Sunrise at Songzanlin Temple

Number of days：7 days
With whom: and friends
Updated: 2025.07.29

Yixian Travel Photography: The Story Behind the Photos

The Story Behind the Photos: Sunrise at Songzanlin Temple

It's strange, too. After the fire at Dukezong Ancient Town in Shangri-La, I hadn't thought about visiting Songzanlin Temple or Shangri-La for years.

In November of 2024, the urge to go suddenly returned. Seeing the weather was favorable, I bought a plane ticket and set off.

After landing at Lijiang Airport, the car I'd arranged was parked in the airport parking lot. The owner of the rental car agency and I were already acquaintances, so we simply inspected the car and took a video of it. Without even asking for a deposit or paperwork, they gave me the keys and off I went. We left Lijiang Airport at 11:00 AM and took the highway directly around Lijiang Old Town, heading to Meili Snow Mountain in Deqin. Self-driving is all about spontaneity. We arrived in Shangri-La at 1:00 PM, got off the highway and drove a long, unfamiliar road into Dukezong Ancient Town. There, we found a Sichuan fish restaurant and had a delicious lunch. We set off again at 2 a.m. After leaving the ancient city, there were no more highways. The roads seemed the same as they had been many years ago, though the conditions had improved considerably. We crossed Lashi Lake, walked along Benzilan, and climbed over Baima Snow Mountain. Then, after a 10-kilometer detour around Deqin County, we arrived at the Meili Snow Mountain viewing platform. This place was no longer the scene of the dozens of guesthouses lining the mountainside. With the ground being broken and construction underway, it had become a bustling town, bustling with B&Bs, hotels, restaurants, and supermarkets. We drove directly to a B&B I'd previously booked, with a good street-facing location. We booked a room on the highest floor, facing Meili Snow Mountain. While the price was high, it saved us from the crowded crowds at the viewing platform the next morning. After dinner, we tried to retire early, but the room was chilly and even with the electric blanket on, it felt too hot. So, later in the evening, we climbed to the rooftop of the guesthouse to photograph the stars. We groped through the cold night alone until 1 a.m., finally returning home satisfied. I returned to my room to gather herbs and settle in for bed, only to be haunted by the creaking of the roof and the clacking of the bathroom panels. Neither sound was loud, but in the quiet of the mountain night, it was incredibly jarring. The noises continued for a few minutes every half an hour or so, until 4:00 AM, when I finally couldn't stand it anymore and called the owner upstairs, suspecting a dog was making a noise. We checked everywhere but couldn't find a single living creature. We even suspected a guest's pet dog was making the noise. Only when the noises recurred did the experienced owner confirm that it was a rat in the bathroom panels. I figured it must be the giant rat that had been spying on me through the cracks. It seems the rats of the plateau have incredibly strong lungs, powerful treading power, and impressive stamina! Perhaps it was just tired, or perhaps the rat felt it had been discovered, but after that, it quieted down. After 4:30 PM, I finally drifted off to a deep, drowsy sleep. I woke up at 6:30 and set up my equipment on the balcony, ready to capture the spectacular moment when the first rays of sunlight shone over the peak of Kawagebog on the Meili Snow Mountain. Today's sunrise was absolutely stunning. The snowcapped mountains seemed to be ablaze, and the 13 peaks of Meili were radiating a golden glow. This was my second time capturing the stunning sight of the Meili Snow Mountain. After breakfast, I had originally planned to walk toward the salt wells of Mangkam, Tibet, but the weather forecast predicted fine weather for Shangri-La tomorrow, so I decided to turn back. I remembered a path leading down to the river, and after crossing the bridge, I could reach the other side. It was a very gentle path through the valley. The sunshine was brilliant, the river shimmered, and the banks were bathed in rich autumn colors, with large patches of cacti visible from time to time. This path led to the Mingyong Glacier at the foot of the Meili Snow Mountain's main peak, to Xidang Village, and beyond to Weixi. The small scenery was delightful, and I stopped as I walked, not rushing to get there. The area was quiet and deserted, a truly secluded paradise, with few cars and people. Near Xidang Village, there's another river bridge. From here, we have to spiral back up to the main Yunnan-Tibet Highway, otherwise the next river bridge is far away. Entering Deqin County felt like returning to earth. At 2 PM, we arrived at Benzilan Town, a town that held beautiful memories for me from over a decade ago. It doesn't resemble the Yunnan-Tibet Plateau, but rather a small city in the warm tropical zone. It's a beautiful town nestled along the Jinsha River. Tibetan-style houses cling to the hillside, surrounded by lush vegetation, vibrant flowers, shaded by eucalyptus trees, and a rich variety of fruit. It's a beautiful and tranquil town. The buildings are, however, several times larger than they were a decade ago. We chose a restaurant in the middle of the county town and ordered the local specialty, wooden barrel fish, accompanied by two side dishes. The meal served