Tag Archives: Beautiful Things

A Little Beauty to End the Weekend: Hangzhou’s West Lake

I wanted to visit Hangzhou because I had heard that it was some sort of watery, Chinese urban paradise.

You would think that I would have learned by now that Chinese cities inevitably come with hideous pollution, the same old chain restaurants, and a disturbing number of flyovers, but what can I say? I had read Tang poet Bai Juyi’s (白居易) lyric poems about Hangzhou and thought What the hell, maybe it’s still like this!

Come on – doesn’t this just slay you?

North of Lone Hill Temple, west of the Jia Pavilion,
The water’s surface has just smoothed, the foot of the cloud low.
Wherever you go new-risen orioles jostle for the warmest tree:
What are they after, the newborn swallows that peak at the spring mud?
A riot of blossoms not long from now will be dazzling to the eye,
The shallow grass can hardly yet submerge the horse’s hoof.
Best loved of all, to the east of the lake, where I can never walk enough,
In the shade of the green willows, the causeway of white sand.

孤山寺北贾亭西,水面初平云脚低。
几处早莺争暖树,谁家新燕啄春泥。
乱花渐欲迷人眼,浅草才能没马蹄。
最爱湖东行不足,绿杨阴里白沙堤。

Bai Juyi (白居易), Walking in Spring by West Lake (錢塘湖春行), trans. A.C. Graham

While Hangzhou is no urban paradise, West Lake is, indeed, a vision.

Like so many places of historic interest in China, the local tourist industry would have you believe that West Lake in its present form has been in continuous existence in Hangzhou for two thousand years – not so, of course. But in fairness, there are records dating back a couple millennia describing a large body of water known by a multitude of names including West Lake, Qiantang Lake, Fangsheng Pond, and – my personal favorite – Wulin Water. Plus, West Lake is so bewitching that I’m inclined to dispense with my normal skepticism.

So as we wind up the weekend, here’s a little beauty from West Lake to take with you.

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Taiwan: China, But Not China

If you’ve lived in China, going to Taiwan is a like going to an alternate universe. China, but not China.

It’s a place that invites comparison and analogy, and I found myself struggling to get a grip on the enormous familiarity of the place while enumerating its many differences from the Mainland.

It’s like China but without all the people!

It’s like China but without all the authoritarianism!

It’s like China but everyone in Taiwan stands in line and says please and thank you!

It’s like China but with freedom of the press and tropical beaches and absurdly delicious Southeast Asian-influenced food!

And when I put it like that, it kind of sounds like China…but paradise.

There were plenty of things about Taiwan that flummoxed me – for example, the fact that I could speak to people, but had a really hard time reading anything at all. Taiwan uses traditional Chinese characters, whereas the Mainland uses a system of simplified Chinese characters; a brief example of how complicated this can be is the name of Taiwan itself. In simplified characters it looks like this: 台湾. In traditional characters, it’s this: 臺灣 – i.e. so complicated that you can’t even see all the individual strokes on your computer screen.

It seems to me that the difference between Mainland Mandarin and Taiwanese Mandarin is about as big as the difference between British and American English. As an American, you probably wouldn’t have too much trouble understanding British English – but that’s because you’re a native English speaker. (Unless a Brit told you to do something like “Kindly put your counterpane on the car bonnet,” in which case you’d probably be mystified.) As a non-native Mandarin speaker, I was often left wondering what on earth people were talking about when they told me I could ride my 机车 to the 捷運 (ride my motorcycle to the subway), because I would have said that I was going to ride my 电动车 to the 地铁.

I know this is all a little abstract if you don’t speak Chinese, so let me get right to the point: political realities aside, for those of you who are wondering if Taiwan feels like it’s a part of China when you visit – no. It does not. It feels like a different country.

*****

In the end, our trip to Taiwan was slightly star-crossed. First, we missed our flight, which caused much anxiety and laying out of additional dollar bills. After spending our first few days exploring Taipei, it began to bucket down rain the night before heading to Hualien.

By the time we hit Hualien, we were in the throes of Tropical Storm Nalgae, meaning that we could barely leave our hotel room for two full days. Then I woke up with the worst head cold I’ve had in years, complete with giant, swollen glands and a croaky voice that I was hoping sounded seductive but I’m pretty sure just sounded tubercular.

After the rain finally cleared we were able to see Taroko Gorge and Taiwan’s dazzling East Coast, and had a blissful couple days on Green Island – and then RP’s grandfather passed away. We ditched plans for visiting the city of Tainan and headed straight back to Taipei so that RP could get the next flight out to New York via Tokyo.

