Fans of Fuli
Tuesday, February 24th, 2009by Rachael
Fuli, Yangshuo surrounds, China
The tout didn’t try to sell us his guiding services when we said we were cycling to Fuli village. Accepting that we would go it alone, he just advised us to take the main road so we wouldn’t get lost. He conceded we could return “the local way” if we managed to get there the main way.
We have been known to ignore sensibilities in the past and we did it again today 😉 (let’s face it, if we were to eliminate all risk and be entirely sensible, we would not even be here!) We went the local way. Sure, we missed the turn-off a couple of times – but there are so many friendly locals to point the way at our call of “Nee hau, Fuli?” that it really was not the problem guide-services-selling touts would have you believe it to be. And the scenery was magnificent. Well worth getting off the highway for.
Expecting the unmarked roads/tracks to be quieter was correct – to a degree. The main road, by which we would return, was certainly noisier – both in terms of the amount of traffic and the fact that every large vehicle honked to let us know of its presence as it approached (by the way, there are very very few CARS here – it’s all motorbikes or trucks or busses). However, the road is wide with an especially wide shoulder, and most vehicles gave us a very wide berth. The same cannot be said of the local track. There was room for a truck coming towards us and Jboy13 to pass each other at the same time. Problem is one of the very few cars decided to go between the two, causing the truck to veer right off the road and up a slight bank and then almost tip on its side. Rob, who had not yet crested the hill, heard the long slow screech of brakes from the other side. Riding directly behind Jboy13, I slammed mine on too and waited to see what would happen. The truck stopped….upright. All bikes ground to a halt. The car drove off. We exchanged puzzled looks with the truck driver, and waited for the slightly-concerned-looking Rob to arrive. As we would expect, Jboy13 (Mr Details Man) wanted to measure the skid mark on the road! He settled for a photo and we cautiously resumed our travels, thankful that it had been no more than a close shave.
The rest of the traffic we encoutered was less impatient:
At the small village of Dutou Cun we had to wriggle through the stony streets down to the river’s edge, where we boarded a bargelike ferry, bikes-n-all, to cross the Li River to our destination. Again, we were ignoring popular advice. Little villages, according to the guidebooks, should be visited on Market Day. Market Day falls roughly every third day, and after the third day, there’s a four day gap, and not ever on the 10th, 20th, 30th or 31st of the month…..needless to say, chances of our making market day were slim. It turns out it’s tomorrow, but we wanted to go today and so we did. We were not disappointed; it was undoubtedly quieter today. We were able to cycle the streets of this village that is famed for being the place fans are made and painted by hand, stopping to watch the process, as well as to admire antiques for sale, to photograph decrepit lanes and old people without fighting through tourist hordes. We were delighted to discover this time-warped village with lots of ancient folks, tumbling down walls, peeling plaster, timber-shuttered windows, age-old craft traditions….
While it was not a long day (total distance ridden was only 26km), and there was only one hard hill (do I get to skite that with Mboy6 stoking behind me and Kboy10 on a solo bike, we were the only ones who did not need to walk up it? 😉 ), it was clearly tiring for the non-riders:
rayres