Ah, Xinjiang.
Spanning 1.6 million square kilometres of steppe, deserts and mountain ranges, this Autonomous Region alone makes up a fifth of China’s territory and is its largest province-level division.
Although the region has been quite popular among Chinese tourists, its popularity has recently reached visitors from beyond China’s borders. They come for the dreamy and desolate natural landscapes, diverse hotpot of Uyghur, Han and Kazakh cultures and its ancient ties to the legendary Silk Road.
To write an account that would properly do justice to this beautiful and remote region would take a whole series of columns, if not books! So instead, let this humble traveller attempt to portray one particular region – Northern Xinjiang.
A Northern Tour
Recently, I found myself fortunate enough to join a tour into Northern Xinjiang.
In contrast to Southern Xinjiang’s deserts and historical sites, Northern Xinjiang is better known for its picturesque mountains and lakes, particularly around Hemu Village, Kanas Lake and Sayram Lake.
Xinjiang Trivia: Xinjiang is broadly divided into two regions, the Dzungaria Basin in the Northern Xinjiang and the Tarim Basin in the Southern Xinjiang – both divided by the Tianshan Mountains.
Scheduled for September 29 to October 9 – landing right before China’s National Day holidays (this will be relevant later unfortunately), we were expecting cool autumn weather around the high 10s, pre-departure forecasts predicted below freezing temperatures for our far northern stops.
After preparing my cold weather gear as best I could, I set off on a journey into the far-flung regions of Western China.
Day 1 (Sep 29): KLIA
Fast forward to the day of departure on September 29, all of our tour members had already assembled and checked in at Kuala Lumpur International Airport (KLIA) by 7pm. By 9pm, we were all seated on the plane and preparing to take off.
As the lights dimmed and the jet engines roared to life, I seated myself as comfortably as I could while the Malaysia Airlines flight made its 7-hour journey to Urumqi’s Diwopu International Airport.
Day 2 (Sep 30): Grottoes and Grasslands
After surviving a 2am breakfast and a sleepless night, we finally touched down at Diwopu at 5am in the morning.
Groggily stepping down onto the tarmac, I was hit with my first blast of Xinjiang’s autumn winds. With just one layer and no inner wear whatsoever, it was only just barely tolerable, so I quickly beelined for the waiting shuttle bus.
As we landed some distance from the main terminal, we had to take a 10-minute ride to Immigration. Though everyone was exhausted, a palpable tinge of excitement still buzzed in the air.
Tip: For those using SIM cards, particularly Hong Kong roaming SIM cards bought online, make sure to activate them as soon as possible when you land. It might take a while for Internet access to activate properly.
After taking quite some time to clear Immigration and corral our 30 tour members and everyone’s luggage onto the tour bus, it was already 7 when our bus thundered out of the airport parking lot into the early morning darkness.
After some brief introductions by our tour guide and tour leader to give us time to rest, we thundered down Urumqi’s highways towards our first destination.
But just as a quiet descended upon the bus, the rising sun began to set the pitch-black sky aflame with a brilliant blue glow, revealing to us for the first time Xinjiang’s white-tipped mountain ranges and endless rolling plains – sights that would become constant companions throughout our entire journey.
Jimsar Thousand Buddha Caves Scenic Area
After three hours alternating between admiring the azure skies and nodding off, I was jolted awake by the bus as it pulled into our first stop – the Jimsar Thousand Buddha Caves, a collection of buildings and sites dedicated to Xinjiang’s Buddhist past.
Although the Jimsar Thousand Buddha Caves site was huge with multiple temples, halls and gardens, our tour was mainly focused on two particular sites – the eponymous Thousand Buddha Cave (aka Sleeping Buddha Cave) and the Fodaoru Cave.
Thousand Buddha / Sleeping Buddha Cave
To get to the Sleeping Buddha Cave, we had to take about a 15-minute walk through squares, bamboo groves and even a panoramic bluff that offered views of the surrounding barren grassland.
Once there though, the quaint courtyard of Gaotai Temple greets us. Built in the 18th century, it has been destroyed and rebuilt multiple times over the centuries, with the most recent renovation occurring back in 2012. The Thousand Buddha Cave behind it is also a modern recreation, as the original has been lost to time.
However, what draws visitors to this humble temple lies further inside. Go past the murals and statues in the foyer, and you’ll come across a reconstructed cave-tunnel painted with the colourful visages of Buddhist deities while nine arhats in niches glare at you sharply.
At the first bend, the true heart of the temple reveals itself to be a gigantic golden Reclining Buddha statue lining the entire length of the tunnel section. Although it is a modern reconstruction protected behind a clear plastic wall, the Buddha’s serene and regal gaze – emphasized by the red highlights on his forehead mark and lips – still manages to send a shiver of awe and reverence within me.
After stepping outside though, some questions come to mind: What happened to the original cave? Are the thousand Buddhas really just murals?
As always, the answer lies with that most human of disasters – war.
Due to Jimsar’s history of war and destruction, anthropologists and resident monks have theorized that the original cave and its statues may have been buried elsewhere to protect them. A compelling theory, seeing as buried Buddhist niches and brick floors have been discovered nearby.
In any case, the modern Thousand Buddha Cave is a sobering yet enlightening look at how faith endures through the humanity’s fickle wrath.
Xinjiang Trivia: Discovered in the 18th century, the original Thousand Buddha Cave contained a giant golden Reclining Buddha surrounded by countless tinier Buddha statues. Nine of the smaller statues were sent to Beijing’s Forbidden City as a tribute to the Qianlong Emperor, while the rest were lost to time.
Fodaoru Cave
After dipping our toes into spelunking, we next delved into deeper metaphorical depths with Fodaoru Cave or literally “Buddhist-Taoist-Confucian Cave”.
Yes, like that mouthful of a name suggests, this cave – or rather exhibit – is dedicated to the historical presence of Buddhism, Taoism and Confucianism in Xinjiang.
Located to the right of the majestic Tianwang Hall and its Forbidden City-inspired square – the cave is a quirky journey through famous figures from China’s three main religions (plus a surprise at the end) through a circular tunnel stretching for a few hundred meters.
In the first half, warmly lit statues and dioramas of famous historical, religious and mythical figures are located on either side, such as the major Buddhas and arhats, Taoism’s Four Heavenly Ministers along with Confucious himself and his Four Sages. Semi-legendary figures like the monk Xuanzang of Journey to the West also make cameos here and there.
The second half of the museum, however, brings you down into the depths of Chinese Hell itself. Lit in otherworldly blues, reds, and greens, the macabre dioramas feature demons punishing sinners in macabre and unusual ways.
