Absolute whiteness descends, as a spring snowstorm transforms cascading mountains, pine forests and a seemingly endless sky into a horizon that has suddenly become lost.
On the twisting, high-altitude road from Deqin to Shangri-La in China’s southern Yunnan province, visibility slips away and civilization becomes a murky memory. We know the peaks are out there, but the only signs of colour seen through the flurry of snowflakes are sagging pine branches.
This is the lost horizon of James Hilton’s epic novel, the work which gave the world the idea of Shangri-La. And high in the pristine Meili Snow Mountain National Park in Diqing Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture is a city which now carries that mythical name. Called Zhongdian until 2001, the city was renamed Shangri-La in a marketing push and has since attracted tourists in large numbers, with many from Thailand among the ranks.
As Hilton’s Lost Horizon became dramatically literal, several travellers on our bus speak of how the journey reflects the novel’s otherworldly quest for things eternal. This ideal of elusive purity is also expressed in the Tibetan myth of Shambhala, a paradise some say actually exists but is perhaps accessible only to those ready to glimpse higher truths.
Tibet’s second most sacred mountain, 6,740-metre-high Khawa Karpo — an attraction tourists sometimes only glimpse — and other snowy peaks leading to the Tibetan plateau had remained stubbornly whitewashed for the previous several days. Also on the road were the Felai Si Tibetan temple near Deqin and the rustic Tibetan village of Yubeng, which is accessible only after a trek of several hours, along with secret waterfalls, icy lakes and a glistening glacier.
Following the path: Tourists can walk through Shangri-La’s answer to the Grand Canyon.
Those are now far behind as we head deeper into the mist. Just as suddenly as the horizon is lost, it is found again. The storm is soon replaced by clear blue skies and the landscape that has inspired Tibetan hearts for centuries, the southern stretches of what was known as the province of Kham.
In Forgotten Kingdom, Russian adventurer Peter Goullart wrote that in contrast to the “dry gaunt mountains … dust and howling winds” of the Tibetan plateau.
“Kham is an embodiment of the beauty and charm of nature the like of which cannot be found elsewhere in the world. The world’s greatest rivers, crystal clear and unsullied, flow through marble gorges, amid the vast and stately forests which cover mountain slopes. Sparkling snow peaks, virgin and unattainable, soar into the blue sky.”
Renaming the city Shangri-La may be a marketing ploy, but ecotourism pioneer Uttara Sarkar Crees believes the area has long embodied its spirit. A longstanding supporter of Tibetan culture, she has lived there since 1989, runs the Tara Gallery Cafe and helped establish the Gyalthang Hotel.
“This area was known as Gyalthang, or Royal Plains, for its lush forests and fields that could grow crops that you couldn’t on the Tibetan plateau like red rice, and support animals like goats,” she said. “You see the peach blossoms in early spring. In May the apple blossoms bloom and in summer the hillsides are full of rhododendrons and the valleys are carpeted in grass.”
When she first moved to town “nature was much more overwhelming, there were many more horses, people dressed completely traditionally and there was limited electricity”.
Despite the modernisation of recent years, a Tibetan spirit still flows here. “This is still Shangri-La.” Having lived in several countries, she said it was her favourite place in the world. “I’ve learned here a lot about how every day one can live closer to the earth. The Tibetans have always been very welcoming to me.”
Guests can admire the cafe's colourful thangka paintings, spotlighted against the dark wooden walls, while enjoying momo dumplings and other Tibetan, Chinese or Indian classics cooked by a Tibetan chef. The view outside features storied stone streets once travelled on by horses and yaks laden with bags of tea and other commodities on a section of the old Tea Horse Road. It ended shortly after the communist takeover in 1949, but the route led up to and across Tibet, then streamed down through the gorgeous mountain valleys of the former kingdom of Sikkim, on passages to India.
The Gyalthang Hotel, located in the Dukezong old town, is a Tibetan-Naxi house with wonderfully creaky floors that dates to the late Qing dynasty and served as an inn for caravan traders. When development plans late last century threatened historic buildings like it, Ms Crees and others took action. “They wanted to turn this home into firewood. If I had had the means, I would have also bought every home on the street so that they could be preserved.”
Showing the way: A tour guide offers an explanation of Shangri-La’s history.
Old ways: The streets of Shangri-La are steeped in history despite recent development.
On a frigid January night last year, however, Shangri-La ended up losing much of its heritage, when a massive fire roared through town. Dozens of wooden buildings, including a guesthouse in another century-old building managed by Ms Crees, were destroyed. A Tea Horse Road-era stagecoach also burned down. After the fire raged for more than 10 hours, nearly 250 buildings and more than half of the old town had been consumed. Reports of the town’s death, though, were greatly exaggerated, and the large unaffected swathes of Shangri-La continue to charm visitors, while the areas that had been destroyed are being revitalised under government programmes that ensure local architectural traditions are adhered to.
Across the street stands the Tibetan Guishan Monastery, one of the main attractions for Buddhist tourists. With a rallying cry of “neung, song, sam!” half a dozen members of a Thai tour group use their might to start spinning the world’s largest prayer wheel. Looking up at the 21-metre, 60-tonne cylinder prayer wheel, it is clear why such an intense effort is needed to get it spinning. The towering gilded structure is decorated with reliefs of Tibetan prayers and the eight Tibetan lucky symbols including the knot of eternity, symbolising the continuous cycle destruction and renewal.
