Is Namtso Fun? A Guide to Namtso

Namtso, meaning “Celestial Lake,” holds sacred water. Legend says that those with a troubled mind or burdened with excess baggage will find solace here, leaving behind their troubles and negativity as they immerse themselves in the lake’s purifying energy. The air is refreshingly pure, making it a perfect escape for city dwellers. However, be mindful of the altitude and potential for altitude sickness. Below, we’ll delve into what makes Namtso an exciting destination.

Namtso, one of the highest lakes, boasts mesmerizing turquoise waters that lap against the shore like the ocean.

Namtso, meaning “Celestial Lake” in Tibetan, is one of the three sacred lakes in Tibet. It lies at an altitude of 4,718 meters, stretching 70 kilometers east to west and 30 kilometers north to south. With an area of 1,920 square kilometers, it’s the largest lake in the Tibet Autonomous Region, China’s third-largest saltwater lake, and the highest lake in the world.

We arrived at Namtso in the afternoon.

After purchasing tickets, we entered the scenic area and saw the tranquil lake, its blue surface reflecting the cloudy sky, indifferent to our arrival.

You may or may not see me, but I am there, neither sad nor happy;
You may or may not think of me, but love is there, neither coming nor going;
You may or may not love me, but love is there, neither increasing nor decreasing;
You may or may not follow me, but my hand is in yours, neither leaving nor letting go;
Come into my arms, or let me dwell in your heart, silently loving, quietly rejoicing.

——《The Silence of Banza Guru Baima》Zashiram Dodo

Namtso’s Evening

Descending from the mountains, the landscape unfolded like a vast plain. At the edge of the wide grasslands, a line of pale blue water stretched out, a straight road extending forward, disappearing into the distance, seemingly never reaching the lake.

Accustomed to city jungles, I felt an urge to shout and run wild in this open, flat expanse. Unfortunately, the high altitude deterred me.

We reached the accommodation zone, just a few hundred meters from the lake. It consisted of metal cabins, thin iron sheets offering little sound insulation. The rooms were spartan, with wooden beds about 1.2 meters wide piled with blankets and quilts. Later, I learned that these blankets had other uses.

After settling in, I stepped out. A girl from our travel group, suffering from altitude sickness, was receiving oxygen. Apparently, she stayed in her room for the entire afternoon and night, missing the whole Namtso experience. What a pity.

The shore of Namtso resembled the Qinghai Lake, unlike many others where water quietly hugs the bank, undisturbed. Here, the lake water pulsed with a vibrant life, waves crashing onto the shore, one chasing another, seemingly never ceasing. The stones along the shore were smoothed and rounded by the relentless waves, devoid of sharp edges.

Two small hills stood by the lake, so low they didn’t inspire the urge to climb. I figured we’d ascend them tomorrow for sunrise anyway.

As we strolled, the sun began to set. Sunlight bathed the mountain peaks, evoking a scene of a sun-drenched golden mountain. The golden rays met the azure lake water, colors colliding in a dazzling spectacle. In that moment, I thought to myself, “This was truly worth it.”

Namtso’s Night and Stars

The high altitude made even leisurely walks tiring. After dinner and sunset, we retired to our rooms.

In the midst of our casual conversation, a message from Duoji popped up in our WeChat group: “Stars are out.”

Without hesitation, I jumped up and started getting dressed, simultaneously texting Bird to join me.

At around 8 pm, Namtso was shrouded in darkness.

Using our phone flashlights, Bird and I navigated the uneven terrain towards the lake. Suddenly, we stopped, turned off our lights, and looked up.

Wow, I almost gasped for air.

A tapestry of stars spread across the sky, seemingly within reach.

Unlike other stargazing experiences, where the stars seem distant, here they were close enough to touch. I instinctively reached out my hands, feeling an irresistible urge to grasp the brightest star. Despite knowing it was futile, I let my hands dance in the air, yearning for a connection.

Each star was significantly larger than we were accustomed to seeing. Even the Big Dipper, which usually appears no bigger than a fingernail, seemed like a giant, sparkling diamond. Other stars, typically faint and barely discernible, shimmered brightly, casting a celestial glow. Each one radiated its brilliance, enveloping us in a symphony of starlight.

Standing at the center of the world, calling out for love.

The air was cold, but my heart was warm.

We stood there, awestruck, a torrent of warm emotions surging through us. Bird and I were lost in the moment, our minds blank.

(No pictures here. Without a DSLR, we could only admire the spectacle, even my LX5, a high-performance compact camera at the time, couldn’t capture the night sky.)

As a chronicler, I feel a pang of regret, but as a traveler, I only want to experience that warmth under the cold sky again and again.

Our Attempt to Capture the Stars

Despite knowing we couldn’t capture the night sky without a DSLR, we ventured out with Liu Xiao Wu (Panasonic LX5). Bird mentioned the camera had a “starry sky mode,” and I immediately followed suit. We both selected the starry sky mode, focused for 15 seconds, raised our cameras high above our heads, pointed them at the stars, tilted our heads back, and silently counted down the numbers on the screen. After the 15-second countdown, there was a 15-second processing time. Under the cold night sky, our hands shook uncontrollably….

Our first attempt at capturing the stars was a failure.

