I have walked on frozen lakes in winter and swam in tropical seas, but nothing compares to the sensation of walking on the sky. This is the promise of Chaka Salt Lake, known affectionately as the “Mirror of the Sky.” Located in the Ulan Basin of Qinghai Province, this place is not just a tourist attraction; it is a geological wonder that feels like stepping into a dream.
My journey to Chaka began with a drive through a landscape that gradually lost its color, turning into a stark, white wilderness. The salt flats here are vast, remnants of an ancient ocean that evaporated millions of years ago. As I approached the entrance, I could see the white crust stretching endlessly, blurring the line between the ground and the horizon. It was a hazy, overcast day when I arrived, which, I was told, was actually perfect for photography. The harsh sun wouldn’t create shadows, and the clouds would reflect perfectly in the shallow water.
Renting a pair of overshoes is mandatory here, unless you want your boots to be encrusted in salt crystals. I waddled like a penguin into the designated area where the water is only a few centimeters deep. As I stepped onto the crust, the ground felt firm yet slightly yielding. And then, I looked down.
The illusion was instantaneous. The water was so still and clear that the reflection was flawless. I was floating in mid-air. The white salt bottom of the lake acted like a giant canvas, and the sky painted its picture upon it. I saw the clouds beneath my feet, drifting lazily. It was disorienting in the most delightful way. I saw other visitors lying on their backs, their hands reaching out, appearing to be flying. Some had brought red scarves or yellow umbrellas, the splashes of color creating a striking visual against the monochrome backdrop of white salt and blue sky.
I took a slow walk, trying to absorb the stillness. It is incredibly quiet here. The wind often dies down over the flats, creating a vacuum of sound. I stopped to watch an older couple taking a wedding photo. They were dressed in traditional Tibetan attire, the bride’s jewelry glinting in the soft light. They stood hand in hand, their reflections merging in the water. It was a poignant moment—two people promising a future against a backdrop that has existed for millennia. The salt in the air tasted sharp on my lips, a reminder of the sea that used to be here.
One of the most unique experiences at Chaka is the “Small Train.” It sounds touristy, and it is, but it’s also charmingly retro. The little green train chugs along the narrow-gauge railway, cutting through the heart of the salt flats. I hopped on to rest my legs and gain a different perspective. From the train, the vastness becomes even more apparent. You can see the mining operations in the distance—small excavators scooping up salt, looking like toys in a giant’s sandbox. The salt here is industrial grade, but to me, it looked like diamonds scattered across the earth.
As the afternoon progressed, the sun began to dip lower. The magic hour at Chaka is legendary. The sky turned a fiery orange and purple, and because of the reflection, it felt like I was standing inside a bonfire of colors. The water turned into liquid gold. I stood perfectly still, watching a bird glide over the water. It looked like it was flying in two worlds at once.
I knelt down and touched the water. It was oily to the touch due to the high mineral content. I picked up a piece of salt crystal from the bottom. It was translucent, sharp, and heavy. I thought about the pilgrims who used to come here to trade salt for tea and grain along the ancient Tea Horse Road. History feels close in Chaka. You are walking on a memory of the planet, a place that has dried up to reveal its bones.
Before leaving, I had to try the local specialty: a salt lamp. The shops at the exit sell them in every shape and size. I bought a small, rough-hewn one to take home. It sits on my desk now, a warm, glowing reminder of that strange, beautiful afternoon where the earth kissed the sky.
Leaving the lake, I scraped the dried salt off my boots and legs. It takes effort to wash off, a gritty reminder of the place. But the mental image—the sensation of walking on clouds—stayed with me. Chaka Salt Lake is not just a pretty picture for Instagram. It is a place of perspective. It strips away the noise of modern life and leaves you with just the basics: sky, earth, water, and salt. It is minimalism at its most grandiose.
If you go, bring a prop. Bring a colorful dress, a kite, or just your biggest smile. But mostly, bring your patience. Wait for the wind to stop. Wait for the water to settle. And then, walk out into the mirror. It is a surreal, hauntingly beautiful experience that defines the magic of travel—the ability to step out of your ordinary life and into a fairy tale, if only for a few hours.