Horsetrekking along a mountain cliff

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This is an old entry I forgot to publish, it follows my visit to Jiuzhaiguo National Park in Sichuan.

It was an early start that day which involved jogging on the spot outside the reception in the dark and cold for some time. The 24 hour reception service they advertise seemingly only operates when there is something good on TV. Eventually I checked out, and Sam and I rushed off to the bus stop for a 6 hour bus to the next chosen destination, Songpan.

Sichuan was the victim to the deadly earhquakes that were mainstream news in 2008. The bus to Songpan was on a mountain trail, and I think the evidence of earthquake damage was still pretty visible. The earthquakes claimed alot of lives as many buildings such as schools were secretly built with improper materials and therefore, had collapsed. With so many mountains everywhere, I can only imagine the avalanches that could of followed. The road would periodically break from tarmac into long stretchs of rough and incredibly uneven dirt and rocks. You could only laugh as we sat on the back of a bus being thrown out of ours seats, luggage sliding everywhere. I think the bus service gave up on suspension long ago.

Anyway after arriving, I had barely streched my legs before a nice local woman running a very small shop insisted that I see the rooms she rents. I was unsure until I stepped into a big room with nice beds, electric blankets and an en suite. All for half what the one or two hostels in the town charge. I booked two nights and then left to explore what turned out to be quite the contrast to the deserted Juizhaigou. We walked, carefree down the bustling streets full of stalls and restaurants. Little shops blasting their old dance music at volumes their little speakers were never built to handle. Everywhere people were smiling, staring obviously and occasionaly saying hello in amusing accents. I bartered for a big back of peanuts and sat down enjoying the atmosphere and bright sunlight. I must add, although the sun was strong and bright, the temperature here in winter is still pretty cold. Songpan had the highest temperature yet in China, perhaps 8C but it felt warm after being so used to freezing. One thing I found very strange was how simple everyone's lifes seemed, but then you walk past a mobile phone shop, and a flat screen TV shop. Occasionaly 4x4's, gleaming and new, cruise by with tainted windows. And yet everyone walks around in simple clothes, many in Tibetan style, with fur hats or wraps. Even the houses, all very modest and plain. Odd.

Later we found the men we were looking for. Songpan is home to a family whom for generations have kept horses for trekking into the surrounding mountains. We followed a kind man with particularly good English into what is China's answer to the great British pub; the teahouse. We sat amoungst a large group all chatting, playing cards or watching TV. China's main TV stations are called CCTV, for which regretfully few others could comprehend my chuckling. Anyway, women would walk around with tea pots filling up everyones glasses of tea, before laying the pots back to rest on the stoves everyone sat round to enjoy the warmth. Coal is the main fuel for locals it seems. Coal fires are used by everyone and it seemed every 1 in 10 shops along the busy roads were just a large room full of coal flanked by old men with shovels.

Anyway we sat down for some simple but satisying dumplings and noodles and discussed a plan for a short trek. Sure enough the following morning we stood waiting outside the teahouse at 10am as arranged. Soon our guide appeared up the road leading 3 horses loaded with riding gear and cooking supplies. We walked with him talking amoungst ourselves as he spoke no English. The lorries and cars weaved between the horses as we eventually made it off the roads and to the start of the trail up into the mountains. We decided for cost reasons to stick to a single days trek. We had plotted a course for a relatively nearby Tibetan monastery the night before. A good days riding, with a nice place to stop and have lunch.

So on the trail I mounted my uneasingly small horse (which I named Beansprout) and was handed a crude whip. In hindsight I withdraw my admittance to it being a whip. Really it was a twig. Save a penny, save a pound though, whips are expensive...

It wasn't long before I figured out which end of the horse was which and had him meandering forward half following my lead and half its nose. I had one hungry horse though, I'm sure the only reason he moved forward was in the hunt of a living shrub or some running water. See an English horse, when heeled in it's sides will speed up and when the reins are pulled, it slows down. A Chinese horse when heeled in it's sides will speed up and when it's reins are pulled, well it also speeds up. Don't ask me how to slow the horse down I never really figured that one out myself. I think it's a vocal command of some kind in Chinese but it could just be an angry howl in the right tone.

