Griddable » Huashan – a Rocky Start

Huashan – a Rocky Start

Sunday, September 12th, 2010 in: News

Almost 6 months after I first read about Huashan, I was finally going to make it happen. I was excited… almost as excited as I was about the selection of western breakfasts the hostel’s bar/restaurant offered. Eggs, toast, hash browns and sausages? Count me in! After breakfast, I hoped that the mountain wouldn’t be such a disappointment. All the ingredients were there for a good breakfast, but the Chinese chef didn’t quite know what to do with them to make them hearty and delicious. Did he… boil the sausage? sigh… At least the box of kittens in the restaurant were fluffier than the eggs, although I didn’t try to eat them.

I got back to my room to pack up my things; since we were going to spend a night on the mountain, we were going to leave our bags at the front desk and come back to spend one more night in Xi’an afterwards. When I walked into the room I immediately noticed that something was missing: my phone. I’d foolishly left it on my bed, charging while I was 100 paces away eating breakfast. I was pretty sure I knew who it was (one of our roommates, a Chinese guy who “checked out” before we got up, but Dan saw him back in the room while I was at breakfast, sneaky asshole). Having limited experience with hostels is my only excuse for my naivete, which was quickly snatched away, along with my precious link to the outside world. It’s hard to express exactly how I felt, but needless to say I felt violated and outraged by such casual theft. It was as if someone tore away my security blanket from me, and I was suddenly left with a large rectangular hole in my pocket where it should be. My iPhone had been a constant companion over the past few years, and it saved my butt when my computer died. Dearest iPhone, you will be replaced, but more importantly, you will be missed.

Needless to say, I wasn’t in the best mood when we set out for the train station. We’d bought bullet train tickets, shortening an hour and a half train ride to a mere 40 minutes. The train was pretty comparable to the shinkansen in Japan, with the exception that the Chinese passengers were much more boisterous than what I was used to. I tried to read but it was hard not to let me thoughts turn to my current predicament. No matter, we wouldn’t need phones on the mountain.

When we got out of the station, a swarm of cab drivers was waiting at the gate, vying for a chance to snag a fare. One particular driver latched himself onto us, pestering us to let him drive us. “Only 20 kuai, the bus is 10 kuai each so you’re going to spend that much anyways.” Dan had to tell him to back off and give us some space while we discussed our plans, as we hadn’t yet decided where we’d start climbing from, and he took a step back but continued to stare at us. A few Chinese students stepped up to ask us about our plans in the area, but they just elicited more intrusion from the cabbie, who then started talking again at them and us. By this time, I’d realized that he’d stalled us long enough for all the buses and cabs to leave, which meant we were stuck with him. He must have realized this as well, and refused to budge on the price. Whatever, it’s still only about a dollar apiece, beats walking.

The driver pulled onto the street running up to the entrance of the park, and about 300 meters from the main gate, he pulled over in front of a restaurant. “We’re here, have you eaten? These guys are my friends, they’ll take good care of you.” We were so pissed off at him for having the gall to overcharge us for the cab ride, then not even take us where we wanted to go so his “friends” could get a chance to fleece us. Fuck you, buddy. We got out of the cab and told his friends we didn’t want their shitty food. “He’s not our man!” they protested. Yeah, that’s not what he said, we huffed and headed up the hill, making a point to stop at another restaurant to get some crappy dumplings before we set off on our journey. China constantly reminds me that I shouldn’t trust anyone that approaches me for any reason, 9 times out of 10 they’ve been trying to get something out of me. It’s a frustrating reminder that I shouldn’t trust anyone.

