Zhangjiajie: Day 1 (11/17/19)

I had a bit of a slow start in the morning and didn’t leave until a little after 11am.
My mission for the day: Explore Zhangjiajie Park for the day, but start at the top of the mountain rather than the bottom so as to avoid crowds and make my hike easier … also just because I liked the idea of doing the park ‘backwards’.
My tools to accomplish this mission: two maps of the park (one similar to below), Chinese to English downloaded on my Google Translate (only writing), a wallet full of ¥100 bills (the largest banknote in China, each worth about $15 USD), my day pack, and a day’s worth of food and water.

So off I walked back towards the train station, this time to the building next door which should be a bus station capable of getting me to my stating point, Tianzi Mountain Town (aka Tianzishanzhen or 天子山). Inside the building there were like 20 service windows, each with a word above them, and a line of people waiting for each one. I had difficultly figuring out which one I was supposed to go to and just chose one at random. I guess my choice wasn’t correct though since after waiting 15 minutes in line they looked at map where I had circled Tianzi, shook their head, and pointed at a counter set back near the entrance. I then waited in that line and handed over my map and phone with the phrase “I want a ticket to Tianzi Mountain Town please” already translated on screen. The lady had to sound out my message but got the gist, and with the help of another attendee she called over, handed me a handwritten note, pointed to a security gate, made a left turn motion with her hand, and then pointed to the 天子山 characters on the note.

So I started following directions. I literally just walked through security, like, nobody stopped me or asked to check my bag or anything. I just shrugged internally, not knowing if I broke a rule or not, and took the left sidewalk through the bus parking lot. Every few yards was a loading spot with a sign above, so I checked each one against my note and finding them not to match walked on. And on. And on. I’m pretty sure I was walking though that parking lot for a solid 20 or 30 minutes, about ready to break down, before finally spotting the sign I was looking for at the far end of the lot, basically the last bus stop possible. Only problem was, there wasn’t a bus there, just two people hanging out in chairs. I figured the bus would be coming soon and took a seat to wait, I had all day after all and wasn’t in a particular rush. Based on the bus times shown on my map, a estimated that the ride up the mountain would only be about 40 minutes, maybe a bit longer to account for curvy roads. So even if the bus showed up at like 2pm I would still have hours to explore the park.

The bus, a little 12-seater, arrived around 1:30pm and the driver got out for a break. I waited until he was returning and showed him my note and map. He nodded and motioned for me to get on, confirming I was in the right place - YES!! Just behind the driver’s seat there was a plexiglass box with several prices listed out and a slot to put your money in, kind of like a museum donation box. Of course I couldn’t read what each price was for so I just paid the largest one, which was still only like $3 USD. The bus slowly filled up as people arrived and didn’t leave until like 2:15pm or so, but I still wasn’t all that worried about time.

… I was on that bus for 4 hours …

At one point we stopped in a small town and the driver yelled out the window to a group of elder women sitting under an awning eating mandarin oranges. They yelled back and he motioned for me to disembark to go over by them. So I disembarked into the now rainy streets and hustled myself over, where I was prompt sat down, given a blanket and a mandarin, and a two-handed gesture to wait by a very gentle grandmother. Then the bus, just, drove away. I had time to think over my life choices while wrapped in that blanket peeling fruit in the rain. But I didn’t like that train of thought so instead I took stock of how my plan for the day was faring thus far: I had no clue where I was, didn’t know if there was a bus coming to finish my journey, had no hope of getting to the park at a reasonable time, wasn’t in any mood to hike thorough the rain, doubted I could return to Zhangjiajie, and even if I could, didn’t want to waste one of my few remaining days literally riding a bus in a circle. So not great. What I did have going for me was an umbrella to keep me dry, and the ability to ask for help in any language on planet Earth (assuming I know what language is needed), and a wallet full of cash.

I thought about my options, and after about the 4th mandarin I had constructed a plan. I would wait until somebody told me to move, another bus arrived, or until nightfall, whichever came first. If I was given instructions, great, that’d mean I was part of some plan and I felt confident these grandmothers would take care of me. They weren’t going to let me die, or even run out of mandarins for that matter. If another bus arrived and I wasn’t directed to board it I would engage my classic ‘point at the map’ strategy and hope they would take me further. And failing both of those, if the sun set I would find a place to sleep, and possibly eat. Finally, if I did make it to Tianzi with time to spare I would enter the park and find a place to stay in Dingxiangrong, which appeared to be a small town with a hostel and a few small hotels on my map. With a plan, a backup to that plan, and a fallback plan all formed in my mind I settled into my chair and started peeling another mandarin.

