There is a certain romance about traveling in northwest Yunnan. Perhaps it is the isolation of driving through remote deep river valleys, or experiencing the ancient way of life that prevails here, on the edge of the Tibetan Plateau. Maybe it is the chance of close-up encounters with snub-nosed monkeys in lush mountain forests, or it could simply be the serenity of relaxing in the region’s surprisingly beautiful lodges and boutique hotels.
I love taking quiet early morning strolls along twisting cobbled lanes and over little bridges through the ancient town of Lijiang, and listening to the steady, mesmerizing chanting of monks in a particular candle-lit chapel. When I come here, I love to soak up the tranquillity of these surroundings, whether walking amongst fluttering prayer flags around a secluded forested shrine, or looking out over a sea of rice fields at dusk.
There’s something here to appeal to the most jaded traveller, but moments of sheer magic lie in wait here for keen photographers. One chilly fall morning, on the last day of a photography trip, I convinced our group to head over to a location where I thought we would have a fantastic view of Shangri-La’s Ganden Sumtseling Monastery in the distance. I had never been to this particular spot at sunrise before, but my intuition was telling me that I needed to go there. As we waited for the sun to appear, I could see smoke rising from the chimneys of Tibetan homes and mist off the nearby lake swirling up around the monastery. All that we needed was a bit of sunlight to add the final touches. When the first rays glistened off the monastery’s golden roof, the mountains behind still in shadow, the scene was transformed. We excitedly photographed for the next little while, forgetting about the bite of morning cold. When it came time to leave for the airport and begin our journey home, I thought to myself again as I had many times before, “What is photography if not the art of painting with light?”