Overall, I’d say think less museum, and more Haw Par Villa in Singapore or Tiger Balm Garden in Hong Kong and you’ll get the gist of what Fodaoru is going for – a fun romp through Chinese religion and mythology.
Sadly, most of the exhibits lack any English translations, so you’ll need to rely on a guide or a China-compatible translation app to get the most out of this exhibit. Also, some sections of the exhibit are also quite dark with stairs and uneven sections, so a phone flashlight might be necessary.
After plumbing the depths of hell, our next destination would be a bit more…heavenly.
Jiangbulake Grassland / Grand Canyon
After a quick lunch, we headed next to the lofty heights of the Jiangbulake Grassland Scenic Area.
Switching to a local bus, we made our way up on winding hills, growing ever more excited as the impossibly distant and shy white peaks crept ever closer towards us. On the sides, scattered smears of snow started to appear, eventually coalescing into massive sheets and fields that blanketed entire hills. All the while, the great blue sky – devoid of any clouds – loomed over the alpine heights.
By the time we arrived at our destination, the miles of barren, brown-green farmland had already turned into snowfields and alpine forests. With eagerness welling up inside, I stepped off the bus into the pristine white of the Jiangbulake Grand Canyon.
Even though autumn had just barely gotten started, it had just snowed here the night before we arrived, leaving the normally verdant fields covered in flaky white snow.
Almost hypnotized by the sheet of pure white before me, I headed straight for the viewing platform. Though one side was already marred by footprints, the other side was still pristine. My footsteps eventually grew slower, heavier and much more deliberate just to avoid slipping and falling face first into an entire foot of snow.
Tip: If you’re going to be stepping into deep snow, bring some waterproof shoes or boots along with a change of socks!
What greeted me at the end was simple but beautiful – a field of snow! For someone who’s only imagined it through photos or caught glimpses of it atop impossible peaks, seeing a snowfield up close sparked a childlike wonder within me. Grabbing fistfuls of it and feeling the ice melt and cold bleed into my fingers, I flung a few snowballs into the air that quickly crumbled away to the yelps and laughter of other visitors.
But then, as I caught my breath at a railing, I finally got a good look at what this platform was built for.
Like undulating waves, the northern flank of the mighty Tianshan Mountains seemed to ride the blinding blue sky, occasionally cresting at white peaks that gave off a slick, leathery sheen. Meanwhile, entire hills of birch and pine forests flocked together as they pushed in vain for the hostile heights of Tianshan.
And on such a clear, sunny day with barely any wind, the pale blue sky was blindingly intense. This was heightened even more by the stillness of it all; save for the occasional cry of a bird and the whistle of a breeze, there was none of the usual cacophany of insects or birds like in the rainforests I was familiar with.
Add to that a herd of sheep grazing at patch of grass left untouched by the frost, and you have a dreamlike scene that evokes the pastoral highlands of the Swiss Alps.
As Mount Tianshan’s shadows grew ever sharper and deeper in the late afternoon sun, we reluctantly bid farewell and moved back downhill, but not before a bizarre stop.
The Tianshan Strange Slope
Ever wanted a theme park ride with Xinjiang’s mountains as your background? Then Tianshan Strange Slope has something for you!
Called strange because of its “gravity hill” phenomenon, Tianshan Strange Slope is a stretch of road that seemingly mixes up both downhill and uphill due to the surrounding visual illusions, making “uphill” rides easy and “downhill” rides strenuous.
To experience this bizarre phenomenon for ourselves, single, double and quad-seater bicycles were provided along a mini track.
Tagging along a quad-seater with two fellow tour members, I started “downwards” onto the track. Unsurprisingly, this “downhill” track almost took the wind out of us two cyclists (one of us could not pedal due to sore legs). After taking a breather to admire the icy slopes of Tianshan, we turned the slope and moved “uphill”. This time, it was much smoother and we even got to enjoy the fresh, cool mountain air!
At the side, there was a viewing platform that offered views into the valley below, where an out-of-place windmill and some colourful creatures stood. Connected by walkways leading down below, they were perfect for photo-ops, but we had to satisfy ourselves with some snapshots from above.
Exiting the scenic area, we eventually made our way to the regional town of Qitai for the night, closing the book on our first, snowy day in Xinjiang.
Day 3 (Oct 1): The Bus Odyssey
If our first day was like a pleasant, if tiring jog, our second day would prove to be more of a gruelling marathon.
In order to reduce fatigue on later days, our itinerary was tweaked so that most of our travelling up to the north would be compressed into our second day.
Although I was informed, even warned, by multiple people about the large amount of distance we needed to cross, nothing could have prepared me for the twelve hours of long and mundane travel by bus.
In simple terms, driving from Qitai to Altay meant 570-plus kilometres through almost the entire eastern length of Northern Xinjiang – more than the entire distance between Kuala Lumpur and Hat Yai (532km)!
At first, the journey started off with recently harvested autumn farmland with the occasional herd of cows or sheep before quickly changing into flat shrubland filled with short bushes and grasses, with the occasional electrical tower for a little variety.
By the time lunch came and went, we were already knee deep in the Gurbantunggut Desert that dominated Northern Xinjiang.
Though not a true desert thanks to thin but resilient patches of shrubbery, it was still mind-boggling stretches of rocky, featureless desert that were only interrupted by even more stretches of rocky, featureless desert. Any variety like the occasional camels or wild horses quickly disappeared into the distance.
Out here in this wasteland, the only constant was the bottomless blue sky and merciless sun, both of which ground any decently tall peak into a modest mound. Truly, it was only then that I understood the mind-boggling size of Xinjiang.
Thankfully, frequent breaks at rest stops, the plentiful water provided by our tour and a serviceable but patchy 4G Internet connection managed to get me through most of the grinding fatigue and numbing tedium.
Tip: Most establishments at Xinjiang’s highway rest stops accept payment through cashless apps like Alipay and WeChat, even small-rime informal traders!
Just when I thought the hazy vignette of rock, sand and shrub on my window would never end, the first pools of water appeared. Startled, I felt a palpable relief as blue waters, green bushes and eventually golden trees start to appear.
We had arrived in the Altay, the far north of Xinjiang.
Day 4 (Oct 2): Heading to Hemu
After a fitful rest in Altay, a clear yet cloudy morning greeted us we embarked on the final four-hour stretch to the entrance to the Kanas-Hemu area.
Passing the entrance into the Kanas-Hemu area, we began to come across increasingly narrow two-lane roads that eventually shrank into singular lanes of traffic each way. They began to take us higher and higher into the mountains as well, where towering walls of stone and sparse strands of forest ruled.
