This river is called Dole River, and the road leads to Dole Township. From the map, the end of the valley is Dayi Village, which is very close to Jiuzhaigou. We plan to cross the valley first. If we can go out, we will go to Jiuzhaigou. If we can't get out, we'll go back the same way. The cell phone signal is flickering, and we can't find out how far it is. We have been following this road up the river. The road is good, about one and a half cars wide, and occasionally the place where you meet a car is wider. Towering peaks, winding rivers, green grasslands on hillsides, gentle slopes and golden highland barley and wooden fences on river banks separate the countryside from the highway, like a strong oil painting, with cattle and sheep scattered in the oil painting room.
More beautiful pictures need to look around: the towering mountains on both sides of the valley are covered with dense green trees, light green meadows and light yellow crops, and occasionally there are thin white paths winding up the hillside, with the top of the road and villages on it, which makes people daydream.
A small reservoir has been built on the Dore River, and the water is as clear as jade. In the remote mountains, suddenly seeing the clear water in this canyon has a very unreal feeling, as if it was not artificially built, but fell from the sky and was born perfect. Panshan road is getting narrower and narrower, only one car wide, the scenery is getting more and more beautiful, and the road seems to have no end. I don't know how long I walked, but suddenly a glittering stupa appeared on the roadside. After turning the pagoda, there is a small parking lot. Dayi village has arrived.
Parking, observation deck and wooden plank road leading to the valley. In the valley, the Dole River is fast-flowing, and the drafting room is built from top to bottom on the river. We have counted houses many times, but there is no unified figure. Some say 1 1, some say 10, and some say 9.
Down to the valley, we walked to a straw house at the bottom of the valley. It turns out that this house is a water mill. We crossed the river from the mill, and there were deserted paths among the wild flowers. We counted the water mills one by one and saw a young Tibetan couple grinding peas in one of them. After chatting for a while, the young couple were very shy and could only speak a little Chinese. They said that these mills have been used for 100 years, and everyone in the village can use them for free.
After walking 1 1 (Yes, the number is clear) Mills, a fairy-tale village is in front of you. After reading the introduction of the propaganda board at the entrance of the village, this village is called "Dayi Village". "Dayi" means "tiger cave" in Tibetan. Does that mean there are tigers on the mountain?
The village is built on the mountain, with stone houses and wooden houses, and the streets are paved with cement roads, which is very clean. The village is very quiet, only one dog greets us pedestrians. Walking to the innermost part of the village, I saw the sign of "Yangbu Village" hanging in the village committee. The official name of Dayi Village is "Yangbu Village".
Rows of woodpiles, racks of highland barley, alleys and houses. Harmony and beauty, otherwise. The water mill under the village, the running water is ringing, and the rape blossoms are quietly open on the hillside behind the village.
Turn a circle, walk back, suddenly found that we just walked through the empty village intersection, standing a dozen young people, wearing beautiful Tibetan robes, uniformly looking at us.
I asked them about the village. They are very friendly and kind. They told me that this village is as old as a water mill. The village is at the end of the road. A little further, there is an ocean of flowers. If you cross the mountain in front of you, you will reach Jiuzhaigou. But there are bears in the mountains. Tourists had better not go by themselves.
Walking back to the parking lot, looking back at the valley water mill, the river is running as usual, the sky is shining, and Dayi Village has disappeared.
Everything just now was like a dream.
Almost finished the Dole Valley, and this road has come to an end. Take a look at the back of Jiuzhaigou and turn back.
After driving for more than ten kilometers, I saw a group of buildings on the roadside, and there was a big white tower behind a row of white towers. Obviously, it is a large-scale temple. Stop and watch.
This temple is called "White Ancient Temple". Baidu learned that Baigu Temple was built more than 500 years ago. Its original site is located in Gubai village, and its Tibetan name is Deqing Lengzhoulang, which means "the island of happiness and perfection". 1839, moved to a valley five kilometers away from the village. It is the only Sakya Temple in Gansu Province and a branch of Qiu Ji Temple in ruoergai county, Aba Prefecture, Sichuan Province. The dharma vein of Baigu Temple comes from Rinpoche, the root of Qiu Ji Temple, and Rinpoche, the Angweng Gengga Renqing, and then goes up to the source of King Dharma of Sagachaba and Rinpoche of Qian Qi.
