Our day began in the early morning chill of Xinduqiao, a town famed among photographers and travellers as a “paradise of light and shadow”. After breakfast, our taxi driver picked us up, and we headed south, tracing the winding roads toward the villages of Ritou and Dongfeng in Jiagenba Town. These settlements are part of a region known for its well-preserved Gyarong Tibetan culture. Watchtowers dot the landscape, and barley fields stretch beneath the gaze of snow-capped peaks. Life here revolves around farming and herding.

West of the villages, the road quickly steepened, climbing through a series of alarming switchbacks. Along the way, we passed Rikusi (日库寺), a Tibetan Buddhist monastery perched on the mountainside. While little is documented in English about Rikusi’s history, monasteries in this region are often centuries old, serving as spiritual centres for local communities and preserving the religious traditions of the Kham region of Tibet.

We left the car near a mountain pass at 4,000 metres, beneath a riot of Tibetan prayer flags strung across the road. Each colour represents an element, and as the wind tugs at the cloth it is believed to carry prayers across the land, spreading blessings of peace and compassion.

The air was thin, but the weather was perfect: blue skies with just a few drifting clouds. The initial climb was steep, and we soon encountered a local forager collecting mushrooms, his brightly coloured motorbike parked beside the trail. High-altitude fungi, including the prized matsutake and caterpillar fungus, are integral to local diets and economies, fueling a modern “gold rush” in many Tibetan regions.

Within an hour we reached a broad plateau at 4,270 metres. The landscape opened into rolling hills, punctuated by solitary prayer flags marking various peaks. The sense of space and isolation was profound, fostering humility and awe. Pilgrimage routes and koras (ritual circumambulations) often cross such terrain, believed to purify both mind and body.

With no clear trail ahead, we navigated by GPS, passing two minor summits, each marked by a lone flag. The highest stood at 4,420 meters. We paused here for tea, watching rain clouds gather in the distance, the silence broken only by the wind.

Gewa Monastery

The trail descended into a valley, and light rain began to fall. Our destination was Gewa Monastery (འགེ་ཁ་དགོན་པ། 古瓦寺), a Gelugpa (Yellow Hat) sect monastery founded in 1556. Tucked away in the mountains, Gewa has long served as a spiritual centre for local Tibetans. Architecturally, Tibetan monasteries in this region often blend stone and timber construction, with prayer halls adorned with colourful murals, thangkas, and statues of the Buddha.

We arrived to find a group of monks drinking tea beneath a tent in the courtyard. Inside, the prayer hall was dim and heavy with the scent of incense.

The G318 Highway

Our driver met us at the monastery, and we began the long descent to Kangding along the G318 (318国道), China’s longest national highway. This epic road stretches from Shanghai to the Tibetan border, but it is the Sichuan-Tibet section that is most legendary. Built in the 1950s, the G318 is famed for its dramatic scenery: sheer cliffs, deep gorges, and rapidly changing weather. It follows part of the ancient Tea-Horse Road (茶马道), a trade route that for centuries linked China and Tibet across some of Asia’s most formidable terrain.

We stopped for lunch at a roadside restaurant, savouring Sichuan dishes fresh from the wok. The food was infused with wok hei, the elusive “breath of the wok” created by intense heat caramelising oils and sugars into smoky, complex flavours. Achieving it requires skill and a well-seasoned wok, and it remains a hallmark of Sichuan and Cantonese cooking.

As night fell, we reached Kangding (康定), which itself has long stood at the crossroads of Han Chinese and Tibetan worlds. Historically known as Dartsedo, it was the capital of the Kingdom of Chakla and a major trading post on the Tea-Horse Road. Here, Han brick tea was exchanged for Tibetan wool, and the city became a melting pot of languages, religions, and cultures.

That evening, the streets came alive with music and movement. Locals, young and old, gathered in circles to perform Guozhuang, a traditional Tibetan folk dance popular throughout Kham.

It had been a long day, moving through centuries of history: from the green fields of Xinduqiao, across windswept mountain passes, through the quiet halls of Gewa Monastery, and finally to the vibrant streets of Kangding. We were exhausted, but content to be back at a more forgiving altitude of 2,500 meters.

If you want to follow the same trail, you can download the GPX track.