Tiger Leaping Gorge

I'm not quite sure to say about Tiger Leaping Gorge. So much has been said and so much of it bullshit. Despite the carnage that tourism, wealth and ohh too many roads have wreaked on the landscape it is still a pleasant stroll, a nice way to spend a down day. Several years ago Simon Winchester described it in a blog here, making the tame path sound like a scramble up and around the gates of Mordor. But he also predicted what has come to pass:

"The pleasure that one took particularly in Tiger Leaping Gorge, by virtue of its peace, its isolation and its beauty will now soon have gone forever. By tarmac and pollution and crowding, it will have been utterly and comprehensively ruined. The village of Walnut Grove will, in a way, have lost its soul. Somewhere special will have become merely commonplace, and worse."

Tiger Leaping Gorge is now merely commonplace. And soon they will probably drown some more in another lake and kill the rumble of the river. Anyway our day out...

The path was scraggled with dead and dying worms. We tried to hypothesise what their story was, were they shat out by all the horses? No I think they were too big. Were they enticed onto the track by the piles of dung in the rain then stood on, or then stranded when the track quickly dries? Whoknows. The strange things you think about when you are walking.

Apart from the amazing rock walls of Jade Dragon Snow Mountain rising across the gorge and the continuous rumbling and occasional sighting of the whitewater of the Yangtze (both which you soon forget about) the track is highlighted by the continual advertising for guesthouses. The Naxi family guesthouse is first, red paint on rocks. There are Nashi pears at the Naxi house. The track steepens after here shortly, the infamous “28 bends”, a good hill for an old man with a stick carrying a basket of potatoes. Tea Horse Trading Inn was next, the yellow brand on the rocks. We stopped here for a relaxing lunch, what a view!!

Halfway House (someone has a sense of humour) was probably the most obtrusive of the lot. Their graffitti was constant. We rebelled by not even sticking our heads in for a beer, but stopped for a photo.

The track now followed a water-race around a steep face, akin to the lower Yubeng but less spectacular, before rolling down to the road at Tina's guesthouse. Thats it? The famous Tiger Leaping Gorge trek is a pleasant romantic stroll and would have its purpose as a pub crawl.

Before wandering the 40minutes back down the road to (the lovely) Seans Guesthouse in Walnut Garden, we stopped at the Bridge Cafe for an orange juice.

Sitting in the cafe reading a book on the minorities of the Yunnan, we saw many interesting photos of the places we have been and discovered the proper names for a couple of objects, the fuzzy purple flower and the crazy easels and chairs for the gods. Any guesses?

From Shangri-La to the Tiger Leaping Gorge

Its only a couple of hours by bus from Shangri-La to Tiger Leaping Gorge, but we went the long way (although I'm sure someone could find a longer way, there is plenty of potential).

The bus was supposed to leave at 9.10, it was 9.00. The ticket lady said sales were closed, the lady at the gate said the bus had left. Out in the middle of the three lane street a suspicious looking bus was waiting at lights, "Baishutai?", the door is ripped open and we're in. Our good fortune amuses everyone and gives us a good buzz for the day. The ride to Baishutai, a silica pool sort of tourist attraction, is about 4 hours. The road rises and curves over more of China's endless hills, Penny sits biting her lips!

Arriving in Baishutai we prepare to be underwhelmed. For the first time in China touts ruin the experience, there are not enough tourists here. The attraction is pleasant but its management is shoddy. Water from a nearby stream is water-raced in to spill-over the silica and then halfway down the formation is whisked away to irrigate drops, leaving the bottom half dry and weedy. The tourist infrastructure; giant boardwalks and handrails, is broken down. People walk where they want, all over the formation. They say it is an important part of Naxi Dongba culture...so where is the respect? That said there are parts of it you can take pretty photos of.

We got out of there as quick as we could, which took us about 2 hours in a cafe eating yummy instant noodles and 2 hours sitting on the side of the road getting sold walnuts by insistent old ladies. Eventually when a van came it took us 20km down the road to the little village of Haba where we were surprised and happy to find a very nice little guesthouse called Haba Snow Mountain Inn with photos of trekking and mountaineering in the local area all over the walls. The hostess took us down to Naxi dancing that night at the village square. The big circular group dance with a verry happy feel. We had seen the dance at Shangri-La but this convinced us that it wasn't just a tourist set-up. Awesome thing to watch and see these people celebrating their lives and community

We arranged to join up with a German family that was there to hire a guide for the next day to show us up the hill. They would then all go back leaving us to explore and try and climb the mountain (they also hire ice axes and crampons...we took advantage of the former). It worked a charm. The climb up the next day with the guide and Germans took us from Haba at 2500odd to an amazingly beautiful little lake at 4100 and took us above the bushline.

On the way up one of the highlights was going past a small log cabin where a man was milking his cows, we took the opportunity to check out his pad and some of his tools.

