In the Name of Love: A Journey to Xinjiang's Mountains and Rivers

In the name of love, we embarked on a journey to the mountains and rivers of Xinjiang, starting at the Licheng Ruixuan Hotel in Kuytun.

As the morning light gently spilled through the airplane window at Urumqi Diwopu Airport, I held my lover's hand, feeling the breeze of Xinjiang on my fingertips—a breeze carrying the scent of grasslands and the crispness of snow-capped mountains. Our first stop for travel photography was Kuytun, a small city guarding the gateway to northern Xinjiang, and the Licheng Ruixuan Hotel became our first warm haven.

When our car pulled into the hotel parking lot, the doorman greeted us with a cheerful "Welcome to Kuytun," a phrase filled with the unique warmth of Xinjiang that instantly melted away our travel fatigue. Stepping into the lobby, the warm yellow lights illuminated oil paintings on the walls—depicting the blue of Sayram Lake, the green of Nalati Grassland, and the grandeur of Dushanzi Grand Canyon. It felt as though the beauty of northern Xinjiang had already been infused into this space. At the front desk, the receptionist handed us our room key along with a handwritten "Travel Photography Tips" card: "Head to Sayram Lake early; the water at sunrise sparkles like diamonds. In the afternoon at Nalati Grassland, capture silhouettes of herders returning home against the light." The thoughtful advice felt like a friend's caring reminder.

Opening the door to our room, the first thing that caught my eye was the floor-to-ceiling window. Drawing back the curtains, the morning light of Kuytun spread across the rooftops in the distance, with the faint outline of the Tianshan Mountains visible like a delicate ink painting. My lover smiled and rushed to the window, saying, "Imagine waking up to Xinjiang's sky every day." I hung the dresses from our suitcase in the wardrobe—a white dress for the grasslands, a red scarf for the canyon. The hotel had thoughtfully provided dehumidifying bags in the wardrobe, and even the hangers carried a faint lavender scent reminiscent of the Ili River Valley.

Our morning travel photography began with the hotel's breakfast. The buffet featured Kazakh dairy curds, honey-drizzled naan still steaming, and thickly brewed Xinjiang milk tea. A sip of the tea, with its blend of creamy sweetness and tea bitterness, warmed my stomach. My lover captured a candid shot of me biting into the naan, sunlight streaming through the glass ceiling of the dining area, landing on her hair tips—a scene warmer than any landscape. The restaurant chef noticed us taking photos and suggested, "The little garden out back has blooming cosmos; you might want to take a few shots." Sure enough, the hotel's backyard garden was filled with cosmos climbing along wooden fences, their pink and purple petals swaying gently in the breeze. My lover stood among the flowers, and I pressed the shutter, with the hotel's red walls providing the softest backdrop.

From the hotel, it was just a two-hour drive to Sayram Lake. We arrived before sunrise, when the lake water was still a deep navy blue and the distant snow-capped mountains were shrouded in morning mist. My lover held my hand as we walked along the pebbled shore, the water icy like shards of ice. She tucked my hand into her pocket. As the first rays of sunlight touched the mountain peaks, the lake transformed—from navy to light blue, then to a shimmering silver-blue, as if the entire Atlantic Ocean had been poured into this place. I captured her silhouette as she crouched by the lake picking up stones, and our shadows reflected on the water, merging into two tiny dots. When the wind swept across the lake, her long hair danced in the breeze, reminding me of the hotel's travel tips: "When the wind blows, help her fix her hair." It turned out that these small acts of care had already been quietly woven into our travel photography by the hotel.

The afternoon at Nalati Grassland was a sea of green. We rented an SUV from the hotel and drove up the winding mountain road. The higher we climbed, the more the grassland resembled a sprawling green velvet carpet, dotted with sheep like scattered grains of salt. My lover wanted to ride a horse, and a local herder brought over a gentle steed, saying, "Take it slow; this horse is very tame." I followed behind, capturing her riding along the herding path. Sunlight pierced through the clouds, casting dappled light on the grassland. When she turned back to smile, even the horse's mane seemed to glisten. At dusk, as the herds returned home, the sound of bells echoed across the slopes. We sat on the grass, watching the sunset paint the sky orange. My lover leaned on my shoulder and said, "I wish we could bring this wind home." I pointed to the photos in the camera, "We already have, along with the hotel's lavender scent—they're all in here."

The most unforgettable experience was at Dushanzi Grand Canyon. Just a half-hour drive from the hotel, the canyon entrance left us breathless. Millions of years of river erosion had carved layers upon layers of ridges into the earth, resembling the wrinkles of the land—majestic enough to render one speechless. My lover, draped in a red scarf, stood at the edge of the canyon, the wind lifting the scarf into the air. As I pressed the shutter, the setting sun cast its glow into the canyon's ridges, the collision of red and yellow creating a beauty that brought tears to my eyes. Tired from walking, we rested at the canyon's viewing platform. My lover flipped through the photos on her camera and suddenly said, "I still crave the dairy curds we had at the hotel this morning." I laughed and messaged the hotel front desk. When we returned, our room had a small plate of dairy curds waiting, along with a note: "We knew you liked them, so we saved some for you."

On the last night of our trip, we stargazed on the hotel's terrace. Kuytun's night sky was free from city light pollution, the stars dense like scattered diamonds. My lover leaned against me, flipping through the travel photos from the past few days—capturing the blue of Sayram Lake, the green of Nalati Grassland, the red of the canyon, and the morning light at the hotel breakfast, along with the cosmos in the backyard. She said, "The best travel photography isn't just about capturing landscapes; it's about capturing us enjoying the landscapes together."

On the day we left, the receptionist walked us to the door and handed us a small gift box containing two bottles of lavender essential oil from Ili. "Take this home, and next time you smell it, you'll remember your days in Kuytun." As our car drove away, I looked back at the Licheng Ruixuan Hotel's red walls, glowing softly in the morning light like a warm embrace.

In the name of love, it's not just about traveling with your partner; it's about finding a place that remembers your every little need, infusing Xinjiang's gentleness into every detail, and making every travel photo not just a record of majestic landscapes but also a testament to the warmth of love. Next time we visit Xinjiang, we'll stay here again and embark on another journey of mountains, rivers, and love.

Post by Licheng Ruixuan Hotel(Kuitun City） | Aug 29, 2025