Four Days Beyond the Frontier: Crossing the Yin Mountains
It is difficult to explain how much fun it is to drive through the desert, and the powerful sense of freedom that comes from not following any predetermined road, but making your own.
The Borders of Another World
As our 4×4 made its way towards Jilu Pass, I felt myself gradually being transported back in time. Signs of civilisation slowly disappeared as the dark silhouette of the Yin Mountains grew larger on the horizon.
Matteo was at the wheel and could not wait to leave the last few kilometres of paved road behind and begin the expedition.
For four days, we would find ourselves in the heart of the untamed wilderness of western Inner Mongolia, on an adventure that would take us across the very same mountains that once separated the Chinese plains from the vast steppes ruled by nomadic confederations.
For a moment, I thought about the paradox of it all: I, a Han Chinese woman, was about to embark on this journey, following in the opposite direction the same natural corridors once fiercely defended by Chinese imperial troops seeking to stop Mongol incursions.
When we reached Jilu Pass, about 80 km from Bayannur, the expedition had begun almost without us realising it. Suddenly, the road dissolved into sand and gravel before our eyes, making us understand that we had crossed the border into another world.
Little Great Explorers
As we made our way through the gorge protected by the ancient Jilu Fortress, looking up at its crumbling remains from below, a herd of wild goats suddenly came down from a dune.
The contrast between their white coats and the golden sand, the clear sky, the dark rocks surrounding us, and the sparse but tenacious flow of an ancient river at the bottom of the gorge, all of it, suddenly connected me with the most adventurous part of myself.
I think this kind of exploratory travel is deeply connected to that sense of joy and freedom we all experienced as children, when we immersed ourselves in games of discovery and imagination.
Isn’t it precisely that happiness, the happiness of a child imagining the exploration of a distant island, or listening to the story of an unknown kingdom, that is awakened when, as adults, we return to discovering the world?
A Night in the Secret Heart of the Desert
That evening, after beginning our crossing of the Yin Mountains, I slept in the heart of a desert for the first time in my life: a fragile oasis on the shores of Lake Malan.
Night gently descended over our camp as we all ate together beneath the largest tent. Food is undoubtedly more delicious after a day of adventure, and even more so beneath the endless sky of the desert.
We went to sleep with the feeling that we were inside a natural temple, like pilgrims on a journey from another age. I, a Han Chinese woman venturing towards the nomadic steppe; Matteo, a Marco Polo behind the wheel of a 4×4 – both of us ready to let ourselves be lulled by the depth of the night.
Defeated at Dawn
It would have been a wonderfully peaceful dawn if, at around 5:00 a.m., the wind had not decided to sweep us away like intruders in a land untouched by any other human being.
We had secured our tents with sandbags; each tent was anchored by five bags filled to the brim. We felt immovable, but we were wrong. We had underestimated the wind. The tents were almost destroyed as we struggled to fold them up and gather the pieces being scattered across the sand.
And so, the quiet of the night turned into a battle against the forces of nature at dawn. Although we had clearly been defeated – after finally managing to load the tents into the cars – we could not help but burst into laughter together. I had never felt so alive. I had become the protagonist of an adventure myself.
The Black Gobi and the Scarlet Canyon
On the second day, the expedition continued through the Black Gobi, a desolate yet fascinating landscape where dark earth contrasts with golden dunes. The 4x4s moved forward, carving tracks through the sand.
Every now and then, someone would get stuck, prompting the good-natured amusement of everyone else, who would rush over to help: “Try reversing, put it in 4L, turn the wheel this way, don’t accelerate too much or you’ll sink…”
It is difficult to explain how much fun it is to drive through the desert, and the powerful sense of freedom that comes from not following any predetermined road, but making your own.
Towards the end of the afternoon, when I thought the day could not become any more spectacular, our journey took us through a scarlet canyon. The jeeps seemed to move beneath the towering rock formations, surrounded by waves of fossilised fire.
I was left speechless by the beauty of the landscape, unable to believe that it was real – or at least terrestrial… Until, on the horizon, a white yurt appeared in that Martian expanse, remote yet unmistakable, finally convincing me that, despite everything, I was still on this planet.
The Lesson of the Desert
One of the most moving and surprising things about this expedition was discovering that, in the midst of such inhospitable landscapes, there are people who, generation after generation, have managed to make this part of the world their home. Or rather, their land, because the inhabitants of these regions still carry a fiercely nomadic spirit in their blood.
This capacity to endure is one of the things that moved me most about this journey. I find in it a sacred, deeply moving strength, one that I believe can inspire even those of us who do not live in the desert every day.
It is not only people who have made this strength their own, but animals and plants as well, as I discovered in the presence of the Gobi’s sacred tree. Struck by lightning and anchored in the bed of a dry river, it still stands, fiercely enduring after centuries.
The Thousand Island Lake
After crossing a challenging mountain pass on the third day, along a winding road aptly called the Hero’s Road, our expedition finally came to an end on the fourth day in a place that seemed impossible: the Thousand Island Lake.
Here, the waters of the Yellow River meet the desert, branching around numerous sandy islands that emerge from its surface. It was an incredible sight, and the perfect way to celebrate the end of our adventure before returning to Bayannur.
As we ate lamb skewers on what looked like a beach, accompanied by music playing from the speakers of our 4x4s, I even felt, if only for a moment, as though I were at the seaside.
Not bad, after all: in the space of just four days, going from ancient frontier passes on the western edge of Inner Mongolia, to Mars, and finally ending on a tropical island!
As evening approached, reality once again knocked on the door of my imagination: it was time to go back.
Watch the journey: Crossing the Yin Mountains
Memories and New Horizons
I left Inner Mongolia and the Yin Mountains without ever really leaving them behind. Several months have now passed since the expedition, but my thoughts often return to those wild landscapes.
Sometimes, their images reappear before my mind’s eye, neither sharp nor blurred, like a call I know I will not be able to resist for long.
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Martina Li is a China Travel Expert and Social Media Storyteller, focusing on intimate explorations of the country’s hidden gems, from the misty peaks of Tiger Leaping Gorge to the vibrant markets of Dali. As a member of Ink Voyages, a boutique travel agency dedicated to tailored China experiences, she blends cultural insights with practical itineraries and information, empowering wanderers to uncover authentic China beyond the guidebooks and fostering meaningful cultural exchanges one reel at a time.
