The INCREDIBLE Yellow Mountain

As I write this I feel very flat. Sometimes living in a country where you cant speak the language and have expectations that are not aligned with the countries culture, can be difficult. Wanting to pop to the shop, grab some cheese, without getting beeped at, pushed and shoved… but the beeping is to make sure you don’t get run over, the pushing and shoving… its not rude over here, and cheese… well it’s a 20 minute bus ride away.

The sun, although still belting its heat and humidity on my town, has disappeared behind a haze and low hovering clouds, its been a week since I’ve seen a blue sky, it’s a different summer to what I know from home. Australia is known to be rather warm, but I’ll simply call it mild in comparison to a month of above 38 degrees with 60% to 70% humidity.

Something a very old friend said to me made me realise that possibly my blog has really been a rose tinted view of living my life, the kids, the travel, everything is blissful and serene… where ever you are, whatever you are doing, there are challenges, difficulties, weeks where you want nothing more than the company of your pillow and to hide away. The tragedy of social media is that we all want to show is our best selves, all smiling faces, sunshine days and positivity – this does nothing but inspire questions of ‘arent they lucky… why isn’t / why aren’t / cant I / why cant’, self-reflection through comparison, and comparison to an idyllic and possibly unrealistic representation of the lives of friends, acquaintances and colleagues.

So as a write this I want you to know that I am flat. I want a long walk along a weeping willowed river… I want to breathe fresh air and wince at the brightness of a glowing sun on a cloudless day. I am lucky in my life, and fortunate in where I am, but there are dark days for us all.

And yet… and yet… I’m about to tell you about, quite possibly, the most incredible experience of my life. Moments where I literally left my body and could see myself from a distance, this country girl from primarily flat-lands, standing at times 3,200 feet up on a mountain in the south of China… seeing a sunset… watching the sunrise…

Huangshan Yellow Mountain was formed some 100 million years ago, and this is cool – because an ancient sea disappeared, due to ‘uplift’, which I don’t entirely understand, but I like that it was hidden by a sea and slowly revealed as the sea retracted. Its named, not after its colour – which would have made more sense… bar the fact there’s no yellow to be seen – but after an Emperor, Huang Di who, for reasons I cant fathom… was known as the Yellow Emperor, whether he was yellow, liked yellow or had some kind of mysterious yellow aura about him I know not. Anyway, its thought that this Emperor ascended to ‘heaven’ via one of the peaks of Yellow Mountain.

Apparently little known due to inaccessibility until 747 AD (when its name was changed to Yellow) when temples and steps were built and carved, respectively, on and around the mountain. There are around 60 000 carved steps throughout the mountain – I can attest to this, I clamoured up and down many of them! Some of the steps not available for tourist treading are thousands of years old, they were carved by monks leading to their temples, monasteries or places of meditation.

This is how much I know about Buddhism… I asked our guide whether the monks built these temples on the most inaccessible of peaks, to be closer to god. So… Buddhists don’t believe in god as such, they seek the solitude and peace of nature in order to come closer to enlightenment. I like it. The rebirth thing I’m not quite following yet, but the search for divinity in oneself through a closeness to nature, sounds like my kinda religion.

And I have to say, moments on Yellow Mountain, moments where I literally gasped at the utter magnificence of what my eyes were taking in, were spiritual experiences indeed.

A favourite piece of information, I spose a round circle moment if I’m going to go all Oprah on you, is that in 2002 it was named the sister mountain of Jungfrau in the Swiss Alps, a mountain I was fortunate to journey up in the middle of winter some 8 years ago.

I couldn’t believe it, the day before we arrived it had poured down with rain… it was due to rain the day that we left. Was it possible? Was China giving me a wee break? Would the mountain be closed? Something was bound to go awry… but for the moment, I was nothing but thrilled to see a bright blue sky, feel a mild breeze, and praise be – BREATH SOME FRESH AIR! Aint no pollution here!

We started by taking the Yungu Cableway for 10 minutes to cover the initial distance. Today we were going to walk about 16 kilometres, up and down and round-a-bout before reaching our destination – BeiHai Hotel, where we’d spend the evening.

