As the wheels roll away from Lake Taochagan Guole, the morning reflections of mountain ranges still linger on the water’s surface. Tucked deep within the Altai Mountains, this lake gently holds the dreams we wove last night, before watching our convoy head onward toward the deeper autumn of Altay.

 

 

We follow National Highway G33, then turn onto the Ahe Highway — a corridor penned for northern Xinjiang’s autumn. Larch trees burn gold and crimson under autumn winds, stretching endlessly along rolling mountain slopes, while spruces stand quiet and dark green. This interplay of light and shade is the Altai Mountains’ unique brushstroke.

 

 

 

Autumn creeps steadily along this road. With every rise in elevation, the grass turns a shade yellower; farther north, the chill in the wind grows sharper. Are we chasing autumn, or is autumn chasing us? Later, I realize: autumn is waiting for us ahead.

 

 

 

We take no rush to press on. Wherever the scenery stirs our hearts, we stop to set up camp. We pitch the canopy and let wind drift through the woods. Free from the bustle of cities, only the echoes of the wilderness remain. The meaning of travelling in a motorhome lies not merely in reaching destinations, but being able to halt anytime, to fully embrace the tenderness nature offers.

 

 

 

Stepping into Hemu, we stumble upon northern Xinjiang’s most celebrated autumn. Wooden cabins scatter across the land, birch trees blanket the hillsides, their golden leaves swaying softly in sunlight. Streams wind through the village, and time itself seems to slow down here.

 

 

 

As dusk creeps up the mountain ridges, village lights flicker on one after another. We enter a cabin in Hemu and sit with local residents. Songs break forth — raw melodies born from the mountains. Amid clinking cups, warmth of connection spreads out. Simple tunes close the distance between hearts.

 

 

 

When the song fades and night deepens, every moment here is pure beauty. Yet we cannot linger for long. Once you set off “northward”, the journey can hardly truly end. Beyond Hemu, lands farther north await.