Return to Qingcheng Back Mountain, Dec. 14

Our driver Zhou had his timing perfect this morning. He drove up to the front of the apartment complex just as Mark and I reached the parking lot. It was just 7:00a.m., an hour before daylight, and on a Sunday morning it was quiet as Chengdu ever gets. Zhou drove us the most direct route to the toll road heading north north-west - on streets that are usually bogged down in traffic.

By 9:00a.m. we were in Ti-An, the village which is the gateway to Qingcheng Back Mountain. Not many people were around; whether it was due to the earthquake damage or simply because it was off-season, we couldn't tell. At the bridge crossing between the two main plazas, we saw the woman from whom we had bought pancakes on a stick at the end of our last trip. She was just setting up her wok and wares. We greeted her and signaled with our hands that we would be back.

Mark and I both started off with a fleece jacket and a gortex coat, but they got crammed into our backpacks rather early on the journey. It turned out to be a beautiful, sunny day with a high in the low sixties (Mark brought along his pocket thermometer).

We started out on the same path we had taken in the afternoon with the Samuels family, still with its occasional roadblocks and bridges out. It didn't take us too long to pass the point where we had turned around that first time. The next section was new to me, but I recognized parts of it from Mark's blog of last week, including the overturned ferryboat at the now dry Jade Lake.

It was 11:20 by the time we climbed up to Baiyun (White Cloud) Village. It is built on a promontory just wide enough for a center road/plaza and rows of buildings on either side. No roads go up to Baiyun, but in better times it had a fair number of tourists arriving by cable car, and could support restaurants and a few hotels. Now it seemed almost deserted. We saw one woman - the first person we had seen since leaving Ti-an - who asked us (we think) if we wanted to eat. We motioned that we were just passing through.

At the other end of town our path continued up a set of stairs to the Baiyun Monastery, on a slight rise behind the village. The monastery was empty, and we could see quite a lot of rubble and missing tiles. Still, the place was attractive in the sunlight, with its entrance gate and curved roof.

From Baiyun we could see monasteries perched on the steep mountainside; our path was now taking us past them.

Not too long after leaving White Cloud Monastery, we reached an abandoned ticket booth and a fenced area with an open gate leading to a large grotto. There were larger than lifesize figures - Buddhas and Buddha-like women, all in good condition. On the outside of the path were a series of small terraces, each with a small stone table and stools. We sat down at one to eat our lunch, enjoying the sunlight and the great view over the valley.

Not too much further along, we came across a set of larger than lifesize figures which seem to be telling a story. They were behind protective bars, but I managed to get my camera through to photograph a man rowing a boat. Again, the figures appear to be in excellent condition, and are brightly painted.

We then came upon a grotto with hundreds of tiny Buddhas embedded in the wall. There was a stairway leading up to what seemed to be the main part of the monastery. By this time I was feeling rather tired of steps, and we weren't sure on our timing - whether we'd be able to make the loop or if we would have to backtrack. Mark went a short ways up, but didn't want to be gone too long. [Later we found a blog from a couple who had walked this path in 2005, when everything was open. A short series of steps leads out of the cave, then there is a long, steep staircase leading up to the main monastery. We'll have to save this for another trip!]

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The path was now along a steep slope, almost a cliff. It was a long ways down, and I was thankful that the narrower portions often had a handrail. Then we came to a bad spot where a landslide had destroyed the paved path. We could tell by the footprints across the area that someone had made it across, but there were no handholds, and the slope was steep and treacherous both above and below the narrow flattened track. We considered turning around, but decided to try it anyway; we were hoping to make a loop, catching up with part of the trail Mark had completed the previous week. We made it across, but neither of us wants to do that part of the trail again until it has been fixed. Then we came on another spot equally as bad. Again, we decided to go on, in part because otherwise we'd have to go back over that other spot. As you can surmise, we made it over, but again would not recommend this portion of the trail to any of our friends.

We then passed through a series of grottos, one with a large reclining Buddha, other with multiple figures which seemed to be telling stories, one of Buddha with pandas.

