Songpan: Part 1

Last Thursday we made our way to Songpan. It was a 10 hour bus ride through the northern mountains. Around each bend there were new sights. We followed a river, which curved around the mountains as did the road. I think water was meant to do that a little better than a bus! The mountains got bigger the farther north we went and we felt the cold start to seep into the bus.

At one point on the trip the bus was stopped and a police man came onto the bus. I got nervous because I didn’t have my passport and of course I always think something like that is going to be a problem. However it was not me that was taken off the bus to be questioned— it was our driver. After about 30 minutes and one Celine Dion album on my iPod I found out that our driver was in big trouble for letting too many people on the bus. It was true that people were sitting in the aisles. We were all watching as they hashed out whatever they were talking about outside the bus. It is never a good idea to make a driver mad. Period. We flew through the mountains the horn blaring around every bend for the rest of the trip.

With every bend I was falling in love with the beautiful mountains. My relationship with the mountains ranged all weekend long. That is part of the mysterious beauty of God’s creation. With a few hours to go we did stop so our driver could get out and smoke. That was our first sighting of yak. They were furry white cows and they were covered with beautiful cloaks and saddles. I was fascinated by the uniqueness of the animals. Who would have thought about covering a cow with so much fur? But what a good idea because it is so stinking cold up in the mountains. How generous God is to give them so much to keep them warm.

We met Charlotte on the bus. She is from Germany but speaks fluent English after spending one year in Michigan. Her Chinese is also very good after spending a year in China. We were fortunate for her friendship for the rest of our adventure. We all shared a room in the dorm at the traffic hotel. The next morning I woke up and my stomach felt like it was in knots anticipating the 4 day trek before me. I was so nervous. But before I knew it I was getting hoisted up on my horse. My horse followed the other horses up the first mountain and around the bend the tiny city of Songpan disappeared and before us was the mountains.

The Mountains

The mountains in China are huge, beautiful, and lonely. I had quite a bit of time on my horse to think about the beauty before me. The magnificence of these mountains is like standing on the shore and looking into the never ending ocean. Its beauty lies in the largeness, the mystery, the colors, the danger, and the shear pleasure of trying to experience it.

The first day they were exciting. There were plants only seen in my botany book and animals only seen on the national geographic channel. I was overwhelmed by the generosity of color in the perfect flowers and the uniqueness of each plant. It is true that God delights in abundance. The mountains were fun. I enjoyed the bounce of my horse as he climbed the mountains. I delighted in running down the mountain only to climb back up on my horse and go up another one. We met a few children on the way. They were clearly Tibetan and smiled up at us with their pure faces, in awe of seeing foreigners. The mountains hold their joy in the children and the people who call these mountains home.

The next day the mountains were cold. I woke up cool not wanting to get out of my tent only to be colder. The fire and hearty breakfast warmed my lungs but my extremities were still held captive by the cold. As I was climbing on my horse to head toward Ice Mountain not knowing the adventure before me the mountains got bigger. They seemed sharper and steeper. The ascent to Ice Mountain had us winding slowly up the mountains. The last part was a steep incline on the side of the mountain. I stole glances behind me and the mountains looked glamorous and dangerous. The valleys and peaks were all unique but they seemed to go on forever. My guide was behind me encouraging my horse a little too much, shouting Chinese commands that my horse would sometimes respond to. I was trying to let me horse know that I trusted him as he carefully planted each hoof. These mountains are not in a hurry and they are not to be hurried. They are in control and we were on their time. It would be foolish to consider harnessing the power they seem to hold. We finally came around the last bend and a break in the clouds displayed the top of Ice Mountain in all of its glory hanging in the sky. The sun shinning on it completed the picture. But the clouds covered it up quickly and I took a picture of where the mountain was supposed to be. Again the mountains had given me a sneak peak but were not interested in my timing. They had been there for thousands of years in their rhythm and for one day I had become a part of the rhythm.

The decent was the worst part of the trip. The mountain was unforgiving as we were left to descend on foot. The 2 hour trek down held little joy as it seemed we would never reach the bottom. All of a sudden the mud became deep, the bushes developed thorns and the rocks secretly became unsteady. Just when I thought I could go on no longer another bend would stretch before me and I forced myself to conform to the mountain.

Finally the terrain flattened out and we were back on the horse. I was never so grateful for the saddle. On the 2 hour trek back to camp on the horse I looked at the mountains differently. I had conquered a small part and I rode with a sense of accomplishment. It was a slightly euphoric few hours as the sun burned away the clouds. The sun was comforting for its warmth but also it seemed to have some power over the mountains. Back at camp I sat on a log next to the river with Amy enjoying the perfect size river in front of us, the warmth of the sun, and the view of the far away snow capped mountains. I was thankful for the peace of the scene. At that point the mountains contained a peace and contentment that I’ve desired since being in China. They were comforting and cozy. Three Tibetan men road alongside the river on a motorcycle laughing. They had obviously learned some of the secrets of the mountains.

But then the clouds covered the sun and the tops of the mountains and I went back to the fire under the tent.

The next morning did not feel so cold and I wondered if it really wasn’t as cold or if I was getting use to not feeling my feet! But I was excited to be in the mountains another day. I rode a different horse that day. He was obedient, efficient and followed without question, almost as if his will been harnessed by the mountains. He was smooth and comfortable leaving me to look around and contemplate the mountains more. I knew that I had analyzed the mountains too much but that didn’t stop me from considering them again. The morning trek was quiet and the mountains looked lonely. We passed a few Tibetan houses and I could only wonder what their lives were like. Oh the conversations I wish I could have had with the old people standing on the porches or in the fields. We saw quite a few Tibetan villages scattered along our path. The people seemed as untouched as the mountains. They were joyful though and extremely friendly. They starred at us but I didn’t mind because I was starring at them! Life must be hard in the mountains but their faces were not hard. They were happy. My last impressions of the mountains were the faces of the local people.