One and a half months ago, Karin suddenly said to me, "I want to go to Jiuzhaigou." I replied, "Pick a weekend." She picked up the calendar, flipped through it, stopped on the November page, and said, "How about... a weekend in November?" I responded with a smile, "Sure, the 1st and 2nd. Can I join?" Soon, she invited PP and Huiyuan—an autumn trip to Jiuzhaigou was set in just a few casual conversations, like a seed falling into the heart, quietly waiting to sprout.
On the evening of October 31st, I flew from Shanghai to Chengdu, while the three of them flew from Shenzhen. We arrived very late, and a hotel near Chengdu East Station became our temporary stop. With little time to spare, all we could manage was a good night's sleep and a bit of pre-trip anticipation.
The 5 a.m. alarm sounded clearer than usual. We gathered with half-closed eyes, set off at 5:30, and took the high-speed train toward Huanglong Jiuzhaigou. Outside the window, the scenery shifted from gray-blue skies to hues of gold and pure white: Tibetan village smoke, distant snow-capped mountains, and nearby colorful forests slid by like turning pages, accompanied by exclamations of wonder—whether for the scenery or the stirrings in our hearts at that moment.
Upon arriving in Jiuzhaigou, we dropped our luggage at the hotel and bought McDonald's along the road to the scenic area. The paper bags held warmth, while laughter spilled out incessantly. PP and Huiyuan raised their cameras, busy capturing the perfect angles; Karin and I filmed daily snippets with the Pocket 3, trying to pocket the day's colors.
The sightseeing bus drove along the right route toward the Primeval Forest. The blues and greens of the colorful pools were so intense, it was as if a palette had been overturned, occasionally glinting with light. We walked from the Primeval Forest to Panda Lake, Five-Flower Lake, Pearl Shoal, and Mirror Lake. By Pearl Shoal, Huiyuan suddenly suggested playing "Where Is the Road?" out loud. The song echoed through the valley—everyone burst into laughter uncontrollably, the echoes of the landscape blending with our cheers and, perhaps, a faint echo from the heart.
Long Lake and Five-Flower Lake were originally part of the plan, but the buses had stopped running, forcing us to leave the scenic area. On the way out, we encountered Tiger Lake—as if it were reminding us that journeys always hold unexpected encounters.
After leaving, finding a taxi became a small challenge. We decided to walk to a hot pot restaurant about a kilometer away. On the way, we ate tsampa pancakes; their warm aroma seemed to speed up our steps. Dinner was a mushroom and yak hot pot, and the shop treated us to yak yogurt—its sweet and sour taste held the day's fatigue and an indescribable satisfaction.
Finding a ride back was still not easy, but luckily, we managed to hail a taxi that took us near the hotel for 20 yuan. We got off early due to traffic and unexpectedly found the postcards and fridge magnets we wanted to buy—perhaps this is another parallel track of travel, not on the itinerary, yet memorable.
Back at the hotel, we gathered in the courtyard, chatting and flipping through the day's best photos. Laughter and light intertwined until we dispersed around 1 a.m. At that moment, I knew that some journeys don't just stay in the camera lens—they linger long in the heart. The echoes of the mountains and the heart are also the echoes between people.
The next day, we got up early to travel back: from Huanglong Jiuzhaigou Station to Chengdu East, then to Tianfu Airport. Each step brought us closer to the moment of parting, drawing our once-parallel tracks to a temporary close for the day. We didn't bid formal farewells—because perhaps the next parallel track is already quietly waiting ahead.