As we descended, we got into a forested area with gentler slopes. Although there were still the occasional obstacles in the path, the going became much easier. We had some great views of the opposite slope and Baiyun village.

We finally reached Youyi Village (picture below is view of village looking northwest) which was (and hopefully soon will be again) quite a bustling tourist town. There are no roads to the village, but there was a cable car from Ti-An. It is nestled in a hanging valley, next to a stream; it is probably cool there even in the hottest parts of summer. The map of the town shows numerous restaurants and hotels. We saw half a dozen people in town, the first we'd seen since Baiyun village. There were no other tourists, but it looked as if things had been closed up for the season rather than because of earthquake damage.

Mark assured me that the path back to the ferryboat below Baiyun village would be "a piece of cake". I took one look at the steps leading out of the village to the top of the ridge, and asked him to define "piece of cake". He then said that he meant that there were no dangerous spots. On the way out of the village we saw a woman carrying a large basket of firewood on her back, and a man carrying a six-foot length of tree-trunk on his back (we got out of his way in a hurry!), so I felt I could probably make it back carrying just my backpack. Still, it was a long ways back, my legs were tired, and my balance wasn't at its best. The obstacles which hadn't seemed so bad in the morning seemed a lot more difficult going down.

I was grateful when we finally reached the plaza at Ti-An. Our favorite vendor was still there, and she had two glutionous rice pancakes that she was eager to sell us for 1 yuan apiece. She then invited us to sit on some chairs nearby to eat them. She then urged other food on us; Mark tried her smoked tofu on a stick, which he generously coated with the dried red pepper from a nearby dish. It was good enough that he went back and had another.

It was 4:30, but after 7 1/2 hours of hiking, we still had the energy (somehow) to take a short walk around Ti-An. There are several hotels around the main plaza, and there is a row of stalls (boarded up, probably for the season) along one side of the river. There used to be a river walk along the other side; it appears to be in the process of being reconstructed. Mark and I both agreed that it would be a pleasant place to stay for a few days of hiking.

Two Weeks that went by fast: Dec. 1 -13

Two Weeks that went by fast: Dec. 1 -13

Much of the past two weeks has been taken up by things that are now getting to be routine - food shopping and cooking, working on my Chinese, presiding over house repairs. We still don't have our pictures up or a rug for the livingroom (which has an icy-cold tile floor), but otherwise things are coming together fairly well.

The International Women's Club had its annual Christmas bazaar on Dec. 6, held on the grounds of QSI [Quality Schools International, an American-style elementary school]. It was my first time on the school grounds, which are located in the Hi-Tech Zone in the southwestern part of the city. I hadn't realized that it was going to be outdoors; my coat was fine, but my black shoes have very thin soles, so the ground got a bit cold. There were stalls with food and goods to buy, some games for the kids, and entertainment by some of the school kids. I helped man a booth for most of the day - selling dishware that had been donated by one of the hotels. It was not a fast-moving item until the last hour, when we halved all the prices. There was a flock of people buying serving plates and bowls for 10 and 15 yuan each. Then three Chinese women who work at the school descended on me and started bargaining in Chinese. I could understand the gist of what they were staying - they'd take the remaining dishes if the price went down to 5 yuan each. Well, we didn't want any left-over dishes, so the women got quite a bargain. Overall, the bazaar brought in 154,000 yuan for refugee relief and reconstruction groups, including direct donations, and everyone seemed to have a good time, so it was a success.

On Wednesday, Dec. 10, Marya and I visited the Sichuan University Museum, which I can seen from my study window. The price was 30 yuan each, for which we got a private tour by a student volunteer who spoke quite good English. The museum has four floors of pottery, stoneware, clothing from the Qing dynasty and ethnic minorities, and items discovered by University students and staff on local digs. It was definitely worth the visit, but we were able to see everything there in a little over an hour.

Marya and I then walked over a few blocks to the small restaurant known in Mark's office as the "$2 Restaurant". It was already fairly full, but there was a small table for two indoors - it was a little too cool for eating outside. We were handed the English version of the menu, but Marya and I already knew what dishes we wanted: I ordered gan bian si ji dou (spicy green beans) and Marya ordered an eggplant and garlic dish. Both were delicious.