as a break from the long journey. The restaurant faces the street, its facade modest but rather opulent, but the interior is spacious, with plenty of private rooms and elegant seating. Behind the building lies a spacious courtyard, where the Yunnan pomegranates are large, red, and ripe. After lunch, we continued our journey. Around 4:00 PM, we passed Lashi Lake and arrived at a parking area along the main road, on the meadow south of Songzanlin Temple. We disembarked and gazed out at Songzanlin Temple nestled against the mountainside. The distant mountains, the temple, the village, and the meadow all rose in a jagged, ascending sequence. I took a test photo, and the overall composition suggested this spot was exactly where I had planned to capture the sunrise over Songzanlin Temple. Looking back at the hills to the south of the road, it seemed a more suitable location. After roughly confirming our location, we drove across the meadow and continued our pilgrimage to Songzanlin Temple. At this time of year, Shangri-La is clear and the azure sky makes the white walls of Songzanlin Monastery gleam like snow. The gilded copper tiles, pagodas, vases, and reclining deer on the temple's golden roof reflect a dazzling golden light. Although winter has arrived, the sun on the plateau still scorches the body and face, and even in short sleeves, there's no chill. Climbing the hundred steps of the plateau, everyone sighs and pant; gazing at the sacred Tibetan Buddhist temple with reverent admiration. Burn incense and make vows in the Golden Hall, praying for the well-being of all beings; kowtow to the Buddha, wishing for peace and prosperity. Songzanlin Monastery, known as the Little Potala Palace, is the center of the Yellow Sect of Tibetan Buddhism in the Sichuan Basin. The monastery is massive, with a complex of five-story Tibetan-style towers nestled against the mountainside. I returned to Songzanlin Monastery, to the Golden Hall, a place I'd once visited. Once again, I entered the main hall. The 108 pillars remained the same, as did the bronze statue of the Fifth Dalai Lama and other deities that had previously been enshrined there. The murals that filled the walls remained the same, and even the mysterious glow of the butter lamps within remained unchanged. I withdrew my meager cash and once again prostrated myself, offering incense money as a sign of my reverent devotion. It was a little after 6 p.m. when I left the temple. The afternoon heat was rapidly fading, and a chill was creeping in. After two days and one night of sprinting across the plateau, with only two hours of sleep, I was eager to find a comfortable hotel for a good night's sleep. Just as I was about to get in the car, I suddenly remembered that there was a genuine Shangri-La Hotel here. I called them and found a membership rate with breakfast for under 700 yuan, surprisingly cheaper than the awful B&B I stayed at last night. I also confirmed that the hotel had central air conditioning and heating, a rarity for hotels in Shangri-La. It was also very close, about 20 minutes away, just two blocks east of Baita Temple and within easy reach of the ancient city's South Gate. As for the hotel's ambiance, quality, and comfort, there's no need to elaborate. The next day, I woke up at 6:30 AM as scheduled. The street outside the window was pitch black, a cold, bluish-gray glow under the dim streetlights, with almost no pedestrians or vehicles to be seen. At 6:50, I arrived at the car with my gear, only to discover the windows were coated in icicles. The wipers were useless, so I had no choice but to start the car and crank up the air conditioning to full blast, hoping to quickly clear the obstructing icicles. Although I was anxious, worried I wouldn't be able to capture the first rays of sunrise, safety was paramount. It wasn't until a little after 7:00, about ten minutes after the car started, that I could barely see the road through the windows. It wasn't completely melted, but I just had to be careful to get going. Yesterday afternoon, we arrived at a parking lot that was a good spot just after 7:20. The sky was beginning to lighten, and the small parking lot was barely a car in sight. Only in the distance, a half-broken gasoline barrel, a few heavy pieces of wood burning, had the metal barrel walls glowed red. As soon as I stopped the car, I heard a young Tibetan man shout, "Hey! Come over to the fire! It's so cold!" I asked him, "Is it better to take photos here or on the hillside behind?" He replied without hesitation, "It's better up there. You can see the front of the temple better there. Some people took photos from up there, so it's better up there." I thanked him and prepared to carry my gear up the mountain. The young man then said, "You'll be quicker if you go up there. It'll still be light out in just over ten minutes, so be safe!" Time was indeed running out. The sunrise forecast said it would be at 7:43, and the young man wasn't kidding; it was less than 20 minutes away. I carried my 38-pound camera gear and walked about 200 meters east, crossing the road and reaching the foot of the hill. Looking up, I saw the slope was very high and steep. I hadn't observed the details yesterday, but the slope was over 8 meters high and at a gradient of over 45 degrees. It looked like it would be quite a climb. In the dim morning light, I saw a thicket of thorny, withered grass on the slope. If I couldn't push