Fuddland
It took us a while to get started. The town of (九华山) is not very large, but its layout rather confused Rose and me; the maps on the various signposts didn’t seem to tally with the one we had purchased, and the way to proceed up the mountain wasn’t as obvious as it could have been.
Consequently, we set off on a path that ultimately led to the main road to the summit — that is, a twisting, winding, tarmacced route around the peaks built for mini-buses and cars to ferry passengers speedily to the top. This meant we were missing all the temples and small settlements that are dotted around the mountain.
So after about an hour of following this road, vainly hoping we could find a way off it and onto the mountain path proper, getting rather frustrated by local shop owners who didn’t seem to know where they worked when shown a map, I decided the best course of action was to throw a mild temper tantrum and curse the whole of for being so bloody difficult. Thankfully Rose has the patience of a notably-patient saint and an outlook on life that says, “Well, we’re here now, so let’s make the best of it,” so she shook me by the shoulders until I calmed down. We went back down the road to the town and started again, finding the correct path almost immediately.
So here is the key to finding your way up : whenever you see a flight of stairs, climb it. Then climb it some more. Then turn the corner and climb the stairs you find there. Savour each and every level pathway you come across, for just a few yards beyond them are more and more stairs, all of them relentlessly going in an upward direction. To reach the very top takes a good few hours, even if you take the cable cars part of the way [which we didn’t] and is pretty hard on the thigh and calf muscles even if you’re in good shape [which Rose is but I’m not].
It’s stairs all the way, and it was stares all the way too: as I mentioned, the place was pretty busy with other visitors, we seemed to be the only foreigners there, so for the entire day we were subjected to barrages of, “Hullo!” or catching whispers about the approaching (老外), a slightly derogatory term for a foreigner. Most of the time we replied, sometimes through gritted teeth, but for me at least, it started to get old within the first eleven seconds of being in China, so to have to put up with it all the live long day wasn’t the most fun I’ve ever had.
Thankfully the scenery more than made up for it: after almost a year of living with the flat, concrete-covered expanses of (苏州), it was a real treat to see tree-covered mountains and valleys surrounding us, disappearing off into the haze. Sadly more disappointment was to be found in the people who dropped litter wherever they stood, showing as much respect for the countryside as they do for city streets. The wrappers for the hundreds upon hundreds of sticks of incense that were being lit at the numerous temples littered the floor of the temple grounds, and I saw more than a few people drain their drinks and simply chuck the empty plastic bottle into the valley below.
As you climb you come across more than a few very small settlements — nothing more than a few homes and some adjoining restaurants, offering a quick and cheap[ish] meal to restore one’s waning energy. There are also some small, very basic snack bars at many junctures on the way, providing instant noodles and bottled drinks. Of course, all of these establishments need their stocks constantly replenished, a job performed by some not-young men carrying carefully balanced, but very heavy-looking loads across their shoulders, hanging from a sturdy length of bamboo.
Eventually, sometime in the middle of the afternoon, we made it to the top. is one of the four sacred mountains if Buddhism in China with a history of over 1,500 years, and the goal for the majority of the people who make it this far is to visit the temple of (天台寺), but we opted to walk in the opposite direction along the peaks and get away from the hordes of people and their cursed shouts of “Hullo”. We found a peaceful boulder on which to perch — but clearly we were not the first there, for a few sticks of incense were jammed into a crack, which we re-lit and sat looking out over the peaks.
The time came to head back down the mountain; we were pretty exhausted and had intended to take the cable car most of the way down, but the queue was so long that we ended up walking the whole way back down the stairs too, arriving back in the town just as it was getting dark. On the way we passed some lazy folk being transported down the mountain on bamboo-based sedan chairs carried by two men, and a troop of scavenging semi-domesticated baboons licking plastic wrappers and banana skins in search of a snack, another sad reminder that although this beautiful, historic area is officially protected and a designated national park, some people still don’t afford it the respect it deserves.
In: China / Travelling in China / Jiuhua Shan
2007 / 06 / 22 – 12:59
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