A Journey to Southern Xinjiang

If you’ve never been to Southern Xinjiang and have only heard about its unique cultural heritage and architecture, you’re missing out on half the story. Visiting this region reveals that it’s not just about history, architecture, or legendary tales. Southern Xinjiang is home to the largest desert scenery belt, the hottest place in China, the lowest altitude in the country, the most populous area of poplar trees, the most ancient kingdoms, the densest ethnic communities, the origin of countless rivers, and the most winding mountain roads. Following the path of Master Xuanzang, I felt the ancient simplicity, the profound culture, and the weight of history here. Touching the walls of ancient buildings, I marveled at the wisdom and strength of the ancients. Crossing the Taklamakan Desert, I saw poplar trees standing tall, their shapes bizarre—some resembling coiled dragons, others like eerie specters. The guide told me that poplar trees live for a thousand years, remain standing for another thousand after death, and take a thousand more years to decay. Touching their rough bark, I felt as if countless stories were hidden within their textures. Amid the desert, ruins emerged—crumbling walls half-buried in yellow sand. The guide explained that these were the remnants of the ancient Kingdom of Jingjue, once prosperous but now silent. As the wind blew, grains of sand rolled, whispering tales of sorrow. Visiting the Kizil Thousand-Buddha Caves, I found the caves carved into cliffs, with suspended walkways that were challenging to climb. Inside, the murals were vibrant, depicting ethereal flying figures and solemn Bodhisattvas. However, many Buddha statues had damaged faces and hollowed eyes due to religious conflicts. One mural featured a half-preserved Bodhisattva, gazing downward with a faint smile, seemingly lamenting human ignorance. Outside the caves, a stream flowed, its sound harmonizing with the wind. Staying at a local farmhouse, I experienced warm hospitality. The host slaughtered a sheep and served wine. During the feast, musicians played the rawap and daf drums, and people of all ages danced to the music. A young girl invited me to dance, but my clumsy steps often went wrong, eliciting laughter and encouragement from the crowd. As the night deepened, the host shared stories of his ancestors, who migrated from Persia and had lived here for over ten generations. Under the starry sky and beside the bonfire, history intertwined with the present, evoking deep emotions. The people of Southern Xinjiang live challenging lives but remain optimistic. On the desert’s edge, farmers channel snowmelt from the Kunlun Mountains to irrigate the land, creating oases in the barren terrain. Under grape trellises, children play; in poplar groves, elders relax. Despite occasional sandstorms and hardships, the locals are simple and hospitable. Everywhere I went, I was invited into homes and offered fruits and tea. Though language barriers existed, smiles bridged the gap. In Kashgar’s old town, narrow alleys crisscrossed, and tall earthen walls loomed. Walking through felt like navigating a maze. Residents lived on elevated platforms, with doors facing each other, and the sounds of chickens and dogs filled the air. Women lowered baskets from second-floor windows to buy flatbreads from street vendors, who used hooks to exchange money and goods, saving the effort of climbing up and down. Wandering the alleys, I glimpsed an open courtyard where an elderly man sat smoking under grapevines, the smoke curling and dancing with the setting sun. The beauty of the Pamirs is neither the elegance of Jiangnan nor the grandeur of the Central Plains but an ancient desolation and purity. Here, time seems to stand still, and civilization and nature achieve a delicate balance. Silent snow-capped mountains and tranquil lakes speak louder than words, leaving a profound impact. Nomads following water and grass, border guards standing firm, and millennia-old relics together form the rhythm of life in the Pamirs. Arriving at the Ghez Canyon, the terrain suddenly became steep and treacherous. The red mountains appeared as if carved by knives, with folds occasionally revealing a ribbon of green water winding through. Driving through, cliffs loomed on one side and deep chasms on the other, the engine’s hum blending with the wind. Groups of