You Take the High Road

Day 6

This will be our last full day in Tiger Leaping Gorge. Though we are looking forward to our last location, Shangri-La, we will definitely miss this place. The people have been wonderful, the food great, and the scenery wonderful.

After 2 days of hiking like I haven’t hiked in over a decade, I was really tired this morning. FII wanted to go with Sean up to the high trail that goes along the ridge near the top, but I was quite sure I would not be able to make it without holding them up considerably. After only a brief argument with my ego, I decide to send them off by themselves while I simply walked down the road a ways toward the end of the Gorge.

Even walking on this level road I occasionally had one or the other leg give out and I almost fell a few times. Ridiculous for a man of 22!

I started off down the road…

…and looked up to see rock walls in grave jeopardy of instant decomposition.

Having regained my macho bravado, it was with only a small amount of trepidation that walked under this cliff, despite the evidence before me of the hazards of doing so.

I occasionally got a nice view of the Gorge,…

…but mostly I had views of the opposite side of the Gorge, with an occasional local animal for company.

This particular goat herd was being shepherded by a middle aged man (far right) who refused to even turn his head in my direction as we passed each other.

As I neared the end of my journey today,…

…dictated by my estimate of whether I could make it back to Sean’s, I sat on a big rock for a while, just admiring the far side of the Gorge and the trail that zigzagged up its side, wishing I could someday hike it.

Turning to my right whence I came, I saw the trail we took at the end of the first day making it’s way around the side of the mountain.

I had no choice but to take my time returning to Sean’s, whereupon I celebrated by having my favorite dish at that place: yes, mushroom soup.

As I recall, I was alone in the place when the “German” walked in for lunch. Not being one to shy from a challenge, I stood up and gestured for him to join me. Momentarily reluctant, he succumbed to my obvious charm and sat down opposite me. I introduced myself. He did, also. He was French.

We talked for about an hour. He was traveling by himself. He gave me lots of details about his life, which I instantly forgot, of course. I asked him specifically why he didn’t join any of us at one of the larger tables the night before. He said that he didn’t want to intrude on anyone. I said I thought he was German because his self-imposed solitude reminded me of the cool standoffishness of Germans in international settings. He said that wasn’t the first time someone has told him that and he wondered aloud what he could do about it. I humbly suggested that when he enters a scene where there are other people, he simply walk up and introduce himself; if they want him to join them, they’ll say so. He agreed to do this henceforth.

Meanwhile, FII and Sean were hiking the high trail where they were exposed to grander vistas than I.

At times that trail was a bit rocky, passing by small mountain villages,…

…or crossing small foot-bridges.

At other times, the trail merged with dirt roads, populated in part by goats like my own.

I won’t mislead you by suggesting FII was huffing and puffing (something I’ve never seen him do, much to my dismay), but I suspect he was occasionally a little tired. Sean, meanwhile, just like his daughter Lucy and his whatever Lily, sauntered casually up all slopes, texting constantly.

As they walked through the villages, they would stumble upon a quaint traditional residence…

…or a small temple.

Sean took a brief break from texting to take picture of the temple. (Thank God for cell phones!!)

I leave you with two views of the Jinsha River, the first looking upriver, the second looking downriver. For you non-hikers, it’s hard to convey in words and even photos the majesty of places like this. You really have to be there to get the full 360-degree effect of the world around you. For some spiritual people, places like this tend to provide a perspective not achieved in the hustle and bustle of city life. Ask Henry David T.

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All in the Family

I’ve been trying to get back to finishing the Yunnan trip but I keep getting sidetracked. (“Mentally Confused and Prone to Wandering”)

Day 5.

By all accounts (that would be FII’s and mine), our most enjoyable day in Tiger Leaping Gorge, possibly the best of the whole trip. FII was a little tired from Day 4 (the hike down the Gorge to the river); I, of course, was comatose.

On our first night at Sean’s we were almost the only guests. I think there was one other young American. Then some other people started to arrive for 1-day stays.

Lucy, who we truly believe was Sean’s daughter, said she would take us up the hill behind the Guest House for a little hike after lunch, so we just hung around the place during the morning, enjoying the sun. We took the opportunity to chat with a British family who had just arrived. The father is on the left and the mother is on the right. The young man in the middle is an American who was traveling on his own, away from his Peace Corps job, I think.

Mother:

The British family was rounded out by the daughter.

These 4 people were debating on whether to take the hike down to the Gorge, and FII and I, anxious to inflict pain on others, heartily encouraged them to do so, which they did. During this conversation, it emerged that the red-headed American had left his sox at a previous place and thus was hiking barefoot. I insisted that he borrow a pair of socks from me. Lest you think I’ve been stricken with a sudden bout of magnanimity, let me assure you that these sox are about a quarter century old, purchased for my first hike through Glacier National Park with my brother. When I saw the guy later that afternoon, I told him to just keep them.

Lucy, Sean’s 25-year-old daughter, started up the trail behind Sean’s G.H., FII close behind, and I bringing up the distant rear.