I said, “Let’s try 30 seconds?” The silly Bird replied, “It’s too tiring to tilt my head back.” Seizing the opportunity, I said, “Let’s stand back-to-back and support each other’s heads!”

Bird seemed to understand, and we happily stood back-to-back. Counting down, “3, 2, 1,” we simultaneously activated the 30-second mode, raising our hands high in the cold wind, our hands shaking…

Our second attempt was also a failure.

Bird suddenly said, “Actually, we don’t have to tilt our heads back. We can just point the camera straight ahead.” I exclaimed with joy, “Yes! Yes!”

We silently faced forward, holding our cameras high, our hands trembling…

Laughter erupted, fueled by the cold and our sheer silliness.

Holding the camera became too tiring, so I placed it on my head. Bird asked incredulously, “Won’t the camera fall?” I responded smugly, “My head’s flat…”

Spotting the Constellations

Eventually, we decided to abandon our star photography endeavors and simply gaze up at the vast expanse of stars, murmuring, “Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Leo, Sagittarius…” Then, pointing in front of us, we both simultaneously exclaimed, “The Big Dipper!”

And that was it.

Out of all the constellations we named, we could recognize and identify only the Big Dipper.

Bird spent some time scrolling through her phone, then looked up at the stars, and gasped, “Why does the Big Dipper seem dimmer now?”

After pondering for a moment, she said, “It must be because of the phone screen.” (The phone screen was too bright.)

I had another brilliant idea. “Refocus your eyes (look at other bright stars) and then look back at the Big Dipper.”

Bird obediently raised her phone high and began focusing her eyes…

After giving up on star photography and constellation identification, we continued gazing at the stars for five yuan, giggling and heading back. Wrapped in my blanket, I chuckled at our antics. Suddenly, I realized that we could have simply placed the camera on the ground and pressed the shutter button…

I imagined Bird wouldn’t have thought of that method, and I felt a surge of pride in my newfound intelligence…

(The next day, I asked Bird if she’d thought of that method, and she hadn’t! I gave myself a high five for my wit!)

Namtso’s Sunrise and Morning

I fell asleep in the middle of the night, but my sleep was restless. The cabin lacked sound insulation, so I was constantly awakened by the noises of people returning late at night. Plus, I couldn’t shake off my anticipation for sunrise. It was on my mind all night long.

However, I realized from my experiences at Namtso that I have a bad track record with sunrises.

Whether it was the Mo Hong Village in Mohe, Heilongjiang, Hohhot or Baotou in Inner Mongolia, Chaka Salt Lake in Qinghai, Mount Heng in Hunan, every time I woke up to watch the sunrise, I encountered cloudy or rainy skies, never once catching a glimpse of the dawn.

Namtso was no exception.

Around 5 am, I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed, layered two soft-shell jackets, and messaged Bird. Together, we headed out, walking towards the nearest hill from our lodging. We took our time, observing the dark sky and the growing stream of people forming lines. I felt content with our timing, not too late.

However, I hadn’t expected to be so out of breath climbing the stairs.

My mind hadn’t fully woken up yet, and I hadn’t registered the high altitude. I was embarrassed to realize that I was struggling to climb a small hill.

I suppressed the urge to gasp for breath, but the exertion increased, making it difficult to even lift my legs. After reaching the platform halfway up the hill, I collapsed on the highest step, panting heavily. Shame be damned.

As I sat there, catching my breath, I noticed others scattered around, each struggling to breathe. Some were bundled up in thick clothes, while others had wrapped themselves in blankets from the guesthouse. Even the tall, strong young men were gasping even more intensely than I was. It was strangely comforting.

With enough oxygen reaching my brain, I finally realized, “It’s high altitude, of course I’m out of breath climbing!” I felt even more embarrassed about feeling ashamed.

I got in touch with Bird, who was perched higher up. She had finished resting and was heading my way. I continued my journey, still breathless, maneuvering between rocks without stairs, desperately searching for footholds. It was excruciating. I wondered why she had to climb another 2 or 3 meters vertically.

As expected, we had no luck with sunrise. The sky transitioned from pitch black to dark blue to a faint glimmer, but thick clouds shrouded the lake, blocking any view of the sun. The sky brightened completely, but there was no sign of the sun. Disheartened, we descended.

As we walked back, we saw a solitary yak ambling along the lakeshore, its head bowed.

Later, we learned that it was on its way to work. Soon, it would be adorned with colorful decorations, including red flowers and ribbons, and placed by the lake for tourists to pose with for a fee of 5, 10, or 20 yuan.

Life isn’t easy.

We woke up, strolled around the lake, and the sky grew brighter. The clouds thinned slightly, revealing glimpses of the snow-capped peaks in the distance.

Time was limited, so we bid farewell to Namtso and headed for Lhasa.

Key Points

Namtso

Tourist Attraction Level: AAAA

Ticket Price:

Peak Season (May-October): 120 yuan/person

Off-Season (November-April): 100 yuan/person

Opening Hours: All Day

Temperatures in Namtso are low, so make sure to wear or bring warm clothes, especially at night and in the early morning. It gets very cold. Don’t forget to stay warm and avoid getting sick.

You can use the blankets and quilts from the guesthouse, as long as the owner doesn’t mind. Just be careful not to get them dirty.