Like the desert below, the stark slopes up here were hostile to any life besides the hardiest mosses, bushes and birches.
But even then, tiny little streams and crevices still managed to support a thin sliver of grass on their edges; I even spotted an eagle prowling the skies, dipping down to earth occasionally when something piqued its interest.
Meanwhile, on the opposite valley, forests well on their way to autumn gold lay tantalizingly close. And with each bend on the road, striking teal rivers faded in and out of sight.
Unfortunately, even out here in the Chinese frontier, we still ran across traffic jams. This was because hundreds of Chinese tourists had already started to descend upon the Kanas-Hemu area to take advantage of the National Day holidays on Oct 1.
And with there being only one lane each way, a poorly parked car or a traffic mishap could easily turn into a snarl stretching for kilometres, particularly around the tricky Hemu Visitor Service Centre. Sadly, this added an hour-plus of delays into our journey to Hemu.
On the bright side, the traffic let up soon after the service centre, allowing us to reach the Yunxiaofeng cable car at 6pm – a close shave before closing time.
Yunxiaofeng Cable Car
Part of the sprawling Jikepulin International Ski Resort, the Yunxiaofeng Cable Car takes visitors up through the eastern slopes of Mount Yunxiaofeng to a viewing area at the peak.
Although tourists usually come in winter to ski down its many pristine slopes, the cable car still brings people up to the peak year-round. And judging by the packed tourist centre when we arrived, autumn wasn’t exactly off-season either.
I gingerly stepped into the clattering cable car coach, sitting together with five fellow tour members as we were gradually lifted into the heavens.
Besides the whirr of cable car and hushed comments, the journey up was eerily quiet, as if the slightest sound would sway our sturdy cable car.
Thankfully, this serenity was perfect for enjoying the increasingly majestic and panoramic sights unfolding before us.
Just as the ski resort grew smaller, so did the peak grow larger, stirring us into slightly more audible murmurs. The doors opened with a clatter as we stepped forward into a strange new world.
Spread out across the mountaintop was an entire scenic area that offered fully 360-degree views of the vast mountain ranges that encircled us.
Although there were your usual tacky photo-op spots like the ever-popular heart and even a swing, it was clear that the mountains were the real star of the show.
Yunxiaofeng is also geographically significant as it straddles the borders of four entire nations. Guided by a helpful wooden marker, you can look out over the mountainous frontiers of China, Russia, Mongolia and Kazakhstan!
Looking west towards the golden sun, I spotted a colourfully draped stupa and a marker located at the apex of a bluff. Deciding to skip the photo-op areas, I moved towards the stupas on an unevenly paved path.
Only to be blasted by bone-chilling winds.
As warned earlier by our tour leader, the peak is a bitterly cold place that’s only made worse by the constant, howling winds.
Great unobstructed views also means baring yourself to the cold mountain winds.
Luckily, as part of my cold weather preparations, I brought along my inner wear, gloves and some heat pad-cum-pocket warmers that really helped to take some of the bite off the cold. Even then, my legs were shivering without an extra fleece layer.
Tip: Rather than giant, bulky, all-in-one winter gear, try going for flexible, easily removable layers that you can change on the fly.
Beating back the cold, I took the quieter, lower path past countless stone cairns and towers. Lit by the glow of dying daylight, these precarious yet enduring towers provided a small comfort against the gnawing wind.
As I gingerly made my way up some haphazardly shaped steps, I was awestruck by how the setting sun turned even the valley’s drab slopes and trees into a brilliant amber.
Reaching the top, I found myself awestruck when I looked out over the cliff. The setting sun had begun to dip behind some wispy clouds, throwing a simmering glow over the full breadth of the horizon. At the same time, a shadowy blue veil descended upon on the entire mountain range, darkening into a deep indigo as daylight drew its last breaths.
For a moment, the setting sun seemed to cleave sky and earth in two with its huge blade of amber – a truly spectacular sight.
Reluctantly prying my eyes away, I hurried back to for the return ride down the mountain. However, I still took the time to snap some closeup shots of the rainbow-coloured stupa set against the dusk sky, which was still remarkably crisp.
Even as the cabin trundled down with our tour guide, me and a group of chatty local youths, the evening sun was still just as mesmerizing. Refracted through the smudgy cabin window, the dying rays of sunlight drew me in with their mesmerizing beauty.
Back on the Hemu-bound bus, I looked out at the darkening skies. Slowly but surely, the creases and folds of the mountains, the endless, sweeping plains and herds of idling horses slowly melted away into the night, like a dream forgotten.
Tip: Although Xinjiang follows China Standard Time at UTC/GMT+8 (just like Malaysia), its far western geographical position in China means that sunrise and sunset times can vary wildly, especially between seasons. During our autumn trip, sunrise was generally around 8am, while sunset was usually quite late at 8pm.
Night set in as we finally arrived at the famed Hemu Village, or rather a satellite town filled with lodges. Still, the village was mostly filled with rustic wooden hotels lit with charming, if a little gaudy lights. Thanks to our tour guides, we still managed to enjoy a hearty dinner despite some seating issues with the planned restaurant.
While most of us retired to our rooms for the night, I decided to step out for a walk. Hemu at night meant plummeting temperatures that bordered zero, but thanks to a tip from our tour guide, I had to see something for myself.
Just a few metres from our lodge was a pitch-black road that took you into the hills overlooking the town. Guided by some chatter ahead, I walked up some wooden steps into a clearing full of people and looked up.
Faint and scattered at first, the inky-black sky eventually coalesced into a significantly more visible field of stars. Though nothing like the Milky Way, their appearance was nonetheless mesmerizing for someone more used to a few isolated dots in the sky.
Breathing in the piercing cold air, I exhaled a cloud of steam as I walked back to my warm, cozy lodge room.
Day 5 (Oct 3): Highs and Lows
On the day of our actual Hemu adventure, we awoke to a gloomy, cloudy day. Though not the best for photos, we pressed on after breakfast.
Despite arriving at 9 by minibus, the area was already alive with holiday crowds heading in along with shops and stalls hawking their wares. We weaved our way through the town towards the river and the outskirts.
Tip: Parts of Hemu Village are only open to small vehicles like minibuses or vans, so make sure to bring a smaller, secondary bag to store all your necessary winter clothes!
Hemu Village
Despite Hemu Village being the poster child of Northern Xinjiang’s rural beauty, the main attraction is actually the plateau overlooking the village. To get to this viewpoint though, you’ll need to walk (and even hike) quite a fair bit.
Xinjiang Trivia: Hemu was established as one of three minority enclaves (besides Kanas and Baihaba) for the Tuvan people, a Turkish-speaking minority. To keep out the cold and moisture, most of the traditional houses in the village consist of wooden cabins held together by mud and moss while also being half-buried underground.
