继续行进……
首先，在怒江垂直坠落一架无人机；
然后，骑经如火焰山般酷热大流沙；

接着，在目若村留宿遭遇全村停电；
·结束了一天的行程，四下找寻休憩地，忽的从公路驶入一片黑暗地，一秒间无数个想法涌上来“野外？露宿？天地为被？”，后被告知村子正逢断电时刻。

·终于找到酒店，看到一对夫妻打着手电筒在中庭搭帐篷，原来住自备帐篷所付的场地费要比住宿费便宜60%。

·晚上十点多了，大部队的辘辘饥肠能奏鸣出一首《饥饿小调第三交响曲》，于是大家用热水瓶里仅有的温水泡面，自制大锅炒饭炒面以慰藉一日劳顿。

（该《停电对镜自拍图》为导演提供）

但，还是要去看冰川。

导演随笔：曾在雪山顶上赤膊上阵，也曾在一望无际的草原上策马奔腾，可能是对于冰川莫名的向往，又或者是未曾见过的好奇，看冰川，是就算绕远路也要做的事情。

休整后的第一天，大部队按照原计划前往仁龙巴冰川。在遍地牦牛中间，看到草原里零星有几顶帐篷，导演OS“我想着当地牧民煮的酥油茶会不会更加正宗，便去讨了一口，女主人看到有相机，便背过身去，示意我自己进去喝就可以”，后来才知道，她们不习惯面对镜头，是因为她们认为拍照会摄取人的灵魂。
想起来三毛在《收魂记》里写道，她深入北非沙漠，带上相机去记录游牧民族的生活形态，却被本地男人制止，他们认为人像被留在底片上就等于被收了灵魂。越是行走，才越能感知到世界的边界以及世界的漫无边界。平等地尊重每个地带的风俗和认知，同样惊讶于来自地球上不同经纬，如此遥远的两端竟然有如两颗锚点在彼此连接，像星体中细小的齿轮也许有一天会重逢、运转。
到冰山脚下时，觉得胜利在望了，然而喜悦没有持续多久，前方突然起了一层浓雾，雨水和冰雹随之降临，只得往回赶，过大的雨势把来时的车辙淹没，只能在草地漫无目的行进，碰见附近村民一起躲进帐篷里避雨，导演“与大人小孩一起挤在帐篷里互相取暖，再来一碗像样的面条和一个荷包蛋就觉得是无比幸福的事情”（不过，导演吃了6个荷包蛋）
第二天在向导的建议下打算一同前往来古冰川，早上又看到了彩虹，希望可以如愿。

「顿珠：桥断了昨天晚上。
顿珠：去冰川的桥昨天晚上雨水多，桥断了。」

导演随笔：有的时候，人们会说这是命运跟你开的玩笑，没想到自然也会。

好在，来古冰川是由6片冰川群组成，向导说可以带我们去看另一块冰川，因为路程的安排，这是最后的机会了。
导演“当我走过碎石山路，一点点靠近并登上冰山，再俯身看到阳光下闪起的蓝色冰川时，想到去年爬雪山时，客栈老板说的话，他说人并不是征服雪山，当登上山顶的那一刻，只是和顶峰有了一次近距离的接触，我们没有征服自然的能力，只是跟随自然的习惯，敬畏它的力量。”

一次全由自然说了算的行程，仿佛在开以‘自然’为主题的盲盒，没什么可感到无力和懊恼的。冰川是否向我们敞开，由冰川说了算，当开始卸下包袱和与某种必须要达成的目标和解，世界的无形框架被甩在杂念和虚幻之外，拥抱一个专属于自己的无尽当下。

导演随笔：这一路，天晴时的冰山，有雾的冰山，下雨或下冰雹的冰川都是不同样子的。走近了看，它跟普通的冰似乎也没什么区别，蓝色透明的是它，看不清的是它，将人拒之门外的也是它。
我不知道哪个才是最真实冰川的，但面对不同形态冰川的当下，它给我带来的感受是真切的。冰川不属于谁，但我属于我。

从海拔3850米的然乌湖沿着狭窄的盘山道进入墨脱，路上的植被也从低矮的草甸变成了森林，出发前就听说过“世界只有一个墨脱，而墨脱拥有整个世界”，不知道此趟又会开出怎么样的盲盒。
进森林前，被专业人员告知里面有品种繁多的虫类正“虎视眈眈”，要把自己包裹严实了，第一个“盲盒”是在晚饭时掉落的，大家吃着饭，导演一撸袖子，发现掉出来一条蚂蟥，再往上捋捋，血已经流出来了。（经专业安全的包扎处理后，开始分析，为何只有导演一人中招了，难道是因为导演没事总喜欢“挑逗”虫子，带着手套与其亲密接触，虫子一不做二不休，觉得反正你喜欢我，我就跟你走吧）
第二个盲盒是，在村子里碰见了另一支纪录片团队来拍摄南迦巴瓦峰，他们蹲守了两三个月仅见过一两次山峰的全貌，而我们只待了三天（也没见到全貌）
第三个…先不开了，别人开盲盒费钱，导演开盲盒费血。
👋🏻👋🏻

Director’s Notes – Nature Blind Box

Continuing the journey…

First, we launched a drone over the Nujiang River;
Then, we rode through scorching hot desert-like sands akin to Flame Mountain;