It was still early, so Marya and I called Joe to drive us to Daci Temple, the largest Buddhist Temple in the city, not too far away from either the Waterfront or downtown. It is large with some interesting statues, but it is much more of a working temple than a tourist site. (The entry fee is 5 yuan, which for what we saw seemed about right.) Marya and I then walked along Daci street to the Foreign Language Bookstore a few blocks to the west. We browsed for about an hour - I bought a few maps, then we walked on to Times Plaza. We went into Ito Yokado (a Japanese department store) so Marya could buy some hose (not a common item here), then went on to the local Starbucks for coffee. Not my usual hangout, but we had a pleasant time.

Guest blog on Qingcheng Back Mountain

7 December 2008

I borrowed Ruth’s driver Joe and car, and off we drove to the misty mountains of Qingcheng. We left Chengdu at 7 AM, still in the dark, and reached the trailhead of Wulong (five dragon) Bridge, only 24 kilometers from Dujiangyan, at 9 AM. I told Joe to expect me back at 5 PM in Tia-an village.

The May earthquake devastated the town and villages. The park and roads have recently been re-opened, but travel on the trails is definitely at your own risk. Vehicle traffic was very, very light, almost none.

This trailhead is the most western, official starting point of the walking paths away from the paved road. The path leads into the Five Dragon (Wulong) Gorge, and up to Youyi Village. From Youyi Village one (of several) paved, stepped path leads to the upper cable car station of Jinli, then northeast, downhill to Cuiying lake. At the lake one path leads northwest, up-valley to Baiyun (White Cloud) village or southeast, down-valley back to Tia-an village (a village named Pingle on the road map). This was my plan.

The trail starts out across an excellent river bridge and over the first massive landslide of limestone and chert cobble conglomerate. The mountain face came down during the quake and buried the trail. After this I walk 100 meters of good trail, then clamber over the next landslide pile, past a totally flattened food station, boulder-crushed outhouse, bridge out, another landslide mass, another bridge out, over more boulders, jump the creek. Good thing the water is low or it would be impassible. I pass another abandoned food station; the building is standing but not much else. Three billy goats gruff are guarding one pavilion on the trail. They trail blaze for me for about 100 meters until they can find a side area to let me past.

I climb over several more landslides and a few small bridges out. Several really neat waterfalls are along the trail to view. There is no one else here, neither traveling up river nor down. Then I entered the 600 meter plank road--a concrete, rebar path mostly suspended above the water, cemented to a vertical canyon wall in places, with bridge crossings almost every 50 meters. One really bad bridge-out spot required me to climb down into the creek bed, climb over some boulders and figure out how to climb up the next bank with only handholds. I sure could have used a 35 meter rope and I sure hoped I didn’t need to return this way. Finally I exited the plank road.

I passed the White Dragon side trail and continued northwest. The valley opened up and I was out of the canyon- views of the adjacent mountains were spectacular, almost clear skies and temperatures at 60 degrees. After another ten minutes, at 11 AM, I came up on the empty village of Youyi at 1300 meters elevation. All the numerous restaurants and hotels locked and closed up. An old woman sat in from of one and asked if I was hungry and wanted something to eat. I could hear a dog barking ahead of me. The Lower Baiyun cable station is closed. There wasn’t much visible damage in this town. The hotels and eateries are numerous here- including a town map listing all the places.

I take the paved path that goes northeast, uphill to the upper Jinli cable car station, I pass the closed “OK” hotel and restaurant and say hello to a man and women engaged in hand chopping down a tree. From the hotel, the trail goes downhill to the deserted station. A wide road is being built from the station down the ridge towards Tai-an village. I take the signposted path northeast toward the Feiquan Gorge and Cuiying Lake. A few landslides of topsoil have covered the trail. One 100 meter strip is through a young bamboo forest; the trail is completely covered by the brush. After reaching a ridge crest on the south side of Feiquan Gorge, the trail starts down. On the crest, the views are great. It’s 60 degrees out, sunny, no one at all since the OK hotel: 11.45 AM at 1368 meters elevation.