wild goats stood on precarious cliffs, gazing at passersby with calm demeanor. Turning a sharp corner, Kongur Peak suddenly rose before me, its snowy summit gleaming like silver in the sunlight. Clouds swirled around its waist, appearing and disappearing like a veiled goddess. By the time I reached White Sand Lake, dusk had fallen. True to its name, the lake was surrounded by white sand, and its waters shifted in color—from pale green near the shore to deep blue and finally inky black at the center. When the wind blew, gentle waves lapped the shore, and the white sand flowed with a soft rustling sound. Across the lake, snow-capped mountains reflected in the water, their images rippling with the waves, blurring the line between reality and illusion. A Kyrgyz herder led his sheep along the lake’s edge, their hooves breaking the mountain’s reflection, which fragmented and reformed. The herder invited me to his yurt with hand gestures, offering salty milk tea and flatbread. Though we couldn’t communicate verbally, his gaze was as warm as the highland twilight. At Karakul Lake, situated at an altitude of 3,600 meters and backed by Muztagh Ata, known as the "Father of Ice Mountains," the lake’s surface was as calm as a mirror, perfectly reflecting the 7,500-meter snow peak. Walking along the shore, I saw the water so clear that pebbles were visible. Suddenly, a fish leapt out, creating ripples that shattered the mountain’s reflection. Nearby, stone monuments bore the names of climbers who had perished attempting to conquer the peak. As the wind blew through the monument forest, it seemed to narrate the unfinished stories of those ascents. In Tashkurgan County, a small and tidy town, many Tajik people could be seen. Women wore colorful dresses and embroidered hats, while men had prominent features, often carrying eagle flutes on their hooked noses. At the afternoon market, I saw an elderly man selling eagle flutes and tried one, its sound piercing the sky like an eagle’s cry. At the market’s end stood the ruins of the Stone City, where remnants of palaces and temples could still be discerned. The guide explained that this was the ancient capital of the Kingdom of Jibantuo, which Xuanzang passed through during his westward journey. Standing atop the crumbling walls, overlooking the grasslands and river valleys, I imagined the caravans winding through and bustling trade of a thousand years ago, feeling a sense of melancholy. At the Red Flag Lap Port, the cold wind was biting, and the national flag fluttered at the border gate. At an altitude of 4,700 meters, this is China’s highest border crossing. Border guards, their faces red and frosted eyelashes, stood tall despite the harsh conditions. A Pakistani caravan passed through, camels laden with goods and bells jingling. A Pakistani merchant greeted me with a clumsy "friend" in Mandarin and handed me a bag of pine nuts. People from both countries shook hands and laughed, transcending borders. On the return journey through the Tashkurgan Wetlands, it was dusk. The setting sun painted the grasslands gold, and the winding rivers shimmered. Shepherds rode horses, driving sheep home, their whips cracking crisply. In the distance, snow-capped mountains turned pink, then purple, before fading into the night. An eagle soared across the sky, gradually becoming a black dot and disappearing over the snowy peaks. Can you imagine what I’ve seen and described? If not, I invite you to come and experience it yourself! 🛬【Itinerary】: Urumqi - Turpan - Korla - Kuqa - Aksu - Kashgar - Tashkurgan - Kashgar ⛺【Must-Visit Attractions】: Flaming Mountains - Karez System Origin - Bosten Lake - Luobu Village - Poplar Forest Park - Kuqa Palace - Kizil Thousand-Buddha Caves - Kizilia Red Mountains - Wensu Grand Canyon - Kashgar Old Town - White Sand Lake - Karakul Lake - Tashkurgan Wetlands - Wakhan Corridor - Red Flag Lap Port - Panlong Ancient Road - Bandir Blue Lake 🍩【Must-Try Foods】: Skewered Lamb - Red Willow Grilled Meat - Original Grilled Meat - Baked Dumplings - Thin-Skinned Dumplings - Pigeon Noodles and Soup - Stewed Lamb 🧡【Tips】: After May, the weather gets hotter. In high-altitude areas, remember to use sunscreen and carry oxygen bottles. Most places don’t cause altitude sickness, but some may experience mild reactions at Panlong Ancient Road and Muztagh Ata Park—just take a few breaths of oxygen if needed!