Hua Shan - Part 3
We arrived at the Eastern peak by 4:30am. The peak tapered into a huge oval-shaped pavilion with a stone gazebo in the center. Around this pavilion, there must have been 100 to 150 people dozing, standing, sitting, eating and waiting for the sunrise. It felt like a scene from a movie as many of the people waiting had rented from the hotels large wool green and brown army coats dating back to the Revolution era to keep them warm. It was terribly windy and cold and my light sweater and even lighter hiking pants weren’t keeping any warmth in. The army coats reminded me of Russian soldiers and many of the people had the fur-lined collars up around their ears. The scene was so disorienting that I curled up into a ball and tried to sleep for a bit. At about 5:40am, someone shouted and everyone started talking excitedly. We were here for the sunrise, but from the looks of things, I felt like I was a die-hard fan waiting for a rock concert to begin. People started standing and talking and looking towards the East, waiting for the sun to show himself. The only things missing were upraised, lit lighters, flickering in the heavy breeze.
The sun rose carefully and quietly and people started to talk and meander and walk away from the scene. I think many of them must have not ever seen a sunrise because even Dina said, “Well, that was disappointing.” I’m not sure what these people were looking for or expecting, but they didn’t find it. I, for one, would have found the scene absolutely perfect, had about 149 people not been there. Even though the crowd killed any soul-searching that might otherwise have occurred, I’ve never in my life expectantly waited for a sunrise with a hundred or so other people. It was definitely a first.
We decided to continue to explore the ridges from there. The next step after the Eastern peak was a steep climb up a rock with a few footholds and two chains for pulling yourself up with. I went first. The younger sister was right behind me. I’m so glad I picked up rock climbing a year ago. Knowing how to balance your weight between your legs and your arms helped immensely and I wasn’t too nervous climbing up. My companions, on the other hand, didn’t like it at all. Two of them, in fact, were going to stay behind, but when a young woman in semi-HEELS scratched her way to the top, the other two were shamed into coming up as well. And this was just the beginning. The next bit was a walk right along the edge of the cliff that looked down on the Eastern peak and had a heavy wind coming at it that pushed me in towards the center of the ridge. We were all leaping across boulders and scrambling up and over rocks to reach the back of this ridge.
And then the Western peak immerged. I was told this was the second-most dangerous trek and would take about thirty minutes. When I saw the little stone gazebo in the center of a tall, peak, with a thin ridge reaching out to it, I knew I had to try it. The only thing I’ve ever done even remotely like this climb was Angel’s Peak (name?) in Zion National Park. But this certainly was insane. Harnesses were offered for 50 kuai, but I trusted my own strength more than a bored-looking Chinese woman who seemed to not really understand the equipment she was in charge of.
The beginning was actually a sheer descent along the edge of the mountain that then led to a lower ridge which went up and down and up and down and up again to the circular bit of stone with the gazebo, out in the middle of pure atmosphere. Looking down at the footholds, all I saw was the green of the trees many thousands of feet below. There was a ledge about twenty feet below, where we were heading, but miss that, and you were toast. This gave me the most nauseating feeling in my stomach, but I took deep breaths and listened to myself, knowing I could do it. I was going to go by myself when Dina said, “What if you fall? I should go with you!” I’m not sure what her thought process was behind this decision, but it was nice to have a companion.
She began. We went carefully and slowly and I tried not to look around me. When I was confident I was close to the ledge below, I took a look around. I was stunned. Never in my life have I been so loose or un-tethered. Never before have I held my life in my own hands. It was nauseating and invigorating at the same time. I will always remember that moment as a turning point in the acknowledgement of my own capabilities. The most remarkable part, to me, was that people in China come to that very spot everyday and do the exact same thing. I know for a fact that not one of them leaves the same person. This little act, to me, represents the power of the Chinese right now. They know they’re capable of anything and they’re willing to try anything and it only makes them stronger and more complete.
After we made it to the ledge, everyone from our group except the older sister wanted to join in the fun. They purchased harnesses, having much more sense than me, I suppose. We met at the gazebo and the wind lashed at us playfully, as if to say, “Welcome, welcome!” I couldn’t get enough of the view and would have stayed all day had I not been dragged away forcefully. When we got back to the point of ascension, Dina asked me how come I wasn’t out of breath each time we had to climb. I taught her the two or three things I know about climbing and she tried them out. She was so excited when she got to the top that she said she was going to look into rock climbing when she returned to her University.