Down I go and finally, I pass a young man, wearing a cap and bright-colored jacket going up. That is four people all day! At the creek bottom, I head upstream, cross a bridge and walk through another deserted food station-hotel. At the northern end is a dam, now broken where a lake used to be. The trail used to end at the dam where a ferry boat would transport you across the lake to continue hiking. Now the path lies on a sandy lake bottom walking past the upside-down ferry boat. The northern shore has a debris-ladden terminal there with a formerly adorned Taoist statue.

The trail continues up creek past more landslides and one bridge that was reduced to two concrete rebar logs and a handrail. The way across is to face the handrail, hold on and take sideways steps until you are across. Pass the tea pavilion on the side, say your thanks and on you go to the double waterfalls, waterfall pool and side trail, cliff steps, plank road over the edge and across the Heaven Bridge, which was undamaged, thank heaven. From here, it’s a simple 1 kilometer stroll to Baiyun Village.

A mud landslide has taken out a piece of the path near the village. The hotels are built on stilts and much of the soil is gone. The structural supports barely keeping the buildings up. The village is built like a fortress – on a ridge crest with downhill on 3 sides and only the northern end is uphill. All the buildings are cracked, with collapsed walls and rubble everywhere. None of the buildings look salvageable. As I climb the steps to enter the village proper, a white lapdog stands immobile on the mud trail, frozen? Please move, dude! He leads the way into the empty village center where a middle-aged man emerges from the shadows. I say hello and smile. He asks me what are do you doing here (good question!). I point to the camera dangling from my chest and explain I’m walking up the mountain. He points to where the trail goes to a pavilion overlooking the town. I go to one side to get some more mountain scenery pictures and he gets concerned, but not enough to do anything but stare. I take my photos and continue climbing up the path for some really good 360 degree views of all the surrounding mountains. Along a circular cliff wall to the west, I can see several small hotels or temples built into the cliffs. It is now 1 PM and 1515 meters elevation.

I’m out of time. So I have to back track to just below the former lake and try the trail down Feiquan Gorge. Will it be open? The mud map of the route shows a plank road through the gorge. At 1.45 PM, I’m covering new ground. The gorge deepens, and the plank road takes over – my luck holds it’s a plank road over a dry gravel river bed. The creek gradient steepens and the waterfalls and plunge pools abound. Thus, the landslides increase and about every 100 meters it’s over the landslides and across the creek where the bridges are out. Difficult but not dangerous. Luckily also at low water – I wouldn’t do this after winter run-off. Finally I’m in a tight gorge and I notice to one side a narrow muddy stretch where people have been walking. The official trail drops steeply on a plank road. Not a good sign. I’m only 2 km or less from the bottom and I don’t want to walk back the way I came in. I descend to the bottom of a plunge pool and inspect the plank road. It had been ripped off the canyon wall. Some innovative people had placed a narrow wooden plank around the edge, about 3 meters above the water. Had others used it? I took a good hard look at it. Can I crawl across it safely? Do I even want to try? Nope – Time to look at that improvised alternative trail, up above.

So I walk back up about 30 meters and try the steep slope path only ½ a meter wide, obviously made post-earthquake. This path would be a run-of-the-mill Colorado trail. After crossing the soil covered talus slope, it flattened into a boulder-rubble field - ever easier. After crossing a canyon spur, I cleared into view and saw the trail below, a partially damaged outhouse next to an undamaged trail segment. And on this segment were two girls who were giddily screaming into the canyon to hear their echoes. I was free and clear. From here it was a 20 minute stroll over several more landslide boulder fields, bridges out and destroyed food stations. I saundered into the almost Tai-an village plaza at 3 PM. A piece of cake.

The lady selling fried gluttonous rice pancakes at the river bridge on our last visit wasn’t there, so I made do with coffee milk and crackers. The mist continued to roll in and winter evening gloom started. The temperature was about 55 degrees. I was still sweating. The village was empty of tourists. Only the hard sounds of men and women working at rebuilding the town could be heard. Moving rubble with a backhoe, recovering rebar and individual bricks from the collapsed buildings, laying new brick in new buildings. A sign along the road advertised for rebuilding labor. Most stores and restaurants were closed, the open ones were empty. A few children played in the street. Tents were in courtyards where some people are still living. The open restaurants had their pickled cabbage jars, fresh white dofu, smoked fatty pork and fresh vegetables.