I figure that if I loved Taiwan, even considering all that went wrong, it must be a highly lovable place. My affection for the place, however, was tinged with the familiar feeling that there was some pretty serious misdirection going on when I was educated about “Chinese culture” as an undergrad in East Asian Studies.

I’ve written before about the importance that was given to Mainland China when I was an undergraduate – Taiwan was never spoken of except in little staged debates to test your vocabulary (“cross-strait relations”, “political autonomy”, “difference of opinion”…). When, as a first year student, I expressed interest in East Asian Studies, I was immediately counseled to go study in China – meaning Beijing. This was where “real China” was, I was told – the only China. But I’ve discovered that that is a little like a Chinese student wanting to study English in “the West” simply being told to go to America – as if there were no Canada, England, or Australia.

Having spent so much time studying Mandarin and being focused on the Mainland, going to Taiwan made me do a double take. Wait- I could have studied here instead? In this place where they speak and write a beautiful Mandarin? Where they have an entirely alternate history, dominant culture, religious practices, minority languages, and view of the world?

Why didn’t anyone tell me?!

Again, it’s not that the Mainland isn’t fascinating – it’s that there are other fascinating places to experience Chinese culture, and these places are usually ignored in institutional settings like universities. I have to admit that it’s a little late – or, better, just bad timing – for me to start over in my engagement with “Chinese culture”. You all know that I’m a little weary of the whole business. I’m hoping that, when I return to the States and take a bit of a break from all things Chinese, I’ll be ready to re-engage and that Taiwan (and diaspora Chinese cultures) will be a part of that process. Taiwan inspired me to reassess my education about China and my level of Mandarin ability (ugh), and in return I ought to give it some serious attention.

For now, here are the places we went on our little trip to an alternate universe:

As everyone does, we began with several days in Taipei.

Longshan Temple

Danshui Night Market. (Apologies to squid rights activitists; there has been lots of squid violence on this blog.)

Taipei 101, the 2nd tallest building in the world (Dubai is such a spoiler)

We then hopped on a train for the several hour ride to Hualien, generally viewed as a good base city for exploring the East Coast. When the tropical storm finally cleared, we managed to get out for a beautiful walk in classic RP fashion (RP walk = normal person walk duration [hours] x 4 + mud + bushwhacking).

Qixingtan

We finally decided to make a break for Taroko Gorge, our entire purpose for coming to Hualien. We rented a car in Hualien, drove to the parking lot of Taroko National Park, caught a public bus into the Gorge, and then walked the many kilometers back to the car. (Taroko National Park has a very good website here if you’re planning a trip.)

Even if you’ve just hiked Tiger Leaping Gorge, Taroko is totally worth it. Unfortunately, damage done by the storm meant that the normal crystal blue river flowing through the Gorge was mostly grey, and many of the small hiking trails were closed. It was glorious nonetheless.

After hiking out to the car, we drove down Taiwan’s East Coast Highway 11 as the sun set. We weren’t sure where we would be sleeping but, as if by magic, the world’s most perfect B&B appeared right on the coast. We were the only guests. We stepped out briefly for the freshest seafood dinner imaginable, being served up just down the road, and then sat on a deck overlooking the Philippine Sea, wondering how we might manage to convince the B&B owner to let us stay forever.

We awoke at 5:30am for the sunrise.

We ended our coastal drive at Taitung, where we returned the car and spent a night before getting on the ferry to Green Island, less than an hour’s ride away. (Note: Much is made of the fact that this is a very bumpy ride and people often get seasick. That’s all true, but if you just take a little sea sickness medicine in advance and have a few saltines, you’ll be totally fine. Seriously not worth paying double the price to take a puddle jumper flight…)

Green Island is a little gem off Taiwan’s southern east coast where you can snorkel, swim, and get yourself all wrinkly in the hot springs. Your motorcycling skills had better be up to snuff, since that’s how you get around the island. (I managed to motorcycle us all around and, unlike on Cat Bat in Vietnam, didn’t crash! Very pleased.)

Green Island is also a former penal colony for political prisoners during Taiwan’s martial law period; there is now a “Human Rights Memorial” to those prisoners. I was under the misapprehension that the island was only a former place of imprisonment, but in fact, you can walk right by the building that still incarcerates some of Taiwan’s (supposedly non-political) prisoners. Just in case you start to feel too good about your vacation.

