August 1 - Through Hell and High Water

The promised bandits never materialised on the road to Litang. Possibly they stayed indoors because the weather was so foul - after last year's drought, we have had at least two rainy seasons packed into the past fortnight.

The tranquil Daocheng River was transformed into this raging torrent one day's march west of Daocheng County Town. Peasants collecting songrong mushrooms upriver were unwilling to risk the journey to market because they believed the water was going to cut the road.

And they were right. Though in fact this short section was the only one we encountered that was flooded - and motorbikes and mules could still cross comfortably （despte Shajima's reluctance）.

Close to Guowa, the first stop on the road from Daocheng to Litang. This is the old route, which almost no one follows these days as the sealed highway bypasses it about 30 km to the west. Other than random peasants and mushroom traders, we met no one for six days and saw some of the loveliest country of any stretch of the Long March trail. Shame about the weather.

Huami, however, was unimpressed. Just south of Labo, he went on strike, plonking himself down still fully loaded. We took the hint and pitched camp; the next morning Huami was as raring to go as he ever is （i.e. resigned to his plodding fate）.

He sure wasn't expecting this, and neither were we. After crossing about 20 Long March "Snow Mountains" without seeing a hint of the white stuff, we ran into a blizzard at the pass over Runjia, 4,520 meters above sea level. This was July 27. I thought my fingers were goners, even though I had them all stuffed into my mouth （one I prised them off the camera）. I have never felt such cold.

About 100 meters below Runjia pass, the snow turned back to rain and we pitched camp and got into dry clothes asap. We were stuck there for the next 24 hours while it rained on us and snowed on the peaks all around.

This was Yang Xiao's solution to the soaked inner soles - anda very good solution it was, too. Had I worn my gaitors, of course, this would have been unnecessary. However, 20 mins before the rains started, I was applying suncream.

Ganzi Prefecture has come on a bit since last year - wireless internet is now available!

Huami and Shajima get a tsampa treat for breakfast.

A rare break in the rain at our campsite above Gemu, the last of the forested zones where songrong proliferate. This campsite was 4,370 meters above sea level; once over the pass we were fully into the herding country of Litang.

Daocheng was a particularly rich source of odd signs. I suspect they have all been translated by the same person.

The Ding's - a Hui Muslim family from Gansu who trade in Daocheng - befriended us and loaded us up with fine yak butter and tsampa. Thanks to them!

And hats off to this fellow, too - Zhaxi, who collects interesting artifacts from the villages of Daocheng, exchanging his own artwork rather than paying cash for them （the locals don't like trading in money for antiques, apparently）.

Out of time again. Anyway, these last pix don't have much to say. The one below features some songrong - the last we found, in fact - if you look very closely at what I'm cutting. The pencil drawings were done by an artist from Tianjin who was staying in the same place as us on our first day in Litang. A full report on this year's all-fighting, Dalai-Lama supporting Litang Horse Festival will come soon!