We crossed the roaring Hemu River over a wooden bridge, entering a giant birch forest. Sprouting up from beneath the brown autumn carpet, the colony of bone-white birch trees that looked like long, skeletal fingers pointing up towards the heavens.
Xinjiang Trivia: According to a local legend, the horizontal “scars” or lenticels on a birch tree are the eyes of a star-crossed lover who still watches out for their loved one from beyond the grave, which is why lovers would traditionally write messages to each other on white strips of birch tree bark. Nowadays, there’s a convenient but heavily scribbled wooden board for you to write all your romantic messages on.
But here was where the true challenge started.
To get to the plateau, you’ll need to hike through multiple stairs and pathways that get steep real fast. The wooden paths make it much easier to walk but the rapid elevation and sweating in the cold left me winded at moments. If you persevere with some breaks though, it’s about a 20-minute hike to the top.
Wearily, I carried myself and my winter clothing bulk over the finish line onto a massive grassland. Wooden boardwalks crisscrossed the huge area, with most of it tracing the cliff facing the village.
Hoping to wait out the cloudy weather and to avoid the loud music blaring from the P.A. speakers, I decided to take a detour towards the mountains. Though they were neat and had some orange foliage, the dull skies weren’t doing it any favours.
I did come across a group of about fifty horses just chilling around the perimeter. They were primarily used by Kazakh horsemen to ferry paying riders around the grassland (60 yuan) or between the plateau and Hemu Village (100 yuan). The downside to this is the unbelievable amounts of droppings all over the fields.
Treading carefully over the droppings, I made a loop and moved towards the cliff. Due to the quiet surroundings on the far end of the plateau, the sudden roar of the Hemu River actually caught me by surprise. Glancing over the landscape, I immediately understood why Hemu was such an iconic Xinjiang destination.
Bands of yellow and green trees hugged the river, which surged ever southwards with an electric teal glow. Further afield, the town of Hemu cut a handsome rural picture thanks to its simple, single-storied wood cabins and scattered smoke trails floating upwards. Towards the faraway mountains, a lone road curved, rose and dipped, following Mother Nature’s plan into the great unknown.
Put together, this duet between humans and nature was utterly sublime. Even on such a cloudy day, the green-gold forests, untamed river and the charming town managed to stir feelings of nostalgia and romance within me.
Guanyu Pavilion
Saying goodbye to the Hemu region, we next headed towards the Kanas Lake Scenic Area.
But first, we had to switch buses at the sci-fi looking Jiadengyu Tourist Service Centre. Once seated, we were treated to scenic views for about an hour before we reached the more cabin-like Kanas Tourist Service Centre, where another 30-minute bus ride through rollercoaster turns and horse country awaited us.
Thankfully, we all managed to keep our stomachs intact as we stepped off onto the bus stop at Guanyu Pavilion.
Literally called the “Fish-watching Pavilion”, Guanyu Pavilion is a giant tower built in 2009 on the very top of Mount Halakaite. Its name originates from the supposed Lake Kanas Monster – a giant fish-like creature that has been occasionally spotted around the lake.
Located at 2,030 metres above sea level, it provides commanding views of both the Kanas Lake and the surrounding valley.
The catch? You have to work for it.
Just like Hemu, the main attraction is located far above. But this time, you’re going to have to scale 1,068 steps that rise dramatically though multiple slopes and ridges.
Looking up from the entrance, I couldn’t even see a single hint of the pavilion behind the giant mountain. Resigned to another round of legwork, I gritted my teeth and pressed on.
Huffing and puffing up to the first resting area, I could already see the cerulean contours of Kanas Lake to the east along with the forested valley to the west. Eventually, I breached the first crest hoping to see my destination, but beyond some slightly better views of the lake and valley, there was still no sight of the pavilion.
Tip: Keep an eye for a small, numbered plaque on the side of the walkway. They keep track of how close you are to reaching the 1,068-step mark.
I kept pressing onwards while taking occasional breaks at various landings until, along a relatively flat stretch, I finally caught a glimpse of horns peeking up over a ridge.
Far from being horns though, they were actually the wings of the Guanyu Pavilion roof! As I progressed further, more details revealed themselves: multiple floors, wooden construction and a silver-grey roof. Not only that, this magnificent sight was further elevated by the glittering autumn leaves all around.
Slowly making my way up the tower’s steep steps, I finally entered the tower. Another flight of stairs, and I was finally at the apex of the pavilion.
The hexagonal platform here offered some of the most panoramic views of the surrounding landscape yet, especially thanks to the now-clear skies that unleashed a radiant glow over every inch of the valley.
To the west, both sun and cloud crafted a beautiful composition; up above, the blinding sun bathed the larch trees of the alpine valley in a scintillating glow. Meanwhile, patches of clouds painted islands of shadow onto the vast grasslands.
To the east, the milky blue waters of Kanas Lake absolutely electrified the crowd of sightseers, despite the looming shadow cast upon it by the mountain we stood on. Of course, clear skies and just the right touch of cloud cover more than made up for it.
Sadly, as I peered over the eastern side, I could see no giant fish or lake monster lurking within its depths. On the flipside, I could truly witness with my own eyes one of Xinjiang’s great northern beauties in all its divine glory.
And there’s even more! Making my way down towards the western valley, I was treated to a closeup look at the gold and brown hues that dyed every tree, grass and wildflower. In particular, the reed and rush plants of the grasslands were charming, backlit against the still-radiant evening sun.
But back down on earth, things were starting to look a bit less heavenly.
Due to closing time being at 6, everyone on Guanyu Pavilion was already making their way down. And since getting on the park buses was the only way back, a long queue had already started to form. We had to wait 30 minutes before getting back to the visitor centre.
And at the visitor centre, even more people were ready to head out of the park! This was when the National Day holidays became painfully relevant.
With massive crowds converging on the waiting area, what was once an unusually large waiting area became a sea of people. Once I saw a sign saying “1 Hour to Exit”, I could only brace myself for the wait. It was about 1.5 hours of waiting before we could board.
Another 1-hour bus ride and a transfer later, we finally arrived at our (thankfully) nearby hotel for a late dinner before retiring for the night.
Day 6 (Oct 4): A Day of Rivers
Waking up to an absolutely freezing morning tempered by a warm breakfast, we then headed back into the Kanas Scenic Area.
As if to make up for the rough night yesterday, we were blessed by superbly clear skies. Not only that, on the way from Jiadengyu to Kanas Tourist Service Centre, we managed to catch a spooky and ethereal sight.