Sleeping Beauty Rock

Human Rights Memorial

Perfect water for swimming

After finding out that we needed to get back to Taipei immediately, we took the ferry back to Taitung, took a train to Kaosiung, and managed to get the highspeed rail back to the capital. It’s amazing; you can get from Taiwan’s southern-most tip back to Taipei in just a few hours.

And the rest you know: after a couple days on my own in Taipei, I flew back to the Mainland for some solo adventuring.

More photos from our trip to Taiwan can be viewed here and here.

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And Then There Was One

I’m sitting in my stuffy hostel room in Taipei, taking stock of my current possessions. In total, here’s what I’ve got:

A week’s worth of clothes, a bag of toiletries, my neglected little journal. The many electronics that I’m hoping will survive my continuing travels in Asia: laptop, camera, Kindle. Souvenir currencies from a few countries. The contents of my bags reflects the vaguely uncertain nature of this period: khaki skirt and sandals for the tropics; long underwear and a woolen knit hat for the desert at night.

A few days ago, I was traveling with probably twice as much stuff – more than I needed, I guess. RP relieved me of much of it (a gentle shove in the direction of practicality) when he had to suddenly leave Taiwan to attend the funeral of his grandfather, a lovely man who will be much missed and whom I am so glad to have known, albeit only for the last few years of his life.

So now, unexpectedly, it’s just me, finishing off an abbreviated version of the trip RP and I had planned: around Taiwan, back to the Mainland for Hangzhou, Shaoxing, and Nanjing, and finally to Xinjiang, that massive region of China’s far northwest.

Longterm traveling with a friend is an intense experience – you spend every day together, making endless little choices, balancing each of your personalities and various priorities. When your fellow traveller is also your husband, the intensity is even greater; you can find that you haven’t spent more than five minutes apart in weeks. And when that fellow traveller suddenly disappears, you can feel pretty naked.

For these three and half weeks I’m on my own, and I’m trying not to feel ambivalent about it. On the one hand, these are places I’ve really wanted to travel – particularly Xinjiang. On the other hand, I had this vision of how the trip was going to be, and RP was a big part of the vision. Time to regroup.

I’m heading back to the Mainland tomorrow morning – I know, I’m leaving already and I haven’t even told you how the two weeks in Taiwan have been! I’ll describe the bulk of the trip in my next post, but for now, let me just tell you about today.

*****

Today is a national holiday in Taiwan, in honor of the 100th anniversary of the founding of the country, officially the Republic of China. (This is not to be confused with the People’s Republic of China – that would be the hulking landmass inhabited by 1.4 billion people just across the Taiwan Strait claiming this island as a rogue province…I’ll get to that business in my next post.)

The Taiwanese people I have met are very much into their distinct identity as Taiwanese, and the official propaganda about the separateness of Taiwan from Mainland China is no joke: this is a place where the official calendar is pegged to the founding of the Republic of China. I’m not kidding; you may think it’s currently 2011, but in Taiwan it’s the year 100. In the US, I am regarded as having been born in 1983; in Taiwan, I was born in the year 72.

Now, that’s all fine with me. Want to start your calendar at the founding of your country, instead of at the supposed birthday of an ancient religious leader from Nazareth? Go right ahead. But I did figure that, in a place that essentially regards everything before its founding as pre-history, the 100th anniversary would be a big deal. I got up this morning, having watched the official flag raising and presidential speech on TV

(BlahblahblahSUNYATSENWASTHEMANblahblahblahRANDOMSTATSTICSABOUTWHYTAI
WANISAWESOMEblahblahblahTAIWANISOURHOMELAND…sorry, it’s hard for me to get riled up by Ma Ying-Jeou, one of the world’s consummate snivelly-mannered bureaucrats. It’s like watching Mr. Smithers give a high school commencement speech.)

and ventured out to take part in the revelry I was sure would be happening.

Or, not so much.

I walked a few blocks – all business as usual. I headed straight for the Presidential Palace, where just moments before I had seen tanks parading around on TV, having heard fighter jets roar over the city – but almost everyone had dispersed. I ended up at the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial – alright, here were some minor crowds. But if I hadn’t already been to the Memorial and known that normally it’s pretty empty, I wouldn’t have noticed anything out of the ordinary.

Where were the block parties?! Where were the overpriced barbecue and bottled water hawkers?! Why was nobody’s face painted to look like the Taiwanese flag?!

I did happen to run into a cool mini-parade of these 10-foot tall Daoist temple guards, but that only lasted for 5 or 10 minutes.