I just copied and pasted these Baidu words, but I was confused by those "Rinpoche", interlaced like a mountain. Although amateur, the unique architecture of Baigu Temple still attracts us deeply. The temple is built on the mountain, and there is a magnificent hall on the top of the mountain. The monasteries are lined up along the mountain. Monasteries seem to be all made of mud, and the outer walls are all red and white vertical bars, like coats of two generations of love. It is the first time to see such a decorative building, and it is used in a temple.
My Tibetan friends didn't know the origin of the red and white stripes, so they tried to take us to see the abbot of the temple. The host sent a handsome young monk to show us around the important places in the temple hall. Finally, the host personally took us to visit their sutra depository, and solemnly took out a scroll of the treasure of the town temple-an ancient scripture, which was gently stroked on each of us. Although we don't understand, we know that the host is praying for us to eliminate disasters. With gratitude, we sincerely and respectfully held various ceremonies with our Tibetan friends, and we didn't have the cheek to destroy the atmosphere and ask questions to our hosts.
There are hundreds of young monks sitting in rows in the main hall, muttering to themselves, but their voices are deafening. This situation is very similar to that when we recite the text in a low voice before class at school. The difference is that our classroom is awkward and this hall is magnificent.
When I came out of Baigu Temple, I saw a small street sign "Gubai Village" on the roadside. I had a brainwave: Baigu Temple has a history of more than 500 years, and its original site is in Gubai Village. Cooper village must be older. Since Cooper Village is still there, I must go and see it.
The road to Gubai village is very narrow, winding up the mountain, drumming in my heart: what should I do if the car comes across? What if there is no place to turn?
After only two turns, the scenery is very different. It is so beautiful that people can't move, and people want to stop for a few seconds. Worried about the car coming from the opposite side, I didn't dare to stop, so I watched the beautiful scenery skip regretfully and was extremely happy to see the next beautiful scenery coming.
The top of Panshan Mountain is suddenly enlightened. In front, you can see mountains, canyons, rivers, roads and villages. Behind it, layers of houses seem to be chaotic, but in fact they extend upward in an orderly way. Here comes Cooper village.
Words can't express the scenery we saw standing in front of Cooper village. This is a bird's eye view. We are planes hovering in the air, overlooking everything like God. No, we are better than airplanes. In addition to overlooking, we also look at the road from the side, see the village on the top of the hill opposite, and look up at the Cooper Village complex from a higher place.
Many buildings are being built in the village, villagers' squares and parking lots are being built, and drainage facilities are being repaired. Judging from the situation, it is going to be developed.
Because the road in the village was dug, it was difficult to walk. Because the natural scenery in front of us was so beautiful, we only walked half a circle outside the village, sat in a daze at the entrance of the village and looked at the mountains and colorful valleys.
After leaving Dayi Village, I suddenly felt like a dream. When I was in Cooper village, I felt like I was sleepwalking.
We have just come from Zoige grassland, from Tangke, the first bay of the Yellow River, from Zhaga, a fairyland on earth, and from countless beautiful scenes that make us scream. However, in Cooper village, we were shocked by the scenery at the entrance of the village for the first time, instead of entering the village. We were dumbfounded and speechless.
We didn't expect humans to live on such a high mountain top. Although I saw all the villages on the top of the mountain along the way, I felt different when I looked from a distance and came in person. We didn't expect this village to have a history of 1000 years. She must have many hard and wonderful stories. We didn't expect the scenery on the mountain to be so magnificent and beautiful. Wild flowers are in the foreground. In the valley, the Dore River and country roads are like lovers. The slopes on both sides are colorful and beautiful in all directions.
