Next trip: cycling the Yellow River from sea to source

 

Looking for a new challenge and somewhere different from the usual Joseph Rock areas of south-west China, I've set my sights on cycling the Yellow River.  It offers a wide variety of terrain and cultures, from the Tibetan highland grasslands of Qinghai, down through the eroded loess clay of Gansu with many Hui Muslims, then an enormous loop up north into inner Mongolia, and back down into Shaanxi, where it turns east and flows through the historic cities that were the cradle of Han Chinese civilisation to the sea outlet in Shandong.

It's 6000 km in length and as far as I can tell no foreigner has yet DONE the Huanghe from end to end in its entirety. An American academic called Bill Porter travelled along the main sights of the Yellow River in the 1990s, but he went by car/bus and train and only stopped off at certain sections. 

I've seen articles about a Chinese guy Fu Xiaofeng (扶小风) who was walking the entire length of the river in 2023, but he hasn't published any details of his trip - or even confirmed that he has reached the end. An older Chinese guy Wang Laisheng (王来生) claims to have cycled the entire river, from source to sea, but again has not published any details of his route. 

One of the problems is that there are certain sections of the Yellow River that pass through very remote canyon territory in Qinghai and Gansu and have no road access along the riverside. One 100km section north of Lajia (Ragya) monastery in Qinghai Golok territory is extremely remote and does not appear to have any tracks or huts/houses along its canyon walls.  

This was the part of the Yellow River that Rock explored when he was seeking Mt Manye Machen - he only got about 10km up the river and diverted westwards up a side valley, to climb a hill where he could see Amnye Machen from a distance.

About 30 years ago a team of Chinese rafters tried to paddle down this section of the Yellow River but their boats sank and seven drowned. More recently a guy who calls himself 'Semit(e)' Shen Mite 闪米特 tackled it solo on a packraft and survived - but only just. I won't be taking my packraft.

Similarly there's a remote section north of Lanzhou that wends through canyons into Ningxia and there are no roads following the river from the bleak eroded hills that hem it in. I guess I'll just have to ride along the nearest rods that bypass these sections. 

I've broken the trip down into four sections of roughly 1000km each, each of which will take about a month [average daily cycling distance 30km). I'll be starting in May, and spending a month on each section, with the hope that I'll be coinciding with the moderate weather months of the north China and the Tibetan sections from June to August.

Section 1: I'll be starting from the Yellow River sea outlet in Shandong and travelling through industrial and semi-rural districts of Henan to the border with Shaanxi, via places like Taishan, Kaifeng and Luoyang. I'm starting in the lowlands so that I can get accustomed to cycle touring and acclimatised to altitude slowly.

Section 2 will leave behind the cradle of Chinese civilisation in Shandong and Henan, with the second month seeing me heading north through remote canyon territory along the Shanxi/Shaanxi border towards Inner Mongolia.

There may be side trips to places of interest such as Yan'an. Some stretches of the Yellow River in this section have no roads and I'll have to bypass these riverside sections ... should be at Baotou by end of June,  hopefully afyer the sandstorms and in time for mild summer temperatures.

Section 3 is a fairly bleak but mostly flat desert terrain of Inner Mongolia, turning back south towards Ningxia and Gansu. Again there is one section approaching Lanzhou where there are no roads following the river for about 100km, and I'll just have to go around it on the nearest main highway.

Section 4 of the Yellow River cycling trip will be the most difficult - ascending into the loess uplands of Gansu beyond Lanzhou and its Muslim population, passing massive dams and wilderness areas such as Kambala. Then I'll be going even higher into the ethnic Tibetan grasslands of Qinghai, where the Yellow River twists via marshlands and through massive unexplored canyons around Lajia. On this section I'll be bringing a tent and may have to camp on some parts of the route if I can't find Tibetan villages to host me.

The final goal will be to reach the source of the Yellow River near Gyaring Lake, Maduo County, 4200m altitude. Timing is crucial as this region is only bearably warm in June-August. I won't be going to the literal source of the Yellow River, which is a tiny trickle of water on the side of a hill about 200km from the nearest village. Firstly its impassable by bike, and secondly it has been put firmly off limits to tourists by local authorities to avoid damage to the fragile ecosystem.

 I'll be staying in hotels and guesthouses for most of the route so won't need to take much gear on my  conventional touring bike. I've just semi retired from work so I have the time and the 3-month (renewable) family reunion visa that will enable me to try this long term trip. 