It took my friend NF, who I saw later in the day, to enlighten me: according to him, most Taiwanese people, proud as they are of being Taiwanese, don’t actually give a rat’s ass about the centennial anniversary. Turns out, NF reminds me, that 40 years of martial law makes some people less than totally enthusiastic about celebrating official anniversaries, and doesn’t particularly put them in the mood to eat festive barbecue.

Man, I’m so naive.

*****

Apparently, there was a giant, centenary fireworks display held in Taipei tonight, but I was faced with a choice of events: fireworks in 95% humidity, or a rare and spectacular (and FREE) performance of Mahler’s Symphony No. 8 (e.g. “Symphony of a Thousand”) by the Taiwanese National Symphony Orchestra and conducted by the great Lü Shao-Chia.

I went with the Mahler, and it was glorious. A bombastic epic, an entire world of musical plots and characters, a swirling mass of musical ether.

Recently, I’ve so been missing live musical experiences like this one that tonight, presented with such an onslaught of beautiful noise, I thought my chest might burst with glee. At the end of each of the two movements I felt as if I had been bodily launched into space. (NF, a person far less starved for such concerts than I, pointed out that the massive ensemble seemed a tad tired, having performed this beast last night as well, but I say HEY – I thought it was tremendous.) I know it’s a random thing to do on the last night of a trip to Taiwan, but you have to take these chances (FREE TICKETS) when they come along.

I hesitate to post the video below, because obviously it does no justice to the experience of hearing this piece live, but I feel like I have to post it for the benefit of those who haven’t heard Symphony No. 8 before.

Enjoy! I’m off to bed, and then to Shanghai.

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Chilling in Shaxi

After overdoing it slightly with Tiger Leaping Gorge, I’ll keep it brief with Shaxi, the place we headed to next.

Shaxi is simply the prettiest and most pleasant place I have ever been in China. It’s not stunningly beautiful or dramatic. It’s a quiet town surrounded by tidy little Bai villages and rice paddies; a place to come put up your feet and nap in the sun when life in China gets you down.

Things to do in Shaxi include reading, writing, sipping tea, going for bucolic walks, and watching the stars. And feeding the ducks.

I’d like to give a little plug for Mr. Wu’s Dragonfly Guesthouse; we didn’t stay there, but we did take a beautiful walk to have dinner there. I recommend you do the same; Mr. Wu has converted an old village theater into a guesthouse, restaurant, and possible organic farming project – plus, his mother cooks like a dream.

To get to Shaxi, take a bus from Lijiang to Jianchuan, and then a van on from there. The whole thing takes maybe 4 hours.

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Hiking Tiger Leaping Gorge: Day 3

From Sean’s Guesthouse, your goal is to descend to the river, where a boatman will ferry you across. It’s then a short walk to the village of Daju.

Getting to the boatman is a little tricky if you don’t speak Chinese. You’ll walk for a couple hours along the paved road that runs through Tiger Leaping Gorge – there isn’t much traffic, so it’s not too bad. Plus, the views both back into the gorge and forward into the widening valley are outstanding.

The road will have been basically flat the whole way – and then suddenly there is a short steep climb, at the top of which you will come to a place called Riverside Village (江边村).

You’ll walk for a few minutes until you reach the center of the village, with a small strip of shops and activity. Here’s the tricky bit – from here you veer off to the right, along the side of a corn field, down a rocky path, through a plot where a couple of houses are being built, etc. etc., until you find the path that leads down to the river. If you can’t speak Mandarin, you are probably out of luck. Granted, the people living in this village don’t really speak Mandarin either, but they understand enough such that when you ask them “渡口在哪里?Where is the ferry?” and make little oar-paddling movements, they know to point you in the right direction.

The views along the way are stunning, and make it seem totally improbably that you will ever, in a thousand years, run into a river with a boatman who will ferry you across.

But indeed, after about half an hour you’ll see little hand-painted 渡口 signs, and eventually you’ll head down to the sandy riverbank. The boatman will be on the other side, so you’ll need to jump up and down shouting HEY HEY HEY until you hear the motor start up, and see the ferry come towards you.

It cost us 20 RMB each for the one minute ride but even if it cost 100 RMB each you’d just have to pay it; you can’t ford the river and otherwise you have to walk a hell of a long way back to Qiaotou.

On the other side of the river there’s a steep path up to a small road. Puffing and panting, you’ll get up there and wonder exactly how much longer it is – don’t worry. You’re almost there. Basically you just follow the road to your right, and you’ll be in the village of Daju within 30 minutes. Marvel at the strange terrain around you. I’ve never been there, but in my mind this is what New Mexico looks like.

