Xinjiang is the largest and most westerly province of China. It’s also one of the strangest. The majority ethnic group here are the Uighurs (pronounced wee-ghurs), who are Muslims. Culturally and genetically, they are much closer relatives of Tajiks and Turks than of the Han Chinese who rule the country from Beijing. They aren’t the only Muslims in China, but there is an undercurrent of separatism among them that Beijing will not tolerate.
I entered China from Pakistan across the Khunjerab Pass. The immigration and customs checkpoints aren’t at the pass itself, where they would be buried under snow for several months of the year. Instead, the Chinese have only a security checkpoint at the pass and the immigration and customs checkpoints are two hours’ drive down the road in the town of Tashkurgan. Once I completed the formalities and exited the building, it was clear I’d arrived in a radically different country.
Tashkurgan is inhabited mostly by ethnic Tajiks, a traditionally nomadic people. The small town’s sole tourist attraction is a fort built atop the only hill for miles in any direction. The fort was built 1,400 years ago during the Han and Qing Dynasties as a border outpost. Its mud-brick ramparts contrast little with the surrounding hillsides, but provide panoramic views of the valley below.
Part of the flood plain below the fort has been turned into a sort of park by the government, but the green pastures are still dotted with yurts (the traditional tents of nomadic herders) and sheep graze freely.
Only a couple of hours’ drive north of Tashkurgan lies Kara Kul Lake. Many places in the region share the same name. There is a Kara Kul Lake over the border in Tajikistan, and a town in Kyrgyzstan called Karakol. The Lonely Planet guidebook calls this place “the most beautiful spot in western China,” which probably artificially inflated my expectations. I decided to spend the night there, when a four-hour walk around the lake would have been sufficient in retrospect. The night in a yurt made it worth the effort.
The lake sits in a valley between two massive mountains – Kongur to the north and Muztagh Ata (Father of Ice) to the south. Both were reflected clearly in the still water of the lake, though their summits were often shrouded in clouds.
Kongur, though taller, looked less dramatic from the shores of the lake.
Muztagh Ata, its summit just barely over 7,500 m, provided a more dramatic backdrop.
A walk around the lake took me through many nomadic pastures, which were filled with sheep and yaks.
Baby yaks (“calves” doesn’t sound as cute as they actually are) were grazing with their mothers at this time of year.
As night fell, I settled into the yurt with seven other travellers. The piles of carpets on the walls and floor insulated us from both the cold and sound; the inside was eerily quiet. The stove finally ran out of fuel a few hours after we went to sleep, and temperatures quickly dropped to nearly freezing. We slept under piles of heavy blankets to keep ourselves warm, but on the whole the yurt was quite comfortable.
In the morning I caught a car to Kasghar, the largest city and transport hub for the southern part of Xinjiang Province. Today it lies at the junction of several highways and a railway line, but its history and importance dates back 2,000 years, when it was a critical stop on the Silk Road. Islamic culture has been dominant here for several centuries, but prior to its arrival this area was a major center of Buddhism.
Today, however, it is the Islamic sites that remain standing. The Id Kah Mosque is the most famous of them, an island of silence and greenery in what has become a bustling modern Chinese city.
This mosque cannot compare to the grand scale of those I’ve visited in Egypt, but it is special in its own way. Timber is extremely rare in this desert region, and the mosque’s pillars have charming imperfections that attest to the difficulty of finding large trees.
Outside, the Chinese government has constructed a very modern square, with children playing in colorfully lit fountains after dark and small amusement rides.
Despite the centuries-old historical sites in the city, Kashgar has been heavily redeveloped by state agencies. Mao watches over everything now.
Kashgar’s lively night market was the source of my dinner every single day I spent in the city. For less than $3, you can gorge yourself on barbecued meats, fresh bread, noodles, fish, and eggs. The crowded market is a sight to behold on its own, but the food is fantastic as well.
More and more hostels are popping up around China, and as always, they’re a great place to meet other travellers. I’m hiding in the back of this photo after an unfortunate encounter with a barber who spoke neither Chinese or English. It’s mostly grown back now.
From Kashgar I traveled over the mountains to Kyrgyzstan. As with the border with Pakistan, the immigration post is nowhere near the actual border. After stamping your passport, the officers give it directly to the taxi driver who will drive you to the pass. He only returns it once you’ve been kicked out of the car at the border fence to walk over to Kyrgtzstan.
