Songpan - Citadel on the Tibetan Plateau

We entered the medieval walled city under magnificent blue skies and blinding UV-rays.

The oxygen was thin, the air was crisp and the midday sun was scorching down our foreheads. Nobody was too concerned about sunburns as everyone in town seemed to be wrapped up in heavy woolen chupas. It was November at the northeastern edge of the Tibetan Plateau.



After recuperating on flatland for two days we returned to higher elevation, staying this night at an altitude of 2850m at the ancient Chinese bordertown of Songpan. Despite being nowhere near the modern national border, this was the northwestern outpost of many Chinese Empires in centuries past, hence the heavily fortified ramparts defending this narrow mountain pass leading towards the fertile plains of Sichuan.



This ancient market town has always been the confluence point of exotic cultures and ethnicities: Amdo Tibetans, Hui Muslims, Qiangic tribes and the Han Chinese. Little has changed over the past thousand years and our arrival at the bus station was met by Tibetan guesthouse owners and Muslim cab drivers alike, each trying to squeak out a living at this remote landlocked corner of 21st Century China.



Even today the local population remains extraordinarily multi-ethnic: nomadic Tibetan and Hui Muslim herders dominate the expansive steppes to the northwest, Han Chinese merchants settle mostly in town and along highways, and the Qiang people mostly congregate within their ancestral enclaves. Insert the backdrop of a windswept stronghold on the plateau and you have the Chinese version of the wild, wild west.



For centuries this had been the arena of military conquests and treaties between Tibetan kingdoms to the southwest and the imperial Chinese to the east. Peace was largely tentative and short-lived, though all rulers of this volatile region love to remind everyone of the medieval golden ages that culminated in the marriage of Princess Wencheng to legendary king Songtsan Gampo.



1300 years later the Tibetan king and his Chinese consort still watch over the peasants, now as symbols of ethnic unity in Communist propaganda. The locals don't seem to mind, as the statues have become somewhat of a tourist draw and a rare opportunity to tap into the new found wealth brought over by the increasingly affluent coastal Chinese.



Overlooked by most travelers as a destination on its own, Songpan finds visitors mostly on quick stopovers on their grueling 9 hour bus ride between Sichuan's top two attractions, Chengdu and Jiuzhaigou. For us it was the launch point into our mini-trip of Huanglong National Park and Jiuzhaigou's spectacular alpine lakes, both UNESCO World Heritage Sites. Arriving at noon after a 5 hour bus ride from Dujiangyan, it made perfect sense to stop for a night before tackling Huanglong the next morning.



Unmissable to any visitor is the town's Ming Dynasty fortifications, stretching up to the local mountain top in the form of a mini Great Wall. While much of the ramparts had been refurbished to meet 21st Century safety standards, there exist sections that remain untouched in their authentic earthen form, and can be climbed for free instead of the extortionate RMB 150 (CAD$27) to climb the refurbished sections.



Within those walls the town consists of mostly new reconstructions, after decades of devastation by everything from WWII Japanese bombings to 7.2 earthquakes to 21st Century mass developments. Vestiges of the Qing Dynasty remain, but only in the form of severely dilapidated houses in isolation. For a glimpse of the old Songpan one must climb above the city wall ...



... and into a pastoral landscape of the surrounding communes. Just steps away from the dusty market streets reside entire villages of Hui Muslim shepherds, still carrying on their age-old way of existence into the new millennium. Walking among the donkeys and the sheep on village paths one could mistake this for 15th Century, except for the occasional satellite dish on the rooftop.



Contentedly grazing away above the town were flocks of woolly sheep and perpetually roaming goats. Upon closer inspection the earthen hedge along the cliff was actually a medieval defensive wall of mud bricks and straw, complete with remnants of crenellations. This was the Songpan I had come for -- not the modernized town within the walls, but an ancient community of multi-ethnic natives striving for survival against the harsh winters and high altitude.



Arriving at the start of winter we came across not even one foreigner, the climate and elevation considered too hostile for domestic and international tourists alike. The odd adventurer would come specifically for horseback excursions to the Songpan Grasslands to the northwest of town, but mostly in summer months. By mid November even domestic Chinese travelers would resort to warmer destinations such as Yunnan and Hainan, leaving Northern Sichuan to those who didn't know any better ...



The regional specialties of yak meat jerky, wolf skin and Tibetan herbal medicine covered the length of the main drag. In a peculiar and perhaps unintended tradition of self-segregation the silversmiths were mostly Tibetans, restauranteurs mostly Hui Muslims, and supermarkets run mostly by the Han Chinese.