The Thai group had flown in from Lijiang, where they were “dazzled” by the cable car ride up Jade Dragon Snow Mountain. Their five-day tour of Yunnan, which focused on ancient Chinese charms plus a glimpse of the Tibetan world without going to Tibet itself, cost just over 30,000 baht per person.
Don’t talk back: The presence of yaks and horses are a reminder of old trade routes.
Also chasing the Shangri-La myth were Thai backpackers fascinated by the cool, fresh mountain air and the chance to see snow in a high altitude mountain landscape. It is a popular place for Thais, and the language could also be heard in the streets and restaurants of the old town.
Tanya Siriwit is the general manager at Bangkok’s Global Holiday tour company, which regularly offers an eight-day tour in Tibet and Qinghai for 89,900 baht. She said the tour was popular among those wishing to compare Thai and Tibetan Buddhist traditions and learning about the latter’s deeper focus on future lives. Thais visiting Tibet also appreciate the stunning Qinghai-Tibet Railway, the world’s highest.
“They want to go to Tibet because it is challenging,” she said. “Tibet is a place that people are scared to go to.” But for some, this is part of the attraction. “Some older people will even lie about their health problems like high blood pressure.”
Altitude sickness is a real threat, although Ms Tanya said her company is very experienced with the region and had trained guides who carried medicines.
Beyond the prayer wheel, it is clear Shangri-La has suffered since last year’s fire. But the damaged areas are coming back to life.
Throughout the decimated area’s bare web of lanes, energetic workers are mixing concrete and laying bricks, while wooden beams are being sectioned by chainsaws, carved by hand with traditional dragon motifs and erected into frames for new structures.
Now literal: James Hilton’s ‘Lost Horizon’ gave the world the idea of Shangri-La.
Carefully restored: Tibetan spirituality is on show at the Sumtseling Gompa monastery.
“At first it was a big shock,” after the fire, says Ms Crees, the operator of the Tara Cafe, adding that there was a drop of about 60% in international visitors last year. “But people regrouped. Tibetans are very resilient.”
Large parts of town were left untouched by the blaze, including Moonlight Square, where on warmer nights locals join leisurely folk dances in large circles — arms and legs swaying in unison to Chinese and Tibetan songs.
One morning in a popular market off the square, two elderly women attempt to outsell each other, crying out that they offer only the tastiest of yak milk. The deliciously nourishing, frothy concoction, said by some to help fight off high-altitude sickness, is enhanced with a dash of tsampa (barley).
The smell of yak meat is the smell of Shangri-La. Lightly spiced, sharply flavoured and overpoweringly pungent, yak jerky and sachets of powdered Tibetan butter tea are snapped up by Chinese tourists wanting to treat friends back home to a taste of exotic Tibet. Its signature aroma soon becomes instantly recognisable, smelled before seen, in stores around town.
Outside this town three hours north of Lijiang, by way of cliffhanging roads and mountain-defying tunnels, await an array of breathtaking attractions like the underappreciated Shangri-La Grand Canyon, where travellers walk along a pathway of several kilometres amazingly bolted into sheer cliff, staring up at the rim of the unscalable wall rising from the riverbed up to 1,000 metres. Cacti and the occasional palm trees incongruously sprout along canyon walls in this surreally semi-tropical ecosystem.
Blue yonder: The impressive view from the Sumtseling Gompa monastery complex.
Rebuilding: Shangri-La is recovering after large sections of the town were burned.
Just north of Shangri-La, elegant black eagles perch underneath glittering golden spires and nest in the sheltering hollows of gilded eaves. There, the spirituality of the Tibetan world is displayed for all to see at the Sumtseling Gompa monastery complex.
Painstakingly restored and well maintained, if a bit Disneyfied, it leaves a deep impression with an array of detailed placards explaining myths and the significance of local habits. A rich variety of wildlife is on show, including on an exceptional walkway over and around marshland teeming with ducks, that might look over the top in less secular Asian countries. The somewhat schizophrenic mix of sacred and theme park reflects the exchange in Lost Horizon in which the over-forthright Ms Brinklow asks Chang: “Is your head lama a Tibetan or a Chinese?” to which the unflappable monk responds “No”.
Rising above a massive meadow sprinkled with big black yaks stands the “Little Patola” monastery, which dates to 1679 in the era of the fifth Dalai Lama.
The 14th leader of the lineage also has a presence there. He is seen discreetly in the alcove of a room filled with fierce-faced protective deities. Other times he is in plain sight under CCTV surveillance. Tibetans drape white scarves — blessed by a monk accompanying them — around a portrait of the exiled leader. A brave young monk, without any prompting, shares his deep respect for the spiritual leader and tells how he gave him his name. The heart has a habit of doing as it desires.
Overhead, far above the row of metres-high deities in the central prayer chamber, the high altitude lends a particularly ethereal quality to long lines of cirrus clouds racing by like threads unravelling from a prayer flag, under the bright-blue Tibetan skies. n
GETTING THERE: Flights from Bangkok to Lijiang start from about 15,000 baht.
