You'll Never Walk Alone

People do live on Huangshan, but it is sort of an odd set up. There aren’t really towns, so much as little…camps…along the trail, that specialize in…entrapping…tourists. Basically, people set up booths and sell everything from water and chocolate, to jewelry made of “rocks from Huangshan.” Anything a desperate and dehydrated tourist needs, they can find along the trail. At the summit, there is more resemblance to a town, including a bank, a post office, and various shops and hotels, but everyone who lives there, works there. These destinations—along with the little “shanty towns” along the trail” are the destinations that the little Sherpa dudes are carrying their wears to.

The little Sherpa dudes are kind of dangerous too, particularly when it comes to passing them on a flight of stairs. Generally speaking, they are very friendly, and many of them sing as they hike along.
They stop frequently to set down their loads and rest their shoulders, and that is the dangerous part. When they do, they often whip around without notice and their swinging goods can practically knock an unexpecting hiker off the trail. People sort of get in a rhythm and pass them in groups so they can see you coming out of their peripheral vision.

The most common places to stop along the trail are in these little tourist trap set ups. They are generally in flat areas with some sort of bench—or at least a lot of big rocks—to sit on. The first one I came to had a great view the stream and I walked out onto a ledge to get a picture of it.

When I did, I noticed two boys taking pictures. They were wearing matching flannel shirts and blue capris. They were definitely pretty young, but they looked like they were having fun. John had taught me to ask people if I could take their picture in Chinese. Testing the phrase out on these two young kids, the older one instantly got excited and said, “You want to take picture with us?”

I nodded. We traded off cameras as we posed with each other, and snapped group photos. An old man sitting nearby started laughing and I gathered he was travelling with the boys.

“Wo jiao Zach. Ni ne?” I said after all the photos had been taken. (Meaning “My name is Zach. What’s your’s?”)

The two boys looked at each other and then started pointing as if to give me directions. “No,” I said. “I meant my name is Zach. What are your’s?”

“Oh!” they smiled and told me their names. I didn’t really catch either of them, but I did my best to repeat them.

“Can we be friends Zach?” the elder boy asked.

“Sure,” I said. “Do you have WeChat?” WeChat is a social media app in China (also available outside of China) that is used pretty much in the same way the US uses Facebook. Since Facebook is banned here, WeChat is definitely the most popular social media platform. I had just set up an account on Friday so that I could stay in touch with my co-workers while I was out of town—especially if I got in a bind.

He pulled out his smartphone and opened his WeChat account. I typed in my username so he could request me as a friend. “When I get internet, I’ll add you,” I said.

“Okay,” he said. “Bye bye.” The two boys ran off joined the old man.

Well that was fun! I thought. It’s amazing how just one simple phrase can open a whole conversation. I waved to them as I continued hiking.

About 15 minutes later, there was another stopping point to look out at the famous temple rock. The temple rock is basically a big boulder perched on a little peak. The top of it is shaped like a circus tent and resembles the roof of a Buddhist temple. As I stopped to take pictures, I heard a voice say, “Hi Zach.”

It was the elder boy. I got them to take a picture of me with the rock while they explained that they were brothers hiking with their grandfather. They lived in Suzhou and were on holiday from school with their extended family. Their parents had to work, but their Aunts and Uncles were waiting at the top after taking the cable car up. After we were done taking more pictures, they continued on while I took a drink of water.

The trail really was pretty crowded with lots of families and lots of generations hiking along. Most of it was up, and all of the up was stairs. Occasionally there was a flat section but the higher we got the fewer and shorter they became.

Instead, as the hike got more intense, we saw people at various stands offering to carry people up the mountain. They had these woven basket chairs that were rigged to be balanced on the shoulders between two people. If you didn’t want the ride—which honestly looked terrifying—you could also enlist them to carry your gear for you.

Up one particularly steep flight of stairs, there was another little tourist stand selling fresh fruit. I admit it looked good, but I learned my lesson from the berries at work. The pavilion however was a nice touch to this particular rest area and I took a seat at a bench to eat some dried fruit. It tasted fantastic, and it took a bit of self-control not to eat it all right there. I also opened the trail mix which had kind of a soy sauce flavor to it. The combination of sweet fruit and salty chex really hit the spot.  

As I started hiking again, I saw the two brothers and their grandfather. They saw me and waved.

“Maybe you can hike with us?” the elder boy said.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “My grandfather would like it.”

I didn’t know if that was true, but I thanked them and joined them.

Doing so turned out to be a great cultural experience. We stopped frequently to rest, which at first was frustrating, but I realized it gave me more time to take photos. Eventually, I figured out they were stopping frequently because they were afraid I was getting tired. As long as I insisted I was okay, they would keep going.

