Across the Qinghai-Tibet Railway in Tibet, the feeling is very complex and extremely bright sunlight illuminates a clear sky clouds mountain valley, like an oven inside the temple at noon the air mixed with tired tired of the smell of butter, which is Tibet's unique color, flavor, so that the visiting stranger In the spirit of the shock excited over, and felt tired sleepy particular.
The birthplace of Tibetan culture in the Shannan Prefecture Yalong He Zetang Valley town, shabby small hotels around the air leakage, windows咣咣the sound of a night, toss a small SD and I did not sleep. Early in the morning, hungry braved light rain, visited the temple during the Tubo Songtsan Changzhu Si, we have rushed back to Lhasa, and no re-break night, in the evening dark gloomy, drizzly rain, could not wait to climb on a dilapidated bus from Lhasa to Chengdu bound.
Passenger compartment is very dirty, I do not know how many people have overshadowed the quilt appears shiny black oil, the design of premises was unreasonable, the passengers can only be curled like a shrimp, as the body moved into the premises, the head on top of a little Yitai to the upper berth of the floor. Do not know why, let us then so cherished in Tibet, then give us the feeling is that as soon as possible to leave as soon as possible across the Qinghai-Tibet line, as soon as possible to find a clean, warm place to a good hot bath, a good sleep well.
Sitting in the car where doing nothing, look at the surrounding passengers are visiting relatives or if a small business, and, like us, all belong to the civilian sectors of society. Also, and even the most economical backpacker, nor the General Assembly of the Tibetan Plateau in the dangerous riding such a tattered bus options.
Bus boss is Weisuo shrewd little old man. Two bus drivers are the Tibetan youth, probably in the community were removed from the time a long time, but with no trace of ordinary Tibetans in simple and honest and simple taste, but gives the feeling of wily cunning. Little old man Yishang Che, took aim at a woman traveling alone, it is disgusting in her Cengceng feel the groping, the woman they dare not say throat.
I have noticed that the time has been driving, and asked around the passengers, they are not accustomed to seeing strange to say, ranging from passenger Rato point, the car will not go past, when few people, such as several hours of the day.
Finally a small old man feel a woman who has been groping arrangements will be adequate, while the passengers were pulled or less, and then a twisting jump off the motorcycle. Shouted themselves hoarse in the roaring motor car, in the blurred light rain, the trip to leave the holy city of Lhasa in snow, onto stretches over 1000 kilometers of the Qinghai-Tibet Railway.
As the time difference between the plateau of the sun to go down after more than nine at night. Time to leave Lhasa or drizzle, over a half an hour went so far as another golden sunset sky 10000. Awkward in my head resting on a narrow bunk difficult enough, the car window lai scenery only a small piece of heaven and earth to see, but I have been very satisfied with their own entertainment to appreciate the plight of civilians interest travelers.
Tetraena dusk, when the bus suddenly stopped at the roadside. Seiwa I feel a bit sleepy little hope that the best way keep the car directly to the destination. I tried to probe to look out the window, there is a row of roadside stone Tibetans, it seems quite unlikely that a driver would like here to dinner, passengers will be a passive consumer base here, as the driver Baichibaihe compensation.
Xiao-Qing was I pulled off, unwilling to get off the other passengers were impatient drivers boom out of the car. Shortly before leaving Lhasa, this dusk enveloped the plateau on the bleak desolation of the cold. Xiao-Qing everywhere to find the toilet, but finally found them in the Qinghai-Tibet Railway are all the luxury of modern life. Behind all the stone toward the Cang luxuriant original problem.
The two drivers finally wiped greasy mouth appeared, struggling in the cold waiting for the passengers as if heading for the big savior, as the driver opened the door got on.
Gradually, more and more dark night of the plateau and finally become like a Yanyanshishi drums. I do not know when, the car burst into melodious songs, this is a very pure Tibetan style songs, the singer's voice rough simplicity, melody natural smooth, drifting like the grasslands of the Ye Feng. The darkness, singing non-stop to continue, accompanied by throaty roar when the motor climbing, singing like an endless stretches of streamers, soft and tough.
Nagqu in northern Tibet's urban areas, it was halfway off. The door open, biting wind blowing from. The lack of oxygen while sleepy daze I, through the light lights and found that the endless days of snow and rain began to float in the air. In the vast darkness of tired running the Zheliang Qinghai-Tibet Railway passenger, the Tibetan singing tunes become more and more desolate, more strange, as the window Ice cold sleet snow, thorn was a while we shiver, only as far as possible the body was wrapped into the greasy dirty house.
