2021: A Mars Camp Odyssey

As China’s space program sets its sights on the Red Planet, a barren desert in Qinghai is becoming an oasis for simulated space travel

青海戈壁滩上有个“火星营地”，朝向星辰大海的科幻旅程就从这里起航

BY MADS VESTERAGER NIELSEN

The scorching sands of the Mangnai Desert stretch as far as my eyes can see. An asphalt road runs like a lonely black strip through the sands, which is coarse with stones and salt strewn over the top like a thin layer of snow. A small road veers off into the desert—that is where I need to go.

If not for Baidu Maps, I would never have noticed this nondescript path. It is only made up of tire tracks from previous adventurers, lined with brown crystal formations that peek out of the bleached sand. I can smell the unique chemistry of this place and sense the alkaline air slowly spreading tiny crystals all over the road, tinting my dark backpack and sneakers whitish-yellow as I traverse. From this primitive intersection, I can see no buildings or other signs of life.

The day before I’d ridden my motorbike across the 4,500-meter high Dangjin Mountain Pass from Gansu province to the Tibetan plateau. The gas station employees at a crossroads just outside Lenghu (“Cold Lake”), an abandoned oil colony in the Qaidam Basin of western Qinghai province, told me that further down the road there’s a “Mars Camp” in the middle of the desert. It is said to be one of the few places on Earth that most closely resemble conditions on Mars—I had to check it out.

This is one of the remotest places in China, an area usually avoided by casual travelers and tourists. It is virtually uninhabited, and 250 kilometers from the nearest city of Dunhuang in Gansu province. But for China’s up-and-coming space tourism industry, these forbidding conditions are ideal. “We can get a whole group of up to 50 tourists who will stay here for several days,” says Yang Ruo, a caretaker at Lenghu Mars Camp, the space simulation base 50 meters south of the oil enclave, which offers a chance for civilians to experience life on a potential future space colony on the Red Planet.

Covering over 5 hectares of desert, Mars Camp comprises living quarters mostly constructed from discarded shipping containers made of steel. From above, the individual capsules where guests sleep look like a network of interlocking portable segments run along the sand to the education center at the entrance. On the hills above the camp, I can see a forest of rocks nicknamed the “City of Ghosts”—not only because of the howls the wind makes as it forces its way through the gaps between boulders, but also in memory of the travelers who never made it through this harsh terrain.

The Qaidam Basin receives less than 100 millimeters (4 inches) of rainfall per year (Mads Vesterager Nielsen)

China’s western deserts are seeing a boom in space tourism, with space-experience and educational centers springing up in Qinghai, Gansu, and nearby Xinjiang. This coincides with an increase in the nation’s space activity—most recently with China’s Tianwen-1 mission, which landed a rover on Mars on May 14, 2021—in tandem with a surge of interest in Chinese science fiction.

With a price-tag of 150 million RMB (22.3 million USD), Lenghu’s Mars Camp was China’s first commercial space simulation base for the public, opening its doors in 2019 after one year of construction. Billed not only as a tourist site, but also as a place for scientific learning and “patriotic education,” the camp attracts a diverse group of public and private visitors—from “Young Pioneers” in primary school to government delegations—all making the pilgrimage to get as close to Mars as is currently possible.

The base has living quarters for up to 60 people, equipped with various scientific instruments (which visitors can operate) that measure the desert’s weather conditions. It also has a gyroscope, a machine used in some space-training centers to simulate flying in zero-gravity. There is a dining hall for “students,” as Yang refers to the visitors. “This is also where we have group activities, like driving the robot Mars rover,” she says, pointing to a small six-wheeled vehicle on the floor. It is only about a meter tall, with two wings of solar panels protruding from each side.

A remote-controlled Mars rover used for educational activities at Mars Camp (Mads Vesterager Nielsen)

Online figures for the cost of a stay at Mars Camp vary: 1,980 RMB for a two-day sampler, 3,600 RMB for a three-day “Mars Survival” simulation, and 19,800 RMB for a ten-day youth camp, which includes classes on astrobiology and engineering. Individual tent-camping fees run from 100 to 1,200 RMB per night. The camp is connected to a paved “Mars No. 1 Road” which branches off the equally lonely G315 Highway from the provincial capital at Xining, nearly 1,000 kilometers away. With little to no phone signal until one reaches the camp, and plenty of selfie opportunities in the middle of the empty road, any passing traveler can drive by for a taste of traversing an alien world.

The living conditions at Mars Camp are designed to mimic space travel. Campers dine on boiled vegetables and Spam, participate in a mock rescue mission on Mars, and wake up to an “alien invasion” siren to catch a gorgeous sunrise over the desert. They also take field trips to the oil colony, formerly one of China’s four major oil fields. From 1955 to 1977, until oil began to run out, some 25,000 workers lived at Lenghu and produced 300,000 barrels of crude annually. A small settlement of 200 people, run by PetroChina, is now all that’s left along with picturesque ruins: hollowed-out workers’ barracks, gates with bombastic slogans, even the shell of a bus.

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