Yarlung Tsangpo River Travel Guide

The Yarlung Tsangpo River is located on the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau and is also the highest major river in China. It flows into the Indian Ocean. For many people, this is truly a pure land, where the air and natural environment are top-notch. Here is a self-guided travel guide to the Yarlung Tsangpo River.

The meaning of travel is different for everyone. Some people travel to see the scenery. Some people travel to witness a different life. Some people travel to find answers to life. Some people travel to meet the best version of themselves. As for me, I just want to exile myself in a strange place and quietly experience another world. Travel is the core of my life, tough and persistent. It is the surging Yarlung Tsangpo River, flowing in my blood, never stopping.

I haven’t dared to touch Tibet for a long time after leaving. Like looking through a piece of flying dust, my throat is hoarse and I can’t describe it with suitable language. At this moment, in the night as dark as water, the past years are like a bright moon reflected on the blue sea, slowly sinking into the sea in the tranquility. My memories begin with the Yarlung Tsangpo River. Arriving in Tibet

a few days, I decided to go to Shannan. There is a Samye Monastery in Shannan. When I go to a place, I always go wherever my heart takes me. I don’t look up any information, nor do I want to inquire about anything. When I think about it, I get up and leave. It’s good this way, because I will always encounter unforeseen surprises, but it’s also bad because I will miss the scenery that others are familiar with. It’s the same with going to Shannan.

From Lhasa, I took the bus to Gongga. The ticket seller told me. Samye Monastery is on the other side, and I need to take a boat to get there when I reach the ferry. I don’t know anything about what she said. I only know that I walked straight ahead, wherever I went. Along the way, there were desolate mountains, vast swathes of golden rapeseed flowers, flocks of sheep passing by nonchalantly by the roadside, and the reflections of poplars in the clear lake. Of course, there was also the increasingly serious desertification spreading before my eyes. The old Tibetan man in the back wearing a felt hat kept reciting sutras, without stopping. The bus dropped me off halfway. When I got off, I realized I was in a desolate place. No one was in sight, just a lone stele standing by the roadside, with the inscription “Samye Ferry”. The Yarlung Tsangpo River was not far from the road.

I walked a few dozen meters and saw an abandoned house by the river, actually a small shop. This was the ferry terminal. There was no one at the ferry, and several small boats were moored by the river. The weather was clear and everything was strangely quiet, only the river water swaying before my eyes. There was a row of chairs by the river, and it seemed like it had just rained, with a puddle of water on the chairs. I sat on the chair, swinging my legs slowly, squinting at the yellowish Yarlung Tsangpo River in front of me. Countless times, I had touched it on the map, dreaming of it. On the map, it was so small, but now it was right in front of me. It came down from the snow mountains and passed through the mountains. It witnessed the growth and decay of the vegetation on the banks of the river, the changes of dynasties, and sent away generation after generation of people who grew up drinking its water. The glory and disgrace of the times, the joys and sorrows of individuals, in its eyes, were nothing more than fleeting moments. For thousands of years, only it has remained here.

Sitting at the deserted ferry terminal, I felt a surge of emotion and couldn’t help myself. This quiet afternoon, sitting opposite the Yarlung Tsangpo River, all my personal emotions, sadness, joy, sorrow and happiness, became like fleeting clouds in the face of this surging river. Only when I stood by this vast river did I realize how small I was.

The sun shone down, I don’t know how long it took, but the wind picked up. I sat there for hours, staring at the river. Past events, worries and dust seemed to be settled here. I know that this afternoon, this scene, will appear countless times in my memories.

Someone came. It was a Tibetan guy with a limp, and he brought a pair of blue-eyed people with him. They were also going to cross the river to Samye Monastery. When they came, it suddenly became lively. Several locals appeared from somewhere, leading horses and sheep, saying they were going to the village on the other side. Crossing the river with two horses and two sheep on the same boat, I guess it’s an experience I’ll never have again.

Getting the horses onto the narrow boat is no easy feat. One person pushed from behind, and another pulled from the front. The horses were on the boat, but they hesitated to step into the cabin. I watched from the side with a heart in my throat, afraid that the horses would jump into the river. After half an hour of thrilling excitement, they finally managed to get the horses on board. Finally, the boat set off. The sunlight was so strong that I couldn’t open my eyes, and the distant mountains were alternately shadowed and illuminated. At some point, it felt like I was dreaming. How did I end up here? Accompanied by horses and sheep, surrounded by strangers, in the heart of the river, drifting on the Yarlung Tsangpo River.