Sishuifeishui all night, finally in the morning. Here is the famous Tanggula mouth, up to more than 5000 meters above sea level. Driver got off to a roadside restaurant to eat breakfast. As the cold, closed carriage, foot odor, underarm odor, children urine smell of urine smell, mixed together, people can be smoked faint.
Get off quickly, and Xiao-Qing. The vehicle is a vast expanse of wilderness, sunshine, everything is wrapped in sparkling snow inside. In such a cold place, not of the thick ice and snow all year round. We are immersed in high-altitude caused dizziness, the innocently looking around the magnificent scenery of the snowy night to feel like into another world.
Has no personal experience, that others are able to feel a long Qinghai-Tibet Railway to the travelers the kind of rigorous test of endurance. Throughout the morning bus in the snow and ice seemed to stand still in the world of Mercedes-Benz. I thought after the Tanggula pass into the Qinghai snow should be less, but the fact that this is the wrong idea.
Until noon, the road was exposed on both sides of sparse pasture. Plateau huge crows foraging in the unhurried pacing. Qinghai-Tibet Railway bridge across a number of crude, washed under the bridge is a red clay muddy water flowing mud Gou Gou. Do not underestimate this unassuming little mud ditch, which is probably the mighty Yangtze River to China across the Yellow River source. This blink of an eye, but after the small cement bridge, may be the first Yangtze River Bridge. We took a dilapidated bus is not a coach, no one told us that in the end Where is the source of Yangtze and Yellow Rivers, but it does not matter. I sidelong head leaning on the window, stare at the luxuriant grasslands of numerous articles on the vertical and horizontal erosion ditch, and my heart there is a tribute to yet another loss. If this is the source of the Yangtze River is a small ditch, then along the muddy water flowing down a small brook, you can return thousands of miles beyond the south, our hometown do?
Hoh Xil boundless vast steppes of the Qinghai-Tibet Highway extends forward monotonous, it seems that we never end. Compartments, the small clear the spirit of the increasingly low, always ask: "Golmud to yet?" I know that Xiao-Qing has been extremely tired. I do not know when to go to Golmud, but I can say to comfort her: "Soon, soon they arrive."
Starting from Lhasa along Qinghai-Tibet Highway is the same way accompanied by the endless thousands of miles of the Qinghai-Tibet railway construction site and worker camps. Alpine tundra in the hypoxia-made railroad people, is too harsh. Looking out the window wearing a padded gown walking slacks mapping construction team, although tired himself very hard, but in this case so difficult for a long Qinghai-Tibet line, just sitting in the car flashed by one of its own, after all well-being of persons. Poems are "one million marrow will be off the ground," the sentence, built the Qinghai-Tibet railway this, though not war, but I am afraid there will be a lot of people should always be raised and the resting on this piece of gray luxuriant of the plateau.
Occasionally, in the Qinghai-Tibet railway workers camp, there will be a small wooden windows and doors close to the colorful image of the beautiful, the crooked door frame to the words "beauty parlor" character, which is to take the odds are hard-earned money road workers can get a little comfort place.
At dusk, finally reached the famous Kunlun Pass, car windows began to appear very majestic Kunlun Mountains. Is not on the ground, is difficult to understand that the Kunlun Mountains lie eternal greatness. I do not know Tan there have never been here, but his movie's poem "Heng Dao to the day since I laugh, and hepatobiliary fate of two Kunlun," the world turned its momentum, indeed only the Kunlun Mountains in order to meet this generous heroes the pride and desolation.
Through the Kunlun mountain barren desert marsh, the Qinghai-Tibet line, and the steep erosion into the steep valley miscellaneous Chongshan between the regions, is no longer Yimapingchuan plateau. Dusk Dusk dusk outside the window, distant floating Yan Lan, so vague hills in You He is even more mysterious strange.
Xiao-Qing has been close to collapse, consciousness a little bit puzzled. I was standing inside the middle of the aisle eagerly look forward, never looking at the endless extension of the Qinghai-Tibet Highway.
At the same time, I kept checking the phone to see if there is no network signal. Nearly 21 o'clock when the mobile phone network signal finally appeared, and my heart with emotion. Although the street has remained the same desert, but the city not far away.
Sure enough, the road gradually become flat wide, and then, two rows of brilliant lights shining in the front.
"Golmud to." I told Xiaoqing said.
Golmud, Qinghai-Tibet line, we have thousands of miles through the end of a suddenly emerge from the horizon of the city.
November 2002 Horse Ming Chan in late autumn Fujiya
Author: ttzrb
