Huangshan & Wilderness Walk
My housemate, Robyn, heads off at the end of August… so I
wanted to have one last decent non-Beijing adventure with her before she moved
on.
Top of the list… Huangshan. A mountain known as Yellow
Mountain and apparently one of the most beautiful sights in China, I sorted out
a guided tour for three days during Dragon Boat Festival (this time we’d be out
of pocket for a fast train… which meant comfort and speed… twice on a sixteen
hour train under a blanket of Chinese personages, associating with crabs and taking
in plumes of cigarette smoke, we thought we’d done our time and would enjoy a
little comfort even if at a cost).
Jumping on the early train to Beijing, we then hopped on the
bullet through to Huangshan, a six and a half hour ride at an average speed of
300 km’s per hour – VROOM! Said my inner five year old!
Preparation is key and the train journey was part of the
adventure, so individually we’d put together ‘essentials’ bags of knacks and
nibbles. We shared a beer and a wine and enjoyed cut up carrots and a fruit
salad, some chips and pretzels… and a couple of sneaky cream cheeses. We’d
decided to create our very own first-class experience! What’s more, the bullet
train has charge points, so if, like me, you like to watch a wee movie or two,
you can plug your laptop in and 6 hours turns into three films – Bobs your
Uncle – you are at your destination!
We arrived after a pleasant journey to be met by a wee
Chinese lady holding a sign saying “Fiona Leek” – like I was a VIP! How
thrilling.
Its always exciting to travel by yourself, getting lost and
getting found, but sometimes its nice to take a break and put the more mundane
aspects of travel into the hands of a local. Our guide, Libby, took us in a
van, helped us check in to our hotel (which reminded me of a hotel in a horror
film… think The Shinning, or American Horror Movie – Hotel), before counting
the cash payment for the tour. Upon taking it out of the envelope Libby
marvelled that the cash had been divided into thousands by coloured paper clips
and the exact amount had been provided… Robyn explained I was somewhat OCD when
it came to organisation.
Libby explained where the Ancient Street was where we could
get some dinner and asked whether we’d like her to join us, we said we’d be
fine (later Libby told us that most of her clients are upwards of 60 years old…
so a little more hand holding was often required).
The bridge directly opposite Tuxi Ancient Street was
apparently built because the son of the village on one side of the river
married the daughter of the village on the other side, and the daughter was
carried by family and village members over the bridge to her to-be husband.
Very romantic (or tragic) we don’t know the specifics, but I prefer the Disney
version!
So we were in Huangshan (shan means Mountain) City, about an
hour and a half from the mountain we’d see the day after next. Tuxi Ancient
Street is part of the original village that was erected here during the Song
Dynasty – so between 960 and 1279 AD. As you walk along the dark flagstone street,
only about 1200 metres in length, you are dwarfed by the tight three storey
high buldings that seem to lean over you.
Lanterns light up all along the walk, giving a red dusk
glow. Many of the buildings are relatively original and you can see sculptures
on the awnings of horses and fish. Apparently some of these stores have been
doing business for centuries! In particular those selling writing materials –
brushes, ink sticks, in stones and crunchy looking paper.
We wandered happily, watching one man engrave tiny mountain
scenes into lengths of bamboo with nothing more than a microscopic chisel! The
stores were beautiful, the products – authentic – so a few gifts were purchased
to remember a place in China not packed with plastic.
We enjoyed a drink and some food on the ‘Western Street’, a
small off road lined with OUTSIDE DINING! Ooooo to sit outside and have a
drink! The delight of it! AND white wine was available, not at the wine bar
ofcourse – no, across the road where there was a bit of a raucous going on with
a homeless gentleman trying to shine peoples shoes for a fee, and the owner of
the bar who felt this service was not entirely necessary, and could be more of
a hindrance to increasing the evenings number of clientele than a help.
We rose bright and early, meeting Libby after a
complimentary breakfast of… well, lets leave the breakfast out of it, shall we?
We headed, I’m going to say South, but if you know me, it was quite likely
East, toward a walking trail through the lower mountains.
The hike was about 8 km’s, or three hours between the sites
of two ancient villages. I’m glad we had Libby, because often times I couldn’t
tell the track from the general dirt, and she frightened away a snake for us!
When you’ve moved from open spaces and endless places of
solitude, to what can only be described as a cement city flanked by coal mines
and industrial parks… there is a yearning of the soul that even watching
endless colloquial UK films about fields and valleys cannot placate. I’d had a
few wee journeys, but no wandering days in the wilderness… until today.
We didn’t see another soul for the full three hours of
hiking. A lot of the track seemed to be untouched wilderness that we had the
fortune of sneaking a glance at. Robyn marvelled at the animals, from birds to butterflies,
while I drew breath and enjoyed the sweet green taste of country-side air.
Along the walk we crossed over running rivers, mountains
leaning in on either side of us, I retain a strange belief that I’m still 12
and capable of hop-scotching from stone to stone like a spring deer… sadly, I
was quickly reminded of the years that have come between me and my 12 year old
self, my springing legs and general light weight.
I was reminded of the fear
that seems to infect the brain post the age of 24, and so, thankfully was not
filmed while I wibbled and wobbled from one stone to the next in the hopes of
crossing the river without washing my socks and ruining my mountain-hike
walking bought sneakers!
The wondrous thing though, Libby – our skilled and
experienced tour guide – was the only
one of us who ended up in the drink, and admittedly I told her how pleased I
was with this outcome, as she removed her socks and swore at the river running
by.
We continued, Libby making use of an umbrella to ward off
spiders,
“Libby”, I said, after she’d jumped her height in fear at
the sound of rustling leaves, “I’m not sure you’ve chosen the right job… you’re
a bit skittish!”
She laughed and admitted she was a bit scared of… a lot of
things… She then went on to explain that snakes like cold areas, so be careful
in the cooler spaces… and that spiders tend to attack… I looked at Robyn, Robyn
looked at me, and we silently agreed not to argue this point with her – may she
feel safe in hot long grass…
While Robyn and I were discussing a particular photograph,
up ahead Libby started doing the most unusual dance, a mix of knee-to-the-elbow
kicking, and flailing arms, not to mention close-to-spinning head…
“What’s gone on?” I asked Libby
“A snake!” she said, both Robyn and I were keen to see said
snake, but Libby explained it had jumped from a near by branch, over her head,
and whisked down the mountain
“I think it was scared of me!”, said Libby
“After that dance”, I said, “I’d be scared too!”. We laughed
and carried on, though Robyn and I were disappointed to not have gotten to seen
the sneaky snake. Libby explained that it was a good snake, not a dangerous
snake because it was black and red… Robyn and I again looked at one another
knowingly and decided not to rectify this assumption…
We continued our journey over rickety wooden bridges,
amongst mulberry trees planted to be sent to other areas for silk worms to nest
in, tea plantations and long-left bamboo plantations. You could see the outline
of where villages once lay, at one point we came across a 900 year old rest
stop where people, travelling from one village to another, would stop for food,
leave messages and take an evenings rest.
To think of the slap slap slap of ancient shoes, and the
clip clop of horses carrying they’re compatriots from one village to another,
and here we were walking that same path, a path around 900 years old… it was
nothing less than humbling.
The fascination of ancient civilisation, I’m sad to say, for
me, was trumped (goodness I hate that word now!), by the subtle beauty of
simple flowers flowering, of the light dancing amongst the leaves, the crunch
of fauna
To admire that which is greater than the combined power of
all humanity, nature.
The mountains, the trees, the water… the clear sky. The
sound of your feet on the earth, the crackle of leaves as you move a branch to
move past.
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