Seventeen-year-old Wang Yinhai once thought his father, Wang Shunyou, loved his horse more than him.

He often saw his dad get up in the middle of the night to give his horse medicine and food when it was ill.

But when young Yinhai, who attends one of the best schools in the county far from their rural home, ran a high fever, he had to go to the clinic on his own.

"I couldn't even reach my father as he was trekking deep in the mountains on his postal route," Yinhai recalled.

Yinhai only really began to understand his dad when he accompanied him on one of his deliveries, which he has been making for 20 years.

On the trip in Muli Tibetan Autonomous County, Sichuan Province, Yinhai and his father climbed mountains, passed precipices and walked through virgin forests.

But this was all in a day's work for his dad, for Wang is a postman.

Hard trek

Muli Tibetan Autonomous County, where Wang works, is located in the southwest of Sichuan and borders the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau.

With an area of 13,200 square kilometres and home to some 120,000 people, the county has a very low population density.

Twenty-eight of the 29 townships are still inaccessible by road and have no telecommunications.

The only way for local people to keep in touch with the outside world is through the "horseback mail route," which treks across mountains at altitudes above 4,000 metres.

Wang, of the Miao ethnic group, took the job delivering mail, newspapers, magazines and other packages to these villages in 1985.

Every month he has two shifts, each of which lasts 14 days. Along the mail route, he needs to pass over 5,000-metre-high Cha'erwa Mountain and then descend into the torrid Yalong River Valley.

Every year for two decades, he has delivered about 8,400 newspapers, 330 magazines, 840 letters and 600 parcels.

It is estimated that he has covered an accumulated distance of 265,000 kilometres.

For the most part he travels alone, spending long nights on mountains with only his thoughts for company. The treks are always risky, but little, from snow and rain to landslides, has prevented him from doing his job.

One of his more extreme experiences came, not at the hands of nature, but those of two highwaymen in July 2000.

On seeing them he instinctively shielded the two bags of mail he was carrying. He recalled shouting: "I am a postman! I deliver mail to people. I don't have money, but if you rob this mail, I will sweat my guts out to protect it."

He drew the long kitchen knife he carries with him at all times and glared at his assailants.

While they were getting over the shock of seeing a postman brandishing a knife to protect his mail bag, Wang leapt into the saddle and galloped off.

"I was frightened at first, but the postal uniform I was wearing emboldened me," he said.

On another occasion in 1995, when leading his horse along a narrow meandering footpath, a pheasant shot out of nowhere. Startled, the horse kicked out and caught Wang in the stomach while he was trying to grab the reins.

He passed out but later regained consciousness. The following eight days were spent in excruciating pain. He could not keep any food down, and survived only on water. But he persevered and completed his round.

After nine days he returned to the county seat of Muli and went to see the doctor who told him he had severely damaged his large intestine. Had he not come back so soon, his life may have been at risk.

But physical hardships are not the things he finds the toughest, solitude is by far the worst.

"You don't even meet one person for several days on the route," he said.

"When night falls, it is very tranquil in the mountains," he said, "it is so dark that you can't see your hand in front of your face. There's the sound of the wind whistling and water trickling, and the howling of wolves. I can't help but miss my wife, my parents and my children at such times. Very often tears come to my eyes."

The only way to kill the loneliness is alcohol and singing, he said.

Wang's wife, Hansa, single-handedly raises their two children, keeps the house in order and does the farm work, even though she is not exactly the picture of health at the moment.

Last June, Hansa fell ill and was hospitalized. Wang stayed with her for three days in the hospital the longest time the husband and wife had ever spent together, according to Hansa.

Sense of pride

It's a sense of pride that keeps Wang in the job, and certainly not the 800 yuan (US$96.4) he earns a month.

"I could have given it up and found a easier job years ago," he said.

But his father was one of the county's first postmen and he retains a fair memory of his dad, heightening this sense of pride in his work.

He still remembers the time his father's eyes were hurt by snow glare, and despite his discomfort and opposition from the family, the very next day his father went back to work.

"I have to go. Any delay will affect the operation of the township government," his father explained.

His father's remarks took root in Wang, who was then only eight years old, though he did not really understand why the letters were so important and should be delivered on time.

In 1985 his father retired, and Wang took up the reins. It was then that he really began to understand his dad.

And it was years later when the boy and his father arrived in a village that he first understood what drove his father.

"The villagers all came out as if it was a big festival, and everyone was so happy," Yinhai recalled.

Wang said: "When the villagers get their mail, they are so happy. They invite me to stay at their home, treating me as a very distinguished guest.

"That is also my happiest moment," he said.

In the summer of 2001, a severe flood hit Muli County and landslides blocked the roads between the county seat and Baidiao, a remote township. For more than a month the township became an island, with almost all connections with the outside world lost.

According to regulations, Wang is not required to deliver mail under such conditions. But when he found he was to deliver two college admission notices, he knew he had to get through.

Wang cannot remember clearly wading through the flood gripping his horse's tail. What he does remember vividly are the faces of the two girls he delivered the admission notices to. They and their families were moved to tears.

Wang admitted that he has occasionally thought of quitting.

But it's these tears and laughter that have sustained him all these years.

And his biggest wish? To one day see roads connecting every township in Muli with the rest of the country, so no postman in the future endures what he has had to with only a horse for company.

Source: China Daily