I'll be departing Australia in late March to do a bit of preparation, planning and a possible recce trip before setting off in earnest in early May. 

Trip report: up the Nujiang, down the Mekong, on a folding bike

Just back from a two week trip in Yunnan, exploring sections of the Nujiang and Mekong rivers by bike. 

I picked up my Dahon Jetstream 20 inch wheel folding bike from where I'd left it in Kunming's Upland Hostel, and took the high-speed (300km/h) train to Baoshan. My route was north along the river to Gongshan, with stops at Baihualing (百花岭) birdwatching centre, Liuku (Lushui) and Gongshan. Then over the newly-built De-Gong highway to Deqen via Dimaluo, and then exploring the Mekong gorge southwards towards Cizhong.

There was no real goal to this trip other than to have a nice New Year break away from the Australian summer holiday crowds.

I travelled light, with just a simple 45L backpack strapped on the back of the bike - no camping equipment. I stayed in local hotels and guesthouses that I booked via WeChat (Weixin), which generally cost around 120-150 kuai a night.

The hardest bit of the trip was the first day from Baoshan to Baihualing, which involved quite a bit of up-and down with overall ascent into forested hills to Pupiaozhen, then a steep descent some 1500m to the Nujiang [and a police checkpoint, at Lujiang]. 

From the river I biked up the main highway to get to the small village of Gangdang (岗党) below Baihualing, where I hired a local driver to take me and my folded bike up the 1000m or so into the forested Gaoligong mountains to Baihualing. 

Birdwatchers will know this place well, the 'environmental tourism zone' of 百花岭生态旅游区 (Baihualing Shengtai Luyouqu) is well organised with many hides where twitchers with telephoto lenses can observe many rare Asian birds feeding at prepared food and watering holes set up by local farmers. I stayed a couple of nights at the posh Lingzhi guesthouse with an idyllic setting, just as an excuse to be somewhere different for New Year's Eve.

I tried a day of birdwatching in a hide, but after three hours I must admit I'd had enough, despite being a former member of the RSPB and the Young Ornithologists Club.  The forest trails I used to return to the guesthouse were nice enough, though. 

Baihualing Tip: if you come here, bring  most of your supplies: there is only one 'supermarket' in the village with limited stocks and it's a 2km hike up the road from the Lingzhi guesthouse.

Day 2 I biked up northwards on the highway along the placed Nujiang in beautiful winter sunshine.  Passed a few holiday resorts and this was definitely 'coffee country' judging by the number of places offering tasting. The traffic wasn't too heavy and for some reason many of the new roadside building are done in mock Thai/Burmese style. Had to negotiate a couple more police checkpoints before Liuku, at the places where the roads from Baoshan/Dali meet the Nujiang bridges.

Liuku was a pleasant stop - it seems to have an ideal climate and friendly people - as well as good infrastructure. I stayed at the Liushui Jiangzhi Panjin hotel which has a perfect location next to the bridge and river, and reasonable prices (190 kuai).

Day 3 I skipped the long 400km pedal up the Nujiang valley to Gongshan via Fugong because I've biked this before in the opposite direction, on a Brompton. For 150 kuai I shared a private van to Gongshan from outside Liuku's bus station. One of the advantages of a folding bike - chuck it in the back of a car and skip the boring/difficult bits!

I stayed at the Lavande Hotel in Gongshan, where I made a last minute decision to avoid the Dulong valley, which I already 'did' exactly one year ago, but on foot/hire car. Instead, I decided to try cycling up to Dimaluo to check out whether my old Tibetan host and trekking guide Aluo was still around. I'd previously hiked over the main range in a 3-day trek from Cizhong to stay at Aluo's lodge.

Day 4 was a pleasant surprise as I discovered there was a dedicated cycle path tacked on to the highway all the way north from Gongshan. I followed this empty track, marvelling at the riverside scenery. It was about 35km to Dimaluo (迪麻洛), which took me through many interesting small villages and riverside settlements. I saw no other bikes [or tourists] on the trail, which must have cost a fortune to build. 

Apart from a few places where it was blocked by parked cars, it was a great trail. At one point it separated from the highway and switched over to the other side of the Nujiang, which was even more impressive, scenery and vibe-wise.

