September 14, 2026: Took one last walk around central Chengdu and then waited in my hotel room as long as I could, watching various CCTV programs in a language I didn’t understand, before starting the next phase of my adventure. I will miss Chengdu. But I will return again someday.
I asked the front desk clerk at the Crowne Plaza for assistance in procuring a taxi. “Sure. Where are you going?” I was asked.
“Chengdu West Railway Station” I replied while reading the email my tour agency sent me with my ticket.
She looked at me quizzically. “Are you sure? That isn’t a normal route for tourists. What is the destination?”
“Tibet.”
A roughly twenty minute taxi ride later and I was there. She was correct. Chengdu West Rail Station was well out of the way and on the smaller side, all things considered. I definitely was the only Westerner there and noticed more than a few people staring. By the time I arrived, a light rain had started. I didn’t have an umbrella but I still felt the need to stand outside and observe my surroundings. My train didn’t depart until after 9:00pm. It was only 3.
I eventually made my way inside and spent time people-watching and listening to my travel playlists. The only restaurant open was KFC and this would become the only non-Chinese cuisine I ate during my month-long excursion. Ordering food in China can be a challenge. Most restaurants, including all the Western chains we know and occasionally crave, use QR codes for customers to scan, view the menu and order. The challenge is that the “translate” button on Alipay doesn’t always work and interacting with staff is minimal until you pick up your meal. This small KFC was no different. One staff member took pity on me for standing around so long, looking lost, and came over with an iPad to help me order. I had no idea what anything on the menu was, so I just pointed at some chicken nuggets and called it a day. They would provide good sustenance for my upcoming 34-hour train journey.
Boarding the train – Z322 – was an experience unto itself. If you’ve been to China, you know that the social norms are a bit different. Queuing orderly is out of the question. Despite everyone having a ticket with an assigned seat or berth, the line here felt a bit chaotic like I was entering a fight for my life. In this situation, one must take a firm stance, hold their weight like a linebacker, and prepare to be called an asshole in Mandarin. Luckily, once I actually got through the gate and boarded, I was met with the most blessed thing you want to see when entering a train cabin: I was assigned the bottom bunk in our soft sleeper. An absolute score.
One of my roommates for the next two days was a woman from Hong Kong also named Deborah. She initiated conversation and I learned she was going on an Everest Base Camp tour through Tibet Vista as well. We were both so excited. Our lives and personalities seemed similar in a lot of ways and it was truly wonderful making this connection while solo traveling. We exchanged WeChat information to stay in touch once we reached Lhasa. In the next compartment over were four individuals about to do a once-in-a-lifetime trek around Mount Kailash. 2026, the Year of the Horse, is an auspicious time for this; a kora performed in a horse year is said to increase a pilgrim’s blessings twelve times, making it an especially potent time for spiritual accumulation.
As it was already dark and I was growing tired, I made my bed and drifted off into a deep sleep while crossing north to the town of Xining.
Prior to my trip, I obtained a prescription for Diamox, a medication that prevents and reduces the effects of altitude sickness. I took my first pill the day I boarded the train in Chengdu. In Xining, we switched onto a new train that had pressurized cabins with supplemental oxygen, as well as multiple doctors on staff. It is known as the highest railway in the world. Safety precautions are abundant.
Every time I stepped off and re-boarded the train, I had to show my permit to enter Tibet. One must obtain a permit and travel with an approved tour agency as travel to this region is highly restrictive and independent travel is strictly forbidden. Along with my permit, I also received a list of rules and guidelines which included:
• Do not accept any news media interview
• Do not venture into areas beyond planned itineraries
• If you have personal arrangement or free time in Tibet before or after the scheduled tour, you should tell our guide or service manager to avoid any unnecessary trouble.
As we left Xining, I marvelled at how the landscape shifted so suddenly. In contrast to the rest of China, the Tibetan Plateau was a world of vast nothingness for the majority of daylight. Almost like another planet. A highway with sparse traffic ran parallel. I would occasionally spot a semi transporting goods and then, more of nothing. We would enter the mountains at night, including the highest point of Tanggula Pass at 5,072m. I was fast asleep for this but set an alarm; I wanted to see how my body would react at such an altitude. At 4:00am, I got up and quietly made my way into the hallway. The view outside the train’s window was pitch black. I felt perfectly fine. I experienced no breathing issues. My heart rate was normal. For a moment, I believed this second act of my adventure might be a cakewalk. I took the opportunity to sit with my thoughts for awhile before everyone else woke.
The darkness eventually led to light as the rising sun illuminated the snow-packed peaks, my first proper glimpse of the “roof of the world”. I was awestruck. Occasionally, I can’t believe what I’m doing or where I am and this was one of those moments. How audacious to just do this, all by myself. To live a life beyond what society expects of you. My mother never had these opportunities. Now, I seize them.
By the time we arrived at Lhasa Railway Station, it was 7:22am. Streetlights were still on and everything was muted a deep blue in the shadows of the surrounding range. I said goodbye to my roommate and wished luck to those venturing on to Mount Kailash. After snapping a few selfies with the train, the lack of oxygen started to hit and I instinctively started to inhale a bit deeper. Perhaps this would be the fight for my life, after all.
My permit to enter Tibet (©Deborah Clague).
Along with my permit, I received a list of rules and guidelines to travel in Tibet (©Deborah Clague).
Along with my permit, I received a list of rules and guidelines to travel in Tibet (©Deborah Clague).
Chengdu West Rail Station (©Deborah Clague).
Waiting to board Z322 from Chengdu to Lhasa, Tibet (©Deborah Clague).
Chengdu to Xining (©Deborah Clague).
First train from Chengdu north to Xining, China (©Deborah Clague).
Xining Rail Station (©Deborah Clague).
The soft sleeper in the Xining-to-Lhasa train (©Deborah Clague).
Enroute to Tibet (©Deborah Clague).
Emergency oxygen outlet onboard the Xining-to-Lhasa train (©Deborah Clague).
First glimpse of the Tibetan Plateau outside Xining, China (©Deborah Clague).
The Tibetan Plateau (©Deborah Clague).
Somewhere along the Tibetan Plateau (©Deborah Clague).
The Tibetan Plateau (©Deborah Clague).
My dinner aboard the Xining-to-Lhasa train. The best cup of noodles I’ve ever had (©Deborah Clague).
The Tibetan Plateau (©Deborah Clague).
The Tibetan Plateau (©Deborah Clague).
Quick rail stop aboard the Xining-to-Lhasa train (©Deborah Clague).
The oxygen generator room aboard the Xining-to-Lhasa train (©Deborah Clague).
Arriving at Lhasa Rail Station and ready for my next adventure (©Deborah Clague).