Once you’re in the village, look out for a little sign on the left advertising itself as a hotel, and saying that there’s a bus to Lijiang.

While you’re waiting for the bus, hang out in the little hotel, put up your feet and get a can of ice cold soda and a popsicle out of the hotel’s freezer. They will be the greatest refreshments you have ever consumed.

And that’s it! – almost. This part is very important!

The bus will come and whisk you away back to Lijiang (and they will attempt to charge you 50 RMB for passing through Jade Dragon Snow Mountain park – explain that you’re going straight to Lijiang and not getting off, and hopefully they’ll leave you along). BUT! You must not fall asleep on this bus ride. You will be tired from the walk, and may start to nod off, but DO NOT. This is one of the greatest bus rides in China. The road is STAGGERINGLY beautiful, winding through graceful mountains and…I can’t even describe it. It’s tremendous – do not miss it by falling asleep.

The little bus goes so fast that I couldn’t take any pictures, except this one from the very beginning of the ride:

So you’ll just have to trust me. It’s the greatest end to a hike in history.

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Hiking Tiger Leaping Gorge: Day 2

When we realized that waiting for it to clear up might take several days, we headed back out onto the trail in the fog. An hour later the clouds began to dissipate, and we enjoyed a few hours of relatively flat trail.

Eventually, you’ll encounter another bit of uphill. RP and I got ourself all prepped for another vertical shlep, but it turned out to be exceedingly short. We sat on a flat rock at the top of the brief climb and took out our lunch, looking out over the Gorge and feeling very pleased with ourselves. This was short-lived, as we suddenly heard a crowd of voices coming up the path. When the group appeared it was clear that they were not actually hiking the High Road, but had driven the Low Road that runs along the bottom of the gorge near the river. (There are a few short paths up from the road where tour groups can come up for the views.)

This particular group, as it turned out, was a Korean Christian youth group. We knew this because they were clearly being corralled by a man with a pastor-ly air, who, after speaking some soothing words to his young charges, lead them in what could only have been religious song followed by increasingly boisterous and feverish praise of the Almighty. This picture really does not do it justice.

Now, I don’t mind if you want to hike Tiger Leaping Gorge and pray – it’s a place that encourages you to be introspective and in awe; a natural place for prayer. But 15 people depositing themselves two feet away from a couple of peaceful picnickers and proceeding to fill the gorge with shouting is just rude. Rude!

After passive aggressively giving this youth group evil looks for a couple minutes, I decided we should just move on.

The trail descends steeply before softening to a gentle downward slope. Enjoy the views – try not to spend too much time staring at the path.

Eventually you’ll see a sign for Tina’s Guesthouse – you’ll be almost to the junction with main road at this point. Wipe a tear from your eye that the gorge is behind you!

Across from the end of the trail is a guesthouse advertising bus services back to Qiaotou, where you can catch another bus back to Lijiang. But don’t do it! Keep going! Perhaps another 20 minutes down the road is Sean’s Guesthouse, where you can stay the night before heading out again for Daju.

(Note: Sean’s Guesthouse seems to be engaged in a cutthroat battle for customers with Woody’s Guesthouse, played out in messages painted on rocks along the path – Sean’s Guesthouse This Way! — WOODY’S GUESTHOUSE ALSO THIS WAY BUT CLOSER THAN SEAN’S!!!1@#!, etc. I’m sure Woody’s is nice as well, but I recommend Sean’s for the tremendous stone deck from which you can admire the last of Tiger Leaping Gorge as the day comes to an end. And dry your socks.)

If you get lucky, as we did, the night will be clear. In most Chinese cities, including Kunming, almost no stars can be seen due to the atrocious haze and air pollution. But night in the Gorge is pristine – that night at Sean’s, it seemed as if the whole universe had descended to wrap us in its magnificence. I think that the power of a truly dark sky is that human beings spend almost all of their time focused on space that is no more than 50 feet above our heads – often much less. When the sky is truly dark and clear, the earth retreats into nothingness and you realize that essentially all known space and matter is not around you, but above you. It takes your breath away.

If you’re not already a member of the International Dark-Sky Association, you should be.

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Hiking Tiger Leaping Gorge: Day 1

There aren’t very many hikes in China that are both impressive and easily accessible, not because China doesn’t have beautiful hiking terrain, but because hiking isn’t a particularly popular pastime here.