myself, I could pull some for leverage; it shouldn't be a problem. So I took a few steps back and began to sprint upwards. But halfway up, I gave up, exhausted. I quickly leaned over to pull at the grass, mindful of picking only the thick, firm ones. It was winter, and the grass had long since dried and brittle. When I heard the snapping of roots, I felt a chorus of "it's over!" I tumbled and tumbled, sprawling down the slope to the valley floor. After such a sprint at over 3,000 meters, by the time I came to a stop, my ears were filled with the pounding of my own heart and the rumbling of my heavy breathing. This was an impossible climb! But light waited for no one. Suddenly, it brightened considerably. With the brighter light, I spotted a gentler slope 200 meters east. There seemed to be yaks, and there seemed to be yaks on the slope above. Where yaks can climb, humans can certainly climb. Without even checking myself, I stood up and headed east. Sure enough, it was a gently sloping field with three terraces. Reaching the top, I found a flat concrete patch. Without giving it much thought, I quickly set up my tripod, pulled out my telephoto camera, and adjusted my shooting settings. Just as I was ready, the first rays of sunlight from the east shone brightly on the golden dome of Songzanlin Monastery. The valley was still shrouded in darkness. Songzanlin Monastery was nestled between two mountains, a small hill to the right in front and a large one behind. In the foreground lay open farmland and meadows dry after the autumn harvest. Only from December to January each year, when the morning light filters through the mountains, can you capture a perfect sunrise over Songzanlin Monastery. At this time, pine and cypress branches are burned in the villages and monasteries, using their unique fragrance to ward off evil and purify the air. The initial light only illuminated the golden dome, and the smoke from the burning pine and cypress branches was limited to two or three spots. As the sun rose rapidly, the smoke grew larger and larger. Due to the freezing temperatures, the cyan-blue smoke could only float above the low-lying villages and temples, forming a unique stratosphere. The smoke and light shifted in the morning light, sometimes brighter, sometimes darker, sometimes higher, sometimes lower. Sometimes it glowed golden, sometimes cyan-blue, sometimes golden-purple, in an endlessly shifting and magnificent scene. At this moment, blessed by this golden light, Songzanlin Monastery resembled a Buddhist celestial palace, a fairyland on earth. I'd been filming for about twenty minutes when three people carrying equipment came running over. They were also trying to climb back up from where I'd fallen, so I took a moment to show them the way. When they came up, I asked, "Did you get up late? Or haven't you found the spot yet?" "Don't even mention it. We rushed to the lake in front of the temple before daybreak, but when the light came out, we realized the composition wasn't right. We saw you from afar on this hillside, so we rushed over here. Ugh! Getting up early, only to be late!" As they set up their equipment, they asked, "How did you know this spot? Have you been here before?" "It's my first time too. I just scouted the spot yesterday afternoon." "Oh no! I regret it so much! We were so careless. We thought it was that spot. The light was so good. What a shame! We squandered a great opportunity." I kept shooting, adjusting my settings according to the changing light, pressing the shutter almost every minute, capturing this rare spectacle. About half an hour later, the light was strong enough to reveal everything. I realized I was covered in dirt, especially my jeans, which were no longer visible. I kept slapping my hat against them as I took photos. After all, the best light had passed, and the rest was just a record. With each thrashing, I stepped away from the camera. The drifting dust shone in the sunlight like a streak of golden light from a winnowing field. From a distance, it resembled a standing Buddha radiating Buddha's light. I noticed that, in just half an hour, my camera backpack on the ground had been covered in a layer of white frost. Looking at the small platform again, I suddenly realized that this was the old roadbed from more than a decade ago. The familiar cement surface was the old road surface. Just then, photographers began to arrive in the parking lot below the hillside, including a group of more than a dozen people. The peak light had passed, and the beautiful wonderland had returned to its usual state. I returned to the hotel for a hearty breakfast, then headed to Pudacuo National Forest Park and Baishuitai as planned. I arrived in Dali Shangguan at 11 p.m. The next morning, I woke up at 5:30 a.m. to head to Wuliang Mountain to photograph the sea of winter cherry blossoms. Unexpectedly, a cold front had passed through the area a few days earlier, delaying the blooming of the winter cherry blossoms. Flowers bloom all the time, so there's no need to wait any longer. We returned to Dali Ancient Town that evening, and the next evening we arrived at the romantic Shuanglang. During this time, I had the regret of visiting Wuliang Mountain, but I also took some unexpected photos. All in all, the delicious food and beautiful scenery along the way made this a worthwhile trip, with constant surprises and good luck.

Recorded in Beijing on July 23, 2025