Songpan involved many firsts. It was the first time I had been to such an altitude. It was the first time I had ridden a horse for such a length of time. It was also the first time that peculiar aspects of the Chinese nature first began to itch my sensibilities.
The greatest memory is the landscape. Whilst New Zealand can claim the title of being the first place I viewed a landscape of such gargantuan proportions, the ranges that lead to the Tibetan plateau are certainly on a scale beyond anything the isle across the Tasman could offer. I also only climbed to a measly 1900m in New Zealand. On the trek to Bing Shan, or Ice Mountain, our final ascent we calculated must have reached at least 4500m. The trek rose from Songpan, already at 2000m and situated amongst some hills dotted with birch trees but obviously having been cleared for pasture, into a steadily more alpine environment and some towering mountains. The photos will speak for themselves. The base camp from which we ascended to the mountain was at 3500m, and as it was early in the season, I awoke to a crisply frozen tent in the morning. The days were pleasant and warm.
The horse aspect went pretty well without a hitch. I was saddle sore after riding for the couple of days. It was slow going, too. The horses looked underfed and overworked, and were temperamental to say the least. There were some steep, treacherous climbs, too. Ankle-deep mud churned up by the countless hooves plying the trail and slippery scree all on the edge of steep drops into distant valleys made some of the sections a little perturbing. I also learnt that the horses were easily spooked. I was reaching round to take my water from my pack when the horse suddenly bucked past the other horses until I could calm it and get it under control. All this done on one of the above-mentioned paths made for a heart-stopping moment.
The landscape was not pristine, being the domain of Tibetan herders and a constant flow of travellers. But one particular habit of the Chinese certainly made itself apparent on the trek: a complete disregard for the environment and ignorance about the effects of rubbish on the environment and environmental health. On the bus rides to and from Songpan, besides the systematic destruction of natural water flows by countless hydroelectric dams, mountains of rubbish were seen strewn down waterways and off cliffs. The lady in front of me on the ride back to Chengdu from Songpan had no qualms with wrapping her rubbish up in a plastic bag and tossing it out of the window of the moving bus. On the trek, too, this disregard for the consequences of abandoning refuse was evident. Around the hill from the camping ground a small pile of rubbish was accumulating next to the stream, all this in an otherwise intact natural landscape. I had filled a plastic bottle with water on the return journey to Songpan to ensure I had enough to hydrate me, having not had enough water on the previous day. We left the horses for a stretch as the descent was too steep for them to carry us and luggage. Upon rejoining the horses I searched for my water, which was nowhere in my luggage. I asked the head guide where it could be. He indicated that it had come loose and had been thrown off the edge of the track, which was confirmed by another traveller. Not only was I frustrated that a full bottle had been discarded, which meant that I was once again left without sufficient water, but that the bottle was plastic and was to join the rest of the refuse by the wayside, to spend the next several thousand years finally decaying.