The exception to this is Tiger Leaping Gorge, a hike along the ridge line of a stunningly beautiful, 2,000-meter deep gorge with views that include lush greenery, snow-capped mountains, and white water rapids so dangerous that you’re not actually allowed to raft them.

Plus, if you’re in decent shape it’s not even that hard – and you’ll likely find yourself encountering only a few other people as you follow along the trail.

If you’re anywhere near Yunnan, you should hike Tiger Leaping Gorge – I can’t believe it took me so long to get there, and I’m so grateful that I made it before leaving the province. Now that I’ve convinced you to do it, my additional advice is to allot three days for the whole trip; the Gorge can be hiked in a very leisurely two days, with one night spent at one of the couple of guest houses located along the the trail. This two days will get you from the trail head in Qiaotou to the trail junction with the main road at the end of the Gorge (near where Sean’s Guesthouse is located) – but you will miss the truly stunning scenery from there to Daju, which is utterly unlike the Gorge itself. It is 100% worth it to take an extra day for this.

I’m about to describe the route, but in case it’s helpful here is a photo of a little map that someone handed us along the trail. I know it’s crumpled and hand-drawn, but it can help you visualize what’s ahead of you on the trail.

Click map to view larger image.

A word on the weather: we hiked the Gorge in Yunnan’s rainy season with no problem. It hadn’t been pouring in the few days leading up to our trip, and we called ahead to check with Sean on the condition of the trail just to be sure (0887-8202223), but it was nothing to worry about.

Without further ado, here is an instructional guide for hiking Tiger Leaping Gorge, from Qiaotou to Daju. I’ll post Days 2 and 3 of the hike in the next few days.

Start by getting yourself to Lijiang. There is a very nice overnight train from Kunming that gets you into Lijiang around 8am. I recommend not choosing the top bunks if you go with a hard sleeper, because it’s a little…cramped.

If you hustle, and get lucky, you can make it to the Lijiang Bus Station in time to catch the 8:30am bus to Qiaotou. I believe it’s the #18 public bus that goes from the Lijiang Train Station to a couple blocks away from the bus station, but we had to scramble to make it, and if you’ll probably want to get a cab just to be safe.

The bus to Qiaotou took us around 3 hours, but I believe this was because of construction that forced us to take a smaller, bumpier road. Either way, we arrived in Qiaotou with enough time to eat lunch before setting off on the trail. In Qiaotou you’ll need to pay the the fee for hiking the trail, which is 50 RMB (25 RMB for students with a Chinese university ID).

From the Qiaotou bus stop, you need to walk perhaps 10 minutes farther along the road to the trail head. You should see the following sign (“Tiger Leaping gorge hiking high way thus into”):

After following this sign you’ll pretty immediately run into a confusing mess of dirt paths – the one you want, all the way along the trail, is the so-called “High Road” (高路). There are periodic blue and yellow signs, along with seemingly Rasta-themed arrows painted on rocks in red, yellow and green, to show you the way along the trail.

The views start getting good straight away.

The first day is the toughest, because that’s where you gain almost all of the elevation. You gain it first to get up to the ridge line, and then at the notorious “28 Bends” – literally, a set of 28 little switchbacks to get you to the highest point of the trail. Apparently some people even start from the other end of the trail, ending at Qiaotou, just to avoid the 28 bends – but they’re seriously not that bad. Don’t be a wimp.

You’ll know you’re getting to the 28 Bends because the view gets more dramatic…

…and weed starts to grow by the side of the trail! Local people will tell you very earnestly that they smoke it because it helps them sleep.

Anyway. The Bends.

You’ve gained all the elevation now, and you may notice the weather change. For us, it got chillier and we walked right into a drifting rainstorm. Take pictures even if this happens to you, because the view is still awesome, even with rain.

We were hoping the rain would let up so we hid out in a little cove in the side of the mountain waiting for it to clear – but it never did. Given that the rain was making the trail a little slippery, and that it was getting to be dinner time since we hadn’t started the trail until noon, we decided to call it quits and stay in the Tea Horse Guesthouse (茶马客栈). If you get an earlier start, it’s completely possible to make it to the Halfway Inn (中途客栈), which is 60-90 minutes farther along the trail.

The Tea Horse Guesthouse was a very decent place to stay the night – and it goes without saying that it was well situated…

One word of advice while you’re hiking the Gorge: if the weather is clear, even for an hour, take lots of pictures. When we checked into our room, the view from our window looked like this:

And when we woke up the next morning, it looked like this:

Total white-out.

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