The cable car ride itself made the 6.5hr journey to Huangshan worthwhile alone! I felt like I’d been transported to a whole different country – this was the China of National Geographic, the rolling mountains, intimidating cliffs, peaks with poetic and unusual names. Had it been winter there would have also been waterfalls – but one should not be too greedy!

We balanced precariously on a thick metallic rope bouncing hundreds of miles above the ground. We didn’t know where to look, cliffs coming up on the left, plummets to the right, Robyn was particularly enamoured with the wildlife, of which there is none in Tangshan. I was straining to keep my eye balls in my head, the dramatic landscape.

Jumping off the still moving cable car, as it made its way around to collect those heading down, we emerged again into the stunning sun-spilling weather and took our first deep breaths in months! The air was so clean and crisp it almost tasted green. We walked past ‘Welcoming Guests Pine’… a pine which apparently… welcomes guests, as best a pine can. Many Chinese families will have a photo or painting of this in their entertaining room. Today there were a multitude of Chinese tourists taking photos of it, potentially to take home and frame.

The three of us, Robyn, our guide Libby and myself, found something somewhat more exciting… MONKEYS! Libby said she’s only seen them twice in the last ten years! How lucky were we? Libby was concerned about how close I was getting, they can become rather violent when hungry or threatened, but one giant guys (possibly the king) looked too much like my father when he’s in a mood that I couldn’t NOT get a nice portrait snap.

There was an entire family, jumping from tree limb to tree limb, smaller ones on the ground climbing up and around their mother or aunt. As we came around the corner there was a different looking monkey – I assume a different species… is that right? I’d ask Robyn but I don’t like people knowing more things that me, as she well knows! I made an observation… this monkey seemed to have pouches that looked like… bags… a certain type of bags… The American behind me started laughing heartily – “Well said!” he guffawed. Please refer to this image if you’re unsure what I’m referring to…

Dragging ourselves away from the wee beasties we started our hike in earnest. I – because I cannot be without it – decided to take my 2kg laptop. This really added to the overall experience, in that having already put on 15kgs in the last six months, I was now carrying almost 20kgs above what I should have been and my goodness – my legs eventually got to the point that they were disinclined to pay any attention to my intentions.

For the moment, though, my mind was powerful and I was invigorated by the setting, my adrenaline thumping through my veins, this mountain was about to be conquered!

Seeing these peeks literally jutting up hundreds of meters into the air, specked with hardy pines, they were like fingers of giants clawing their way up from Hades, I imagined them groaning just below the earths surface, anticipating their rocky release.

As we continued along the path, Libby suggested Robyn and I ascend one of the well known peaks, she would stay below and hold the bags. We traipsed up a steep incline, sliding between Chinese tourists come to enjoy the sights themselves. Upon reaching the top is was less the view that won our attention, than the chubby buddhaesque gentleman sitting atop the highest rock, shirtless, taking  a selfee.

Saddened to say goodbye to our svelte mountain tanning friend, we descended the peak and Libby pointed out, between the trees and off in the distance, the outline of rooftops, nestled in the forest – this is where we would have lunch, our bellies rumbled in happy anticipation.

Ah the gloriousness of wandering under a canape of trees, glistening in a warm early afternoon light. Its hard to explain why my eyes were stinging, as I held back silent tears of utter relief. My soul was soaring, feeling finally at home away from the concrete jungle of my current city and in a place more aligned with what I need (though there were no waterfalls… but like I said, one cant have everything and I have every intention of finding a waterfall-tastic place sometime soon in China!).