As we climbed, we occasionally would see a small enclosure with small horse inside. The owners were the families who lived and farmed on the hillside.

Part of the time we were on moderate dirt trails and part of the time we hiked up these steep, concrete roads. Not by chance did these roads take us by Lucy’s family and friends.

Here’s one of Lucy’s hillside friends with her young son.

We stopped a little farther up to visit Lucy’s aunt and, presumably, her nephew,…

…who kindly offered us all an apple and a stool in the shade.

Like most of the houses on this hillside, there was an interesting contraption on the roof. It didn’t look involved enough to be solar power, but what else could it be?

These are solar water heaters without batteries for energy storage.

Climbing higher, the views were beautiful on this crystal clear day…

…and Lucy was anxious to have several pictures taken of her with the view in the background.

We arrived at Lucy’s grandfather’s house. He spoke not a word of English, but he was charming and gracious.

Still higher, we stopped while Lucy chatted with another relative working in her garden. I noticed the unmistakable smell of human feces, but when I asked what that smell was, Lucy said it was probably pig manure. No way!

We finally reached the point of return (I won’t lie to you and say we reached the top)…

…and started down.

Incidentally, these steep, concrete roads going up and down the hillsides are the result of joint projects between the local people and the national government. The government supplies and delivers the materials, and the local people lay the roads.

FII and I treasured this day because we share two, seemingly contradictory, interests: (1) we love the outdoors and the solitude such journeys allow, and (2) we love meeting people from different cultures and noticing the small but significant differences between the cultural aspects of societies.

We arrived back at Sean’s G.H. and discovered that a bunch of high school students from an international school in Hong Kong were arriving and we would be inundated with youthful exuberance. Hmmmm.

This was a group of kids from a variety of countries, quite well behaved and polite. They were divided into teams of 5 or 6 and charged with the task of creating an artistic display, using only natural materials they could find in the immediate vicinity of Sean’s, that would represent some aspect of their trip thus far. I chatted with the two teachers and the tour guide (who lives in Shangri-La) and when they discovered I was a teacher, they asked me to be one of the judges who would evaluate the displays.

One team borrowed a chicken from a local person and put it in a box. Unfortunately, this turned out to be the full extent of their cleverness, and the winning team ended up creating a full scene of the Gorge, complete with outhouse, bridge, etc.

While sitting at a table in the dining room that evening, we noticed a European man arrive by himself. There were groups of people at most of the tables, but he decided to sit by himself and did not even say hello or smile at anyone else. I immediately assumed he was German.

At dinner, after the students were received awards for various things, I took a moment to ask them to be quiet on the patio (which is just outside our bedroom window) after 9 p.m. so that “these two old guys could get some rest.” Following a word from their tour guide at 9:05, they indeed quieted down.

Still, like most of our nights, we had trouble sleeping. Like most hotels in China (and many other parts of the world), the top sheet of the bed is a double sheet with a blanket zippered up in the middle. This is compared with American hotels and homes where there are several blankets on top of the sheet, which allows the user to discard blankets gradually depending on the ambient temperature. So, I constantly move the blanket off of me then back onto me, opened the window, close the window, etc. to try to achieve the proper sleeping temperature. It was not until the last night that I decided to remove the blanket from the inside of the sheet and simply use the double sheet with the window partially open.

More soon. I promise.

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Rocky Mountain High

Day 4.

We were picked up at our Shaxi guesthouse at 7:30 a.m. by Sean’s driver Li, a young kid in his early 20s who turned out to be the best driver we had in Yunnan. Sean is the owner of Sean’s Guesthouse, the place at Tiger Leaping Gorge that I found online.

We took back roads through little villages as the highway in that area is still being built. Occasionally we got glimpses of the mountains of our destination.

As we entered the Gorge, we got our first view of the Jinsha River, a tributary of the Yangtze River.

We continued into the Gorge along a winding road with bad cases of both zits and acne (rocks and holes), finally arriving at Sean’s.

We were greeted by Sean, a 50-year-old (I think) Tibetan who has lived in the Gorge for decades and opened the first guesthouse there.

We climbed the steep steps from the road to the main level of Sean’s G.H.

Going to our room, we had to haul our bags up steps that were so steep that I was in risk of falling several times.

Here’s a picture, taken from the large balcony, of our bedroom window (lower level) with the mountains behind us. This part of China reminded both FII and me of our many trips to Glacier National Park in Montana.

Not surprisingly, I chose this place for these 3 days due in large part to the positive reviews about the food. We went downstairs for lunch, looked at the exhaustive and impressive menu, and in the end decided to be conservative and order some fried rice.

Looking away from the big picture window that displays the Gorge in front of us, we see that the dining room is as eclectic as Sean himself.

We had about an hour to relax…

…before we were driven a short way up the road…

… to the beginning of the hike down the Gorge to the Jinsha River.

Our guide was Lily.