Good Neighbors, Nov 27-30

A Late Thanksgiving: November 27-29

Mark and I decided not to try to do the traditional Thanksgiving this year. I did not want my first attempt at roasting meat in my convection oven to be with a $50+ bird. When I tried roasting vegetables, they ended up being dessicated in the process. I'm still too far down on the learning curve to experiment with high-priced ingredients. Since Thursday was also Mark's birthday, we decided to go out to eat to celebrate. Since we are both fond of Indian food, we selected Namaste, a small Indian restaurant advertised in More, one of Chengdu's English language monthly magazines. The food, when it finally came, was fairly good, but our main dish never arrived - the waitress had either forgotten or had not understood. When we asked about it, she blushed and disappeared. We ended up taking our lamb dish home for the next day. (We have since seen a short review of the restaurant, which called the service there the worst in town.)

I had not arranged a cake for Mark, which was just as well, since our driver Joe presented him with a fancy cake from Anderson Bakery. The round cake had white whipped-cream topping with a fancy arrangement of fresh fruit on top (a slice of kiwi, some dragon fruit, melon, and a couple of grape tomatoes (which are sold as fruit instead of as vegetables here), and a lacy layer of chocolate around the side. It was a nice gesture on his part, but gifts here have an implied obligation, and we're not completely sure of the protocol.

On Friday evening, Mark and I happened to be in the apartment hall at the same time as Robyn and Peter, who live at the other end of the hall. Robyn and I have been friends since September, when we were both staying at the Shangri-La, but we hadn't seen each other much after moving in. When I did, it was usually on the way to someplace with three kids, two ayi's, and an exuberant German shepherd in tow. In the past couple of weeks, we've gone shopping at the wholesale area together and gone to the university campus to find out about their Chinese course. This evening, none of us had an place to rush off to, so Peter and Robyn invited Mark and me in to talk.

After discussing the various trials and tribulations of expat work and life, we moved on to a variety of other subjects. Robyn and Peter and kids had gone out for a Thanksgiving dinner, where they had a wonderful turkey. Robyn had been able to procure a fresh turkey from the same source and was planning to cook it the next evening - would we come over and join them for turkey and the works? We gave an enthusiastic yes.

The turkey was scrumptious, as were the potatoes and gravy, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, and cranberry sauce. And of course, good food tastes even better when there are good friends to share it with.

Qingcheng Back Mountain, Sunday, November 30

The closest mountains to Chengdu are to the north about 45 km. It can take more time to get to the north end of Chengdu than to take the modern expressway to Dujiangyan, a town known for its ancient irrigation works and its Taoist temples. These northern mountains achieved a different kind of notariety in May as the epicenter for the horrendous earthquake. This was Mark's and my first venture into an area hard hit by that earthquake.

25 kms to the west of Dujiangyan is Qingcheng mountain, which, according to one locally published guide book, is "Loaded with temples and tourist traps." Mark opted for us to go a bit further to the back mountain, which "offers over 20 km of hiking grails that wind through exotic gingko and plum groves, past breathtaking cliff-top vistas, and through quaint little temple complexes and villages".

We had company for this trip. What with Saturday soccer practice and all, Robyn had yet to get out of Sichuan, so she asked Mark and me to include her family on our next trip. So we had our poor drivers Feng and Joe meet us at 7:00am (which is still dark here) to make the 1 1/2 hr trip to the northwest. The kids must have been excited about this trip, for they were all seated in the car, ready to go before either parent showed up. With Jocko the dog, they had a full vehicle, so Robyn rode up with us.

We had our drivers park on the outskirts of Tai-an village, an attractive site along a river confluence. It used to be a popular tourist destination, with a large Temple and a cable car up the mountain, but it had been hard hit by the earthquake. The cable car was no longer operational, and we could see many landslide scars on the slopes. Within the village, there were still piles of rubble, while other buildings, though standing, must surely have been condemned. There were a couple of restaurants still in business, at that hour laying out their fresh vegetables in front, with dark slabs of smoked fatty pork hanging on hooks above them.