Passing by Shenxian Bay or “The Bay of the Immortals” (the park calls it Fairy Bay though), a low, thick mass of fog hung over the land. The fog was basically an impenetrable white screen that left not even a silhouette of the rivers and forests within.
Skirting just beneath the sunlit slopes, the mountains seemed to float above the murky fog, making for a breathtaking sight.
Tip: When travelling from Jiadengyu to Kanas Tourist Service Centre, try and get a left-hand side window seat for the best views. If you’re coming from Kanas Tourist Service Centre, get a right-hand side seat.
It was not long before reached our next stop – the famous Kanas Lake.
Kanas Lake
Like most of Northern Xinjiang, Kanas Lake makes you work for its great views, with a decent distance between the bus stop and the actual lake itself.
But hey, the views along the way more than worth the legwork: gorgeous open grassland, sun-baked mountains on all sides and even a short walk through a dark forest.
Tip: If you look towards the west, you can just about make out Guanyu Pavilion sitting on top of Mount Halakaite!
At the end, a massive, open pier served as the gatekeeper to Kanas’ northern jewel – Kanas Lake.
A crescent-shaped lake with depths of up to 188m, Kanas Lake is a highland lake that is also the source of the Kanas River. Although its name means “beautiful, rich and mysterious” or “canyon lake” in Mongolian, some say it means “Lake of the Khan” because supposedly, Genghis Khan once drank from its waters.
Regardless of its name, Kanas is frequently cited as one of China’s most beautiful lakes. And I’d say that’s pretty hard to argue with, thanks to its pristine alpine panorama of blue-green waters, autumn-dyed forests and a crown of mountain ranges all around.
Besides popular pleasure cruises, walking paths also extended around the eastern half of the lake as well as its outlet downriver. Hearing the roar of the river and the chatter of tourists, I decided to check the outlet first.
Little did I know, I would be spending the entire allotted hour simply capturing the pristine beauty of the Kanas’ River instead of the lake. Hindsight is 20/20, after all!
The first stop was the lake outlet. Here, the fast-flowing waters dashed themselves across well-worn rocks, creating tiny white waves that quickly disappeared back into crisp but surprisingly murky waters.
However, at quieter sections shielded by the high trees, I could see a mirror image of the golden-capped trees on the opposite bank – a sign of autumn’s coming march.
Brushing my way past the throng of photographers on the walkway, I passed through a few forested areas. Stepping just a few feet inside these forests was already enough to drown out the brilliant sunlight, leaving most of the interior in cool, shadowy shade.
Finally, after what felt like forever, I stopped at an open area marked by an awkwardly curved tree pointing towards the heavens next to a vast rock-strewn river basin. The afternoon sun cast a blinding, glittering sheen on the turquoise river as it washed over a field of submerged rocks, creating a picture-perfect postcard photo.
Feeling the pinch of time, I quickly doubled back. I had planned to head down the opposite lakeside path, but it was already time to regroup when I reached the pier. Apparently, according to this Youtube channel, this opposite path takes you through some pretty nice viewpoints of the lake and even some ancient rock paintings out in the open. But as they say: you win some, you lose some!
After slurping down some thick, saucy and delicious Xinjiang-style noodles, we were off to our last Kanas stop. Well, actually, three of them!
The Three Bays of Kanas
Shenxian Bay
The Three Bays of Kanas are particularly famous scenic sections of the Kanas River that are located between Jiadengyu and the Kanas Tourist Service Centre.
Although we had actually passed through the bays three times at this point, this was our chance to take some pics unblemished by a bus window. But, we still had to rely on the shuttle buses to hop from one bay to another. Thankfully, the queues were much more reasonable this time.
From the Kanas Tourist Service Centre, our first bay was Shenxian Bay. Though it had wowed us with its ethereal foggy appearance in the morning, that veil had already vanished under the glaring afternoon sun, just like the mystical, ephemeral immortals in its name.
Tip: Clear days in Xinjiang can get very sunny, so make sure to bring a cap or hat!
Of course, the tiny teal bay more than made up for it with the signature sights of northern Xinjiang: golden forests, cloud-tinged sky, grassland and even a herd of cows! Though ordinary by Kanas standards, even the most ordinary scene here is sure to wow any nature lover.
Moon Bay
Boarding another bus, we then disembarked on Moon Bay. Unlike Shenxian – which was easily accessible on flat walkways – Moon Bay requires some extra steps – literally! Going through and underpass and a narrow mountain path, we reached an absolutely packed viewing platform overlooking the bay. Once you brush past the crowds though, you’ll see why.
Snaking towards us from west to east, highlighted by the autumn-touched forests and clear sky, was an absolutely captivating teal river. It barrelled in from the north as it traced a crescent arc – hence the name – before disappearing beyond the far corner. Like an auspicious Chinese dragon, it blessed the dry, arid banks with thick colonies of green and amber trees on either side. It’s no wonder that Moon Bay is considered as Kanas’ star attraction.
Speaking of dragons, the next bay involves them too!
Wolong Bay
Wolong Bay (lit. Reclining Dragon Bay) is the largest and most visually diverse of the three bays, consisting of sandy shoals, a branch river and a series of precarious, desolate islands. Its name comes from the winding bay that looks like a playful dragon resting in the waters.
Since it was the drier autumn season, water levels were not high enough to fully connect the bay to the main river. Still, the majesty of the landscape and the shimmering surface of the “seasonal” lake still drew my lenses towards them.
Finally, with a last look at Wolong Bay, we had to say our goodbyes to Kanas.
Tip: Shuttle busses in between the Jiadengyu and Kanas service centres operate between 8am – 8pm.
Wucaitan
Autumn hills and riveting rivers soon gave way to our old friend – blue horizons and desolate desert.
But it was not long before we were introduced to another river and a geological wonder to boot, far out in the dunes of Xinjiang.
Wucaitan or “Rainbow Beach” is a geopark just northwest of Burqin County that features stunning examples of the Danxia landform – badlands full of desolate yet colourful hills
And, like its name suggests, every nook and cranny of this unusual landscape is dripping with a psychedelic palette of earthy browns, sandy whites, rust reds, and many more colours that are strikingly similar to the Australian outback.
Stepping through the entrance guarded by three (wise?) sheep, I was immediately presented with a wide plaza and three directions.
To the left in the distance is a high viewpoint dominated by an out-of-place maritime guest – a lighthouse.
Meanwhile, past the monument dedicated to the traditional Kazakh sport of sheep-snatching and a multi-story viewing platform, I saw the massive vista that lay before me: hills that rippled violently through the land like a velvet tapestry before giving way to the Irtysh River and a swathe of dusk-lit forests.