It’s still unclear to us who Lily is. Sean’s daughter Lucy, whom you’ll meet on Day 5, calls Lily her aunt. Sean implied that Lily is his common-law wife, but also explained that such situations are illegal in China.

The initial descent was moderate (see lower left of photo),…

…shallow enough to accommodate small horses for locals and lazy tourists.

After this point, however,…

…the trail began to steepen beyond the ability of the horses, many places being not much more than steps carved out of the rocks.

Intermittently along this steep part, which accounted for about 2/3 of the descent, there were little covered platforms where a local would be selling snacks and drinks for those foolish enough to have taken this hike.

It was annoying to see Lily so relaxed, bundled up in her jacket, casually listening to music on her Smartphone, while she waited for FII and me.

Occasionally we’d come across an ambiguous sign. Here’s one warning us of “banger.”

My camera was focusing better than my brain because of my tired legs, and I didn’t understand what was going on until FII facetiously told me to be careful because this area must be “bangerous.”

I, on the other hand, was drenched in sweat, even on a descent, and my knees hurt. I had on long cargo pants, but they were thin, and so I wondered why my legs were so hot – until, just near the bottom, I remembered I still had on my thermal underwear from the early morning cold in Shaxi.

So I went behind this shack close to the bottom to take off the thermals and unzip the bottom parts of the pants.

I sat on the wall (blue arrow) and took off pants and thermals. Instantly I felt better – until I realized that there was another path that continued down river from this shack (red arrow).

I came to this realization because coming along this path, heading towards me at a distance of about 15 yards, was a 10-year-old girl. She laughed, showed me to her father, who whipped out his camera to take a picture despite my protestations. I, myself, do not have a photo of this encounter.

Lily led us the remaining short distance down to the rocks adjacent to the river.

Note that she is now carrying my sweatshirt. FII carried my thermals and pants bottoms, and they both carried water for me. Needless to say, I was exhausted. FII was probably a little tired, but Lily had neither a drop of sweat on her brow nor a heavy breath in her lungs.

FII and I were not too tired to pass up posing for pictures at the bottom of the Gorge.

The river itself did a pretty good job of posing.

I know that’s a lot of pictures to show of a mere river, but FII and I are great nature lovers and we can never get enough of this stuff.

My love of rivers began at the age of 14 when Bob Hager took a bunch of us from our church to the Kern River in California. We got to our camp site, set up our tents, and went down to the river. The water was moving at a good clip but what shocked us the most was how cold the water was, coming directly from melting snow off the Sierra Nevada mountains. So all 15 of us young boys in our jeans and jackets were trying to stay warm when Hager said, “I’ll give 50 cents and this candy bar to the first boy who swims to that big rock in the middle of the river.” We looked at him as if he were crazy, but when no one made the slightest move, I took off my jacket, shirt, shoes, and pants, and in my underwear, dove in and swam to the rock. I got out onto the rock, and immediately dove in and swam back. I think that one incident exemplifies my entire personality: always hungry, always greedy, and always stupid. But I survived.

Tiger Leaping Gorge gets its name from the spray of water that hits this rock when the Jinsha River is deeper and faster. Evidently the spray looks like a leaping tiger. I suspect it’s just a lie to attract tourists.

After about 15 minutes on the rock, Lily pointed to a path that had been cut out of the cliffs, saying we’re taking a longer but easier way back.

On this path it pays to be short.

The trail back was indeed much easier, but by now my legs were so completely out of energy that I fell behind very quickly.

FII stopped often to wait for me. Here he is enjoying the view from his perch on a rock.

I got to the same rock, and they took off while I recuperated.

I didn’t want to tell them how worried I was, but I had severe cramps in both legs that would keep me from standing, much less walking up a trail. Several times I had to sit (or rather fall) down and wait for what seemed like a half hour but in reality was only about 10 minutes so the pain would subside enough for me to go on for a little while. There were times when the pain was worse in my left leg, so I’d lead with my right and drag the left one behind me. At other times, the reverse was necessary.

I’m sure there were occasional conversations between FII and Lily that went something like this:

“I’m worried about your friend. Maybe we should go back and see how he’s doing.”

“Ah, Paul’s OK. I’ve had to wait for him on the trail for decades. He’s slow but he’ll get here eventually.”

While they were undoubtedly saying this, I was draped over a rock wondering if they’d have to call a stretcher for me because there were several times when I simply couldn’t take a single step.

Finally we got to the end of the trail…

…where we found terraces of winter wheat.

Lily, bless her soul, had the common sense to call for the van instead of making us, me, walk up a very steep mountain road back to Sean’s.

We made it back alive, something I was unsure of for a while, and I don’t think I’ve exerted myself like that for over a decade – not since my last hike in Glacier resulted in a ruptured L5-S1 disk.

FII and I collapsed in balcony chairs and enjoyed the view of the mountain across the Gorge…

…that, due to its proximity, reminded us of the view of Grinnell Mountain from the café at Many Glacier, where we’ve sat many times with Gordon Edwards drinking beer after a hard day’s climb.

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