At the bottom of the stairs, I discovered the door to the main
reception area was locked. There was a side door that led outside so I ducked
through it and went to walk around the courtyard a little. The rain had stopped
and it looked like it was going to be a nice enough day for me to actually hike
up the mountain.
About 6:00, I went back in through the side door and saw a young kid
come downstairs and open the door. He apparently was the chef and got me my
breakfast. The French toast was different but really good. I think it was an attempt
at stuffed French toast, but it looked more like a jelly sandwich made with French
toast. Either way, it was good. He also brought me my fried rice in a to-go box
which I stashed in my bag. I took my second Gatorade-type drink and drank it
with my breakfast.
I checked out and got my deposit back. Going outside to the curb I
waited for the bus. Just after 6:30, a little gold colored shuttle pulled up
and the driver waved me on. It was packed and the only available seat was in
the very last row in the back. I sat down between a couple and a man who
appeared to be traveling alone. The man tried several times to strike up a
conversation, and despite the numerous times I said, “Ting bu dong” (which
means “I don’t understand”) or “I speak English” he continued to try and talk
to me in Chinese.
I’m sure I was a bit of an anomaly as I was the only white face on the
bus. There were two guides narrating our 30 minute drive to Tangkou over a
crackling microphone and speaker system. The entire thing was in Chinese, so I
sort of dozed off. The windows were fogged up anyway so there wasn’t much to
see (which was once again, very disorienting.) The hairpin turns would wake me
up, and eventually the lack of AC got hot enough that I took off my jacket.
When we arrived in town, everyone piled out of the bus. It was chilly,
but not cold. The sky was overcast, but it still didn’t look like it was going
to rain. The woman who had been narrating appeared to be corralling people, but
I had a feeling she wasn’t going to be able to give me any useful information.
I noticed she was pointing to a small tourist type store so I went ahead and
headed inside. All of my books had said that this was the place to stock up on
supplies as everything closer to the mountain got more expensive.
I still had a bag of trail mix and a bag of dried fruit. I’d polished
off the Pringles and sports drinks, so I really needed water. Just inside the
door, I found bottles of “Activated O2” brand water. Picking up two,
I looked around for rain gear, when I spotted a shiny yellow jacket hanging high
up on the wall, I found a woman that appeared to be working there and pointed
across the room at it. She called a colleague who led me over there.
This woman pulled out a red hoodie that had Huangshan on it, along
with an embroidered image of a mountain a pine tree. I realized that hoodie had
also been on display next to the jacket I wanted. Shaking my head, I pointed up
at the yellow coat. The woman squinted her face and shook her head. I looked
back up and realized the shiny material was not a waterproof jacket, but a
glittery and lace covered coat for women.
I smiled and also shook my head. Vivi had taught me the word for rain
but I wasn’t sure I remembered it.
“Yu?” I said and tugged on my coat. The woman smiled and nodded and
led me over to a basket where they were selling raingear, she handed me a set
and rang up my order with the two water bottles to 15RMB (about $2.50USD.)
Going outside, I opened my pack and stashed my stuff. The group that
had been listening to the woman narrator was nowhere to be seen but I saw the
man who had been narrating standing by the empty bus smoking a cigarette. The
map I had from the hostel was in both English and Chinese Characters, so I
walked up to him and pointed at the YunGu entrance I needed for the Eastern
Route.
“You want to go here?” he said.
He spoke
English!
“Yes,” I said.
“Cross that bridge,” he pointed to the pedestrian bridge that led
across the main road.
“When do you come back?” he asked. “Today or tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” I said.
“My bus leaves at 3:30,” he said. “Meet me here at 3:30.”
“3:30pm?” I confirmed.
“Yes,” he said. “Here, I give you my mobile number.” I put it in my
phone and thanked him before heading up across the bridge.
On the other side was a line to buy tickets for the shuttle to the
base of the mountain. When I got to the counter, I pointed to Yungu Temple on
the map. The woman said, “nineteen.” I paid her and she gave me a ticket.
Following the crowd into the bus station, I had to go through security with my
pack. On the other side, there were three lines, each with Chinese and English
signs overhead. I didn’t see one for Yungu Temple, but I say YunGuSi, so I
followed that line. At the end, it led to an exit where a woman punched my
ticket and escorted me onto a blue bus.
Taking a seat by the window, I tried to tune out the chaotic noise of
my fellow passengers as we wound up the hill. My window was open just a little
bit and the breeze felt fantastic. The views of the valley were also incredible
as we drove up the hillside. There were bamboo trees and exotic looking ferns
all along the road. This wasn’t the forest I was used to hiking in, but more like
the jungle. Every time we took a hairpin turn, I could see the parade of blue
buses behind us. I also noticed the police officers at each turn directing
traffic.
When the bus parked and we all piled off, I realized a large portion
of my fellow passengers were part of a group tour. They all wore matching neon
yellow fedoras with red ribbons around the brim. They headed down the hill
while I stepped out of traffic to take a black foot bridge that led by a
waterfall. At the bottom of the bridge was a very grand looking, round archway
that said in Chinese and English “Entrance.”
There was an entrance fee to get into the park (between the bus ticket
to Tangkou, the shuttle up, and the entrance fee, the Chinese really have this
capitalism thing down) but I used my student ID to get a 50% discount. They
checked my Student ID again when I presented my ticket to the ranger before opening
the turnstile to let me in.
The initial entrance to the park was really nothing special. There was
a patio area with some picnic tables for smoking. Smoking however was forbidden
beyond the red line at the start of the trailhead. The trail itself was paved
with sort of a cobblestone/granite formed into stairs and stretches of path. I
was, however, instantly enchanted by the tropical canopy overhead.
I also noticed various workers carrying supplies up the mountain. They
hang their supplies on either end of a boar which the balance on their shoulder
blades like a scale. In my mind I call them “little Sherpa dudes” although I am
sure that is not the politically correct term for them.
A steady stream ran along one side of the path and, as Pierre had
mentioned, there were several pools and waterfalls for wading in. The cragged cliffs
on the other side of the stream pulled in fog and mist that looked more and
more mysterious the higher we climbed.
I listened to the tapping of my shoes on the stone path. The cadence of
my feet played along with the joyful melody of the babbling creek and chirping
sounds of birds overhead. A rustling breeze kept the harmony, while the
laughter of other hikers rounded out the chorus.
There is a campfire story we tell in Boy Scouts that uses the line, “All
the natural world around you shows you clearly your reflection.” As I looked
around, those words suddenly tugged at my heart strings. Looking up at the
green, branches overhead, I noticed a single sprout of red leaves sticking out.
The contrast of color was beautiful. I’ve been in a lot of grand castles over
the past 18 months, but this was nature’s palace…and it was amazing!
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