Guilin and Yangshuo (or There and Back Again?)-Part II

Moon Hill

Our room is still freezing cold. I check my cell phone. It lights up to indicate it is nine in the morning. I laze around in bed. Across the room, Patrick slowly comes to life. Neither of us is too keen to leave the comfort of our warm blankets and step on what we know is an absolutely frigid tiled floor. We lazily discuss plans for the day. Breakfast, rent bikes, cycle through the countryside, hike up some Karsts; basically wing it. Sounds good. With nothing but execution left, we drag ourselves out of our beds. We exercise the right to not shower, wash up, pack our bags and head downstairs to check out.

Leaving our bags at the reception, with my computer strapped neatly and firmly to my back, we walk onto the lane. We decide to hit up the restaurant from last night. I keep an eye out for our new friend but she is nowhere to be seen. Patrick orders an American breakfast. I order an English one. Differences include coffee versus tea, and I get baked beans on my toast. As we eat, I discover my Motorola V66 has finally given up on me. It powers on, but the screen stays blank. This is a bother, but I figure I will worry about it later.

The bikes we rent cost us 10 kuai each, though there is a 200 kuai deposit as well. Made by Giant, they are yellow, and look in decent shape. We go for a short spin, rotate through the gears to make sure they work, and test the brakes. Satisfied, we look at a map and hit the road. We pedal through the streets of Yangshuo and out into the countryside. By now the sun is out, and it is beginning to look like a great day, not that cold after all. Slowly Karsts begin to dominate the horizon, and soon the highway is threading its way through clusters of them. We pass many signs for hotels and caves. We are tempted, but we have decided to check out Moon hill, a large natural arch formation, and remain true to our destination. The countryside is very pretty, and the road is relatively flat. I am enjoying myself.

After riding for the better part of an hour, we arrive at Moon Hill. There are many old women by the entrance looking to sell water, beer, coke, whatever they can. They are surprised at our standard Chinese. We joke with them, bargain over two bottles of water, and purchase our entrance tickets.

We climb. The sky is blue; the air is fresh with the smell of nature, trees, the earth, and the only noise is the quiet rustling of leaves. After six months in Beijing, it is liberating. The reverie is occasionally shattered by blasts in the distance, probably detonations at mines in the vicinity. Industrial China is never very far away. We walk through canopies of green, pass an old woman making shoes out of reed, and arrive at a fork in the path. A moment’s indecision later we decide to explore the one that is evidently less trodden. It ends in a 6-foot high rocky outcrop that overlooks the highway below. We clamber up and admire the view. In the distance are Karsts, an open mine, a tiny village, fields, and also what appear to be military communications towers. The weather is pleasant and we are in no rush. I think about Sung dynasty literati coming here almost 1000 years ago and composing poetry over cups of tea. Ah, the lovely languid lives of the literati.

We return to the main trail. The climb soon gets steep and I huff and puff along. The base of the arch has a large relatively flat area. The views again are great, especially the one through the arch itself. The rock on the underside of the arch has stalactite like features, and is also riddled with holes. Rather distinctive. The lady selling drinks here informs us that there is path leading all the way to the top of the arch. We head off. This climb is a little trickier since it is a real trail, unlike the earlier part of the climb where steps had been cut in the rock or actually been built. As a result it is a lot more fun.

We reach the peak of Moon Hill. A tiny area but it affords absolutely breathtaking views. We loll around, find nice crags to sit on, and just take in the views. There are dozens of Karsts visible in the distance. Most have only been scaled in the past few years. We find a few bolts and screws in the rock near us; Moon Hill has been scaled too. During our time on the peak a British couple and a Chinese woman join us. But evidently they are not as moved by the view as we are, and depart shortly. We stay up there for a while.

On our way back down we decide to check out one of the caves en route. We leave the old women selling knick-knacks at the entrance behind and head towards town. Almost immediately we are confronted by the entrance to a model socialist village. Intrigued we peddle through, but besides some nice views of Moon Hill, we are not sure what is so model or socialist about the village. Particularly since it seems to be full of hotels. The cave we are interested in turns out to be an exhibition on butterflies, or so it seems from what we can tell. The entrance is 45 kuai. It serves as a sufficient deterrent.

We cycle back into town and get some grub. Patrick, staying on his Mexican theme, orders burritos. I get some spaghetti, which turns out to be surprisingly good. After our meal we return our bikes, pick up our bags from the hotel, and head to the bus station. After haggling with the conductor, which includes enquiring if the ticket price is the same for foreigners and for local Chinese, we get on board. The Mummy has just begun on the onboard TV. It keeps me reasonably interested as our bus makes its way back towards Guilin.