Wrong turn (again)

Having descended to 2,000m and arrived in the heat of the day yesterday, we all prepared for a warm day today. Ham was the most courageous and set off dressed for the beach. Others were a little more circumspect and, thankfully, donned a coat and a jumper — but even they complained of the cool air. Amendments were made, though not before we had lost Nigel and Tobs, so three of us trundled along through scenery that, frankly, we have become rather used to but still admire and gawp at.

We passed a massive lake that was not on the map. We could see it from high above, but no amount of zooming in on any map type we had would show it. Most strange, we thought. When we reached it, we realised it was hardly deep, and there were wooden drying structures covered with hay or straw. Mr AI informs me these are called “tshog-khang”, or simply drying frames — used to keep harvested grain or straw off the damp ground and allow the mountain air to circulate. The raised, tripod-style legs help protect against moisture from fields and grazing animals, and post-harvest flooding. So there you go.

We met up with Nigel and Tobs at the Tiger Leaping Gorge, but not before losing Chris and Arthur (again), who missed a vital turning in a tunnel. They clearly don’t want to be with us…

The Gorge was, as you’d expect, spectacular. It is one of the world’s deepest canyons, carved by the Jinsha River between the Jade Dragon and Haba Snow Mountains. The depth from the river to the peaks is approximately 3,790 metres. The river flows at a rate of 1,400 cubic metres per second — that’s about 560 Olympic swimming pools per minute.

Nellie tried out her dancing routine and photo-bombed an influencer, who took it in good heart.

Our final leg of the journey challenged my assertion yesterday that we had travelled on one of the world’s most dangerous roads. Three times we were driven off the road by crazy Chinese truck drivers who charged around hairpin bends while overtaking slower vehicles on the way downhill, with zero prospect of stopping. Slamming on the brakes and desperately taking avoiding action didn’t impress them that they might have been in the wrong. They blasted their horns as if I were the culprit.

Anyway, it did allow me to figure out a conundrum that has puzzled me for a few days. Often, when going up or down steep hills, I’ve noticed water tracks on the downhill lane. “There must be lots of trucks carrying wet loads,” I thought — but it dawned on me today that, in this province at least, heavy trucks have water-cooled brakes, and the evidence shows on the roads.