As we passed various people, Elder (which is the nickname I gave the older brother in my head) would announce to them that I was an American. I felt like I was being treated like royalty as if he was basically saying, “Out of the way! American coming through!” People would smile at me and try to say a few words in English.

When we did stop, Elder or Junior would always clear off a seat for me. Grandfather was always offering me water, which I declined and showed them that I had my own. Every time I took pictures they wanted to take pictures with me. Even Grandfather asked if he could take pictures with me.

It was all very flattering and very awkward at the same time. I remembered what Helen had told me about the cultural norm be to very welcoming to foreigners, but this seemed a little over the top.

But talking to Elder was interesting.

“How old are you?” I asked at one point when we had stopped to wait for Junior and Grandfather to catch up.

“Fifteen,” he said.

“And your brother?” I asked.

“He is three months younger than me.”

That didn’t completely make sense. I figured either the word brother or the word months must be off. Perhaps he was a cousin or perhaps he was three years younger.

His English was pretty good, although his grammar was quite difficult to understand. I think a lot of phrases were being translated literally from Chinese to English and the word order—or sometimes the word choice—didn’t exactly make sense. I tried to stick to topics that I figured were easy vocabulary to work with.

“What is your favorite subject in school?” I asked.

“Umm,” he said. “I don’t know how to say it.” He pulled out his phone which had Pleco (a translation app) on it. Typing something in he showed me the screen. It read: “Nuclear Physics.” Can't say I was a big fan of that when I was fifteen.

I also got the chance as we hiked to practice pretty much everything I knew how to say in Chinese. This included “Re” (which means “hot”…although I couldn’t actually form a sentence with it so I just said the word and acted out fanning myself with my hand) “Wo e le” (which means “I’m hungry) “Wo xihuan kaifei” (which means “I like coffee.”) I also could have ordered poached fish but the subject never came up.

Towards the top, the stairs got steeper and the elevation became more noticeable.

“I think you learn more from climbing a mountain than from reading in school,” Elder said.

I smiled. “I agree.” I was certainly learning a lot here…from language, to culture, to reminding myself how much fun traveling was.

At the top of another steep section we stopped for a break. Elder asked me, “Are you married?”

“No,” I said. “I’m not married.”

“Do you have girl friend?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t. Do you?”

“Yes,” he smiled. “I have seen her for three years. When will you get married?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think maybe 28 is a good age to get married.”

“Yes,” he said. “I think it is the most popular age to get married. Do you think American girls or Chinese girls are prettier?”

This conversation was kind of making me laugh in my head. Oh the joys of being 15 again I thought.

As we stopped for snacks, I offered Elder and Junior some of my trail mix. They thanked me, took the bag, and put it in their backpack. I was a little dumbfounded. That wasn’t what I had meant, but I didn’t want to be rude and ask for it back…at the same time, it was half of my food. Elder rushed over to grandfather and said something. Soon he returned and offered me some bread.

“Thank you,” I said, trying to piece together the exchange that had just occurred. I took a bite of the bread. The outside crust was all hairy. It tasted okay, but I’m pretty sure it was starting to mold. I wrapped it up and put it in my backpack for later.

With that, we climbed up the last flight of stairs. Breathing heavily, I wondered how many steps we’d just climbed. The elevation of the trailhead was 91meter (about 3,000feet) and the summit was 1,800meters (about 6,000feet.) I could feel my heart beating in my chest and my pulse in my calves was pounding away.

All of a sudden, there was music. I don’t mean that in a cliché way…there was literal party music from just a few meters away. We stepped up the last few steps and found ourselves at the “summit” (I use air quotes because it wasn’t the true summit, but rather the top where all of the peaks where networked together.) People were clapping and cheering for us while the speakers blared in celebration.

“This view,” Elder said, “with the misty mountain and pine tree is the symbol of Huangshan.” I recognized it from the hoodie down below. Elder offered to take a picture of me in front of it.

“It’s beautiful,” I said as I looked out at the peaks wrapped in cloud. And it really was.

“I’m sad,” Elder said.

“Why?” I asked.

“We have to go find our family at our hotel,” he said. With that, he took my hand and pulled me into a bug hug. Junior gave me a one armed hug and grandfather shook my hand and smiled.

“Thank you for letting me hike with you,” I said. “Tell your Grandfather thank you too,”

Elder translated and Grandfather smiled and waved. With that, we parted company. I had to laugh—for as nervous as I had been about climbing this mountain alone, I had never been alone. These kind people I’d never met had taken me in and not only looked out for me, but showed me a glimpse of their culture.

But now, I was on my own, and this mountaintop paradise was mine to explore.