Huashan

02Aug11

For the second day in a row I nearly failed in my attempt to board the proper bus. On this day I planned to hike Huashan, one of China’s five sacred Taoist mountains, so I arrived at the bus terminal an hour early. Unfortunately, my propensity for punctuality far exceeds my ability of observation, and I wandered between buses for fifty minutes before actually finding the correct one. There was one empty seat left. Had I been any later, I would have missed the trip entirely. That seat was for me. On this morning, the Taoist deities were in my favor.

After reaching the destination, three English-speaking Chinese lads exited the bus with me and asked if I was going to hike Huashan. I told them yes, and they asked if I would like to accompany them. This was prior to losing my naiveté somewhere along Nanjing Lu in Shanghai, so I agreed.

Luckily, these young men had no intentions of cannibalizing me along the trail (or if they did, they were very ineffective), and we traded pleasant conversation and snacks as we trekked through blankets of fog along snow-glazed paths.

As the hike became steeper and my sneakers became snowier, my grip became shittier and the 35 Yuan price tag on a pair of slip-on shoes from a tiny mountainside shop became more reasonable. These rubber-bottomed gripping-slippers accompanied me to the 2154.9 meter summit of the south peak and now they accompany me virtually everywhere else. One of my companions also made the purchase, and we were able to carry on hiking without sneaker-surfing off a precipice.

Eventually I needed to separate from my Chinese friends, because I would miss the return bus to Xi’an if I continued at their speed. We took a photograph, and I finally learned what their names were (in order of progressive bizarreness): Derrek, Prince, and Stone. I didn’t make any Purple Rain jokes, and they didn’t have to pretend to understand what I was talking about.

It’s always awkward saying goodbye to transient friends, because chances are I’ll never see them again, but out of habit I always say, “See you later.” And after I realize the idiocy of what I said, I usually mutter, “Well, maybe. Probably not,” as I trip while walking away.

I was now alone and with an empty water bottle, and I didn’t know if I was further from dehydration or the peak. As my thirst increased, so did the price of water from the crooks working as vendors along the way. One tried to charge eight Yuan for a twelve ounce bottle (about five times the market value). I told him I’d rather die of thirst on principle.

I couldn’t even fill my bottle from the bathroom taps along the way, because none of them worked. A Huashan conspiracy, perhaps.

Regardless, the snow on the mountain didn’t taste half bad, and considering the altitude, it might not have been polluted.

And it was free.

Because it fell from the sky.

Just like all water.

Trudging along, I crammed banana chips into my face like a zombie would brains, and with icy toes I finally made it to the top. Someone took the obligatory picture, a reminder of why I did the hike in the first place: so I could tell people about it.

In the interest of time, I took a cable car to a shuttle bus. This was a mandatory service in the interest of safety, so I would have to pay for a ticket or be stuck on the mountain forever. This possibly accounts for 40% of all Taoist hermits residing on Huashan.

I missed the return bus to Xi’an. Fortunately, so did a bunch of other people, and we took a more expensive, possibly privately-run bus home. I didn’t care about the cost; I probably would have offered one of my fingers (but not the good ones) to get home and pass out. Relatively scam-free, I had dinner, and took my weary legs to dreamland.

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Filed under: China   |  2 Comments
Tags: bus, China, Climb, Five, friends, hermit, hike, Huashan, Mountain, Peaks, Taoist, Xian