huangshan.

The great outdoors and I have never been on intimate terms, broadly speaking. A matter of upbringing, I suppose; despite growing up steps away from the expansive splendors of the Northern California's woods and waterfronts, I've still never been camping, and, only atop the Puerto Rican Yunque, at the un-tender age of eighteen, learned that 'hiking' was simply what white people termed 'walking', when practiced away from cement curbs and crosswalks.
In the years since moving away from California, I've rubbed shoulders with Mother Nature more frequently, though I still struggle to grasp the sense of - reward, is it? accomplishment? - that hikers seem to educe from an elevated vantage point following miles and hours of tromping through mud and insects. I'm always a little puzzled, internally, when folks stand back to take it all in, breathe a sigh of exalted satisfaction, appearing to have found God.
Still, I enjoy the exercise, if nothing else, and I do feel that there are certain things I ought to see before leaving China. So when friends from high school, on a pre-grad school vacAsian, invited me to Huangshan this past weekend, I agreed immediately. I thought vaguely that six months of loafing and chain-smoking in Shanghai could be cured with three days of mountain air and strenuous exertion.
We set off on Friday morning (after Thursday night's brief and violent ravaging of De La Coast's frat-astic open-bar). The five-hour bus ride from Shanghai took us to Tun Xi, about thirty kilometers from the foot of the mountain. Candace, David, Joyce and I checked into our hostel, and spent the reminder of the afternoon exploring the village, before turning in early to catch a 6AM bus that would take us to the base.
Wikipedia says:

The Huangshan mountain range comprises many peaks, 77 of which exceed 1,000 m in altitude. The three tallest peaks are Lotus Peak, nearby Bright Summit Peak (Guang Ming Ding, 1,840 m) and Celestial Peak (Tian Du Feng, literally Capital of Heaven Peak, 1,829 m). The World Heritage Site covers a core area of 154 square kilometres and a buffer zone of 142 square kilometres. The mountains were formed in the Mesozoic, about 100 million years ago, when an ancient sea disappeared due to uplift. Later, in the Quaternary, the landscape was shaped by the influence of glaciers. In many cases, stone pillar forests were formed.

So it wasn't going to be easy. Fortunately, I had packed my cousin's hip outdoor gear (for lack of my own); looking like a NorthFace ad does something for one's confidence in times of athletic apprehension. It was still cool when we set off. We started off with three small, warm-up hikes of about two kilometers apiece on the eastern side of the range. A rather charming tourist tradition, we learned, is to purchase a padlock, engrave it with your and yours' names, and affix it to the chain-link guardrails lining the highest peaks. Thousands of preserved romances greeted us upon reaching each destination:



The first small hike ended at a lovely freshwater stream, where we soaked out feet:


The second hike was Lovers' Gorge, originally made famous for its seamless series of beautiful streams and waterfalls, and currently known (and named) for being the natural backdrop of the 2004 film 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon'. We were not, however, able to take any reprieve from the hot mid-morning sun in the water:


I love this. Analogous advisories: 'No eating the hot and delicious food'; 'No fucking the loose and limber Brazilian pageant queens'.
After Lovers' Gorge, we stopped for lunch. We sampled five local teas, and some ambiguous mountain vegetation swimming in grease, before continuing on.
The third warm-up hike was the Nine Dragons Falls. Nine slim columns of rapids, descending vertically, proved to be a challenging ascent, but we finished without the aid of external manpower.


I thought, 'if I had such a job, I'd never solicit customers and would attempt to appear as disagreeable as possible.'


Caution, commie-style

Four hours of moderate trekking was the prelude to a three-hour long stretch up the remainder of the east side of the mountain. The first stretch was shaded in bamboo forests:



As we ascended, the air grew cooler, and the foliage changed. Strange, cropped-top pine trees resembling tropical drink umbrellas grew staunchly out of rocks. We began to catch glimpses of granite pillars, cascading steeply towards treacherous precipices. We eventually reached our accommodations for the evening, situated in a clearing high (1,650 meters!) enough to see smatterings of distant lightning storms, illuminating patches of far-off forest pink and purple against the otherwise still and silent night sky. Our private July 4th fireworks spectacular, we mused.
We were exhausted, from an early morning and many hours on foot. After a brief dinner and a seemingly brief but peaceful slumber, we rose to watch the sun rise:



It, too, was brief, and subtly spectacular, to the delight of the spectators. We jostled to the convenience store and picked up hard-boiled eggs and chocolate bars for the rest of the day.
We hiked down the western side, which we discovered was a sprawling Geopark, on account of its pretty special display of geological curiosities. Prehistoric fault lines had evolved into verdant valleys. I feebly recalled my rudimentary college geology class vocabulary -intrusion here, bedding there, I think that's some coarse-grained granite- and wished a lot that I'd been better equipped to understand the landscape, which was really quite special. The weather was inarguably perfect; clear, temperate blue skies allowed us panoramic views of the area (although we admitted that we'd hoped for a little morning mist, for art and drama's sake).
We returned to Shanghai by bus that afternoon - a cramped, five-hour, air-conditioning-less ride with forty other proud and sweaty Huangshan conquerers. It was a familiar relief to see the smog and skyscrapers of Shanghai; I enjoyed myself, but am (I reluctantly suppose) conditioned to the city. I hailed a cab, and rode it pointedly to a late-night massage parlor, where I treated myself to a luxurious ninety minute rubdown and rosewater bath.