Discovering Gansu's diversity, from Lanzhou to Gannan
Beyond Lanzhou sits one of China's great historic treasures, the Bingling Grottoes. Liujiaxia Lake was formed in 1969 by damming the Yellow River. Carved from red sandstone cliffs of a side valley running from the southwest side of the lake are 184 caves dating from the Liang (AD 502 -557) to the Ming period (1368-1644). Steps and walkways allowed me to marvel at this treasure, made even more special by a high-speed boat trip across the lake from a ferry port with connections to the city of Linxia.
Linxia Hui Autonomous Prefecture sits in the highlands southwest of Lanzhou, an area I visited thrice for extended lunch stops. From Lanzhou the road initially climbed steeply up from the Yellow River as it headed towards Linxia nestling in the fertile Daxia River valley. As we drove, I watched with growing curiosity the minarets rising from numerous mosques in small towns and villages alongside the highway. Markets bustled with seeming hundreds of sheep while children in traditional Hui dress gathered in bemused curiosity as I wandered through.
At Linxia it was an honor to be shown around the city's principal mosque while climbing the narrow staircase of its tower, to view the surrounding skyline where a profusion of green minarets rose above a swathe of low-rise homes. I was invited into one compact dwelling with a courtyard full of potted plants. It was lovely to sit there sampling fragrant mint-flavored tea. Linxia then, in the late 1990s, felt like a place for serious wandering, particularly with its markets feeling more like Middle East bazaars. As a photographer it would have been easy to stay, but Highway 213 was leading onward to even more joys of travel.
Past Linxia, the scenery changed gradually — from wide, river-crossed plains into steep-sided forested valleys. Dark slopes of coniferous pines gave way to pockets of grassy meadows nestling below jagged rocky peaks. Increasingly, bundles of prayer flags and white stupas adorned the slopes. Small temples stood on isolated promontories above the valley, with monks sitting alongside their crimson walls. Harvesting was underway, and grains of upland barley spread across the highway. Alongside the road a river of milky white water crashed over grey rocks. Log bridges lashed with wire spanned the torrents. I was increasingly reminded of northwest Yunnan.
