The wind of Western Sichuan always brings surprises unexpectedly. A 5-day ultimate free tour, from Daocheng to Gnie, I took in the snow-capped mountains, flower seas, and lakes all in one view.

The wind of Western Sichuan always brings surprises unexpectedly. A 5-day ultimate free tour, from Daocheng to Gnie, I took in the snow-capped mountains, flower seas, and lakes all in one view. Day 1 Departing from Shangri-La Town, the asphalt road of National Highway 227 unfolds beneath the wheels. The rugged Haizi Mountain, the playful Tuer Mountain, the winding Wuliang River, all climb with the altitude from 2900 to 4014 meters. No need to rush during the 4 hours in Litang; sit by the wall of Changqing Shikuer Monastery and bask in the sun. The wind carries the laziness of Tibet—if you don’t want to rest here, remember to set off early, as the light and shadow at the viewing platform wait for no one. Day 2 The road from Litang to Batang is like a green carpet laid by the Maoya Grassland. Ruogen Lake is a hidden gem along the way, its water blue and crisp, with prayer flags fluttering loudly in the wind along the shore. I kept thinking of it later and finally understood what "aftereffect" means—some sceneries really quietly change your expectations of travel. Day 3 Starting from Batang and crossing Gnie in reverse, after passing Gemu Village, the dozen-kilometer bomb crater road begins to "test" the wheels. The driver laughs holding the steering wheel: "This little road is nothing." Amid the sound of flying gravel, the wind at Zawala Pass rushes through the car window, and the meadows of Heti Valley shimmer with golden light. When camping at Hangda Camp, although the Eye of Gnie had no water, the surrounding hills looked like a spilled palette, with green grass, yellow flowers, and distant snow mountains forming the wildest painting. Day 4 From Hangda to Kangding, the Tibetan houses in Xiezhetong Village emit cooking smoke, the clouds over Kazila Mountain are so low you can touch them, and the eighteen bends of the sky road wind below like a silver ribbon. Among the prayer flag piles at Zheduo Mountain Pass, you can see the distant snow mountain lineup. When arriving in Kangding, the bell of Nanwu Temple had just fallen, and the lights of Liuliu City lit up, softening the day's dust with the evening breeze. Day 5 On the way back from Kangding to Chengdu, I kept thinking of that night at Gnie. There was no plan to camp, but the driver pulled out a tent, mats, and a small quilt from the car: "If you want to stay, stay." He curled up in the car all night, and the next day, with red eyes, continued driving but smiled and said, "Seeing you happy is worth it." Along the way, we didn’t enter any paid scenic spots; the lone tree of Gnie and the secret realm of Zeba were both "passed" by us—compared to spending hours hiking for a check-in, I prefer to sit by Ruogen Lake daydreaming and squat on the hillside of the Eye of Gnie counting clouds. The waterless Haizi has its own beauty, and the bumps on the gravel road hide even wilder scenery. When the snow mountains, flower seas, and lakes suddenly appear in the same frame, I suddenly understood: the best travel is never about checking off a guidebook, but stopping when the wind comes and staying when the scenery is good. In 5 days, with a daily car rental fee of 800 yuan and a few warm meals at Tibetan homes, I didn’t spend an extra penny, yet I took all the "top-tier" beauty of Western Sichuan as a "zero-cost purchase" in my heart. It turns out some sceneries simply shouldn’t be priced.