A most unexpected and welcomed sight in town was a SPAR supermarket for all our grocery needs, including energy snacks for our upcoming hike at Huanglong National Park. Perhaps we shouldn't be too surprised, as the Chinese had also been embracing their Carrefours and Walmarts.



Near the western edge of town stood the brand new mosque for the local Hui Muslim population, built to gradually replace the old crumbling one to the north of the town walls. In a marriage of architectural styles the minaret was built in the form of a Chinese pagoda, something we also observed in Dujiangyan and Xi'an.



Our hotel was operated by a Hui Muslim family, the lady running the show while her husband operated yet another hotel 2.5 hours away in Jiuzhaigou. Booking a reliable hotel online proved quite a challenge as the smaller hotels hadn't yet advanced to the Internet age, while the larger hotels were concentrated 20km away at the town of Chuanzhusi. I made the mistake of booking without realizing one important caveat ...



We had no heat in our room at below freezing temperature! We did have lukewarm showers and an electric blanket to curl up under, but between turning off the water and diving underneath the blanket, it was a mad dash. The town's electrical grid was also unreliable and darkness came upon our entire block intermittently. At one point I offered extra cash to the owner to rent us a small electric heater for the night, except she didn't have one. To the locals it was just a normal wintery day.



This night in Songpan gave me a new perspective on the things I had taken for granted for years: a warm house, 24 hours hot water, reliable electricity, even the seated toilet which was a rarity in rural Sichuan. Here's my advice to fellow travelers: don't come anywhere near the Tibetan Plateau between November and March unless you're well-prepared for the cold.



While our hotel wasn't so recommendable, the locals did suggest a great little eatery along Highway G213, one minute walk from the statue of Princess Wencheng. Laosi Fandian was your typical Hui Muslim restaurant serving the local variation of Sichuanese fare, except for the substitution of pork with the regional specialty of yak meat.



We tried out this place for lunch and decided to return for dinner, which says something about the quality and affordability of the dishes. As expected in Chinese Halal eateries most items on the menu were either lamb or beef ... or yak actually, such as the pictured Red Braised Yak Tongue.



Two courses for lunch followed by a giant hotpot of Yak Meat and Wild Mushrooms for dinner, for a combined total of RMB 150 (CAD$26.8) over two meals. Prices for yak meat were definitely much cheaper than in Chengdu -- after all, woolly yaks were all they had in terms of cattle.



At 08:00 the next morning we would set out for the breathtaking scenery at Huanglong, on a private car arranged by our hostess. Was Songpan worthy of an overnight stay? This was the only intermediate stop between Dujiangyan and Jiuzhaigou that seemed interesting to me as a traveler, all other stops being tiny Qiang or Tibetan villages that required a private vehicle to access. So my opinion is a yes ... but only in a better-equipped hotel.

The New-Old Town of Jiezi

Quaint historic towns are always among our favorite places on our journeys. As we dedicated 18 days to just one Chinese province this time, I made sure to cover Sichuan's ancient towns and villages, from Langzhong to Shangli to Songpan to Danba's Zhonglu and Suopo.

Except this little town wasn't originally on our list.



This was the second half of our day-trip after spending the morning and early afternoon at Mount Qingcheng, the birthplace of Taoism and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. THAT wasn't originally on our itinerary either, but it turned out to be a pleasant half-day hike and we wanted something more. That's where Jiezi came in, almost as an afterthought.



The Old Town of Jiezi wasn't unknown to us -- in fact it's often promoted as one of the Ten Historic Towns (Shida Guzhen) of Sichuan -- there are simply higher priorities on our list. Sichuan is the ancestral homeland to a wide range of indigenous ethnicities and their 2000-year-old settlements, and towns like Jiezi has a lot of competition.



If I were to rank the historic towns of Sichuan, the Ancient City of Langzhong would undoubtedly be on top of my list. Smaller but well-preserved towns such as Shangli and Pingle would form the next tier. Then there is the extensively refurbished type such as Huanglongxi. Jiezi, fortunately or unfortunately, belongs to this third type.



But Jiezi has one unique advantage over its competitors -- its proximity to the internationally famous Mount Qingcheng. Basing ourselves in Dujiangyan it was easy to visit Mount Qingcheng for a half-day then take a 20-minute direct bus ride to Jiezi. And at the end of the day, Bus 102 returned us straight to Dujiangyan. It doesn't get much more convenient than this, especially in suburban Sichuan.



We arrived without even a map due to our spontaneous decision to visit, and as usual taxi drivers circled the bus station like vultures. Trusting neither the taxis nor the golf cart shuttles we started walking without knowing exactly how far and in which direction. Fortunately the way was well-demarcated by a long row of foot massage parlours and noodle houses, and in 10 minutes we reached the town's Paifang gate.