Reluctantly, I left Cooper Village and went down the mountain. I didn't walk a few kilometers on the way back. I saw the highest green hill in our sight across the river. There is a village on the top of the green hill, and a gray stone peak is exposed behind the village. I moved up the mountain again. Go back and find the bridge across the river. Cross the Dore River and start winding the mountain. The road is a new cement road, but the narrow slope of the road is steep and steep, which is very scary. I walked at least 10 km in fear. When encountering a big bend and steep slope, the people in the car got off the bus and walked trembling. The Tibetan friends driving increased their horsepower and turned around to speed up and rushed up. Thank god I didn't meet a car, otherwise I wouldn't call a car every day.
Amitabha, it's too dangerous. Ignorance is fearless. After this trip, I won't dare to come up next time unless I walk up the mountain.
On the steepest slope, there is a small platform for parking, next to the village Committee of Cigu Village in Dole Township, because it is the weekend and the door is locked. The scenery in front of the village Committee is very similar to that of Cooper Village. We don't know how excited we would be if we hadn't been to Cooper village before, but the road up the mountain is too dangerous. I was worried about the difficulty of driving down the mountain and didn't pay much attention to the scenery.
The second ancient village has gone up, and the path, with a slope of more than 45 degrees, can only be walked. Pants climb up, the gravel on the road falls down, and the abyss is below. I climbed hundreds of meters trembling and came to a pavilion for people to rest. People in the same trade refused to climb, leaving only the final sprint. I cann't believe they just gave up
The last section of the road was steep, and several Tibetan pigs greeted us at the entrance of the village. I tried my best to climb up and finally came to the village of Cigu.
As usual, the village is built on the hill. Logs, boards, stones, and soil are built into steps, and a lot of pig manure and pig urine flow down from top to bottom, and there are solar street lamps all the way. Flies flying around, I held my breath and walked step by step to the village on pig manure. The roads in the village have hardened, and the concrete floor is covered with pig manure. The stinking flies flew around, and there came a dirty boy with bright eyes who could speak Chinese. He said he would go through the village, go around half a circle, and then he could see the grey mountain behind him. Talk to him more and he will run away shyly.
After walking for dozens of meters, I really can't walk. Pig manure was everywhere, and the smell made me almost faint, so I had to return.
Meet your companions in the pavilion and watch the scenery. The roof of the village committee is right under our feet, and the terraced fields on the opposite hill are like pastoral fields in the air, red, yellow and green, surrounding a village. There are gray peaks in the distance. It is conceivable that there must be snow-capped mountains in winter.
In the village committee, I met a Tibetan girl who went to high school in Diebu County. She took a bus to the foot of the mountain with a big suitcase, then took a motorcycle to the village Committee, and then called her father to pick her up. I talked to her for a while. Her home is in Cigu village, and the school is free. Half a month ago, village cadres and poverty alleviation teams were mobilizing villagers from house to house to move to the foot of the mountain, and the relocated houses at the foot of the mountain had been built in a large area.
Indeed, although the scenery of Cigu Village is good, it is really not suitable for living, and relocation in different places is the best choice.
Soon, the girl's father came down from the village on a motorcycle, picked up the girl, and the car roared up a big bend and left. Our party was dumbfounded. That road is slippery on foot. How did he get down? Also, I just came out of the village, and it is impossible for the village to drive a motorcycle in any case. That steep slope and that staircase are not motorcycle discs at all.
Shaking your head, dizzy, pinching your legs, and hurting, this is not a dream.
It was getting late when I left Cigu Village. I reluctantly gave up the idea of going to the mountain village opposite Cigu Village, went straight out of the valley and returned to National Highway 345.
Later, we walked for several hours at night. In the silent night, in the dark and silent mountains, we often see a string of shining pearls hanging helplessly in the night sky. I know it's a solar street lamp in the village on the top of the mountain.
It's been a year since we left Gannan, and eight of us often talk about Gannan. It's not Zhaga or langmusi that talks the most, but the villages in Dole Valley and the top of the mountain. We just walked into one of the many valleys in Gannan at will, and the beautiful scenery we saw shocked our eyes and hearts. It can be seen that the beauty of Gannan is broad, grand and implicit at the same time. She can stand any sudden attack and nitpicking, and her beauty is everywhere.