But wait, there’s more! Look towards the west and you’ll see various paths taking you right between the famed hills, stopping at vantage points and points of interest.
Looking for a closeup with the star of Wucaitan, I walked west.
Although deceptively flat, the area’s many hills, ravines and bends take quite a while to navigate, especially with the narrow paths. But they do provide you with unprecedented look at the labyrinth of hills, surreal natural columns, web-like cracks and even tiny caves that make up this geological wonder.
Tip: For keen adventurers, there’s a suspension bridge on the western area that takes you across the river to the opposite shore.
However, the best part of Wucaitan has to be the setting sun. Showered in an amber glow with sharp shadows retreating into shaded bluffs and ravines, even a mundane sunset took an air of mystery and magic.
In the end, as I imagined the billions of years of wind, water, sun and earth it took to form this sea of hills, I felt a wave of awe wash over me just as the light started to fade away.
To close out our jam-packed day, we enjoyed some Xinjiang classics for dinner like egg with green bell peppers, lamb served with fragrant and savoury spices along with the northern Chinese classic of wotou cornbread.
Bonus: Kanas Tower Bridge, Burqin
If you’re staying in Burqin for the night, there’s an extra attraction for those who still have energy to spare after all that sightseeing – the Kanas Tower Bridge!
This bridge, decked out in European-style towers and arches, is already a charming sight on its own. But at night, the bridge is closed off to traffic, leaving pedestrians to wander between its regal towers.
On one side of the bridge, there’s even a small market and a sightseeing pier!
Day 7 (Oct 5): Silk Amidst the Sands
Today, our journey back towards Urumqi began in earnest as we made the gigantic U-turn back through the Dzungaria Basin.
After spending the morning burning calories in my bus seat, I was ready for yet another satisfying, if predictable banquet-style lunch at Awudan’s Roast Lamb and Pilaf, a down-to-earth diner in the city of Karamay.
Only to be served some of the best lamb chop pilaf I’ve ever had in my life.
Yes, it sounds too good to be true, but the carefully roasted lamb chop mixed in with carrots and pickled veggies were a match made in heaven, marrying the salty lamb with sweet carrots, sour veggies and perfectly oiled rice in a mouth-watering matrimony. The rice itself was especially delicious, complementing the overwhelming flavour of the lamb with an oily yet refreshing sweetness.
In fact, I would have honestly ordered a second or third serving if I hadn’t mistakenly ordered a diced beef pilaf earlier (which was just as good by the way).
Reluctantly pulling myself away from Awudan’s, we headed back into the desert for a date with some devils.
Wuerher Devil City
Also known as the Karamay World Devil City, Wuerher Devil City is a 260-square kilometre geopark best known for its wall-like rock formations called yardang.
As for why it’s called the “Devil City”, it’s actually because of the eerie noise emanating from the desert, which is caused by rocks, sand and stones constantly being knocked against the yardang walls by unending winds.
Although not exactly a spooky attraction, some of its lonely and desolate vistas can be quite hauntingly beautiful!
After lining up with a sizable crowd of visitors – we didn’t have to wait too long – we boarded a small shuttle bus that ferried us across the dunes. Accompanied by Chinese-only commentary, our shuttle ferried us past the key landmarks of the park, namely cool or intriguing rock formations that resemble sealions, peacocks or even faces!
Tip: Temperatures at Wuerher can breach the 20s here while harsh winds will lash out constantly at you. Dress lightly and bring some wind protection and sunscreen!
The first stop was an exhibit dedicated to the petroleum extraction and industry in the region, but we moved on to the next area – the Camel Camp.
Stepping off the bus, we first heard he grunts and cries of these humped, furry beasts blending together with the excited yelps of tourists as they rode them – all underneath the shadow of a massive wall of stone.
Nearby, a collection of yardang hills and assorted canyons beckoned the more adventurous travellers, with some yardang being climbable!
But I felt most attracted to the seemingly boundless desert of the outskirts. Here, only a lone road stretched out into the flatlands marked by tired, worn-down hills, creating a surreal Mars-like landscape.
Next, we boarded the shuttle again to the Qijian Xia Tianshan filming site. Used as a backdrop for the 2006 Chinese TV show Seven Swords Descending On Mount Tian, the area sports copper statues of characters from the show riding atop horses.
For those unfamiliar with Chinese TV dramas though, some nearby stairs lead up to a notable rock formation called the Homeward-bound General and a much more panoramic view over arid yardang hills.
Another shuttle ride later, we arrived at yet another silver screen landmark that’s much more world-renowned – Crouching Tiger and Hidden Dragon!
This Wuerher stop is dominated by a bombastic sculpture depicting two dueling characters from Crouching Tiger and Hidden Dragon (2000) and Hero (2002) standing atop a gnarled tree.
Just off to the corner is an impressive caravan of camel and trader statues commemorating Xinjiang’s history as a hub on the Silk Road.
Pockmarked by white blemishes and sun-baked scars, these statues look ahead to a long-gone trading route that was once filled with treacherous landscapes, merciless bandits and overwhelming loneliness, but is now replaced with a concrete faux-rock bus stop.
Back in the modern day, after skipping the Dinosaur Valley, we finally exited Wuerher.
Overall, Wuerher felt more like a theme park with all of its filming locations and statues. Still, a decent helping of natural desert sights makes this a must-visit for those interested in the arid landscape that dominates most of Xinjiang.
Day 8 (Oct 6): Sayram Serenade
From Karamay, our next destination would be the scenic, majestic and terrific Lake Sayram!
After a gruelling six-hour bus ride, of course.
Still, it was not all that bad, because we got to taste some humble meat pie, with modest portions to boot!
After an afternoon spent gazing and dozing at the dunes, we stopped for lunch at a nondescript rest area filled with various shops and restaurants.
The restaurant – a place cheekily named 奔跑的肉饼子 or “Running Meat Pie” – quickly served up a green tray of three dishes and a side of salted nuts. Contrary to most of my Xinjiang dining experiences so far, this manageable meal was a far cry from the overwhelming banquet-style meals we were used to.
Already pleasantly surprised, I was further delighted by the dishes themselves – a bowl of spicy soup noodles, beef soup and, of course, meat pie with dumplings. Although an eccentric bunch, they worked extremely well to complement each other.
Once you chow down on the dry yet soft pie bread and its savoury filling, the fragrant beef soup and its chewy slices of Xinjiang beef helps wash it all down. Meanwhile, the spicy noodle soup adds a bit of kick to everything while you fill up with some silky-smooth noodles.
Satisfied with our meal, we went forward with our journey into Lake Sayram.
