白玛娜珍《绝尘之境：漫游然乌湖和来古冰川》

“Ranwu” translates to goat’s milk. As we traversed through the rain and snow, arriving at the shores of Lake Ranwu, the reflection of snow-capped peaks waltzed upon the lake’s surface, evoking the sensation of stepping into an exquisite ink painting, its beauty casting a spell upon us. The rain and snow soaked our hair while the wind swept across the lake, imbued with the chill of ice and snow. In the embrace of Lake Ranwu, profound happiness blossomed in our hearts, which was pure and deep like the lake itself.

“I sincerely hope that in developing tourism, we don’t erect concrete structures around Lake Ranwu,” murmured Kangba man Bsod Nans Chos Vphel, a lifelong lake resident. “The meadows by the lake are so beautiful, while concrete is harsh and cold.”

Bsod Nans Chos Vphel, the tall and rugged chief of Waba Village, softened as he gazed at the misty lake. “Since childhood, we have herded cattle and sheep by Lake Ranwu, often sleeping on the velvety green meadows, listening to the animals graze, and watching the white clouds drift in the sky.” Bsod Nans Chos Vphel gestured towards the snow-capped mountains as he spoke, tracing a graceful arc behind him. “Look, the water flowing from the mountain resembles the trailing feathers of a golden-winged bird. They say the mountain is the bird’s head, and Lake Ranwu is formed from its tail feathers.” The tenderness in his voice surprised us.

“We must not build skyscrapers or lay concrete to destroy the meadows by the lake...”

We nodded in agreement, glancing back at Lake Ranwu, hearing the echoes of the water and the birds, and recalling the praise poems sung for Lake Ranwu by the people of Waba Village before the butter lamps.

“We must not build skyscrapers or lay concrete to destroy the meadows by the lake...”

We nodded in agreement, glancing back at Lake Ranwu, hearing the echoes of the water and the birds, and recalling the praise poems sung for Lake Ranwu by the people of Waba Village before the butter lamps.

Nestled in the southwestern corner of Basu County in Chengdu Prefecture, Lake Ranwu graces the landscape alongside National Highway 318, about 90 kilometres from Baima Town to Ranwu Town. This serene expanse covers 22 square kilometres and is 3,850 metres above sea level. The lake’s slender form stretches 29 kilometres, with an average width of less than a kilometre and a depth that never exceeds 6 meters. Its elongated silhouette and gently rippling waters are reminiscent of the delicate tail feathers of a golden-winged bird.

Lake Ranwu is a barrier lake bordered by the majestic Leirigabu Snow Mountain to the southwest, the imposing Azagongla Glacier to the south, and the rugged Boshula Ridge to the northeast. The lake is primarily nourished by the melting snow and ice from these surrounding mountains, making it a freshwater lake with a shallow mineral content of just 0.3 grams of salt per litre. The lake’s waters flow westward, contributing to one of the upper sources of the Parlung Tsangpo River, a significant tributary of Tibet’s renowned Yarlung Zangbo River. In recent years, the breathtaking beauty of Lake Ranwu has drawn countless visitors, transforming it into a critical destination for tourism development.

As we strolled around the lake amidst the rain and snow, Bsod Nans Chos Vphel voiced his concerns, “Look, there’s a plan to build a parking lot by the lake, but we hope they won’t pave it with concrete and find ways to protect the meadows.” The inclement weather only enhanced Lake Ranwu’s ethereal charm, making it seem like a poetic land detached from the world’s chaos.

“See that small island in the middle of the lake? That’s Dragon King Island,” Bsod Nans Chos Vphel pointed out. Through the misty waters, we spotted a small island enveloped by verdant trees. Its modest size and tranquil presence exuded a meditative calm. The fine, silvery sand along the lake’s shore gleamed, and an ancient wooden raft lay stranded on the beach. As we stepped onto the raft and gently rocked the ancient oar, we could almost visualise the ancestors of Waba Village, leading their yaks and mules across the lake to graze on the opposite mountains during summer. Every 15th day of the Tibetan calendar, the villagers of Waba don their finest attire and journey to “Dragon King Island” to pay homage and tribute to the Dragon King. Legend has it that during drought, the benevolent Dragon King hears the villagers’ prayers and sends down sweet rain to nourish the lands around Lake Ranwu. Thus, the crops of Waba Village have always thrived and are blessed with favourable weather. In gratitude, the villagers always remember Lake Ranwu, cherishing every blade of grass, tree, and creature as divine gifts bestowed upon them.

As we listened to Bsod Nans Chos Vphel’s enchanting tales of the hidden paradise, “Lamyu Lake,” tucked away in the mountains near Lake Ranwu, also known as the “Emerald Fairy of Green Turquoise,” our anticipation grew unbearable. The wind and rain could not dampen our spirits; driven by eagerness, we began our climb into the lush, rain-soaked mountains. After a strenuous ascent of over half an hour, we reached the summit and were greeted by a serene lake cradled in a valley encircled by a youthful pine forest. In the shifting daylight, the lake’s waters transformed from vivid turquoise to gentle ripples, reminiscent of a fairy delicately lifting her sari, swaying with the breeze.