Arriving at Pengdang bridge (捧当大桥) at lunchtime I had some great noodles from a roadside stall, then began the grind up the 8km of switchback road leading up to Dimaluo. The road was good and the gradient not too severe because this was the start [or end] of the Deqen-Gongshan Highway (Degong Gonglu, 德贡公路). A feat of engineering that links the Nujiang and Mekong (Lancang) river canyons by crossing the Hengduan mountains. 

Before the highway was built, travellers to Gongshan and Bingzhongluo had to drive 400km up the Nujiang valley from the only northerly access point at Liuku, and then double back to return. With Dimaluo only about 70km distant from the Lancang (Mekong) as the crow flies, it made sense to build a 'short cut' highway over the Peacock Mountain pass  (孔雀山垭口, Kǒngquè shān yākǒu) of 4500m. Until recently the only direct way over the mountains between the Mekong and the Nujiang was to hike over the 4000m+ Sila Pass, now known as the Selalaka (蛇拉腊卡垭口), as I describe in my blog from a decade ago.

But now the Nujiang-Mekong (De-Gong) trans-mountain highway has been completed and the road is now a modern tarmac and concerete dual-lane highway all the way, including a 1km tunnel that cuts through the final mountain ridge.

I found Aluo's lodge in the small village of Dimaluo, which is now the western entry point to the De-Gong highway. I first visited about 15 years ago, when Aluo hosted guests in his wooden cabin which acted as guesthouse and an informal trekking guide centre.

Now his guesthouse is a bit grander and more upmarket, but still Tibetan and Catholic in character, with a crucifix and yak butter tea in the  breakfast room. I was the only guest that night and shared dinner of hotpot chicken with his family. Over dinner Aluo said the highway had not brought as much tourist trade as he'd expected. The new Chinese breed of independent SUV 'self-guided' tourist tended to whizz through from Bingzhongluo en route for Deqen, without stopping overnight at Dimaluo. 

He also made an interesting point about the government being generous to local minority communities. By providing financial benefits that equalled 70% of their expected household income, these subsidies encouraged rural households to plant more tress and keep the environment clean. But conversely, this meant that they no longer had any incentive to plant and grow crops. He showed me a cabbage that he said was 'imported' from Baoshan area because local cabbages were in short supply and cost three times the price. 

Similar to a rant I heard from a Dulong farmer, Aluo said many poor rural kids were now getting good educations, with many going to university in major centres. However, on graduating they did not want to work in the fields or do manual work. This meant rural kids and communities were losing the traditional crop-growing and livestock rearing skills that had been passed down for generations. More kids should be sent to vocational schools, he argued.

Day 5: After a leisurely Tibetan breakfast of mantou, pickles and yak butter tea, I waited to be picked up by a driver organised by Aluo to take me over the De-Gong highway to Deqen. Before I left I managed to take a look at the local Catholic church, which in 2008 had been a simple but beautifully crafted wooden structure. Sadly this had been demolished in 2016 and replaced by a larger and more utilitarian  concrete structure. The previous church had been draughty, leaking, rat-infested and hard to maintain, the locals told me.

2025

2008

The drive over the Hengduan divide to Deqen was a white knuckle ride thanks to a maniac driver who seemed to accelerate rather than brake around the twisting, switchback road loops up in the forested highlands. And even with sunny clear weather there were patches of ice and snow along the higher stretches of the road.

So I was relieved when we made it through the summit tunnel and began the equally long and twisting descent to the Mekong, into territory that was more culturally Tibetan compared to the mixed Lisu/Naxi/Nu/Tibetan of the upper Nujiang.

After twisting down the long narrow gorge of Yongzhi (永支, aka Lonjdre, which Joseph Rock dramatically described as "a veritable corkscrew up a weird black chasm" into the depths of the canyon), we finally hit the Mekong river. In contrast to the green and fertile Nujiang, the upper Mekong is barren and brown-ish grey for much of its length. The only few patches of green were rice and maize terraces at river level.

The driver dropped me off in Deqen after a long haul back up from the river. I cycled 10km to Feilaisi along another new and unused section of separated cycle path. With the altitude now around 3300m, I had to go very slowly because I was affected by altitude sickness.

I booked into a slightly tacky roadside hotel at Feilaisi, which has now seen hotels and restaurants mushroom to meet capacity demands of huge crowds that come to see the sunrise breaking over the mountain. I was one of them and had selected this 'tacky' hotel because it had a grandstand view of the mountain, over the heads of the thronging masses of the observation deck.