We continued onwards and upwards past bemused looking mountain goats and along increasingly narrow and steep paths up cliff faces. At one point we stopped as we reached a short section that seemed narrower than the horses themselves. We got off and ushered the horses to take the lead. The guide picked up one of the many loose stones littering the trail and we all held our breath. Or at least I did. The horses precariously trotted onwards. The last of the three horses, and the biggest one at that suddenly lost its footing as a hoof slipped away from underneath along with many small stones. The whole horses hips twisted and for a moment I was sure it was joining the the scattered stones on their 100ft freefall before hitting a ledge below. Luckily it scrambled forwards loosening more stones but just managing to reach the wider ledge without plummenting to the next world. I was filled with relief for the horse but the guide had other ideas, He hurled his handy rock at the horse, shouting at it as it bounce of it's hind. I wasn't sure of the point of punishing the horse myself as it didn't look like it was suicidal, looked like it was forced to walk on a path that was too small for it...

We reached the Tibetan monestary though and the guide went off to prepare some food whilst Sam and I went to explore the village and enjoy the peacefulness that comes with remote sunny days. Little children would stop bouncing their balls and stare as we passed by. I walked along the long porch of the monestary looking at the large golden cylinders hand painted and set up in a long row spanning the corridor. As I walked down some locals from the opposite direction approached spinning the cyclinders and praying as they walked towards me. With this and a few helpful stares I realised I was walking the wrong direction and so turned around and quickly left.

The food was soon ready though and I was keen to get some hot fresh noodles down my neck. I sat down in kitchen crouched on a small bench beside the fire the noodle soup was prepared on. It was a simple darkened room, smoked black by a thousand noodle lunches. My nose-running meal was accompanied by 8 year olds trying to sell me interesting stones they had picked up from the area. When I say interesting I mean as relatively interesting as generic mountain stones can be. Once I decided that eating any more noodles would be over-burdening my little horse, it was time to return to Songpan.

The way back to Songpan proved to be a tad more perilous as my horse was starting to feel abit drained. I was leading the way, relaxed and enjoying the view when Beansprout stepped on a dried branch. It snapped and startled, he bolted along the trail. I lopesidedly bounced a few times before i righted myself and peeled my eyes from down the vertical drop running parrallel to me. I started stroking its neck and made a mixture of panicked and soothing noises. My horse slowed again but was clearly fatigued dragging its heels and panting in the bright light.

Later as I was considering getting off and walking along it some more to give it a break we reached a sectioned that snaked around a peak into shadows. The temperature dropped and the stones turned to ice and snow. As my plodding mount dragged its feet over the ice, a hoof slipped and again it panicked starting to trot as it regained its footing. The guide's voice started howling behind me as my horse sped up towards a particularly narrow section again on the edge of the daunting cliff. Panic again rose up from my stomach as my horse's hooves started slipping more only edging it back onto a bolt. I clung to it's neck rubbing desperately to slow it down as it slipped and careened uncontrollably right on the edge of the abyss. The guides voice rose louder in the background as I fixed my eyes now to the approaching of a widening to the trail. My horse made it and slowed a little as my breath returned to my lungs and my muscles relaxed. A minute later the guide caught up and I thankfully unsaddled myself keen to back in control of the limbs that were preventing my freefall down jagged rocks.

The rest of the trek back comprised of me walking besides my horse. As a traveller used to carrying my home on my back, I could appreciate the horses relief of of it's involuntary baggage. The remaining time on the way back to Songpan and in Songpan itself was relaxingly uneventful, although the horses did bolt again near the edge of the town. Fortunately the sound of 3 bolting horses creates enough noise to give you time to turn around and dive in a bush before becoming roadkill. I was starting to wonder as to the life expectancy of Chinese mountain horses...

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Photos

Things are a little different in the mountains
Was pleased to find he wasn't my guide

Songpan
A simple town but very peaceful, a highlight of China

Sheep and 4x4s
The wealth and poverty in China blend together everywhere you go.

View from the hill
Looking back over Songpan from horseback.

Not a word in the wind.
Not much wind either come to think of it

Morning light on a thousands hills
A beautiful sight strolling through lit up rolling mountains.

The sun is out
But the temperature is still in winters grasp

Leading a horse to water,
And he was happy to drink after a steady morning climb

Tibetan village
A secluded village high in the holy mountains, Tibetans immigrate here to live amoungst these holy hills.

Inside a Tibetan monestery
Golden cylinders delicately decorated and spun whilst walking down alng the corridor praying.