Freed of the larger group we took off up the mountain, rising first then sidling when we could see the obvious route up a vast grey slab. We dumped Pennys pack at a group of rough and wrecked shelters which we presumed was basecamp, only to find just over a minor ridge a new basecamp with a newly completed guesthouse! Wilderness experience blown we made a bid for the top in what would be record time.

It was quick up the slab but things started to slow down when we hit ice, we were running out of time fast. The view kept beckoning out north. All the way back to Meili Snow Mountain we could see, the ridges then dropped as we panned around to the east until the sacred peaks of the Yading raised their snowy heads and the mighty 8000m Gonga Shan thrust itself into the distant skyline.

We gave up just below the big snow dome, nothing more than a plod to the summit, but it would have taken us 90minutes to the top, and broke into the bag of ginger we had saved for a special occasion since Thailand.

We then got the hell out of there, one of the most beautiful places I've ever been.

Camp that night after we had rejected the advances of the new guesthouse owners was near the ruined huts of the ghost town.

Next day was porridge for breakfast at sunrise.

We had skipped past some of the scenic highlights of the area the previous day, so decided to go back a similar way, checking out a few viewpoints and saddles and of course the gorgeous lake before descending again to Haba Snow Mountain Inn for lunch.

The ladies didn't quite know what to think when we told them we planned on walking to Tiger Leaping Gorge that day (we were either very strong or naive or both as it turned out). I was convinced we got on the right track, it was sidling around Haba Snow Mountain just where I would make it if I was making a track to sidle Haba Snow Mountain into Tiger Leaping Gorge. Then the damn thing stopped, we tried 3 dead ends having to walk numerous times past a vicious looking dog on a small fragile looking leash, which gave Penny the heebie jeebies. Daylight running out again we bolted for the road, 45 minutes down the hill and from a distance we hadn't seen a car all afternoon. 5 minutes later we were safely enconsed with some wealthy Chinese out on a tiki tour who couriered us all the way to our accomodation. Pennys chinese was impressive, there was at least a 10 line exchange, which given our lack of language learning motivation was awesome.

We completed the day by having a nice long yarn to a young couple Matt and Mary, biking from England to Australia, to begin a new life there and build their own dream backpackers on a small piece of coastal land there. And Chinese beer, particularly Dali, continues to impress with its tasty, refreshing and alcoholic qualities.

The Long Winding Road to Deqin!

Well here we are in Deqin, the last stop in the Yunnan on the way to Tibet. What a day, what a road. We started off this morning in the small hamlet of Cizhong on the banks of the Mekong. Cizhong is famous as an outpost of Catholicism in China. Marauding French missionaries indoctrinated the area descending from the Tibetan Plateau with their Tibetan converts. As unusually we had come across the mountains to Cizhong from the Nu Jiang village of De Ma Lo we were familiar with this influence and the crazy buildings in the middle of nowhere. Indeed we experienced a Catholic mass Tibetan style on Sunday, but more about are travels from Liming to De Ma Lo later plenty of tales to tell!!!

We checked out the Church quickly, aching from carrying our packs after the recent excursions. Hidden from the Mekong by a subtle terrace Cizhong is a cobbled civilised oasis. It is harvest time and the people are out in the fields below the village scything rice, gathering it and dehusking. Preparations for winter are in full swing everywhere in open attics under wooden roofs things are drying; grains, fruit and meat.

The Church is surrounded by a high white wall, the inner courtyard peaceful in a cottage garden way. In the outer buildings historic photographs document the lives of the enthusiastic, earnest and happy young missionaires who came to this far part of the world. It shows them high up snowy mountains, posing with local inhabitants and growing old with big bushy beards. There is a bizarre Indian influence to, with pictures of bearded Sikhs (of Sikhalikes) which I am yet to understand. The inside of the church is beautiful, colourful motifs cover the ceiling providing another layer to the gaudy decorations and pictures of saints.

Satisfied and keen to move on we strolled down to and across the Mekong. After a nervous wait the second bus picked us up and we were off not really having any idea what was instore for us. The road first skirted low above the Mekong but then gradually it climbed till a series of switchbacks saw us 100's of metres above the brown heaving mass. The Mekong gorged in below us, vicious snake bends and the road soared ahead a thin line on giant slopes of rubble. Villages far below us look to have roofs paimted bright yellow until we realise it is the harvest of corn drying for the winter. As we got higher the lower part of the massif of Meili Snow Mountain appeared across the valley, giant glaciers rumbling down out of the cloud. We eyed up routes and ridges for our next few days exploring. When the nerves started to catch up on me the road turned to buckled gravel, but with nerves of steel the bus driver swerved his way to Deqin, where we are now, from our small room on the roof of a backpackers the mountains soar to nearly 7000metres opposite, with the Mekong Canyon nearly 1500m below, awesome! Hopefully the weather comes to the party tomorrow