Lake Sayram
Sayram – which means “lake on the ridge”, “peace” or “wish” in Mongolian, Turkish and Kazakh respectively – is a massive lake of 458 square kilometres right on the Chinese-Kazakh border.
Known as one of China’s most gorgeous and picturesque lakes, its entire circumference is dotted with various sightseeing spots and outdoors activities.
Entering the lake scenic area by the northern entrance, we first transferred onto a local bus. It took us another half an hour of mountainous country before we finally saw the first glimpses of Sayram.
Appearing as a thin sliver of water from afar, it grew into a vast sheet of calm water as we started hugging its shores. Stretching far into the horizon, the only hint of its borders were the ethereal mountain ranges looming behind a hazy veil of mist.
As we oooh and aahed at this pretty sight, we soon wheeled into our first stop at the Waterfront Beach.
Waterfront Beach
Though the place was called a beach thanks to its gravelly shore, the main attraction here was a giant pillar emblazoned with the words Jinghai and Sayram, the classical and modern names of the lake. As usual, a crowd mingled at its base in the eternal quest to get a selfie.
Much more interesting though was the raised wooden path that lined the rocky shores of Sayram, taking you seemingly from end to end of this huge lake.
Really, it’s almost hard to overstate the sheer size of the lake. Even without the mist, its far opposite shore was basically a blur and out of reach.
But back to the path, the walkways offered an easy, scenic route with some great spots for nature photography, particularly near the rugged shore.
Despite the harsh and cold climate, reeds, grasses and wildflowers still flourished among the ashen boulders, making them the perfect models for some seasonal autumn photography.
Backed up by the sky-blue lake – eerily calm save for a stray gust – even the most casual shots here would probably net you a wallpaper-worthy photo!
Dianjiangtai Scenic Area
Next up was the Dianjiangtai scenic area. Here, a grand, palatial set of stairs led up to a vast viewing platform. I had assumed the journey up would be manageable after a week of infrequent hikes and acclimating to Xinjiang’s weather, but I couldn’t be further from the truth.
With each step, not only did I have to fight gravity and the sheer number of steps, the wind chill got increasingly more violent the further up I went, forcing me to cover up to avoid getting my energy sapped.
Hauling myself up the final step, I was rewarded with a sweeping view of the waterfront, where pin-sized crowds looked out over the crisp, blue waters and a few sailboats navigating it.
But the crown jewel of Dianjiangtai has to be the nine monolithic mounds or aobao that silently guard the top in a straight line. Used for worshiping the gods and offering sacrifices, these mounds were also decorated with the flags of the Eight Banners – the eight Manchu armies that once served the Qin emperors.
Right behind these mounds was another surprise, a path leading to the heavens themselves! Or the closest thing to them, at least – a giant mountain range.
Besides the formidable peaks, there’s also a massive stretch of Xinjiang grassland here dotted with distant yurts that will let you live out your rugged nomadic fantasies through some selfies.
Instead of fantasizing though, how about experiencing it?
Xihai Grasslands
Our last stop at Sayram lay at the Xihai Grasslands, which required us to backtrack all the way to the western part of the lake. Once there, a vast grassland campsite along with some handsome horses awaited us.
Guided by Kazakh riders, our tour members got to experience some nomad-style horseback riding on a stretch of wide, open plain.
However, I was off stalking some prey out in the lakeside. Five unmoving orange figures stood next to a zigzagging path. Inching closer, I spotted a white undercoat, bushy tails along with black-tipped ears and hands – the unmistakable signs of a red fox!
These five adorable lupine sculptures were spread out in various poses and expressions; some were relaxing, another was looking curiously at the sky while another was in the middle of an unbelievably cute yawn.
While waiting for our last group of riders to return, I looked out one last time over Lake Sayram. Although it was undoubtedly misty, I had never gotten a clear view of the far shore the entire time we were here.
At moments it was a solid white curtain, at others it tossed only a shadowy hint about what lay on the mystical far shore. Save for the billowing wind and a distant tractor, the overwhelming silence of autumn closed out our day at Lake Sayram.
Day 9 (Oct 7): From Bus to Bazaar
Lake Sayram marked the very last of the natural wonders in our itinerary. From now on, we would be journeying back into the urban realm on a nine-hour odyssey back to Urumqi.
Thankfully, we had (mostly) gotten used to the long bus rides.
By the time the skyscrapers and highways of the Xinjiang capital appeared before us, it was already well past 5pm.
Although Urumqi was the capital of a still-developing Xinjiang, it had pretty much all the hallmarks of a modern city. Blocks of busy stores, dense apartment blocks, and even bus rapid transit systems linking them all were visible outside of my now-familiar window.
Sadly, that also meant the downsides of city life like giant highways and clogged streets.
It would take another hour before we finally entered the old commercial heart of Urumqi at 6, at a place called the Urumqi International Grand Bazaar.
Urumqi International Grand Bazaar
Although bazaars usually bring to mind a single street filled with modest stalls and shops, Urumqi’s bazaar takes it to a whole different level with entire city blocks and buildings dedicated to all sorts of snacks, food, trinkets and souvenirs.
One moment you can be sampling some sweet Xinjiang cantaloupe, the next you could be listening to a shopkeeper strumming a traditional folk instrument; there are too way many shops and experiences here to experience it all in one day, let alone the few hours we had.
Still, I did the best I could to experience the bazaar’s greatest hits, namely a huge variety of goods and a bustling atmosphere.
Coming in through the south entrance, you’re immediately greeted by the Islamic minarets of the central mosque and the observation tower. Underneath, streams of tourists from all over China are patronizing shops, enjoying street food at a corner or hauling around bags full of their shopping spoils.
I headed to the first obvious landmark – the giant tower.
Here, for 39 RMB (~RM26), you can ascend a standalone observation tower filled with somewhat mediocre exhibitions but also a commanding lookout over the entire bazaar and the surrounding Urumqi cityscape.
Underneath the observation tower, I also stumbled upon a huge gathering of traditional Uyghur dancers! Paired with the themed posters, installations and even costumed performers, there really was a Uyghur theme park air throughout the bazaar, for better or worse.
Right next to the tower is the Erdaoqiao Mosque, a reconstruction of the original mosque that was built alongside the bazaar in 2003. Its green-topped dome and minarets looked impressive when shown against the evening sky.
Another thing the Urumqi Bazaar excelled at was its sheer variety. Stalls and restaurants serving street food and piping hot meals stood alongside avenues, roofed streets and entire malls selling all sorts of products and services, creating a dizzying whirlwind of commerce.
After two hours of window and actual shopping – I bought some dried fruit snacks and a box of Xinjiang yoghurt – we enjoyed a buffet dinner accompanied by Uyghur-inspired performances to end our first night in Urumqi.