It felt like winter in the mountains, with cold, crisp air that penetrated through my wool jacket. I put my raincoat on under my jacket, which felt good for about the first half hour, but I soon ended up with both coats tied around my waist as the bright sun nudged the temperature into the 60s.

At first, Mark's chosen trail looked like a bust. We crossed the river on a small suspension bridge, then immediately had to cross over a wide area of scrabble from a recent landslide. Then, on the other side of it, we found the familiar paved walkway and steps of Chinese trails, leading us into a steep narrow gorge. The scenery was stunning, with the hint of fall color on the slopes (mostly yellow from the gingkos), and all the little waterfalls on the boulder-strewn creek. Every so often, a bridge would take us to the other side of the creek for a while.

Every five minutes or so we would come to a spot where a rock fall had covered the trail or had taken out a bridge. Some of them had obvious paths over or around them; others were mini-engineering puzzles as we had to figure out how to get four adults, three kids, and a dog safely across. The kids were troopers. There were a few times toward the beginning when I thought that Robyn or Peter would say we couldn't go any further, (esp. since Peter was wearing a shirt with his safety patch on it, but Robyn told me that they had taken the kids on a lot of "adventures" before.

Perhaps the most difficult place was at a washed out bridge. We humans were able to shimmy down about five feet on two securely-wedged pieces of bamboo, then find a dry path from rock to rock through the creek. Jocko was able to leap down, and didn't at all mind getting his feet wet, but getting him back up the five feet to the path was another matter. A full-sized German shepherd is a lot of dog, and even a willing dog does not take kindly to a push up on the backside. I was well ahead by the time Peter got Jocko up on the path, so I didn't see how he did it, but Jocko was just happy to be reunited with everyone. We had to let Peter and Jocko get to the head of the group so that Jocko wouldn't knock anyone over in all his enthusiasm.

The public toilet along the side of the trail had its roof smashed in, which a large boulder occupying most of what had been the two small rooms.

Mark apologized to Robyn and Peter that he had mistakenly promised them that there would be food vendors all along the trail. Instead, we saw no-one else as we went up, and only a few small groups as we went down. After about an hour and a half, we reached the remains of a large food station with room accomodations. "The world without us" - a patio area with one possibly usable chair and shallow piles of rubble, oddly attractive in the bright sunlight, with the creek rippling past. Just above us was a small pagoda, which would once have offered a prime view, but now has a large boulder inside it. We rested here for a while and let the kids play around before heading on back. The trip down, for all its obstacles, went quickly and without incident.

Feng greeted us as we approached the cars. We wondered where Joe had gone until we realized that he was sleeping in the back seat. I had had my mind set on eating at the restaurant where we had observed all the fresh vegetables in the morning, but there were three tourist buses parked in front of it. (Though we never did see the tourists.)

We then rode the short distance through town to a restaurant opposite the Tai-an Temple. Feng ordered for us, then we walked around the village until the food was ready. We had smoked fatty pork with spring onions, tofu, two dishes of greens, one of mushrooms, and two of cabbage, plus plenty of rice. The dishes were simple and lightly spiced, especially compared with the heavy-handed spiciness of most Chengdu food. We were hungry, and all the fresh vegetables hit the spot.

After lunch we tried another trail which starts near the defunct cable car station. We passed through an ornamental gate to a broad plaza which had the remain of tourist stalls. There were perhaps a dozen large tents set up there which are still being lived in.

If anything, this trail was in even worse condition than the first one. Jocko had so much trouble getting up onto the path after a washed-out section, that out hike was almost over before it started. Then we had to cross a bridge on which two large falling rocks had broken through the concrete and were still resting on the rebar. Still, we had another satisfying - and even more challenging - hike. By 3:15 we were back in the cars, ready to relax on the way back home.

Mark feels that he was able to see most of what Xiling had to offer in the way of trails in three visits, but that Qingcheng - back and front - will take much more time than that.