Next, while lodging overnight in Muruo Village, we encountered a village-wide power outage;
· After wrapping up the day’s journey, searching for a place to rest, we suddenly veered off the road into darkness, and a myriad of thoughts rushed in—”Camping? Sleeping under the stars? Use the sky as our shelter?”—only to be informed that the village was experiencing a power outage.
· Finally finding a hotel, we saw a couple setting up a tent in the courtyard with flashlights, as it turned out, the fee for pitching your own tent was 60% cheaper than staying in a room.
· It was past ten at night, and the rumbling of the group’s hungry stomachs could play “a symphony of hunger”; so, we made instant noodles with the little warm water left in our thermos and whipped up a pot of fried rice and noodles to soothe the day’s fatigue.

(The “Mirror Selfie During Power Outage” photo, provided by the director)

But, we still wanted to go see the glacier.

Director’s Note: Having gone shirtless atop snow-capped peaks, and galloped across endless grasslands, perhaps it’s an inexplicable longing for glaciers, or maybe just sheer curiosity; seeing glaciers is something we must do even if it means taking the long way around.

On the first day after our recuperation, the group set out as planned to visit the Renlongba Glacier. Amidst countless yaks, we spotted a few tents scattered across the grassland. The director’s thought: “I thought the butter tea brewed by local herders might be more authentic, so I went to ask for a taste. When the hostess saw the camera, she turned away, signaling that I could help myself inside.” Later, I learned that they were not used to facing cameras because they believed that taking a photo would capture one’s soul. It reminded me of Sanmao’s “Notes of a Desolate Man,” where she ventured deep into the North African desert, carrying a camera to document the lives of nomadic tribes, only to be stopped by local men who believed that capturing someone on film meant capturing their soul. The more we travel, the more we sense the boundaries and boundlessness of the world. Respecting the customs and perceptions of each region equally, we are equally amazed by the aspirations of different places on Earth, even those as distant as the poles of a star, may one day meet up, reconnect and rotate together like tiny gears within a celestial body.

As we approached the foot of the glacier, victory seemed within reach, but the joy didn’t last long. Suddenly, a thick fog rolled in, followed by rain and hail. We had to turn back, the heavy rain washing away our tire tracks, leaving us wandering aimlessly on the grassland. We met nearby villagers seeking shelter from the rain in their tents, and the director said, “Huddling together with adults and children in a tent for warmth, having a decent bowl of noodles and a fried egg felt like the epitome of happiness” (although the director ate six fried eggs).

The next day, following the guide’s suggestion, we planned to visit the Langpu Glacier together. In the morning, we saw a rainbow, hoping that our wish would come true.

“Dunzhu: The bridge to the glacier collapsed last night.
Dunzhu: The bridge to the glacier collapsed last night due to heavy rain.”

Director’s Note: Sometimes, people say it’s fate playing a joke on you, but who would have thought nature would too.

Fortunately, the Langpu Glacier consists of six glacier groups. The guide said he could take us to see another glacier because of our schedule. This was our last chance. The director’s reflection: “As I walked up the rocky mountain road, getting closer and finally stepping onto the glacier, and then bending down to see the blue glacier ice shimmering in the sunlight, I thought of what the innkeeper said last year when climbing the snow mountain. He said humans don’t conquer snow-capped mountains; when you reach the summit, it’s just a close encounter with the peak. We don’t have the ability to conquer nature; we simply follow its habits and respect its power.” `

A journey entirely dictated by nature is like opening a “nature” themed blind box; there’s nothing to feel powerless or frustrated about. Whether the glacier opens up to us is up to the glacier to decide. When we start to let go of burdens and goals that must be achieved, the invisible framework of the world is thrown outside of wandering thoughts and illusions, embracing an endless present that belongs only to us.

Director’s Note: Along this journey, glaciers in clear weather, glaciers in fog, glaciers in rain or hail are all different. Getting closer, it seems no different from ordinary ice. It is transparent and blue, yet unclear, and it keeps people at bay.
I don’t know which one is the truest glacier, but in the face of glaciers in different forms, the feelings it brings are genuine. Glaciers don’t belong to anyone, but I belong to myself.

From Lake Ranwu at an altitude of 3,850 meters, entering Motuo along a narrow mountain road, the vegetation along the way changes from low grassland to forests. Before departing, we heard that “there is only one Motuo in the world, and Motuo owns the entire world.” I don’t know what kind of blind box this trip will open.

Before entering the forest, we were warned by professionals that there were a variety of insects lurking, so we wrapped ourselves tightly. The first “blind box” was dropped during dinner; as we ate, the director rolled up his sleeves and found a leech falling out, blood already oozing out. (After bandaging by medic, the analysis began: why was only the director got leeched? Could it be because the director, always teasing insects for fun, wearing gloves and having intimate contact with them, the insects, not wanting to miss out, thought since you like me so much, I’ll go with you).
The second blind box, we encountered another documentary team in the village filming Mount Namcha Barwa; they had been waiting for two or three months and had only seen the full view of the mountain once or twice, while we only stayed for three days (and didn’t see the full view).
The third… let’s not open it yet.
Others cost money opening a blind box, but for the director, it costs his blood.

👋🏻👋🏻