Every noodle stand in town claimed to be the originator of a local variant of noodles known as Dadamian, and each had its own blown-up photo of its founder on the logo. We ordered two small bowls to refuel after our earlier hike, and the noodles were all well-flavored and pleasantly al dente. But which shop had the original original Dadamian? That's China at its most authentic.



Most historic towns in China follow a tourism model in which the town would be enclosed, guarded and charging money for entrance, as typified by the likes of Xitang and Tongli. We half-expected popular Jiezi to follow suit, and were pleasantly surprised by the absence of ticket booths or pesky tour guides hawking for business.



But the Old Town of Jiezi that greeted us was anything but old -- the Great Sichuan Earthquake of 2008 had destroyed most of that. Leading toward the town centre now is a wide promenade of limestone slabs and artificial rivers, flanked by brand new two-storey rowhouses in 18th Century Qing Dynasty style. Everything in camera view was clean and modern as exemplified by these contemporary statues designed as photo-ops for casual tourists.



There's almost an European feel to these airy townsquares and water fountains, except for the red lanterns overhanging the wooden verandas. Fortunately the remodeling was limited to just the main pedestrian zone -- 30 metres off to the side alleys and the real China emerged, with local women selling home-grown vegetables at the back of rundown three-wheeler trucks.



My wife's favorite discovery was an old-fashioned chestnut stand, luring its followers on this cold November day with its familiar crackling sound and hand-warming treats. In my mind few things pronounce Autumn in China better than the charred aroma of roasted chestnuts.



It was only last week when we visited another historic town known as Shangli, but the two couldn't have been more different in terms of refurbishments and tourist volumes. While Shangli still retained its streetfuls of Qing Dynasty houses and medieval bridges, Jiezi had lost much of its old self during the 2008 earthquake and had to reinvent itself into a picture-perfect tourist experience. While there is no doubt about the new Jiezi's commercial success, as a traveler I often wonder if this is the future for many of China's heritage sites.



But Jiezi isn't just a pretty face behind modern cosmetics -- there exists a genuine side in the backstreets where blue-collar laborers work, local grandpas hang out in mahjong parlours and off-school students and their moms zoom by on their electric scooters. Photogenic or not, that's the side that would interest most independent travelers, and it's still observable especially after the busloads of domestic Chinese tourists have departed in the late afternoon.



More importantly the locals seemed perfectly honest and content, as opposed to the entrepreneurism and aggressiveness we experienced in many such towns. Perhaps it's the laid-back lifestyle that Sichuanese people are famous for, something I can easily relate to as a Canadian.



One needs to appreciate the authentic Jiezi for what it is -- a 21st Century blue-collar town with remnants of a Qing Dynasty past -- instead of the 18th Century facade the tourist industry tries too hard to project. While it does sport a perfectly manicured, brand new face for the desires of mass tourism, there also exists an ungentrified side as represented by its working class townspeople. I still wouldn't rank Jiezi among my favorites, but there were aspects of the town that I found enjoyable.



Would I recommend Jiezi to fellow travelers? It's a good side-trip if you're visiting Mount Qingcheng like we were, and photographers would probably appreciate the atmosphere of the historic streets especially at dusk. But if you're a serious traveler and want to experience an authentic Sichuanese ancient town, I would recommend heading to Shangli soon, in case it gets devastated by another earthquake and gets redeveloped beyond recognition.



The trusty Bus 102 would take us directly back to our hotel in Dujiangyan. Two days on flatland was just the perfect cure for our slight altitude sickness at Mount Siguniang, though we had to return to the elevation of 2850m the next morning, at the medieval walled city of Songpan.

Day-Trip to Taoist Enclave of Mount Qingcheng

We paid our obligatory visit to Mount Qingcheng on our second day in Dujiangyan.



Granted, this is Dujiangyan's most popular tourist destination and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It is the birthplace of Taoism after all, and I wasn't sure why I didn't come with higher expectations. Perhaps I was still apprehensive about religious enclaves in China after running into fake monks at Wutaishan a few years back.



At one point Mount Qingcheng wasn't even on our 18-Day itinerary of Sichuan despite its international fame -- the unheralded villages of Danba Canyon and the Eastern Tibetan Plateau sounded much more interesting. But our time at Mount Siguniang was cut short due to seasonal unavailability of horses and, now with a spare day in Dujiangyan, a visit to Mount Qingcheng seemed almost predestined.



