t leave.

The shadow neared. Horns.

“Come, I’ll take you out!” Seto.

“Mom, get up.” Thunder drowned my voice.

Seto shook his head. “Mia, follow me. I know the way.”

“I’m not leaving.” I lay beside Mom, unconscious.

“Do you know how loud you screamed? I saw wolves.”

“I’m not leaving!”

“The wolves can’t catch us. We can’t wait!” Seto vanished. Coward or not, I didn’t know.

Wolves… would they come? Two hearts wouldn’t be enough. I looked around, no wolves. Dark clouds, a starless sky. Wolves or not, what difference?

A thunderclap, nearby, but wrong. Grassland thunder was deep, thick; this was sharp, piercing. Firelight startled me. A moving flame.

How terrifying were humans? And the wolves, I smelled their stench. It made no difference. What could be more terrifying? Come, all. I’ll stay!

The broken horn flashed, no, a pair of broken horns.

He approached. The strangest animal. Hair only on their heads, bodies wrapped in loose skin, not their own. Standing on hind legs, like groundhogs, walking. And the terrifying thing, a stick with a jumping flame, dancing like fighting hippos. A dead wolf on his shoulder, pupils reflecting flames, teeth dripping blood.

This creature, walking towards us.

He waved the fire stick. I screamed, hid behind a tree. Mom, unconscious. Humans controlled fire!

Mom at his feet. I tried to get behind him, forced back by fire. He bent, reaching into his skin bag. I kicked, pounced, but another stick on his body made the deafening, piercing thunder. I retreated. What was this?

He took out a wooden object, poured cloudy liquid on Mom’s leg. Ripe fruit aroma. He held the torch, Mom’s leg caught fire.

I rushed, ignoring flames, thunder. Mom twitched, eyes struggling open. The human didn’t stop me. Nothing mattered. What to do with the fire? I poked it with my horn. Heat stung, but the flame weakened, went out.

I saved Mom! The human, walking away.

Frantic rain. Nothing visible beyond ten trees. Wolf howls, echoing, desperate cries from hell. I licked Mom’s ear. She listened, raised her neck, her voice thread-thin: “Mia! Run, back to the grassland.”

“Mom!” I shouted hoarsely. Wolves surrounded us, following the blood scent. No need for quiet.

A clear sound in the rain. Gazelle hooves. Approaching. I shook off rain, mud, blood. Seto. How could he still come?

“Still can’t go?” Seto stared warily.

He jumped, crossed Mom, ran deep into the forest.

“What are you doing!”

Seto disappeared. No echo, but the wolf sounds faded, mixed with light, rhythmic footsteps.

“Mom, get up!” I tried to lift her. Futile, but I had to try.

Howling again. Smart wolves. The offensive. Rustling, wolves and bushes, a death symphony. Those faces, teeth, I shuddered. Mom, paralyzed. The fire, her pain. My eyes, dry. No tears. Only watching myself torn.

Another thunderclap! Piercing. A wolf howled. The hunting order? Despair, I screamed. Miserable, sad. Mom trembled. I pushed her. Mom, don’t worry, I’ll push you out.

Waiting, no wolves. Thunderclaps, wolf howls receding. I looked back. A wolf, in a pool of blood, mouth open, eyes staring.

Flickering firelight.

Heavy rain washed wolf blood to us. Carnivore blood, a strong fishy smell. His companions gone. Was the human helping?

Peace.

Tenacious, persistent wolves. Gathering again. Creepy throat sounds. Exhausted Mom, couldn’t stand. Clouds pressing on my neck. Hard to breathe. Bloody footprints washed away. No sun, no direction, no escape.

“Mom…”

What next? Mom couldn’t move. Respect the sun, you said, for reward. Where was the sun?

Suddenly, dizzy. Color in the forest. I shook my head, looked towards the grassland – the sun! Dazzling! A crack in the clouds, thousands of rays surging. My body warmed. Abruptly, the rain stopped. Crystal clear forest, droplets on leaves.

Mom struggled, slipped. Her injured leg trembled. I bit a leaf, wiped the wound. The leaf absorbed blood, withered, a dark red ball. But the bleeding stopped. The burn sealed the skin. I spit the leaf, licked carefully. Mom kicked the leg, stood. Stable, like the towering trees.

Mom stood.