The poetic names of the rocks, stones, jutting formations are actually literal… I always thought there was some exotic spiritual meaning behind the names like Flower on Evening Moon or Standing In Monkey Sand… Maybe there was some mythical story? But no… entirely literal. The names of the mountains are based on what the person in charge of naming the peak, saw. So… we have some fascinating names, here’s some of my favourite from Yellow Mountain:

1.       Toad Peak (looks like a toad)

2.       The Flower Grown Out Of A Writing Brush Rock

3.       Double Cats Catching A Mouse (ancient Tom and Jerry…)

4.       Heavenly Dog Watching The Moon (not sure what makes him heavenly…)

5.       The Peacock Playing The Lotus (how one plays a lotus I know not)

6.       Early Nokia Mobile (names by our guide… and it really does look like an early nokia!)

My two favourite stone formations were Thinking Buddha, an incredible natural formation that literally looks like a man taking on Rhodins Thinkiing stature seemingly contemplating  existence, morality, what to have for dinner?

The next day we saw another little fat man plonked at the base of a cliff, just sitting there, being one with the moment… nature definitely has a sense of humour.

We walked around Xihai Reservoir, “oh wow” and “oh my gosh”s slipping constantly from our agape mouths. Our cameras snippidy snapped constantly,

and we swapped between Cannon and iPhone to get the most out of each moment.

There was a gap that opened up to the valley below and a steel chain warning off those wanting to get to the edge, along the chain fence, hundreds of locks inscribed in different languages promises of love and fidelity.

Me being me, I did have to ask Libby about murders, suicides and the like. She said its not that common, but certainly does happen. She said the worst thing is that people then have to drop down to claim the body, so it’s a very selfish thing to do. Also, that it’s a well known spot for newly weds, and it has been known for a husband to push his new wife off a cliff to claim the life insurance – how terribly sordid!

We stopped of a buffet lunch, enjoyed a sneaky beer and rested our shaky legs… mine more shaky than the others admittedly. Libby offered me her walking stick which I was embarrassed to accept, but made a world of difference!

We had another ten kilometres of walking to get to the vernacular and then another two to get to the hotel. The next part of the hike was primarily down, so I was relieved knowing this part would be easy as pie. My less than recently exercised legs were starting to give way, regardless of my will power, they were behaving in a less than ideal manner.

So… down is good, down then up is better… All down or all up is BAD! Using one set of muscles over and over and over again, especially when you’ve done NO preparation results in your muscles giving way… and I mean literally, giving way. My poor legs just gave up on me, they couldn’t hold me up. I became so mad at them! I wasn’t tired, I could keep walking… why, why, WHY could my mind not overcome this physical weakness?

Tomorrow I’d intended on hiking all the way down the mountain, this seemed like an unlikely prospect.

While still loving every moment of the experience, I was somewhat distracted, having to work out new methods of walking… I tried crabbing it down the steps, swap to the other side and crab it with the other leg. When that stopped working, I basically abseiled down the stairs, holding on for dear life to any available rock or wooden banister and coming down back and butt first. This was particularly successful, given I was using a completely different set of muscles… it was also exceptionally entertaining to the passing Chinese tourists, some of whom decided to emulate my method… if even just for a giggle!

I cussed under my breath at some passers by running down the stairs like new born bunnies!

We made our way through tiny crevices, steep pigmy sized steps, over stone bridges that, if they didn’t hold, you would plummet a good thousand metres to you imminent death, or atleast sore tail bone.

I am fortunately that I don’t have a fear of heights, and even if I did (which I might) I wont admit it to myself and will put on my Bruce Wayne face of utter stealthness. Robyn, on the other hand, is less excited about 90 degree angles, particularly when you are going down them on what could possibly be 100 year old steps… She butted her way down, one step, butt, next step… butt. To be literally on the edge of a cliff face, a good opportunity of plummeting a reasonable distance, treading on stone steps attached to stone… by stone… there is somewhat of a thrill in it all.

Eventually… and I do mean… eventually – I did wonder whether I’d make it… I wondered whether we might need to call in the special services via helicopter to air lift the giant aussie from the top of the mountain… we came to the vernacular, or monorail if you prefer. We took this delightful contraption up the final degrees to get to the ‘almost top’ of the mountain.

We passed so many gentlemen hauling weights well beyond their own... infact one man was wielding a giant titanium circular item that must have weighed a good 20 fully grown American teenagers... an item that would be part of a larger machine to work on certain stairs / constructions in and around the mountain.