A poem captures the essence:

“On the eastern mountain peak

A pure white moon rises

The face of Mama Maji

Floats in my heart.”

Amid the swirling snowflakes, Lamyu Lake gleamed resplendently, like a full moon amidst the dancing snow. Our hearts brimmed with wonder as we waded through knee-deep snow in the valley’s pine forest, making our way towards Lamyu Lake.

Yet, Lamyu Lake, crystalline and seemingly suspended on the cliff, eluded our touch. We struggled through the snow but failed to draw near. Bsod Nans Chos Vphel, lying in a deep snowdrift, laughed heartily as if he had anticipated this playful challenge posed by Lamyu Lake. It dawned on us that we had to descend into the valley and circle to the opposite shore to appreciate its beauty truly.

The sweet snowflakes, otherworldly lake, and valley transformed us into icy snow fairies. When we finally reached the side of Lamyu Lake, the reflections of the pine trees and snow-capped peaks in the clear waters hinted at the layered secrets of the lake or the subtle, hidden emotions of the Emerald Fairy of Green Turquoise. We lingered by the lakeside, dreaming of building a snow-covered cabin in this enchanting valley, living in harmony with the Emerald Fairy of Green Turquoise. In that moment, the joy of life blossomed like snowflakes, surpassing all worldly pleasures.

Year after year, the villagers of Waba nestle under the protective wings of the golden-winged bird and the emerald fairy of green turquoise. Their lives brim with abundant joy and profound beauty, making each moment a treasure. Bsod Nans Chos Vphel, regarded as a beloved child, embodies purity, sincerity, kindness, and beauty. On this particular day, after returning from Lamyu Lake, the wind and snow had transformed Waba village into a monochrome wonderland. Despite the encroaching dusk, Bsod Nans Chos Vphel showed no desire to return home. Instead, he guided us through the town, visiting one household after another.

“Here lies the home of Basang, once the poorest family in our village,” Bsod Nans Chos Vphel began. “When he was young, his family barely had enough tsampa to eat. Things got even tougher after he married and had children. But when the government began offering housing subsidies to needy families, our village committee decided to help Basang’s family first. We supported them in starting a ‘Tibetan Homestay,’ their living conditions have vastly improved.” As he spoke, Basang served us steaming butter tea, smiling humbly. Around thirty years old, he exuded competence. His home was immaculate, and the newly built three-story building bore the Tibetan Homestay sign. Basang led us upstairs, revealing two young Han Chinese inside.

“How did you end up at Ranwu Lake in this cold weather?” we asked curiously.

“We hitchhiked, catching rides part of the way and walking the rest. The snow this season is breathtaking!” the two young visitors laughed.

“But isn’t it too cold to stay here?” we wondered, given the lack of heating in the farmhouse inn.

“It’s wonderful! The Zangs are so simple and hospitable. They’re honest and sincere; they don’t cheat tourists, so we feel safe here. Uncle Basang’s butter tea is delicious, and it warms us up,” they replied. Listening to them, we nodded in agreement. These two youngsters, born in the 1990s and staying at Basang’s house, offered us a glimpse into the soul of Ranwu Lake. They are the essence of this land. Otherwise, many backpackers and cyclists who venture to Tibet see only the surface beauty, knowing little about the cultural depths or the creators of the sacred mountains and holy waters. Reflecting on this, we turned to look at Basang and Bsod Nans Chos Vphel. These two Khampa men, upon hearing our praise, looked bashful—a trait and virtue deeply embedded in Tibetan culture.

Leaving Basang’s Zang-style Homestay, the night sky was like black satin over the shimmering Ranwu Lake. Raindrops mingled with snowflakes, as delicate as cicada wings, fell gently. Though we wrapped our robes tightly, our hearts felt unusually warm. At that moment, Bsod Nans Chos Vphel pointed to a distant light in Waba village and said, “Let me take you to Grandpa Dunyue’s house.” With that, he led the way, his tall figure resembling a king, guiding us through the snowy night to visit his cherished people.

We discovered that seventy-year-old Dunyue was a veteran intellectual in Waba village. He had taught at Ranwu Lake for 34 years and was revered by Bsod Nans Chos Vphel. The older man sat by the stove, recounting his life story with a kind and calm demeanour, his memories dancing like the snowflakes outside the window.