Dark clouds, blown away by sunlight, shrinking, disappearing. Sunset glow, transparent beams of light. Lingering mist drifted. Ancient trees, orange-red, like autumn water reflections, warm, peaceful. Birds flapping. Droplets tapping bushes, tinkling. Sunshine, tender, transparent leaves, glittering sequins. Branches creaking. The forest waking, stretching.

Mom’s face, pale, but she could move.

“Mia, let’s go home.” Faint, but powerful.

Wolves moving to the forest edge, cutting us off. Apprehensive, but Mom ignored them, leading me towards the grassland. Brighter light, flickering. Those faces increased. We crashed into the wolves’ pocket.

“Follow me closely!”

Mom, unfazed, rushed the wolves. A gray-spotted alpha wolf blocked the way, howling. Wolves pounced. It leaped, aiming for Mom’s neck! Mom hummed softly, jumped, front feet smashing the alpha’s head. Skull cracking, my body numb. Mom stepped on the twitching body, galloping. I followed. Breaking through. Short, dirty figures left behind. The forest border. Wolves, no match in speed, let alone leaving their territory.

Heavy throat sounds pursued. Running, jumping, flashing between trees. Jumping out, sunlight lifting me. Never so light, full of life. I heard the grassland’s song. Two lines, distant, deep, gentle:

“Mia, let’s go home.”

The other, unheard before.

“Mom, let’s go home.”

The night sky, full of stars. Seto lay alone, resting. A tooth mark on his calf. I’d never really known him.

Mom slept soundly, back rising, falling.

Seto’s mother, awake, observing the stars with me.

“What is little Mia looking at?”

“Are there more stars than gazelles?”

“Knowledge. Every star is a gazelle’s soul.”

“Which is yours?”

“That empty area? The second brightest.”

“Huh? The first?”

“Seto,” she said excitedly. “His star is bright these days.”

“Which is my mom’s?”

“Little Mia must find it. A hint.”

Blinking elves. How to find it? Random star connections, strange shapes. Suddenly, several bright stars formed a gazelle’s head, thin horns. Mom’s star must be among them.

“That one, with blue?” The gazelle’s left eye, brightest in the constellation.

“No, brighter.”

“That one!” The brightest in the whole sky.

“Even brighter, but little Mia can’t see that star yet.”

Brighter… can’t see… I know, Mom’s star is the sun!

It must be.

Wood Elves

hi@victor42.work (Victor42) — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 23:47:00 +0000

Last night’s downpour had made a mess of things. Knee-high grass lay flattened, making the rundown cabin at the forest’s edge seem even more isolated. The cabin door was shut tight, the mossy steps covered in a fine, glistening white film. The misty air hinted at the morning to come.

The cabin door creaked open with a long sigh, revealing a pale green silhouette moving slowly inside. A delicate fragrance wafted out, instantly clearing a good bit of the mist. Bright beams of light pierced the canopy, illuminating the cabin, and dewdrops on the roof glittered like crystals.

A pale hand pushed the door open. A sleepy-eyed girl, draped in a light green robe, stepped out. She walked barefoot across the mossy steps, leaving watery footprints. A loud, clear bird call echoed from deep within the forest, jolting her awake. She carefully climbed the ladder onto the roof. The view was breathtaking: endless wilderness on one side, a single dirt road winding its way to the horizon; on the other, a layered tapestry of trees – deep greens, vibrant emeralds, bright yellows, and fiery reds – a vibrant, chaotic mix. The entire forest resembled a sleeping butterfly, slowly waking with the rising sun. Beams of light shifted between the trees, like the butterfly gently unfolding its wings in a dance of light and shadow.

The girl knew it was going to be a beautiful day. Last night’s rain had refreshed the forest; she could hear the creatures chattering and giggling. Smiling, she climbed down, changed into a light, still pale green, outfit. When she opened the door again, the mist was retreating into the forest, sunlight escorting her, showing the way. She took a deep breath, adjusting the butterfly-shaped hairpin made of folded bamboo leaves – her favorite good-luck charm. Grabbing a hand-woven basket, she headed into the woods. She knew she couldn’t explore the whole forest, but she always hoped to make new friends. The old locust tree, giant mushrooms, and wandering foxes were her usual companions. But today, she decided to venture into uncharted territory.

