Five riders standing on their horses, arms wide

THE CREW

Who we are

None of us were born winners. One carried a million in debt, one lost a restaurant, one walked away from the stove, one came home from the city. We met on horseback, and on horseback we started over.

It started with a closed mountain.

Heima was leading groups to Nanjiluo just as the trail became famous — and then the mountain closed. No more treks, no more campsite. A handful of young people who refused to give up took the horses out instead. Xinghe says that closure is what started the caravan life with the brothers.

WINDRIDE was founded in 2022. Many friends rode with us along the way, and four of us became the crew you meet today: a former chef, a twenty-something who lost a restaurant, a trail leader who can still laugh about a million in debt, and a Tibetan girl who grew up in Xiaozhongdian.

In 2026 we moved the herd to Xiaozhongdian in Shangri-La, at the foot of Bigu Tianchi. There’s grassland here, a lake, snow peaks and wind. We plan to stay a long time.

Heima with a black horse, in hat and bandana

Caravan leader · Co-founder

Heima

From a horse-keeping familyCaravan leaderHidden trails

“Nothing is settled yet. Any of us could be the dark horse.”

From a failed business in Zhejiang and a million yuan of debt to leading a horse caravan in Shangri-La — there’s no big comeback in my story, just a stubborn dark horse.

My family has kept horses for generations, but I wanted to do something big. In 2019 I sank everything into a campsite; three years of the pandemic took it all. I wouldn’t give up, so I led groups to Nanjiluo — and just as it became famous, the mountain closed. Friends called me the outdoor jinx, my family said I’d thrown away everything we had. But one line I saw online kept finding me late at night: nothing is settled yet; any of us could be the dark horse.

I’ve been soaked by snow-mountain rain on horseback and watched the Milky Way at four in the morning, and somewhere along the way I understood: real freedom isn’t conquering the wild. It’s having the nerve to stay true to what you love. Now I’m setting out again with my brothers, measuring these hidden trails one hoofbeat at a time.

Heima on a rearing horse
Heima in front of the snow peaks
Heima with a horse
Heima on horseback in the snow, holding a dog
A-Xuan with a horse, black cowboy hat

Horseback photographer · Senior guide

A-Xuan

Born after 2000Horseback photographyRiding coachHorse matchingRoute planning

“On horseback is the only place I’m truly free.”

Born after 2000. Horseback photographer, riding coach and expedition guide.

In 2019 I started my own restaurant and did everything myself: running the shop, looking after customers, managing the team, watching every cost. Then the pandemic came, the shop couldn’t survive, and I lost it all. It taught me how to talk to people, carry pressure and handle the unexpected — and it taught me to endure.

In 2022 I decided that if I refused to give up, my day would come. I threw myself into the outdoors, fell in love with it, and was lucky enough to find people who felt the same: Heima, Li Xinghe, Maoniu and Meiduo. Together we started riding wild.

For four years I’ve lived in the saddle — teaching, caring for the horses, matching riders to horses and guiding horseback expeditions. Route planning, risk assessment and emergency response are what I do best.

What we love has never been anything abstract. It’s just the feeling of freedom on a horse, out in the mountains. On horseback is the only place I’m truly free.

A-Xuan galloping by the woods
A-Xuan with arms wide on horseback
A-Xuan cantering across the grass
A-Xuan above an alpine lake
Xinghe standing by a horse, arms folded

Former chef · Trail leader

Xinghe

7 years as a chef2 years leading treks40+ km in a day on foot

“I don’t want the safe life. I just want to be free.”

I was a chef for seven years. Then I found the outdoors and never wanted to go back to the city.

I spent two years leading treks in Yunnan, sometimes covering more than forty kilometres on foot in a single day.

Then the mountain closed, and that’s how my caravan life with the brothers began.

I don’t want the safe life. I just want to be free — to shake off whatever holds me, ride into the hills and go wherever freedom is.

Xinghe in hat and face cover
Xinghe riding through the lake
Xinghe riding with a dog running alongside
Xinghe riding on a meadow below the hills
Drolma Yangdzom on a chestnut horse in a white cowboy hat

Tibetan, born in Xiaozhongdian · Culture & travel ambassador

Drolma Yangdzom

Trained dancerDiqing culture & tourism ambassadorHead of the Xiawa Lanzhuo rural tourism co-opCo-founder of the local “214” girl group

“I want to tell you, who came all this way, the stories of my home.”

I’m a Tibetan girl born and raised in Xiaozhongdian, Shangri-La, and I trained as a dancer. Today I’m a culture and tourism ambassador for Diqing, head of the Xiawa Lanzhuo rural tourism co-operative, and a co-founder of the local girl group “214”.

I came home to work on rural tourism. People always expect a dramatic comeback story, but mine has no great reversal — just a stubborn dark horse with roots in the plateau, pushing forward.

I’ve faced the setbacks and the doubts that come with starting something, and I still love this high country. I ride the hidden places along Route 214, keep Tibetan folk culture alive and try to bring my neighbours along with me — so I can tell you, who came all this way, the stories of my home.

Drolma Yangdzom with her black horse
Drolma Yangdzom on horseback below the mountains
Drolma Yangdzom leaning on her horse’s neck

FOUR-LEGGED CREW

Four-legged crew

There are dogs on the crew too — they run alongside every ride. Their profiles are on the way.

Coming soon