The service at this Tibetan-run hotel was a bit take-it-or-leave-it, which was exactly the market situation given their monopoly on ringside seats for the sunrise. I was out of breath just climbing the three flights of stairs to my room, and almost overslept.

Day 6 saw me up before dawn, setting up my time-lapse iPhone camera in the window before turning to more routine matters such as making some coffee and packing my bag. Sunrise was at around 8am, and I managed to capture a nice transition from dark skies to golden and then bright white sunrays on Kawakarpo.

This was not planned to be my final day 'on the road' but it turned out to be. The original notion was to cycle down the huge descent to the Mekong, then continue south about 50km or so to reach the Catholic church at Cizhong - now a major tourist attraction. I've visited Cizhong at least twice previously and had no great desire to make a repeat visit. But I saw it as a convenient stopping off point for onward travel south towards Weixi.

As it turned out, I decided to call it a day after finding myself exhausted from the after-effects of altitude sickness later in the day.

But first I backtracked along the cycle path to an almost deserted observation deck, where I found a makeshift tent camp belonging to a Chinese touring cyclist. Shivering in his thermals as he emerged from his wigwam, the guy told me he was heading to Tibet to spend 'new year/spring festival' there. He reassured me that it was downhill almost all the way to Cizhong and wished me well on my trip in the opposite direction to him.

However, I found the steep descent to the Mekong was no freewheeling fun time. The 'short cut' rural road suggested by the Gaode Map app cycle route turned out to be an exhausting exercise in gripping the brake handles and trying not to let the bike run away. I must have worn out the brake pads as i had to keep adjusting them to maintain any stopping power.

I was glad after an hour when I finally reunited with the main highway just below Deqen, and the gradient was much less dramatic. This WAS freewheeling heaven, and also increasingly photographer's heaven too. The white triangular peak of Miyetzimu (緬茨姆) mountain peeped over the horizon and made an awesome backdrop to my ride.

It took me a couple of hours to 'cycle' down to the first village of Yunling (云岭), down through the rocky barren cliffs until I finally caught sight of the Mekong far below. It was a curious bright green/turquoise colour that could almost be nuclear pollution rather than glacier meltwater. Suffice to say this scenery that had me stopping to take snaps after turning each of the many corners of the cliff-hugging road.

I'd been along this route on a bus before and it had been frustrating seeing such epic views without being able to stop and photograph them. Now I could, and I did. This must surely be one of the most scenic highways in the world, and it's a mystery why the Chinese don't publicise it more.

However, I found the occasional level or slightly uphill sections of the road to be extremely tiring, like pedalling though treacle. By the time I cycled into Yunling, I decided I'd done enough pedalling and would spend the last four days of my holiday visiting family in Guilin rather than grinding out the kms along the Mekong. I found a roadside restaurant that did rice noodles and organised a van ride back up the hill to Deqen with the nice Tibetan lady who ran the place.

While waiting for my van ride in the space of about 20 minutes I was able to get on the WeChat app and organise almost all my travel and accomodation arrangements for the trip to Gulin: train tickets from Dali to Kunming and on to Gulin, and hotels in Dali and Kunming.

Once back in Deqen I was able to get the 3pm to Dali/Xiaguan, which arrived around 11pm - and that was the conclusion of my longer distance cycling trip for the holiday.

I did use the Dahon again in Guilin, but that was more for day trips to places such as the Ming princes' Mausoleum at Jingjiang Wangling (靖江王陵).

Gear details: for any would-be folding bike tourers, my kit was pretty simple.  I wore a Fjallraven Skogso jacket which is a cotton mix that is very breathable and windproof, but not very waterproof - showerproof at best. I prefer this to a hard shell, as it is much better ventilated and not sweaty when cycling. If it really rains I throw on a waterproof cycling poncho. I combined this with a merino long-sleeve thermal top that is warm when it'c cold and vice versa. The bike is a Dahon Jetstream P8 folder, which I modified with a 9-speed hub and smaller (39T) chainring to give me a bit more range and hill climbing capability. I found that a 45 litre backpack and a small (15L?) Decathlon hooked handlebar bag were enough to carry my basic gear. My two 'lessons learned' were to bring a wing mirror and some gloves next time. A neck scarf/bandana was essential for those cold morning starts too.

On the road in the Nujiang

 I’m currently in the Nujiang ( Gongshan) on a cycling tour with my Dahon Jetstream folding bike. I’ve come up from Baoshan via the birdwatching centre of Baihualing and the town of Liuku. Today I hope to revisit Dimaluo and Baihanluo, where I was last in 2008. 

