I am getting out of breath, as the walking has become straining at this attitude, while the inspiring surroundings keep me from pausing. There is simply too much to see here in Weicheng (维城), a village tucked deeply away in the western mountains of Maoxian. The land has flattened and cleared considerably. But that does not mean one can resort to a simple locomotion up here, as there is an incessant volume of dung to mind. This land belongs to the animals. I don’t know exactly what they eat, but there is a lot of it, and it is hearty.
These are the grand pastures of Weicheng. I don’t remember the whole path that took us here. There is some backtracking we do around the village in hopes of finding a more worthy landmark. One sign leads to another. Finally, timely solid road invites us to a new destination. Had I done my research I probably would have understood what these grazing lands looked like beforehand: vast, flat (for a mountain), almost empty, and breathtaking. But I am kind of glad I didn’t. I am also glad for the wind and cool weather.
Two buddies and I are the only people to be seen up here. But there are abundant signs that folks travel through. Most notably, some Qiang shrines can be found here — a type which I have certainly already seen before. Yet something about our particular surroundings helps make these ones appear just a little bit more mystical and unique. Surrounding the largest one, which sits by the edge, is a fair amount of litter. A trash bin sits under a nearby tree. As if we missed the group pilgrimage. I’m sure there will be another soon, once it warms up and the land turns green.
The shrines embody some blend of shamanism and animism. The Qiang culture museum in Fengyi is a good resource on all that.
White stones, small flags, sticks and bones. The skull is the essential piece.
Further meandering commences before we land in a spot not far away, although its highlights are more inconspicuous at first. What we know is that a sign within the village mentioned a “watchtower” somewhere around here. A series of carved paths offers an approximate, albeit confusing, track to some unlabeled zone. Not that any of the area is well-labeled. The place kind of resembles if an excavator were tasked with cutting through to make a path, which it attempted to do before giving up due to the terrain, and that was that. I keep going on foot; there are things ahead begging for a closer look.
Blending into the slopes are the first of many ruined dwellings.
Before further examining the ruins, we notice another pasture going back the other way. Two healthy horses stand around, calm and close together. Maybe they are also entranced by the scenery.
Back towards the ruins, more structures become visible within the trees ahead. The terrain is a bit annoying, but not hard to traverse. Along with the overlapping slopes, there is a sequence of dilapidated stone barriers to cross. All the while making sure not to step in any piles of muck.
The spectacular contrast to the smooth pastures is a labyrinth of imposing ruins ingrained along a precipitous upper layer of the village. For such an imposing formation of structures, it does an impressive job of concealing itself. There is a sort of “ring” of trees that alternates with the building ruins to make them nearly forgettable — though only at a distance. I stumble upon them piece-by-piece, like following a trail of crumbs. The overall scope, and heights, of the ruins grow substantially the further we venture through. At first, they are only left-behind foundations. Soon enough, we find ourselves among fractured walls… the remnants of once-great manors and stone towers. While these structures did not last, their constructions were clearly no small feat.
I think the noted watchtower is among these ruins, mostly crumbled away now. Nonetheless, the remaining structures still are highly formidable. In fact, I would say these are the most impressive examples of genuine Qiang architecture I have seen. The walls that still stand amaze me. But like most of the other ruins I have encountered, the 2008 earthquake was just too devastating that the residents and their homes could not endure.
Once past those low stone barriers, the neighborhood unfolds. The ground remains very uneven, but otherwise open in between structures. Pockets of snow decorate some shaded areas and interiors. Some of them can even be explored, as they are well illuminated after all the roofs collapsed. There is little ambience, mostly only the wind and rustling.
The ruins here seem ancient, even though they’re not. But they’re still splendid, even as husks. Standing amid all of it produces a kind of encirclement effect. Only enhanced and intensified by the slant of the mountain.
Perhaps the most alluring part about Weicheng is that I nearly never knew it existed. For a time, I thought there wasn’t anything here at all… just mountains, and the roads to the Tibetan counties. The village had never been mentioned to me and was not something I found via intentional research. I randomly saw its name one evening and recognized it existed in the area of Maoxian where I had embarrassingly inadequate coverage. My deciding to go was more a matter of thoroughness. How many other places like this have I missed?
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