Of Yubeng’s seven hiking routes, the Sacred Waterfall trail was supposed to be the easiest. We somehow turned it into a wilderness-survival-style outdoor scare.
After entering the mountains from Ninong, we stayed in Lower Yubeng Village and slept wonderfully. The next day, we set out as planned to hike the Sacred Waterfall trail. Since we knew this route was considered relatively easy in both distance and elevation gain, we took our time—sleeping in, having breakfast, basking in the sun, and finishing our coffee before finally heading out.
The route to Sacred Waterfall is very straightforward: just keep walking deeper into the valley that faces Lower Yubeng Village. This is the only trail officially recognized by the scenic area, and the whole way is paved with stone paths, boardwalks, and steps.
The first section is mostly flat, gradually drawing you closer to the forest and then into it.
Snowmelt from the peaks turns into droplets, then flows down from the mountaintops as lively waterfalls before gathering into rushing rivers. That is the Yubeng River Valley.
Following the river valley forward, we started to feel that staying on the stone path the whole time was a little too boring—not quite the experience you’d expect in a place legendary as a hiker’s paradise. So every now and then we wandered into the trees on either side of the trail, or stepped across pebbles in calmer sections of the stream to explore the opposite bank.
Yubeng’s vegetation is incredibly lush, with a huge variety of plant life. Even on a developed route like Sacred Waterfall, calling the deep woods an enchanted green wonderland would hardly be an exaggeration.
Zoom out geographically, and the entire Meili Snow Mountain region is one of the world’s most dazzling natural landscapes. Its unusual topography, latitude, and dramatic elevation differences have created exceptionally rich biodiversity.
Every patch of green has its own individual beauty.
The same month we did this hike, COP15 (the 15th Meeting of the Conference of the Parties to the Convention on Biological Diversity) was being held in Kunming—another recognition, perhaps, of Yunnan’s natural value.
So maybe our hike in Yubeng was a little historically meaningful after all.
In the distance, a small waterfall hung from the mountainside, likely fed by snowmelt from Miacimu Peak. Farther away, mist swirled around half-hidden summits.
If a biology teacher were here, this one photo alone could probably become a whole lesson.
From the Lancang River below, where we had started the day before, all the way up to the peaks of Meili Snow Mountain, there are 6 climate zones in sequence—from subtropical and warm temperate to subfrigid and frigid.
Corresponding to that are 7 types of vegetation. Even I could clearly make out warm river-valley scrub, warm-temperate coniferous forest, mixed conifer-broadleaf forest, cold alpine meadows, and scree vegetation, among others.
Yubeng is not just rich in plants; its animal life is impressive too, especially its birds. I know friends who work in nature education, and they often bring birdwatching groups to Yubeng.
After returning from Yubeng, I visited friends at the Nature School in Qingshan Village, Hangzhou. They’ve been committed to promoting nature education, and the natural world is absolutely something children—and really everyone—should learn from.
The moss-covered rocks reminded me of Kyoto’s Moss Temple, which I never got to visit. You have to write a postcard to the temple first, and only after receiving a reply can you go. That sense of ritual felt almost tangible here in Yubeng.
At one wide gravelly stretch, countless mani stone piles built by passing travelers lined the area. Each stone pile seemed to correspond to an ancient tree. Originally derived from megalithic worship, these mani piles here felt like a tribute to life in nature itself.
Whenever we saw a slope like this, our feet got restless—we always wanted to take the wild way up the mountain. That mindset, as it turned out, planted the seed for what came later.
As I mentioned in the previous guide, Sacred Waterfall is more than just a scenic spot; it is also a place with religious and mythological meaning. Local Khampa Tibetans worship Meili Snow Mountain, regard the water flowing down from it as holy water, and see bathing beneath Yubeng Sacred Waterfall as a form of spiritual cleansing.
On the trail to Sacred Waterfall, you often see family groups like this: a young man striding ahead, women in the middle carrying children, and an elderly grandmother bringing up the rear, bent over and walking slowly. Going to Sacred Waterfall is a rare full-family outing.
Once the stair climb begins, it doesn’t take too long to reach Sacred Waterfall—about an hour or so. At some turns along the way, you can already see the waterfall in the distance. It isn’t large, but it has a certain spiritual presence.
On the higher peaks, clouds and mist linger all day, making the place feel almost otherworldly.
Looking back at the slope on the other side, the light and shadow painted another landscape.
As we pushed toward the finish, seeing more and more prayer flags meant Sacred Waterfall was close.
These flags are printed with Buddhist scriptures. In Tibetan belief, each flutter of a prayer flag in the wind is equivalent to one recitation of scripture, a continuous act of prayer. But in the Sixth Patriarch’s words: it is not the wind that moves, nor the flag, but the mind.
Up close, Sacred Waterfall felt strikingly powerful, its spray smacking our faces without mercy.
A small pool forms beneath Sacred Waterfall, and legend says that if you circle it an odd number of times, you’ll have good luck. The water was freezing. My travel companion insisted on doing three laps and ended up shivering all over, teeth chattering uncontrollably. The Tibetan aunties, on the other hand, were incredibly fierce, charging right in bare-chested.
I quickly turned away and somehow felt like I was the impure one.
And that was when the real trouble began.
After completing the sacred ritual, we prepared to head back down. Suddenly we noticed what looked like a slope descending from the prayer flags directly below Sacred Waterfall. Visually, it didn’t seem very steep. Still feeling unsatisfied after the climb up—and seeing that three people had already gone down that way—we decided not to take the usual route.
As it turned out, looks can be deceiving. The rocky section was manageable enough, since at least it sloped gradually downward. But my travel companion insisted on trying the sandy dirt section off to the side, and that was a disaster: there was absolutely no traction, and even using hands and feet, it was impossible to move forward another step.
And then there was no easy way back either. No wonder those three people had looked so professional—and still taken a long time to get down that slope.
At that moment, countless thoughts ran through my mind: what would happen if I fell, whether rocks from above might come loose and hit my head, how much it would cost to have villagers come rescue us, how beautiful the world was and yet here I was stuck on this slope, and so on.
With nothing else to do, I could only turn back and stare at Sacred Waterfall. At that point, the waterfall seemed to radiate an indescribable sense of authority—maybe just because of my mental state.
Thankfully, one guy from the trio ahead had been watching us from a distance for quite a while, probably wondering what on earth we were doing—staging photos, maybe? Once he finally realized we weren’t admiring the view but were actually trapped in a no-win situation, he came back to rescue us.
Maybe the blessing from circling Sacred Waterfall had really kicked in, because the huge weight in my heart finally lifted. (Do you see the heroic guy in the photo, looking like a god descending from the heavens?)
I carefully made my own way down along the large rocks, while the guy led my travel companion down the slope in a zigzag pattern. That lesson—plus a later experience in Xinjiang retrieving a drone from a hundred-meter slope—taught me completely the essence of descending in switchbacks.
Finally we made it back to the valley floor. Looking back at Sacred Waterfall, my mind was filled with nothing but awe for nature.
Walking across the open land, we felt grounded again—but still a little shaken.
By the time we saw a manmade path like this on the way back, we didn’t dislike it anymore.
It felt like we had used up quite a bit of our good fortune that day, so we hurried to pick up trash along the way and save up a little more.
Sacred Waterfall hike: 14 km round trip, about 650 meters of elevation gain, with a highest elevation of about 3700 meters. There are supply points along the route, and prices are fairly reasonable. Mule service is available to the end point, at about 120 one way and 200 round trip (prices may increase).