Still I wasn't convinced that Mount Qingcheng alone would be worthy of a full day, and after quickly consulting the Chinese side of the Internet, we decided to combine our hike with a visit of a nearby historic town known as Jiezi. We would ascend Mount Qingcheng in the morning, hike down in the early afternoon before taking the bus to Jiezi. The last bus from Jiezi back to Dujiangyan was supposed to be 19:00, making possible a long and productive day-trip.



Getting here in off-season wasn't straightforward as Bus 101 no longer served Dujiangyan's long distance bus station. We had to take Bus 102 to Qingchengshan Train Station and wait for a quick shuttle to Mount Qingcheng's front gate. There was also a different bus to the backside of Mount Qingcheng, but we decided to stick with the front side that has made Mount Qingcheng famous for centuries.



Two years ago we hiked a different Taoist mountain at Sanqingshan, also of UNESCO World Heritage fame, and came back with memories of some of the most impressive mountain vistas. But we knew Mount Qingcheng was different with more Taoist shrines, less natural scenery, and five times the tourists thanks to highspeed rail. Whether we would enjoy it just as much, we would have to find out.



At 1260m Mount Qingcheng wasn't exceptionally tall, nor were its hiking trails particularly precipitous as far as Chinese mountains go. According to Chinese hikers the elevation gain should be about 700m in a 2 to 3 hour climb, quite reasonable for a leisurely full day's hike.



Except we didn't have the luxury of a full day. There existed other options, one of which came with the embarassment of being photographed while hoisted up by skinny porters ...



... the other option was a highspeed Austrian cable car that beamed us up three quarters of the way in 5 minutes. It's a small price to pay to save 2 hours of time, especially when the uphill and downhill routes followed mostly the same trail. We would take the cable car up, climb our way to the peak then hike back down to the front gate.



Despite its long and illustrious history as a renowned spiritual mecca, Mount Qingcheng has surprisingly few historical buildings surviving from its Qing Dynasty heydays. As photogenic as the incense-filled shrines may seem to the uninitiated, most of the existing shrines and temples are modern reconstructions from the past 30 years or so.



The Cultural Revolution took a heavy toll on the historic artifacts, as did the menace of devastating earthquakes over the centuries, the latest being the 2008 Great Sichuan Earthquake that claimed 70,000 lives. The epicentre was merely 40km to the north, and many shrines were observed sporting dedicatory plaques to donors for their contributions to restoration efforts.



Years had passed and the faithfuls have returned in droves, happily forking out ridiculous money (the cheapest was RMB 100 for a small package of incense and candles!) for all their fate-altering needs. Services ranged from your typical fortune-telling out of a bamboo-shaker to full-blown geomancing consultations. I wondered if these Taoists shrines had their own ATM machines for potentially large cash withdrawals, much like some Buddhist temples we saw at Wutaishan.



After acclimatizing to the Tibetan Plateau over the past week and adopting the habit to hold back our pace when climbing, the stairs at Mount Qingcheng became surprisingly effortless. It was only yesterday morning when we started the day at a town 3200m above sea level, and this towering peak of 1260m was only a foothill in comparison.



The reward of reaching the peak was a sweeping panorama over the flood plains of Dujiangyan and Chengdu. True to Mount Qingcheng's literal translation of Green City Mountain, its subtropical hills remained lush green even in mid November with some brilliant autumn colours showing through.



Only two weeks ago the gingko trees in Chengdu were still green and verdant; here they're carpeting the mountain trails with a lovely sheet of yellow. It's easy to see why metropolitan dwellers of Chengdu have long enjoyed and refered to Mount Qingcheng as their beloved backyard.



The downhill path winded through deep, shaded forests and passed through the courtyards of a multitude of minor shrines. Some sections of the trail were suspended on top of cantilever beams driven horizontally into the bedrock, though not at the enormous scale and precariousness of Huangshan.



Taoists were supposedly masters of living in harmony with nature, and planted along our downhill path were several of these organic-looking pavilions. We returned to the entrance gate shortly before 14:00, taking roughly four hours including stoppages for snacks and photos. While a half day was quite sufficient as expected, it would have taken us the full day had we hiked up instead of taking the cable car.



Our final verdict of Mount Qingcheng? It's probably unfair making comparisons to the magnificent Sanqingshan, a spectacle of nature in itself before it ever became a Taoist retreat. Mount Qingcheng was more of a typical Chinese mountain progressively overtaken by Taoist shrines, and now by busloads of international tourists. It's a pleasant hike, but to be completely blunt our modest expectations didn't change after visiting.



We had to be thankful that there's a second half to this day-trip. A quick 20 minute ride on Bus 102 would take us directly to the historic town of Jiezi, where we would spend the rest of our afternoon on a less strenuous stroll.