After the long ride from Lijiang, Lugu Lake was the perfect place to rest up and put back a few beers; but the Litang River beckoned, so it was time to get back on the bikes and set off to tackle Sichuan's high-mountain passes.

We started by ascending a long, winding valley to the north, passing through the Mongolian settlement of Wujiao (屋脚), a remnant of the 13th Century Mongol invasion, until we came to the foot of the first of many challenging passes in our quest to Litang (理塘).

The dirt road wound up the mountainside through fragrant pine forests laced with enormous rhododendron flowers—some exceeding the size of soccer balls. Halfway up we stopped for lunch where some Yi shepherds emerged from the forest to check us out. We shared some walnut bread and aged gouda cheese, which they seemed to enjoy. The mountain perch provided stunning views of the surrounding snow-covered, craggy peaks as the four of us munched away happily.

From there, we broke from the main road to follow a broken and muddy trail down along the river bank. We'd only gone about 30 kilometers when the looming clouds above unleashed their fury. Luckily, we were within reach of a little family shelter whose owners shared their home and hearth while a few centimeters of hail blanketed the valley. As the road was no longer optimal for riding, the family considerately offered us a space on their dirt roof to pitch our tent for the night.

While they cooked us home-grown veggies and dried pork, they told us that they were preparing to vacate their home in three days as demolition crews made their way up the valley to construct a series of 10 hydroelectric dams. He pointed up the steep slope to his other property high above and told us that if we came back in three years, it would be well under water.

It was disappointing for us to think that one of southwest China's last unmolested rivers would be torn up so soon and swiftly, but over a bowl freshly-ground roasted barley flour called tsampa (藏巴) and yak butter tea, the kind man shook off our pity and said that the government had compensated him adequately. Moreover, he said, Sichuan really needs the electricity. With that, he packed us a large bag of tsampa for the trip, accepted no money and sent us on our way.

Our original plans to follow the Litang River for nearly 250 kilometers to the town of Litang were thwarted as the road we assumed existed simply didn't. So after about 45 kilometers, we cut back west and climbed the most difficult pass of the trip. The road was exhausting, stressful, cold, scary, muddy and technical with obstacles around every bend, but I can honestly say it was the most fun I have ever had on a bike. And the day just got better as we entered the town of Donglang (东朗).

As we cruised through the town of Donglang, stopping from time to time to chat with the locals and to watch a local fisherman net a beautiful river trout, we were forced to push each other onward as the desire to stay longer could have captured us indefinitely.

For the last 80 kilometers of our journey, we cruised from Benzilan through the winding Jinsha River Valley down to Zhongdian (中甸), renamed Shangri-La (香格里拉) by the Yunnan State Council in 2001 (see top photo). For us, however, Shangri-La will always be wherever our bikes take us next.

Images: Josh Pollock

GoKunming thanks Colin Flahive and Josh Pollock for their contributions - if you have a story you'd like to share with GoKunming readers, please contact us via our contact form.

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