When Bill and I first arrived to Hangzhou we went to a teahouse near WestLake and wrote out a long list of all the places in China we wanted to visit. Our list took up a full sheet of paper (both sides), and the list is still growing as we learn more about this country. A few weekends ago we planned a trip to one of our top destinations on that list: Huangshan, which literally means Yellow Mountain. It is a mountain range in the southern part of Anhui province, which is located in eastern China, about a four hour bus ride from Hangzhou. These mountains are famous in China and over centuries have served as the inspiration for many works of Chinese art and literature.
Huangshan was exactly as I imagined it to be. It was as if nearly every Chinese mountain scene painting I had ever scene came to life in front of me. Granite peaks reached for the sky while elegant yet powerful pines defied gravity as they grew out of the mountains in places that appeared uninhabitable. I was hoping for some rugged and remote hiking trails but instead got endless kilometers of paved stairs and large groups of people being led by tour guides with bad microphones. I remember before leaving for this trip I was daydreaming about getting away from the bustle of a big Chinese city, and being surrounded by beautiful mountains filled with fresh air and a stillness that cannot exist with the constant honking of cars and e-bikes. This trip showed me that no site valued in China is immune to the smothering crush of people. No matter how far we hiked, we still found ourself near people. During the span of two days we hiked about 25 kilometers. I kid you not, about 18-20 of those kilometers were all uphill stairs. I have never, ever walked that many stairs in that short of time in all my life. On the first day it was like walking on a stair master for 8 hours straight.
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Our intention at the beginning of our hike on Saturday was to make it back down the mountain (via cablecar) in the evening, because all the hotels at the top of the mountain were completely booked. We planned out a route that would get us to the furthest cablecar by 4:30pm, about one hour before it would get dark. Our legs were burning, and stomachs growling, but we were about a 1/2 kilometer away from the cablecar at 4:30. Perfectly executed, we thought. Until we noticed there was not a single person walking the path towards the cablecar. I forgot to mention that despite being in the mountains, there were still people everywhere. This is China after all. We soon came to find out that the cable car was closed. The next closest cablecar was about 6 kilometers away, mostly up stairs, so we wouldn't get there before dark. We stopped the first group of young hikers that passed by us and we asked if they knew how long it would take to hike down. They looked nervous, and I did not know if it was because they didn't know how to respond in English or if it was the answer itself that made them nervous. With a little broken English and the help of google translate, they managed to explain that it would take at least three hours to get down to the bottom and would be far too dangerous in the dark. Our faces said it all, wide eyed and mouth open. Immediately after came the invitation to join their group and camp for the night at the top of the mountain. I can safely say that was the first camping invitation I have ever received via a smartphone translator, and I have a hunch it might be the last. When we reached the site, surprise, surprise, there were people EVERYWHERE. Our new friends dragged us into the registration office and pushed through crowds of people. When they reached the person who was working they began speaking quickly, the volume of their voice getting louder and louder. They then grabbed our arm and said 'come, now, last one.' Amongst this sea of people we managed to get the very last tent for rent.
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On one hand a trip like this made me grateful for all the hiking trips we had done in the past where we would almost never run into a person on the trail. On the other hand, we were extremely lucky that there were so many people on the trail. I sometimes wonder what we would have done if we had not run into those wonderful people. The good thing is, I can just leave it up to my imagination now. I have learned my lesson though, in a country of 1.36 billion people, do not go running to beautiful mountains to find peace, quiet and solitude.
