Up a mountain, down a beer
Trip Start
Jan 24, 2004
1
22
31
Trip End
Apr 01, 2004
Chengdu,
Sichuan,
China
Friday, March 12, 2004
I catch the local bone shaker to Emei town then examine the offshoots of a large roundabout trying to determine which exit is the correct one to board a private minivan to a place called Buo Guo. These are the only instructions I have. Buo Gao is situated at the foot of the mountain . In my mind I see a smoky clearing in the jungle. The great Mount Emei itself reaches 3,099 meters and I intend to go to the top.
I arrive by taxi in the 'village' of Buo Guo at around midday. It's not what I expected. Buo Guo looks more like a gated housing estate. A long boulevard of shop houses made very presentable to the thousands of domestic tourists. There are in fact steps all the way to the top of the mountain. Also, more sensibly, there is a network of small buses that stop at various stations along the way which offer small markets and food stalls. I catch the 1pm bus part way up to a place called Jeiyan Hall . The bus takes us round a series of hairpin bends to an altitude that lies above the vegetation line. By now, there is freezing mist around us making it difficult to see anything off the mountain. From here there is a cable car service to the Golden summit. The winding path up to the cable car station itself is a section of the ascending steps. Wide, smooth as glass and treacherous . Lined by grinning hawkers naturally. As if you'd come here to buy a wind-up toy monkey. The visibility from the cable car is zero. There is one last climb on foot to the summit. The staircase of rock begins with thousands of padlocks attached to a railing. It's a lovers thing. You would have imagined from the summit one could see the whole of bloody China but the mist and fog means I can't see shit. I walk towards the monastery up there hoping I don't fall off the edge and it emerges from the heavy fog like a ghost ship. Like Draculas castle with big chunky candles burning outside. Bleeding wax over iron candle holders. It's a dreamlike experience. At 3,000 metres in poor weather , and my plan is to stay here ?
The wind is howling now and it is shockingly cold. The occupants of the monastery show me in and steer me along creaking corridors to a room with thick patterned blankets. The deal is that you must pay 40 Yuan. But there are only vegetables to eat and certainly no alcohol. This much is authentic. Earlier versions of the Lonely Planet suggest you can haggle the monks down to next to nothing. But times change. There is now a fancy resort up there at the summit too. Of course , Chinese tourism is big business. The resort has a bar and restaurant and it wouldn't surprise me if it had a spa and golf course. But I can see its a rip off, at least 100 Yuan. I make an executive decision and return back to ground level using the same method.
I check into a small newly refurbished guesthouse with a good reputation. Its called the Teddy Bear. I order up a huge banquet of noodles and other dishes with Mister Shim. He's Korean. An orthopaedic surgeon. Here to walk in the mountains. To get away from the pressures of his career and his family back home. I like him and wish him well. Victoria has also joined us. Another student at the nearby school who likes to practise her English. Any foreign traveller in China soon becomes an involuntary target.
I begin again the next morning by catching a bus to Wannian cable car station. I climb stairs and walk along wooded paths towards a temple with the company of three Israelis . The sun is out, the scenery is lovely. I buy some big oranges and take about three hours walking in a loop back again. There are small waterfalls and little pavilions where you would imagine woodland nymphs posing in oil paintings. I am occasionally frustrated with the throng of Chinese tourists who do travel like they do business. Wearing suits and cheap slip-ons. Shouting down their mobile phones while they are here. I wish they would just learn to listen and observe.
Next ; Fu Hu