I asked Libby about this, she explained that everything (other than toursists) came up the mountain this way... men would walk from the bottom of the mountain, laden like mules, with food and goods, up the mountain each day, for as little at 100 yuan($20 AUS or 11 pound...). You could see how their physicality had been impacted, their bones distorted, their muscles bulging.

Limping on the outside, but leaping within, we reached the hotel. A perfectly adequate place to grab some dinner and spend the night.  We were interested to walk out, heading to another peak to decide where we’d view the sunset from, and all but step on someone elses sleeping quarters. What can only be described as tent city lay before us.

Most Chinese tourists would come in, traipsing up the mountain with a tent on their back, and set up on the cement grounds for an evening. There were tiny oven-esque contraptions, a lot of pot noodles and the flicking lights of torches. Fascinating. Not my idea of camping, but financially, such a great way to get an opportunity of seeing these sites, without spending exorbitant amounts. I did not see a blow up mattress, or anything remotely comfortable, so I imagined these guys would be having a very light sleep indeed.

We… I’d say walked, but I am unable to describe what I was doing as walking… so, Robyn and Libby walked, while I hobbled along (suddenly feeling a lot of empathy for my father and his issues with his back / walking…) up another, 500 or so steps? We were on our way to the second highest peak on Yellow Mountain (if Robyn had had her way we would have gone to the TOP peak, however this was closed for rejuvenation purposes, which I thought was pretty wonderful. They close off certain areas for a few years in order for natural rejuvenation). So… second highest was as good as it would get and at the end of the day it was still over 1800 meters above sea level.

It was the day before the BIG HOLIDAY… which meant we were rather lucky with the relative lack of other tourists, tomorrow would apparently be mad… however, reaching the top of Dawn Pavilion, I did wonder how many more people could be fit up here… how many Chinese tourists would it take before the top of the mountain cracked and tumbled down the ridge – like some kind of adventure 1930’s Disney animation.

It was a pretty incredible sight. Robyn and Libby carried on around the corner to view some other peak while I sat, in relative silence, overlooking the crevices, canyons, mountains and peaks, the changing light of the sky and taking long slow breaths of pure bliss.

Libby suggested another viewing platform that, in her opinion, had a better view of the sunset, and more importantly, was less crowded, so we made our way back down those 500 steps – me, sideways, crab like, having lost every ounce of dignity I once had.

We crossed back through Tent City, stepping over jutting out legs and heating noodle pots, and headed up another 500 or so stairs to Turtle Peak. My legs and I made an agreement that if we got to the top I’d give them an hour rest and if so, they’d help me get back down the hill – I felt this a positive bargain for all involved.

 I am glad I made the bargain with the old pegs, because standing 1800 meters in the air… seeing the mountain ranges turn to silhouette, hear the birds change their song as day became dusk and turned to night.

China… China has communication sorted. Whether you are on a bus travelling remotely, in a hostel for the price of a penny, or up the top of a mountain… you… can… get… the…. INTERNET!

Its mad when you think in Australia, particularly in WA, you are lucky to get a bar when you are more than 10 kilometres from the centre of Perth, and here I was… three meters from heaven and I decided I needed to share this moment. I expected nothing, I didn’t think it would work… but just incase it might of, I jumped onto my phone, into Messenger and video called my parents…

The beep and squabble, it was giving it a go… I was sure atleast I could leave a wee voice message… then scrabble scrabble beep… the domineering baratone of my father boomed moments before his bald head and bearded cheeks appeared on my screen.

“OH!”, I said shocked “Oh! I didn’t think that would work”

“Hello!” said Mum as she scampered to edge her face into the screen, “What are you doing?”

“You look HOT!” said my father, observing my pink cheeks and water blotted brow,

“Thanks Dad!”, I said and retorted, “You would too if you’ve hiked 20 kilometers today! But…” I pulled us back to our point, “Look at where I am”.

I turned the phone around and slowly panorama’d the mountain range, finishing at the distant sinking sun. “I wanted to share this with you”.

They were in awe, silent apart from oh’s and ahh’s and wow’s (somewhat of a feat! They’re seldom so silent!).

