Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Birthday on the road in Songpan & Mounigou

The tale of my Sichuan travels is written as a continuous story and starts on the entry "In Chengdu" on Nov. 5th, 2008. For context and continuity, feel free to start back at that point and read on forward first if you have not already done so.

And so we met up at 8am at the front lobby before heading out to Songpan (松潘), our first stop. While we ate the breakfast noodles, the two taxi drivers we had reserved were already at the hostel with their cars. Shortly after, the 8 of us - Larry, Baba, Jerry, Dou, Li, Wei, Kang, and Jin - piled into the two cars for the two hour drive.

On the way we stopped for a few scenic pictures.

Highway winding through the mountains:




Baba and Larry in a "photo duel":



After a few stops for the paying bathroom and clementine oranges, we arrived at Songpan and its spectacular city walls.

North Gate. A statue of Princess Wencheng (文成公主) and Tibetan King Songtsän Gampo (松贊干布) stands in front of the entrance, commemorating the political union that brought peace between the Tang Dynasty and the Tibetan people:



Inside the walled city:



We didn't get much time to tour Songpan since the girls were running short on time, as their flight was scheduled to leave at around 3:30-4pm. Instead, we decided to proceed first to Mounigou (牟尼溝) and come to Songpan on the way back, as it was on the road back anyhow. Mounigou, like Jiuzhaigou, is also a "gou" (溝) or gully, and it is split into two parts, a collection of lakes called ErDaoHai (二道海) and Zhaga Waterfall (扎嘎瀑布). We decided to go to Erdaohai first:



Tickets were 140 RMB for both sites, though slightly more expensive (perhaps 75 or 80 RMB) for only visiting ErDaoHai or Zhaga Waterfall. However, when we arrived, we discovered we were pretty much the only ones there. In addition, there doesn't seem to be much development on the site for tourists. For example, the roads, compared to the nicely laid walkways of Jiuzhaigou, were muddy paths:




Maybe Mounigou is always this quiet and uncommercialized. Or maybe it was just that time of the year:







While we did not know at the time, that was part of the charm of Mounigou. No one was there - we were in a secluded - almost seemingly private - environment, alone with Nature, for our own viewing pleasure.

As we walked onwards in the mud-trodden path for the first mile or so without seeing anything but barren trees in the snow, the girls were starting to question whether there was anything at all worth seeing. Ahead, a couple other visitors were coming towards us the other way. We greeted them and asked them if there was anything worth going ahead for.

"Oh yes, there definitely is!" one of them responded.
"It absolutely gorgeous!" the other quipped.

Spurred on by the encouraging signs, we marched ahead, and after another few hundred meters, we finally came upon the lakes:



The waters there were still. Perfectly calm. No ripples, running waters in or out of the lake. They were so green and clear, so serene.



The colors weren't as bright and varied as those found in Jiuzhaigou, but the shades were different and beautiful in their own way.





Some of the lakes had just a thin sheet of ice starting to form on top:



In other areas with moving water, the effect, though on a much smaller scale, is similar to Jiuzhaigou's "water overflooding the forest" scenery:



Here the water is very clear, and deceivingly shallow:



However, the water level does seem lower than it's supposed to be. For example, according to the maps, there should be a real lake here instead of a "grass lake":



Finally, we made it up to the top, where there was a public hot (or rather, cold) springs:



The girls didn't really have time to enjoy it, and so I walked down with them to ensure they would make it on time to catch their plane. On the way back down, we took a slightly different path, and managed to see some new scenery. There were a couple lakes with very blue waters:





And one that, perhaps due to the lighting, looks like florescent green:



Towards the end, Wei spotted a small Tibetan boy sitting alone in the grass. We went to say hello, but he doesn't talk to strangers:



We got back down to the bottom of the park and accompanied them to the taxi. After saying goodbyes, I rushed back up to the top (which was not easy, given the elevation was still at 3,000meters+ / over 10,000 feet) and back to the spring. It was empty, as before:





Baba had already tried it and gave his full recommendation: it was the best experience on the trip so far! He had already told the lawyers, who had tried it earlier and loved it as well. In fact, he said he wouldn't mind going again. And so we jumped in:





Immediately, the sensation of the slightly chilly water hit me, but that was barely noticeable compared to what I felt next: pain shooting up through my entire skin! The bath had NaHCO3 in it, and the carbonated water made it feel like as if I was being stabbed with sharp needles all over my body. I was basically bathing in soda water! The strongest sensation was on the eyelids when I stuck my head underwater. Unable to swim for a more than a few strokes, and unable to stand the pain for more than a few minutes, I got out, feeling exhilaratingly refreshed.

We got out and tried the indoor springs as well. The bubbles there were even more vicious, and I got out after no more than a minute. It's amazing how exposure to non-damaging pain will make normality feel so wonderful.

Afterwards, we rushed back down to catch the lawyers going back down to the entrance. We met up at the taxi and took the car to the entrance of Zhaga Waterfall:



The first part of the waterfall resembled Jiuzhaigou once again, with water overrunning a forest of trees:





But unlike Jiuzhaigou, we were once again, the only folks there at the time. Continuing on, we see Zhaga Waterfall itself, the largest calcified waterfall in China:







Towards the top, there was a cavern under the waterfall. It was called Water Curtain Cavern:



Legend has it that Sun Wukong (水帘洞), the Monkey King from the classic Chinese novel Journey to the West (西遊記) used the lair as the place to train and rest. When we went back, Larry, who had gone with the girls in the taxi to the airport, asked, "How did you like Zhaga Waterfall?"
"It was alright, pretty nice... though the springs at ErDaoHai were much better!" we answered.
"That's because you don't know how to enjoy Zhaga Waterfall," he said smugly.
"What do you mean?"
"Did you know... you can rush to thru the waterfall to get into Water Curtain Cavern?? That's what I did once! It was absolutely exhilarating! So much fun!"

We looked at each other, not sure whether to believe our crazy friend.

We got back to Songpan for a meal together at a Hui Muslim restaurant. The food was quite flavorful, but they added too much MSG. We treated one of our drivers, Mr. Luo (羅東), to the meal as well.

We reflected on our trip thus far. We all enjoyed Mounigou, and compared and contrasted it with Jiuzhaigou. Larry drew an analogy – while Jiuzhaigou is the flashy, popular, ostentatious celebrity, Mounigou is like the quiet yet sweet little beauty, charming in her own way.

As the meal finished, Larry brought out the birthday cake that he somehow had managed to procure in Songpan:



They sang the birthday song, and after I blew out the candles and made my wishes, we headed out to walk around Songpan, enjoying the scenery at night:



Then we headed over to the hostel, where Larry managed to negotiate a special price. It was off-season, but for 25 RMB per person, with electrical blankets and hot water, this hostel was way too nice!





The day was a fine way to start my 26th year.

1 comment:

Tiffany said...

Mouigou sounds/looks nice, particularly with the painful cold spring. You're 26!