Qinghai III - The Qinghai Highway: Dulan
“Four seasons in an instant and white fangs on a chain”

The next place on our tour is Dulan. With an altitude of 3600 meters it’s the highest point we have been to so far. It’s only been three days since we left Xining at 2200 meters. When we walk the stairs of our hotel, our bodies feel old and unwilling but in our room on the fourth floor, we have a nice view of the small town and the mountain range behind it.

A good book can be medicine against boredom, but we have also learned to appreciate the quietness of the small towns of China. A walk is usually rewarding: peeking into houses with their meager lighting, buying a soda in a little shop, exchanging a smile, having a short conversation. Tonight our curiosity is tamed by the height. After eating some mutton in a Muslim restaurant, we limit ourselves to a short walk and then retire to our hotel room. This time with heating. The shower is shared and located at the end of the long hallway. On my way there, I notice that most of the other rooms are open and inhabited by four or more Chinese. Some of them are playing cards. Others watch television. The way many rooms are decorated gives the impression of long term stays. I have no idea what keeps people here, because Qinghai is a desolate province with hardly any industrialized activities. Dulan is no exception. They might work in the stone factory that we will find the next day (although it looked abandoned).

We sleep early and decide on an early rising. At the time we get up it’s still completely dark outside. Our bus is leaving in the afternoon, so we have planned a long morning stroll through the mountains. A month ago in Szichuan we took several hikes. The highest being the sacred Emei Shan (3.099m). In Europe I have done some hiking in the Alps and the Pyrenees, but hiking in the sacred mountains of China is an incomparable experience. The sacred mountains are lined with monotonous stairs from bottom to top. Because of the enormous amount of mostly Chinese tourists, repairing these stairs is a constant process, and young men are continually running up and down the mountain with big flat stones on their backs. Occasionally a lazy tourist is dragged to the top, sitting in a chair between two poles resting on Chinese shoulders. Remembering these lazy tourists brings to mind a scene from Jon Krakauer’s “Into Thin Air”, a true tale about a tragic adventure on the slopes of Mount Everest in 1996. It features a 30 year old New York fashion queen who, inseparable from her Cappuccino machine, has her beloved apparatus lifted up into the mountain camps until 6000m. Above that the air becomes too thin to hold the choppers that fly up with the machine and the generator to produce the necessary electricity.

However, the mountain area around Dulan is not considered a tourist magnet, nor does it bear any resemblance to the mighty Everest. We are spared the monotonous stairs and the danger. It’s just beauty that awaits us.

We leave the village in a taxi. The road is fine, but not for long. We have just left the town’s boundaries when the quality of the road forces our taxi to stop. The mountains are still more than two kilometers in front of us. Nearby there is a long trench. The trench is at least 10 meters deep, 60 meters wide and two kilometers long. It is an old quarry: every piece of clay that once filled the space where the trench is now, has been turned into brick. A small factory lies at the center of the quarry. We have to cross the factory premises to enter the mountain range. A pole with a board is blocking the entrance. We can go round it but Li tells me that the board advises differently: ”We have a dog. We can not be held accountable for the consequences if you enter the premises”. Logic leads us to our decision (why is a dog guarding a quarry filled with mud?): we ignore the warning. However, the growling that follows soon after can’t be mistaken, and neither can the white fangs snapping in our face. As the sound of metal on metal from the chain stops abruptly a heavy choking sound takes over. The German Shepherd -which is straining against the chain, standing on his hind legs-is now close enough that we can smell its bad breath.

Eventually we find a way around it. The detour takes us through a hilly heath to the mountains. It is a beautiful day. The scene is constructed according to the rules of classical landscape painting. A clear blue sky showcases high black snowed-covered mountains, which sit close behind somewhat smaller brown hills on the horizon. In front, a yellow undulating heath.

After one and a half hours we reach the hills. We decide to climb a smaller one (perhaps 150m in height). The hill is steep, but the soft loam and the pointing rocks enable us to go up. At the top, we notice that the sky isn’t blue anymore. Dark clouds have gathered above us. It isn’t hard to imagine that rain will turn these soft and friendly hills into a perilous slide. We have to return.

Back on the heath we can see that it is snowing above the highest mountains. As we walk, the black mountaintops become increasingly white. To be here at this moment is fabulous. We are standing in a cool autumn sun, surrounded by all seasons. Simultaneously with the snow, showers of rain are hitting the lower loam hills we just left. On our right, the clouds have burst open, allowing the sunbeams to contrast with the dark clouds on the left. Big parts of blue sky have appeared above the sandy yellow in front of the heath. The variation in landscape and weather is overwhelming. By the time we reach Dulan the sky is completely blue again. The bus leaves shortly thereafter.