My first visit to Waerzhai (瓦尔寨大寺, Waerdje) temple, Muli, Sichuan

 As part of my recent return to Muli trip we made a visit to the wonderful Waerdje monastery in the north of the Muli valley,  about 60km from Wachang. 

I'd never been to Waerdje before, but had been tantalised by Joseph Rock's description of it high in the valley above the Litang river, one of the three palaces of the Muli king. Until recently the only images I'd seen of Waerdje were those taken a decade ago by a birdwatching couple - John and Jemi - from Hong Kong. At that time the monastery looked only partially restored, and rather bleak.

So I was excited when my academic colleagues Zhu Dan and Wang Liang took me on a day trip to see Waerdje from Wachang by jeep. The first half of the day was spent visiting another local sightseeing spot - Mana Chajing Viewing Platform (玛娜茶金观景台), which has a great view of the three peaks of Yading. 

To get to this spot we drove north up the river for about 30km to Guzheng, then turned uphill on the G227  ascending steeply into forest via some switchbacks until we reached a kind of 'Little Switzerland' plateau of forest and pastures called Longsa. The road turned north again and eventually goes all the way over to the Shuiluo river valley. 

We turned off near the top and headed out to the edge of the plateau facing west, to get occasional glimpses of the three sacred peaks. The newly-completed road was excellent all the way, and we barely saw another soul - just one other car containing some local Tibetans at Mana Chajing.

At lunchtime we retraced our route back down to the Litang river valley at Guzheng, then turned north and drove further up the valley, almost to Chabulang. The valley was very green and fertile in September, but also quite hot - in contrast to the icy winds we'd experienced up at Man Chajing. There were quite a lot of hydro power dam works along the Litang river too.

After a brief lunch stop for some instant noodles and sausage at Shawan (and an impromptu game of snooker on a terrible table, I lost) we crossed the Litang river on a small bridge to the east side and began another switchback ascent up a minor road through Tibetan farm country. After about 30 minutes we arrived at the gates of Waerdje monastery (瓦尔寨大寺 Waerzhai Dasi). 

Parking the car near some prayer flags, we found about four monks in a simple kitchen and introduced ourselves. Wang Liang had been here before for some weeks, as had Zhu Dan, so they were familiar with the place and friendly with the monks. 

First we had a walk around the grounds of the two temples, located in an idyllic part of the valley, surrounded by rustling trees and singing birds. How do Buddhists manage to find such magic locations? One of the monks showed us the ruins of the old temple and palace that had existed during Rock's time and been destroyed during the Tibetan rebellion of the late 1950s. 

The temples have been extensively rebuilt. A sign said the full official name of the Gelugpa sect temple was Lading Ganden Dajilin and it is sited at 2800m altitude. It was established in 1584 by  Choje and Songji Gyatso, the first living Buddha of Muli, appointed by the Third Dalai Lama. modelled after the Ganden monastery in Lhasa, it is centred around a Sakyamuni Buddha Hall and an Awakening Buddha statue.

In its heyday it had 330 resident monks, but now only eleven. Tibetan Buddhist monasteries now only allow monks over the age of 18 to study for the monkhood. It was rebuilt after its destruction starting in 1988 and now features a Suowukang Hall, Cuoqin Hall and a pagoda (the sign says).

 The official sign also said the monastery had been restored as a centre of Buddhist learning, teaching the three disciplines of precepts, concentration and wisdom. Having said that, a large slogan at the entrance read: "Support Chinese national (ie sinicised) Tibetan Buddhism teaching direction."

Same location as photo above:

We spent a very pleasant couple of hours browsing the grounds of the monastery, especially around the placid duck pond. Our monk tried to show us where Rock's old photos of the monastery had been taken from, and tried to show up where the old buildings had stood, but it was hard to envision them, given the major new building works and the overgrowth of bushes and trees.

I also some spent some time in the kitchen/dining room with the monks, showing them my old photos of the monks at Muli monastery, and some of them spotted their younger selves, which raised a few laughs.

At around 5pm we called it a day. The monks insisted on giving us a formal farewell with a presentation of kata white scarves and some apples from their trees.

Waerdje definitely is a special place with that serene, forgotten vibe of times gone by that used to exist at Muli before it was developed into a massive modern temple complex. I'd love to go back and spend a bit more time there, just hanging out.

Not much more to say than to post a few photos and maps.