“Our forebears have thrived beside the serene waters of Lake Ranwu, shielded by the sacred essence of the lake. Much like Bsod Nans Chos Vphel, the revered chief of Waba village, we aspire to steer the course of tourism development ourselves, ensuring the preservation of every blade of grass and every towering tree surrounding Lake Ranwu. As Dunyue spoke these words, his grandson’s eyes, twinkling like the clearest night sky, met ours. In that innocent, unblemished gaze, we glimpsed the heartfelt desire of Bsod Nans Chos Vphel, Dunyue, and all the villagers of Waba: safeguarding Lake Ranwu means preserving the purity of our deepest aspirations.”

That night, we were lulled by the gentle whisper of falling snow, watching as it slowly melted into the lake, flake and petal by petal. The tail feathers of a golden-winged bird danced through the snow, twirling gracefully in the frosty air. A divine light enveloped us, leading us into a profound slumber.

In our dreams, everything was white, snow-laden branches hanging high and shimmering with crystal clarity. The village within our dreams was cloaked in white as well. A bird alighted on the eaves, shaking off its snowy coat. From the heart of the town, a trail of footprints emerged, meandering through the snow-covered fields and into the depths of the icy mountains. There, the endless icebergs glowed with a deep, mysterious blue. Snow continued to fall, and hurried footsteps hesitated, glancing around with innocent tears. It was the little dog that could speak human words. Its master, a ruthless hunter, had taken countless lives, leaving the dog in a state of constant regret. The dog no longer wished to serve its cruel owner. One day, the hunter agreed to release the dog, but only if it could capture a creature spoken of in legend but never seen.

With tears streaming down its face, the dog searched through the blizzard. Amid the silent icebergs, it heard an unfamiliar sound but saw no figure. Following the sound, the dog finally cornered a giant snowball covered in eyes. This, it thought, must be the mythical lunar eclipse beast. As the dog chased it into a cave, the hunter arrived. He aimed his gun and fired, causing an avalanche that buried the entire Yalong village, leaving no survivors...

“Yalong Glacier now stands where Yalong village once did. As the glacier retreats, one can sometimes find remnants of the village’s past every summer,” said the old man, leaning on his walking stick. He was Qunpei, the village head of Laigu. After a night’s journey through vast beaches and thorny forests, we had awoken in Laigu village, near the Laigu Glacier, having come from Ranwu Lake.

“Our Laigu village is the only village in Xizang located on a glacier’s tongue, right at the tip of the Yalong Glacier. Traversing the glaciers takes more than three months,” Qunpei continued. The constant reflection of snowlight weathered his face, and his legs ached with rheumatic arthritis from the cold. The altitude of Laigu village was even higher than Ranwu Lake, and as we walked and talked, both Qunpei and Bsod Nans Chos Vphel were slightly breathless from the lack of oxygen. Indeed, while glaciers are beautiful, they are not fit for human habitation. The legend of avalanches conveyed the Laigu villagers’ understanding of good and evil: the heavy snowfalls of today were a consequence of yesterday’s killings.

The snow fell more fiercely like intense white flames, silently shouting and burning for those who slept beneath the Yalong Glacier. In the distance, the Laigu Glacier was veiled in snow and fog.

The original name of Laigu Glacier means ‘opening the door to the mountainside,’ yet outsiders often refer to the glacier cluster simply as Laigu village. This icy assembly is situated upstream of Ranwu Lake, including the Yalong, Kangma, Xiongjia, Tongga, Meixi, and Rijiu Glaciers. The elderly village head, Qunpei, shared this with us, though it somewhat contradicted what we had read on Baidu. After enduring the biting wind and snow, we finally reached the warm embrace of the village committee office. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of burning pine branches and cow dung. A beautiful woman had already kindled the stove and prepared noodles for us. When she greeted us, I was taken aback: she was a Lhasa native named Gongsang Zhuoga, now a civil servant in Laigu village.

“It’s freezing here all year round, isn’t it?” I remarked, finding comfort in seeing someone from Lhasa.

“Yes, but the air is particularly fresh. There are only around seventy households in Laigu, and the work isn’t too demanding. We’ve all grown accustomed to it,” replied Gongsang Zhuoga. Meanwhile, the elderly village head and Bsod Nans Chos Vphel, darker and more robust in appearance, watched her with pity and admiration. We chuckled as we sipped our hot tea.

“Gongsang Zhuoga, have you ever visited the glacier group?” As we huddled by the stove, our frozen bodies slowly thawed. Yet, venturing deep into the ice valleys was out of the question at this time of year. It is said that Laigu Glacier is among the world’s three most renowned glaciers. Each iceberg reflects a unique hue due to its geological positioning and soil composition. Some emit a deep blue glow, while others blaze red flames under the sunlight. Standing amidst these ice giants feels like a journey through time, a passage to another century, and entering the gods’ domain.

“Haha, the glaciers are breathtaking, but they are the abodes of the gods, not places for humans to dwell...” Gongsang Zhuoga smiled, adding, “We live here, perpetually clad in our down jackets. Transportation is inconvenient, and fresh vegetables are a luxury. Life is tough. So, the glaciers are meant for tourists to admire...”