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Published: August 27th 2007
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Note Before: I've finally gotten around to adding the remaining photos (44 of them) to my last Yangshuo journal. Lot's of sunsets and scenery, and seeing as you all only look at my photos I suggest you click this link,
I Think I Went to Yangshuo but I'm Not Certain, before even bothering to read further here.
The Ethereal Mists of Huang Shan
Nestled in the southern reaches of Anhui province is one of the most beautiful places in China, if not the world: Huang Shan. A mountain of such magnificent wondrousness that poets, painters, artists, thinkers and travellers alike have flocked to it’s slopes in the hope of finding inspiration. Every one of you will have seen Huang Shan, unless you have never seen a work of Chinese art in your life you will have seen a part of it. Nine out of ten Chinese paintings depict it, almost all great Chinese figures have talked about it, every “China” coffee table book is blessed with it’s vistas. This is Huang Shan, China’s pinnacle of being “really, really good looking”.
Throughout the rest of this journal I am going to substitute the word “see” with the conjugate “not-see” because it better describes my experience at Huang Shan.
Huang Shan rises rather steeply to around 1800m above sea level, quickly striking above the township at it’s base with what appears to be a sheer face of yellow rock (incidentally, Huang Shan translates to Yellow Mountain, strange that). The mountain is actually a collection of thousands of peaks roughly collected together with a central area which rises well above it’s surrounds. A plateau of sorts, very much a hilly plateau I found out, is the main attraction and is where hotels, shops, viewing platforms, cablecars, tourists, cameras, monkeys and the best views are to be found. This is where I headed for my day at the mountain (I decided not to stay at the top and witness sunrise because I am poor).
To climb the mountain I decided to go via the steps because I’m not a wuss. The alternative was a cable car with a queue which was longer than the climb took so I was happy with my decision. To boot, I was accompanied on the climb by Alberto the Spaniard, a fireman and volleyball coach (interesting mix). I end the interesting story now.
Let me instead describe the view on the climb. Please
let me, please.
As we ascended the weather did not look promising, a thick cloud had descended and the subsequent drizzle/rain made climbing pleasant but wet. Being so early in the morning (7am) it was assumed that the clouds would lift in sort order, but for the time being the view was very much the white blanket effect. At numerous points along the 90 minute stairmaster we came across viewing platforms where specially named places such as Celestial Capital Peak, Lotus Peak, Cinnabar Peak, Purple Cloud Peak, Purple Rock Peak, Roaring Lion Rock, Dragon Head Rock, Tiger Head Rock, the Red Well, Intoxicated Rock or Sword Testing Rock (these names are real, I did not make them up) were invisible through the fog. The other side of the valley was invisible, the path ahead of us was invisible, the trees were barely visible, and the mountain was there for us to not-see.
At the top of the climb Alberto and I waited for two other Spaniards who were taking the cablecar before we were to head out exploring the mountain scenery. However, by 10:30 we were all together but the clouds had not lifted one iota. In fact,
it appeared as though the fog was thicker and a chilling wind was by now blowing across the exposed mountaintop. Fearing a lost day my three companions piked out and headed back down the mountain (I wouldn’t have dared as it cost so much to get into the park) leaving me alone at the top, apart from the million other Chinese tourists that is. I set out at once to climb as many peaks and to not-see as many things as I could before the day was out.
I figured that if I climbed high enough I would emerge from the cloud and be blessed with one of those cliche vistas from postcards. This did not happen. Upon climbing to the top of the first peak, one overlooking the East Sea (the valleys surrounding the mountain are referred to as seas) I was presented with the exact same view I had denied myself at 6am that morning: the underside of a white bed-sheet. In every direction I saw pure white and at every turn I feared that the fierce wind would soon blow me over the edge. Nevertheless, I climbed to each and every viewing platform, diligently took photos
Wide View
Note, this is the only view. of blank nothingness (come on, all the other tourists were doing it too), and ran back down to the bottom again.
Climbing to second peak, named after a cheeky monkey or something similar, I was hoping that the North Sea would be more favourable. However, upon my arrival I was able to not-see many interesting and, I am assured, highly striking things. Climbing even higher still, now up over 1650m, I was still completely in the dark, so to speak. By this time it was 11:30am and I had successfully not-seen a lot of things. Supposedly the most beautiful section of the whole park was there in front of me and I could not…. wait. For a second I saw a shadow.
Then, suddenly, as though responding to my thoughts and angry shouts the clouds momentarily parted in one small section of the view and I could see the barest glimpse of Huang Shan. And it made the whole effort of getting there (2000 odd steps) well worth it. However, the clarity passed as quickly as it had come and I was once again faced with pure white.
As I continued walking around that day, and I
did just that for about ten hours, the views remained generally the same. Each peak was high, the views non-existent, the constant sound of Chinese tourists shouting at each other from the peaks echoing in the bleak nothing of my surrounds. The Chinese stairmaster that is Huang Shan was doing it’s best to get me fit, but the supposed benefits of climbing the peaks were there to be not-seen.
Nevertheless, the trip was not completely without worth. I saw enough of the mountain to be satisfied as it is amazingly beautiful when you have to not-see it (I believe the clouds parted for me a grand total of three times, and only for a matter of seconds each time, but it was enough), plus I saw some other interesting things happening on the mountain. The highlight of mountain life for me was watching the workmen cart goods to the hotels on the summit. On all of the paths, including the murderous Eastern and Western Steps, I passed innumerable workers hauling goods. Food, water, soft-drinks, beers, rubbish, luggage, people, sheets, linen, marble slabs, concrete, four doors, ten windows, three sections of roof sheeting, odds and sods; literally everything that is
needed at the summit is carried up on the backs of an army of poorly paid labourers. Getting around them is difficult in itself, I can’t image actually carrying marble slabs up 1000m of steps. And people get carried too! In a world where you can pay someone to do just about anything for you, from cleaning your house to taking your pets for walks, you are now able to pay people to do a Stairmaster for you.
So, after ten hours of grueling walking. Up steps, down steps, higher, lower, above the cloud (so I hoped) and below the cloud, I walked as far and wide as I could and I was able to not-see hundreds of interesting things. However, Huang Shan is beautiful, don’t let me disappointing account discourage you. Look it up on other travelblog sites (
Huang Shan - In The Footsteps of Emperors or
Huang Shan) and you will see what I mean.
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JC
non-member comment
Great view! Have you been showin' da ladies your shapely glutes now? Haha! :)