We went to a few more ridges and had cold noodles with spices and vinegar at one little stand in the shade of some tall trees by a sheer drop-off, but all the while I was thinking about that one peak. It was breathtaking. It was haunting and it was all that I have been hoping to see in China. Each day spent in the cities has made me unsure of what it is about China that I really want to see. That one peak renewed me. All this time, I’ve been wondering how the Chinese renew their own spirits – their daily lives being full of dust and smog and noise and heat and insanity. Now I know.
It was noon by the time we decided to make our descent. I was starting to think about a shower and a good meal. We started coming down all of the altitude gain we had made only a day before and I started to understand why the girl from Wuhan wanted to live on the mountain. Although I was exhausted, sweaty and hungry, I wasn’t really ready to leave either. I wanted to sit for days and ponder the height of the peaks and the way one solitary tree managed to grow from out of the side of a peak and up straight and strong. I wanted to ponder the sky and the clouds and the mist and the sun and the stillness. It was all too beautiful to leave behind. Luckily (or unluckily), hordes of people started seeping into the silence of my reverie and I decided I could at least willingly leave THEM behind.
The day started getting hot, and as we descended, the cool breezes turned into dusty heat and the haze returned. We made it to the North peak in an hour or so and bought our tickets for the fancy cable car down to the base of the mountain. In the valley, I was happy to have the Chinese girls figure out how to get home. At first, they seemed to know what was going on, but quickly, I saw that I knew nothing, but knew a trifle more then them. We took a bus to the Eastern entrance, the place I had been dropped off at the day before with Karri and Yishay. A taxi driver started hollering at Dina and she tried to bargain with him but he was too aggressive. I tried to tell her what I knew but for some reason she started ignoring me. This is something I don’t understand, but has happened before and is very frustrating. All of a sudden, when you’re trying to help someone out, they act as if they don’t understand you or even don’t hear you. I shut down and let her argue with the taxi driver. He told her there was a bus station nearby that he would drive the five of us to. The Korean and I requested two cars, but Dina didn’t know how to negotiate with the driver and in the end, the four of us girls squished into the back of the taxi for a dusty ten minute ride around the base of the mountain. When we got to the bus to Xi’an, it was almost completely full. The older sister and I had to sit on a strange make-shift seat in the back that was over the engine. The seat was hot as all hell and had a large wool blanket over it to protect our skin from the burning metal. Needless to say, the two hour drive back to Xi’an was not so pleasant. When we arrived, Dina said she wanted to take us to lunch but didn’t know exactly where the restaurant was. For the upteenth time since arriving in Xi’an, I sort of lost my patience and thanked them for all of their help but said I was going to part ways. Dina’s attitude changed immediately and she basically told me she wasn’t going to help me find the train station (as in, point in the direction of the station) unless I went to lunch with them. She made it incredibly awkward for me to part on good terms and I thanked them all again and said I really had to be going, wished them well and walked to a newsstand to buy water and ask in what direction the station was in. The two sisters followed me to buy water as well and then Dina came over to ask where the restaurant was. She told me I was wasting my time and would get lost unless I came to the restaurant with them (???) and I pretended like I didn’t understand and said goodbye. The sisters seemed uncomfortable and the Korean nodded at me to leave. Dina actually stamped her foot and turned in the opposite direction and headed off. I’m still not sure what happened, and could probably spend a lifetime trying to figure it out, but for now, I’ll assume we were all hot and tired and that I misread the situation.
I started walking in one direction, the one that the newspaperman pointed at, and when I came to a big intersection and couldn’t find either street on my small map, I asked a crossing guard and a policeman where the station was. They pointed in the same direction, so I kept walking. Eventually, the road I was on appeared on my map and then I came to the city walls. After that it was a quick thirty minutes back to the hostel and I was overjoyed to reach it. Along the way, I became sweaty again and started lusting after a sink to wash my hands in. Washing my hands when I returned was one of the most luxurious things I’ve done in a long time. I took a long shower, washed my clothes and had a beer and a sandwich for dinner. Aching, I crawled into bed at 9pm and fell fast asleep. As I’ve been writing this, I marvel at how the experience of Hua Shan left an indelible mark, but a faint one. For, it only took being back in the hot, steamy, crowded city for thirty minutes to strain my nerves all over again. I’m realizing the need for an outlet here in China and am looking forward to finding one in Wuhan. And, I don’t have to look forward much longer, as I’ll be leaving Xi’an tomorrow. Thank [Taoist] God[s] for Hua Shan!