Day 10 (Oct 8): Museums, Horses and a Final Hurrah!
We started off our last day in Xinjiang with a thankfully late checkout, only departing around 12pm. Our return flight was to be at 2am tomorrow, so there was still plenty of time to explore Urumqi.
After a quick lunch, we were back on the road to the day’s first attraction – the Xinjiang Museum.
Xinjiang Museum
Passing the usual security gauntlet, the museum’s concave façade led into spacious atrium that branched off into multiple exhibits.
Linked by sleek, white halls, the dark and cozy exhibit rooms detailed Xinjiang’s history, spanning its prehistoric tribes, Islamic and Buddhist kingdoms and up to modern history.
Some of the more interesting highlights of the museum included recreations of ancient Buddhist cave temples and tombs, an interactive touchscreen mapping out the far-flung reach of the Silk Road through artifact discoveries and even the famous Tarim mummies, cloth-bound mummies with remarkably well-preserved Caucasian features.
Save for about a third of exhibits, most of the information on display was surprisingly translated into English quite well, particularly the labels for major artifacts and historical eras.
All in all, the Xinjiang Museum was an enlightening look at the lives led by the many peoples that once roamed the deserts, lakes and highlands we had just visited.
Xinjiang Ancient Ecological Park
Our penultimate stop was to be at another place dedicated to Xinjiang’s history, albeit one of hair, four legs and hooves – horses!
Xinjiang Ancient Ecological Park is a breeding facility and attraction dedicated to the Akhal-Teke, a breed of horse famed for their speed, endurance and ability to survive barren desert environments – traits which made them valuable as warhorses to the nomadic Turkmen peoples of Xinjiang.
Xinjiang Trivia: Between 104-102 BC, the Han Dynasty once warred with the Dayuan Kingdom over acquiring the Akhal-Teke horses in a war known as the War of the Heavenly Horses.
But first, to get to the horses, we had to go past a combination of curiosities such as statue of Mao Zedong, a parade of petrified trees and a group of Xinjiang’s grassland statues occasionally sprayed with misty dry ice.
After that though, we finally arrived at a giant rectangular equestrian track. Soon after, to the accompaniment of dramatic music, a dozen riders on horseback rode out bearing the five-starred Chinese flag.
After a rousing introduction by the blaring P.A. system, we were then treated to a thrilling show featuring a whole host performances and stunts like horseback archery, horse herding, mock battles and traditional nomadic games such as sheep-snatching. Seeing these ancient traditions in action really brought to life the tales of the steppe people that I’ve read and heard about.
Once the show came to a close, we were then treated to a tour of the stables, a massive complex that boasted hundreds of horses and 18 different breeds besides the Akhal-Teke.
Of particular note were the largest and smallest horse breeds in the world – the Shire and Falabella breeds. Where the mighty Shire horse could easily tower over a man just by standing upright, the adorable Falabella horses were barely larger than a household dog – showcasing the wonders of horse breeding.
While some horses were shy, preferring to rest or chew on hay, others were very curious, constantly peeking out or even knocking the stable doors for attention. And no wonder, for a fee, you can even feed them some juicy carrots!
Bidding farewell to the park, we went for a choose-your-own dinner back at Urumqi’s Wanda Mall. Even for a smaller regional capital, the place was filled with famous brands like Li-Ning or Decathlon and even shops bursting with the ever-popular blind boxes. The food selection was pretty great too, including regional Xinjiang and Chinese cuisine along with the standard fast food joints like KFC and McDonalds.
Once we had our final dinner in Xinjiang, we walked out into the cold night and managed to catch a group of locals doing some folk dances out in the square.
Backed by melodious Central Asian tunes from a giant boombox music player and lit by the shimmering Wanda Mall façade, we savoured our final sight of Xinjiang before our we finally left for the airport.
After going through the usual airport procedures and a crowd of fellow Malaysian tourists, we were back at the shuttle bus again.
Despite the palpable exhaustion thanks to our full day out and the 2am flight, the bus was abuzz with excitement and chatter, in contrast to our quieter first ride.
With one last look at the dark sky, we bid Xinjiang and our northern adventure farewell as we ascended the gangway up to our flight home.
Final Thoughts
As the lights dimmed for takeoff, I reflected back on our ten days in Xinjiang. All in all, though there were long and exhausting bus rides, all of them were rewarded by some of the most magical, gorgeous lakes and mountains that I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing.
Of course, the generous hospitality of our tour guide and tour leader helped a lot as well. Both hot water and bottled water was constantly available while our check-ins and meals were mostly provided on time (save for some external disruptions).
For those thinking of going on a self-driving trip, take note: although self-driving tours are popular among locals, the huge amount of red tape and hassle to get a valid driving license in China, the gruelling distances and the language barrier make it extremely difficult for overseas tourists. Booking a tour or at least a guide is highly recommended.
And although some may find the development, commercialization and crowds in northern Xinjiang’s attractions to be off-putting, I think the sheer ease of access (especially for the elderly), plenty of quieter areas and the option to avoid Golden Week still make Xinjiang a great, unique and worthwhile Chinese holiday.
Overall, I would highly recommend any nature, adventure or photography lovers to visit Xinjiang, especially the northern regions I’ve detailed here around Hemu, Kanas and Lake Sayram.
Not only are you getting a glimpse into some of the prettiest and most picturesque landscapes in China, you get to explore some of the most unexplored and underrated regions of Western China as well!
Sources
Jimsar Thousand Buddha Caves Scenic Area
QQ.com Article – Jimsar Thousand Buddha Caves Mystery
https://new.qq.com/rain/a/20220505A0960600
Baidu Page
https://baike.baidu.com/item/%E5%90%89%E6%9C%A8%E8%90%A8%E5%B0%94%E5%8D%83%E4%BD%9B%E6%B4%9E/4751778
Hemu Village
Baidu Page
https://baike.baidu.com/item/禾木草原
Jikepulin International Ski Resort / Yunxiaofeng Cable Car Map
https://www.skiresort.info/ski-resort/altay-tyrol-planned/trail-map
Kanas Lake
Baidu Article
https://baike.baidu.com/item/%E5%96%80%E7%BA%B3%E6%96%AF%E6%B9%96/163512
Guanyu Pavilion
https://baike.baidu.com/item/%E8%A7%82%E9%B1%BC%E5%8F%B0/23608395
Xinjiang Ancient Ecological Park
China Daily – Akhal-Teke Horses Article
http://en.people.cn/n3/2024/0620/c90000-20183466.html
Awudan’s Roast Lamb and Pilaf
https://www.sohu.com/a/392632108_111938