Several faint paths crisscrossed the forest, all made by the girl. Her shallow footprints were quickly covered by fallen leaves, which turned to mulch, only to be covered by more leaves. So, only she knew these paths. Kicking aside leaves, she tired and rested against a massive tree root. Suddenly, a startled rabbit darted out, stopping at a safe distance to observe her. The girl made rabbit ears with her hands, making funny faces. The rabbit, surprisingly, hopped back, stopping right beside her. She took out a small piece of dried mulberry cake from her basket and offered it. The rabbit buried its head in her palm, nibbled a bit, then grabbed the cake and scurried back under the root. Peeking in, the girl saw the rabbit breaking the cake into smaller pieces, feeding two baby bunnies, unfazed by her presence.

A twig snapped onto her bamboo shoe. Above, an unknown bird was building a nest. The girl brushed off her clothes, about to get up, then sat back down. A new path, hidden beneath swaying vines, had appeared – a path she’d never seen before.

Picking up her basket, she wondered who had made this path. She had to find out. The soft, knee-deep leaves made her feel like she was walking on a giant, unstable cake. The ground was a colorful mosaic of leaves, untouched by footprints, yet the intertwined branches clearly parted to create a passage leading deeper into the forest. Mist lingered in the distance, along with faint laughter. Following this natural corridor, she felt a chill in the damp air. The fog thickened, turning everything white. She felt her way along, holding onto vines and branches. The forest held so many unfamiliar things, some she hadn’t seen, others she didn’t even know existed. This white, mysterious realm filled her with both unease and excitement.

She felt like she’d reached a clearing, with nothing to hold onto. Lost, she stood bewildered in the fog. The mist reflected sunlight from all directions, blinding her. Laughter and chatter echoed all around, seeming both near and far, rising and falling. She tried to communicate with the trees, seeking help, but they didn’t respond. Only these unknown creatures, speaking in a language she couldn’t understand, continued their carefree chatter and laughter.

A flicker of panic crossed her face, but she had nowhere to go. She stood still, straining to hear, hoping to catch a word or two. But the chatter gradually faded, replaced by an eerie silence, broken only by the rustling of leaves. Something was closing in.

The mist rapidly cleared, and the girl could almost hear it evaporating. As it cleared, she found herself in the center of a clearing, her path gone. Impenetrable trees surrounded her like a fence, and the creatures from before were now gathered around.

They resembled humans, but were only palm-sized, with transparent, slender wings, the veins clearly visible. They flapped their wings slowly, in a rhythm like breathing. Seeing the girl, they seemed equally startled, quickly huddling together, those on the outside pushing in, those inside pushing back. Amused, the girl chuckled. The creatures froze, turning to look at her from a distance – a distance that was only significant to them.

The creatures began a lively discussion, still in that incomprehensible language. The girl noticed they were pointing at her, so she was clearly the topic. She suddenly remembered a legend she’d read, describing these creatures: Wood Elves. They never left the forest and rarely interacted with outsiders. They loved the forest and were dedicated to protecting it. The girl thought perhaps the elves were about to perform a ritual, and her appearance had interrupted them.

“I’m sorry, I got lost,” she said, unsure if they understood.

The elves stared blankly, unmoved. They scattered, forming a circle around her, and began to sing, their bodies swaying. Their steps were light and quick, but the tune was high and distant, like a call to a faraway deity. As they sang, all other sounds in the forest ceased. The earth fell into a deep slumber. It was the first time the girl had heard such a mystical song. The elves’ unique language, combined with the melody, cleansed her heart like rain, leaving it clear and pure.

This must be their ritual, the girl thought. The elves stopped singing and retreated into the forest.

“Wait!” she called out to their delicate figures. “Are you Wood Elves?”

No response, only a few faint giggles.

The girl saw mist rising again from deep within the forest. She took a redwood sapling from her basket and swiftly planted it in the center of the clearing. She wanted to remember this place, these lovely creatures. Before the mist thickened, she finished, packed her tools, and saw the path reappear. She looked around, memorizing the scene, then plunged back into the misty corridor.

The girl hadn’t slept well, the elves’ song echoing in her head all night. She opened the cabin door. The overcast sky still looked like night. A thunderstorm was brewing. She wondered if the elves would appear, but she decided to go see anyway.