I spoke to them briefly, but only briefly, as I was getting a bit chocked up, I couldn’t believe I was here, on the top of a mountain, and being able to share this incredible moment, a sunset over Yellow Mountain! With my parents… something that they might never have an opportunity to see and it was such an pivotal moment for me… my heart strings were stretching from China to Australia.

Later Mum and Dad told me what an important and beautiful thing this moment was for them, might be one of my top highlights of China too.

The darkness descended, as it does, and the glorious subtle glow of stars delighted us as we made our way back down the peak and moved, or hobbled… a few helpful hands to get down particularly steep spots that my backward lunge could not overcome.

Next day the alarm went off… cruelly… it was 4am and both Robyn and I groaned, I’m sure both silently contemplating NOT heading up the peak to watch the sunrise, my highs in particular were disinclined toward any further walking for a minimum of 48 hours, certainly not without a deep tissue massage!

However, Robyn and I are nothing if not stubborn – I think she’d agree with that statement – so with some groaning, grunting and general complaints about why the sun dare choose to come up at such an uncivilised time, strapped on our boots, grabbed our cameras and leapt like the spritely things we are (aka hobbled like 80 year old Inuit’s who’ve spent too much time in the snow and lost three toes (Robyn) and atleast one foot (me)) headed back to Turtle Rock, step by step by cruel and unusual step.

Chinese tourists were heading up progressively as well, donning everything from scarves to windcheaters, weatherproofs and umbrellas… if there was weather, they were prepared for any and ALL eventuation’s.

Tent city was already a ghost town, people literally having packed up before the crack of dawn. So glad I finally got to use that phrase appropriately!

The great thing though, most of the Chinese Tourists were heading to Dawn Pavillion, which was ramma-jammed yesterday evening so I couldn’t begin to imagine, or want to imagine, it at dawn. Where we were heading it was slightly less busy, so Robyn and I were able to find a cosy spot atop the head of the turtle, to observe the beginning of a new day, and who knew… maybe a new dawn.

As we sat, moment to moment, the world changed, ebbing and flowing with different colours, mountains coming closer and falling far away, our perspective impacted by the slow emerging of light. The horizon seemed further away than the sun, as it emerged it seemed tucked between mountain peaks and low hovering clouds.

To me it seemed small and shy, wondering if it should show itself to the waiting world. The mountains lay silent, the trees, still… no birds chirped, no wind blew. Then, as if conquering its own fears, the sun went from sneaking and sleeping to its full glory, a shining red hot orb floating above us all.

We all of us, sat, silent… enjoying this unique and once-in-a-lifetime experience… but with the rising of the sun came the wind, and the cold started to holler through our very bones. Robyn and I descended, but silently, taking that moment with us.

Having taken a well-deserved nanny nap, we rose for a breakfast that reflected all too closely last evenings buffet options… less you ask, less you know… happier you are at times… and we started the final part of our hike, another five kilometres to the cable car descent.

There is nothing more I can say about the majesty and beauty of Yellow Mountain, nor the difficulty in hiking up and down, and more down than up, for over 20kms… my legs often gave out on me completely, letting my upperness tumble to the ground with a great ka-thump.

Every moment was worth it though. I do believe next time I choose to hike up and around a mountain I should possibly do some physical preparation – my mind is all good, but sometimes the body does not follow the mind.

I cannot express how fortunate I feel in being able to witness such an extraordinary piece of the earth, to have also challenged and pushed myself physically and learn, incase I didn’t know, that my mind IS stronger than my body… but that I need to work on my bodies strength. Being overweight is a frustrating hindrance and one that I can change, something I need to and want to overcome.

Eventually we got to the base of the mountain and walking toward our ride back to the hotel we came across an artist… his art? FINGER PAINTING… but like nothing you have ever seen before. These incredible black and white landscapes of Yellow Mountain were made simply by this mans’ finger, nails and black ink. Robyn and I purchased a piece each and I think we’ll both keep them as very dear mementos of our experience.

And that’s Huangshan Yellow Mountain in a nutshell… a rather large nutshell, but the smallest one I could fit it all in to!