A series of Taoist shrines lead up to the road to the park entrance, where we paid the 100 kuai entrance fee and set off. We were deep set in a valley, already surrounded by sheer cliffs. Small side paths climbed up the cliffs hiding hundreds of tiny shrines embedded in the cliff faces. For centuries, these mountains hid reclusive Taoist monks seeking refuge from the world. Now, we couldn’t turn around without bumping into a crowd of Chinese tourists climbing the well-maintained path. Coming from the secluded mountains in Xinjiang only heightened our sensitivity to the bustling crowds around us. The first 4 miles was a steady slope dotted with shops selling overpriced snacks and drinks, and ask we neared the cliffs, the trail turned to steep steps, going nearly vertical in many places. Our pace was slow but steady, overtaking countless Chinese hikers (and a handful of “gap-year brats”) along the way. We arrived at the North Peak, near the cable car station that ran above the “Soldier’s Path” approach from the East. The “Black Dragon Ridge,” a razor-sharp ridge only three paces wide was the only way to get up to the remaining peaks to the South. The coolness of the ridge and the danger therein was mitigated by well-anchored handrails leading all the way up to the next rest stop, where the inflated cost of snacks and drinks soared even higher. We tried to rationalize that we were quite close to the lift, so it’s not like there was that much work involved in getting them there and it didn’t make sense to charge so much more than the previous stations, but our logic fell on deaf ears. We decided our reserves would be enough, and decided not to buy anymore overpriced water on principle.

The trail wound its way onward and upward, past huge clumps of red flags and commemorate locks hikers affixed to the chains, carved with their names. We got to a fork in the road that led to the East, Central, or Southern Peaks. The waning sun told us we should probably scout out a place to spend the night, so we headed to the East Peak. A final section of vertical steps cut into the cliff face were all that separated us from the top. A few people loitered around the top of the cliffs, and it soon became apparent we weren’t the only ones with the bright idea to spend the night on the cliff. A Chinese family flagged us down and shared some chicken and a sip of beer with us, displaying some of the random outgoing friendliness and generosity Chinese people are capable of – a sharp contrast to the self-centered greed and childishness we’d been bumping heads with ever since our arrival in Xi’an. They would be staying in the “hotel” just a little ways away, one of the many “pingguan” that offered a bed and not much else for 100 yuan per person. We laughed at their assertion that it was already cold (at 20 degrees Celsius), and we assured them we’d be alright, citing our secondhand accounts of sleeping in shorts and t-shirt on the South Peak, even higher than where were. They shook their heads at our crazy antics and headed back to the hotel, leaving us to find a spot to make our nest.

We found a relatively flat depression close to the cliff, sheltered from the breeze which was growing ever more chilly. We played cards long after the sun set, and the dropping temperature prompted us to pull out our extra layers, but my windbreaker wasn’t nearly enough to insulate me. The cold ground sucked all the heat out of my body as I uncomfortably rolled around in the dirt trying to find a comfortable position.

Even if I were able get comfortable enough, sleep was impossible, due to the ever-increasing crowd of Chinese tourists wandering around in the dark, chattering and yelling to each other. Throughout the night, they kept shouting from the peaks in order to hear their echo, but didn’t seem to realize that the echo they were hearing was some other idiot yelling. We thought the crowds would eventually settle to wait for the sunrise, but they were too excited to sit calmly. The steadily increasing crowd was growing ever more excited and boisterous, stumbling over each other without apologizing. I saw one guy step on Dan’s head as he was walking down into our camping spot. “What the fuck!” Dan was just amazed at how careless the guy was being. He just stared at Dan for a moment before turning around to continue his reckless meandering. Dan and I stood up in frustration. “If you can’t ignore them, join them.”

We walked over to the north end of the peak, where a large sloping slab gave a good view of the Eastern horizon. A sea of Chinese people were huddled, some bearing the same uncomfortable, frustrated expression we must had been sporting. Most were still chatting and laughing loudly without regard to those around them. Most of them were wearing vintage army coats, and trying to use umbrellas as makeshift tents. A small stand had been set up near the bathroom, the source of all the winter coats. We stood there for a moment, taking in the scene and trying to make sense of things, before turning back to our site, which was now strewn with even more Chinese people. Another girl got stomped accidentally. “Oh you’re alright.” Was all the offender offered when she sat up in pain and alarm. I turned around and retreated from the cliff, propping myself up against a tree trunk. I managed to sleep a little, despite the group of youngsters chirping away next to me, wishing I had my phone to drown out the crowds.

The sky finally began to lighten, and the tittering crowd reached a crescendo. Due to the haze blanketing the landscape, the sun didn’t so much rise as it lit up the sky, then emerged a full 10 degrees from the horizon. The sky was pretty but we were pretty over the whole experience, and we turned to head to the other peaks.