The Yellow Mountain in China
In 1989, I set off to Yellow Mountain with three young Chinese students who had befriended me in Hangzhou, China. Our adventures are described in my book, Memoirs of a Middle-aged Hummingbird, published 2006.
Well, of course, it was an adventure to get to Yellow Mountain. The bus driver was a compulsive horn beeper, which drove us all quite crazy. He was also a dangerous driver since he used one hand for the horn, and one for his cigarette. But some of the ride was truly picturesque. Russell was particularly appreciative. I hadn’t realized that he has been longing to see Yellow Mountain for at least five years.
When we finally pulled into the stop for Yellow Mountain, we tried to buy tickets on to Nanjing in a couple of days. Again we heard that well-used word in China, meiyou, no bus tickets available for several days. Quickly, we were approached by local people who produced bus tickets for Nanjing anytime we wanted — BUT we could only buy them if we would stay that night at a particular hotel. Yes, capitalism is alive in China!
We spent the rest of the day souvenir shopping and enjoying the remote area. The women washing and beating the laundry in the pretty river was bad for the environment, but made a picturesque sight. We ate well because food may be quite expensive up on the mountain. Drinking in the beauty of the scenery will sustain us.
I thought of the mountainous beauty awaiting us while I tried to sleep through workers breaking up rocks outside my window. No wonder we had no choice where to stay.
The next day, it took us three hours to wait our turn for an eight-minute ride in a cable car up the mountain. The ride started out quite spectacular, but as we climbed higher, we also climbed into the mist and clouds. The mist definitely lends a certain mood. Whether or not tomorrow will be clear is a matter of luck.
On the mountain, Russell kept warning me not to fall off when I perched on a rock overlooking a sea of mist. I enjoyed looking out at the views, watching them appear and disappear in the mist. Anywhere else but China, they would have railings to protect people from falling over the edge.
Getting rooms was an incredible hassle. Some people rent heavy blankets and sleep out in a good location for viewing the sunrise. That appealed to the camper in me, but horrified the three boys. So, we finally got three rooms. One is a double for foreigners, so I’ll probably get a roommate some time tonight. The boys are two in one room and one in another double, which may or may not get another person. We stayed in one room watching a James Bond movie on one channel, and the student demonstration negotiations in Beijing on another.
At about 10:30 p.m., I looked out by chance and saw the moon lighting up the sky. I went outside and saw that the mountains had cleared and the scene bathed in moonlight was both magical and magnificent. I got the boys out of bed to take in the sights and sounds of the night and the mountains. Since almost all Chinese are fast asleep at this time of night, we actually found ourselves quite alone in this crowded place.
The harmonious whole of nature was at its very best tonight. I aksed Bill if he heard the moon talking to the mountains. He said they had different dialects, but I said only humans were stupid enough to have dialects and made separations. Nature behaves as an integrated whole.
To be continued…
Tags: Travel, Yellow Mountain; Huang Shan; China in 1989
