Sand dunes and street food in distant Dunhuang

Being in a somewhat remote destination while traveling often means your trip starts to take on its own momentum – there’s a kind of inspiration that electrifies the choices you make and it’s only upon later reflection that you realize how remarkable or unworldly your experiences are. So it has been for Masayo and I in the town of Dunhuang (敦煌) in northwestern China.

Part of being in an out-of-the-way place is that you had to get there in the first place, and the weird high-desert bus trip we took on Day 75 to get here certainly set the scene for Dunhuang: it couldn’t be anything but a curious adventure.

So when we found ourselves biking past camels to make sand angels on high Sahara Desert-like dunes and sitting at outdoor tables eating piles of lamb skewers in the evening, it all seemed fairly normal. I wonder if someday we’ll look back on this as an unusual and notable experience? I think so.

For the first couple of days in Dunhuang I tended to hang around the hotel and work online; my money supply is ok but I feel like I need to work on websites a little more to prevent getting too low. Of course, that means that not only do I sit inside without seeing anything, but that I feel stress that can make blood sugar high. The large and cheap (and generally tasteless) Chinese beers don’t help either.

So I was annoyed but ultimately happy when Masayo insisted on Day 78 that we go see the famous sand dunes that we’d passed by on the bus into town from Golmud. At one end of a long road on the edge of Dunhuang is a UNESCO World Heritage Site called Mogao Caves – but, so frantic was I about financial matters, that we skipped them.

Riding rented bicycles out to the dunes instead, which rise rather suddenly from the surrounding countryside, we saw a tourist entrance complex, behind which a line of people were climbing the great ridges of sand high in the sky. They looked like ants, tiny dots against the sky.

We approached and saw the admission price for this climbing area: over $10 each, including a camel ride. Sounded nice, I guess, but touristy and expensive. I wanted to avoid it at all costs. And while grumpily avoiding fun things in an effort to save money can be self-defeating when it comes to enjoyable adventures, this time my stubbornness paid off and led to a great and more personal experience.

That’s because I wondered how they could control access to the entire Gobi Desert. So we headed down a little nondescript side road that passed under tenacious light-green trees and wound around between sand, scrub brush, and the occasional collection of houses.

And then we found a little path that led right to the sand dunes themselves. Free access!

We hopped off of our bikes and started climbing the slightly steep sand dune ridge that led up from the road. In immediate and stark contrast with even the little pathways we’d just biked on, the sand dunes were true desert: crystals of sand only, no vegetation and only the occasional little sand bug to be seen.

The sand gave way under each step, but the general shape of the dune held. It takes effort to climb through pure sand; your feet sink to the ankles with every new plant of a foot. And sand gets in everything – especially when you become so overwhelmed by the atmosphere that, like me, you lay down and make a sand angel.

The sun was setting because we were there in the late afternoon, and the weather was relatively cool. Climbing up to the top of the local ridge we had a nice view over Dunhuang and the surrounding countryside. This wasn’t a touristy camel ride and a controlled hike along a path that everyone else was taking. This was our adventure, one we had found ourselves. Our private little corner of the Gobi.

After running around, reflecting on the nomadic Central Asian lifestyle and the role of Dunhuang during the Silk Road days, and (it bears repeating) getting sand everywhere we bounded back down to the bicycles. Passing by a line of camels finishing their shifts for the day, we biked back to the main road and into town.

Back in the hotel room I immediately hit the shower, clothes and all. Why complicate matters – after romping around the wild desert, just combine the shower and laundry into one.

Because of the news we got in Golmud a few days ago – that the best place to extend my tourist visa is Beijing and we have to start making our way eastward to there – Dunhuang is going to be the furthest West that Masayo and I get on this trip. No Turpan or Ürümqi or Taklamakan Desert or Kashgar for us, at least not this time.

So it was good that we got to do a little micro-communing with the Gobi Desert here on the dry and sunny edge of Dunhuang. It cured my computer stress, and made me realize what’s important when you travel: you need money to live but if you’re not living and experiencing, traveling isn’t worth it.

What rewarding personal encounters have you had with something that was otherwise touristy?

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