Have you decided where to go for the Labor Day holiday? I was stunned to see that not a single hotel in Yubeng was priced below four digits. CNY 2,000 to 3,000 a night has become the new normal. My jaw dropped more than once, and in that instant, home suddenly felt like the best destination for the holiday.
The last time I came during the National Day holiday, a new inn cost just CNY 120. What can you say—no wonder retail sales have been growing so far above expectations.
This is temporarily the last post in the Yubeng series, and I’d almost forgotten the details already. For more practical tips and route planning, see Into the Emerald Wilderness: The Complete Yubeng Hiking Guide.
Sacred Waterfall and Ice Lake are the two most basic hikes in Yubeng. After finishing the Sacred Waterfall route the day before, we set out for Ice Lake on day two.
Travel dopamine always makes it hard to sleep. With rare good weather, we got up early and stretched out on the big grassy field at the village entrance. Today’s route would be a real challenge.
The coffee shop wasn’t open yet, and prices here weren’t exactly low either.
One big downside of staying in Lower Village is that if you’re hiking to Ice Lake, you first have to climb up to Upper Village. We were behind right from the starting line. On top of that, we were carrying heavy bags, and that one- to two-kilometer uphill stretch was brutal. By the time we dropped our luggage at a guesthouse in Upper Village, I was already ready to call it a day.
The horses had gotten up even earlier than we had. After going hungry all night, they still had a full day of eating ahead of them.
We passed the rushing stream at the village entrance. Was this glacial meltwater flowing down from Ice Lake?
Following the stream to its end, it was about time to start climbing. Compared with yesterday’s paved path to Sacred Waterfall, the Ice Lake trail was naturally much tougher, basically a series of switchbacks through the mountains. If it had rained heavily the night before, you can imagine how muddy it would get.
Ready for a green adventure? Yubeng is practically paradise.
The deadwood sprawled across the ground seemed to point the way for travelers—or perhaps like an enchanting witch in the forest, luring you down the wrong path.
Sunlight flowed between the trees like a feast of light and shadow created by nature’s own teamLab.
Tall or short, thick or thin, the trees are the backbone supporting Yubeng’s beauty.
On the way up, with energy still high and curiosity overflowing, we kept wandering off into the woods without worrying about the time. Sometimes I would just stand there quietly and meditate, soaking up the essence of the forest.
Along the trail we saw stone cairns left by earlier hikers, and added one of our own—a collaborative work across time. In Tibetan areas, stones seem to carry a certain spirituality, holding the hopes and blessings of the people who stack them.
Speaking of spirituality, how could you miss those elusive little foraging spirits darting through the forest?
That said, I’ve never seen the cartoon kind of squirrel with the especially huge tail. Maybe they’re a different species?
After staring at so much green, you become unusually sensitive to any sudden splash of another color. These perfectly placed red leaves seemed to grow up cautiously, surrounded by green on all sides.
We occasionally spotted mushrooms, and I had to resist the itchy urge to pick them.
Some sections were fairly steep, and we slowed down quite a bit.
The trees on the mountain were astonishingly skinny. Were they malnourished, or just uniquely gifted?
This is the kind of place where even a phone camera can deliver great shots.
After finishing the first stage of climbing, we reached a flatter river valley.
The mani stone piles by the river looked like acrobatic balancing acts—every one of them a master of physics.
Some mani piles had even been painted, which somehow made them feel more elevated.
The four colors also reflect the Gelug school’s color symbolism: white represents pacifying activity (dispelling illness and evil), yellow represents enriching activity (increasing wealth, longevity, and prosperity), red represents magnetizing activity (attracting and subduing gods, humans, and spirits), and green represents wrathful activity (destroying and overcoming enemies and demons).
Amid the cloud-wrapped mountains, we could already see several glaciers feeding into Ice Lake. Amazingly, this is how the Yangtze and Yellow Rivers begin too. If I tossed a pebble from this mountaintop, what kind of ripples might it create thousands of miles away in the Lancang-Mekong River?
Midway through, we passed Xiaonong Base Camp, built after the 1992 mountain disaster. These days, two or three locals sell supplies here. A captive market—business seemed pretty good.
Before we knew it, we had left the forest and the view opened wide. It looked like we still had a long stretch of rocky riverbed to cross under the blazing sun.
Once we were on the rocky riverbed, we no longer had the forest’s protection and had to face the afternoon sun directly. It was definitely tiring.
The last section was a steep uphill with a sudden elevation gain, and we were huffing and puffing the whole way. The liveliest creatures we met on the trail were, surprisingly, little kids and little dogs. I have no idea where they got all that energy.
Over the final little rise, there it was: the legendary Ice Lake. An emerald set among the mountains. It looked a bit small, but when you’re already at the edge of your physical limit, even walking down to the lake and circling it takes quite a while.
In winter, the glaciers are much larger, turning the area into a natural ice rink. But I’ve heard there’s still some risk in walking on the glacier—after all, you never really know what’s underneath.
By the afternoon, clouds and mist had already begun to swirl around the peaks. After all, we were at 4,000 meters. We hurried down to the lakeside for one more look.
The coffee we had carried all the way finally had its moment, under the envious gaze of everyone around us.
In the distant mountains, thick glaciers rose like magnificent walls, defiantly refusing anyone who wanted to conquer them.
The white clouds and the sun began another round of light-and-shadow artistry across the mountains.
I tried to capture a sunstar, but maybe it was the camera, maybe the lens, and most likely my skill level—it just didn’t turn out especially stunning.
The growing shadows in the mountains reminded us that it was getting late, and it was time to head down quickly.
Once the sun officially abandoned us, all we could do was pick up the pace and keep our heads down.
Stepping over a ground scattered with white stones like broken jade, we finally made it out of the mountains in time and returned to the village.
Tonight called for a big bowl of rich mushroom and free-range chicken soup.
To sum up the Ice Lake trail, the first half—a green adventure through the forest—is close to flawless, and I’d gladly return for that alone. The second half is more of a test of hiking endurance and willpower, while the scenery at Ice Lake itself is a bit underwhelming.
Ice Lake hike: 14 km round trip, about 10 hours. Elevation gain of about 900 meters, with the highest point at about 3,900 meters. There is one supply stop along the way. Mule and horse services are available, and if the price is right, they can even take you all the way to the end.