Wearing a bamboo hat, she navigated the forest. The path she’d cleared yesterday was scattered by the wind, but she could still vaguely make it out. Dark clouds piled up on the horizon, accompanied by rumbling thunder, rolling towards her quickly. She found the rabbit’s tree root, but the path to the clearing was gone. The sky had darkened completely. She took out a bamboo leaf pouch and released the fireflies. They clung to her hat, providing a faint glow.

A bolt of lightning struck the ground, followed by a deafening clap of thunder that shook the entire forest. The distant forest looked strange, the horizon tinged with red. The forest was on fire!

Under the root, the rabbit watched the girl frantically searching for the path, just like yesterday.

In her panic, the girl touched her loose hair. Her good-luck charm was gone! She couldn’t be without it; it kept her from getting lost. She crouched, searching every corner. At the other end of the forest, the fire had already painted half the sky red. The dark clouds churned but didn’t release a single drop of rain. The fire roared and spread in the stifling heat, devouring the forest.

Mist! The girl found the corridor. No time to look for her charm. She ran along the winding path, losing one bamboo shoe. She paused, considering: the shoe or the whole forest? She kicked off the remaining shoe and continued running barefoot.

The corridor ended, but the clearing wasn’t there, only a messy patch of small trees. The Wood Elves were nowhere in sight.

The fire was closing in, carried by the heat. The terrifying sound of burning was like the forest groaning, struggling, wailing. All that remained in its wake was lifeless black, even the soil hardened and ashen. The girl heard the trees screaming, describing the horror of the fire: from the treetops, the fire line looked like a wave, pushing from afar. Ahead of the fire line were terrified companions; behind it, death.

“Come out! Aren’t you supposed to protect the forest?” she shouted in all directions, again and again, until she was hoarse. Her voice cracking, she slumped against a large tree, sobbing, still muttering hoarsely, “Aren’t you supposed to protect the forest…”

Warm liquid slid down her cheek, dripping onto her hand. Each tear felt like an ice crystal from the far north, chilling her to the bone. The roar of the heat swept past her ears, the air growing hotter and stuffier. The bright red flames, like the forest’s flowing blood, cast an eerie, sinister glow on the earth. The girl ignored it all. She didn’t want to leave the forest, her home, even if it meant burning along with it.

A cold drop landed on her face. She woke from her despair. It was rain! She looked up. The Wood Elves had appeared. Today, they wore pure white robes, without yesterday’s playfulness, their expressions serious. They scattered, forming a circle around the girl, hands clasped, and began to sing, suspended in the air.

The girl’s tears turned to laughter. She hugged her knees, looking up at the elves’ mysterious ritual. When their song began, the forest fell silent, the fire and thunder hushed. Rain poured down, transparent notes landing on the forest. The cold liquid splashed her face, making it hard to keep her eyes open. She closed them, listening to this song of life, images appearing in her mind: the raging flames were subdued, retreating. Raindrops hit the charred trees, dripping onto the ground, and instantly, millions of fresh green sprouts burst through the hardened earth. A crack appeared in the dark clouds. The sun grabbed the cloud’s wound, tearing it open. Sunlight swept across the land, and the new sprouts danced and grew to the rhythm of the song. Everything in the forest returned to normal. The trees began to cheer; she understood them, they were celebrating their rebirth.

At some point, the singing faded. The girl wiped the rain from her face and opened her eyes to find the elves gone. She stood up. She was in the clearing, and the towering tree behind her was the redwood she’d planted yesterday!

For days, the girl replayed the fire and the elves’ miraculous feat in her mind. The forest after the rain was as usual, as if nothing had happened. But one thing proved it wasn’t a dream: her good-luck charm was lost. From now on, she’d have to carefully mark her way.

The girl sat on the steps of her cabin, head in her hands. It was all still unbelievable. She recalled the elves’ melody, unconsciously humming it. As she hummed, she felt someone harmonizing. She looked around. The Wood Elves had surrounded her and the cabin. There were no words; the humming seemed even more comforting.

Lost in the melody, she suddenly remembered something. She looked back at the forest behind the cabin, then at the wilderness in front, and asked in surprise, “Can you Wood Elves leave the forest?”

The elves all laughed. Two elves flew from behind the cabin, carrying her lost good-luck charm. They carefully pinned it to her hair. “No, silly! You are the Wood Elf.” Then they continued to dance and sing in a circle.