Fortunately another bus did come and my elderly caretakers shuffled me on board. I wasn’t sure if I should pay again so I did just to be sure, it was only like $3 anyways, well worth the certainty in my book. And just like that I was safely delivered to Tianzi Mountain Town with about 3 hours of daylight remaining. Following my plan, I walked to the park entrance and got my first glimpse of the hills and rock spires peaking out from the mist. The sight stirred up my adventurous spirit and I started getting a little excited at the prospect of seeing the park while its covered in mist, a sight I imagine most visitors never get the chance to. The weather wasn’t too bad either, a little cold but the rain had given way to very slow drizzle so I was comfortable in my sweater, rain jacket, and very stylish polka-dot umbrella.

The park entrance was completely empty save for one guy in a ticket booth who I purchased a 3-day pass from, figuring that gave me lots of options. There were dividers set up to handle a long line of people and an empty parking lot so I figured that meant I should wait for a bus and started wandering about to kill time. There wasn’t much to hold my interest besides the view and I ducked into a small heated room just off the parking lot to wait that was furnished with one bench, a single chair, a low table and a silent television. I suspect I wasn’t supposed/allowed to be in there and that it was like a rest stop for the bus drivers, but nobody told me off so whatever. A guy in uniform did walk in at one point and looked at me funny before sitting down on the one chair and reading a newspaper, but since he didn’t tell me to leave so I stayed and was happy for the warmth.

A bus eventually came down from the mountain and I boarded it along with a family of 3 that had recently arrived. I assume there was a set bus schedule posted somewhere that I was not privy to due to the language barrier so they knew exactly when to show up. The bus took us up several sets of switchbacks, the mist growing thicker the higher we climbed, until arriving at a small bus lot when I got off and a few hikers waiting got on and continued further up the mountain. At this point I had seen a less than 10 people in the park, which was obviously designed to handle crowds of hundreds. Combined with the mist, it evoked a feeling of abandonment similar to Chernobyl. And just like in Chernobyl, I felt a sort of jittering excitement at the thought of wandering into the unknown.

With a couple hours still left till nightfall, I walked past my turnoff to Dingxiangrong Village and found the start of the path to Emperor’s Throne, a scenic lookout. I would have been a little doubtful about where I was due to a lack of/inconsistency in signs, but an open-air hut populated by a single old lady selling mandarins confirmed for me that I was somewhere that would normally see enough traffic to support the shop, which would have to be a scenic lookout point. She offered to sell me a bag of mandarins as I walked by, which I of course turned down after spending like an hour eating them between buses earlier, and began descending the mist-covered path. I was absolutely giddy when the path diverged and opened into a rest area completely devoid of people. I had a snack in the pagoda while waiting for a little spout of rain to pass by. I wasn’t exactly sure how long it would take to reach Emperor’s Throne so I opted to head that direction and then if I had time I could check out the other path to One Dangerous Step.

I was ecstatic walking the twisting path, admiring the mountain foliage, and catching the occasional view of a mountaintop or spire shrouded in mist. The path itself was made of stone blocks, deeply engraved with well-worn Chinese characters, which I imagine tell a story or are thematically linked to the park’s history. I was lost in a sense of childish wonder, with ideas of what stories the path told and what the view might look like without the mist bounced around in my head. The complete lack of people made it easy to get lost in my own thoughts amid the quiet sounds of rain and the occasional rustling breeze. Now and then the trees would break and I would get a glimpse of the ground dropping away into a sheer cliff, forming a deep gorge that I couldn’t see the bottom of, and I would be lost in thought about what might be down there until I came across the next wonder, which would in turn capture me.

I took my sweet time walking and wondering - I had no intention of rushing the experience and no pressure from crowds of people to drive me away. The path eventually turned briefly into a tangled mess of interwoven stairs and deposited me at the Celestial Bridge, a natural forming stone arch positioned hundreds of feet above the valley floor. I would have completely missed it if not for a rock naming it and a wooden gate declaring “No Entrance” - which I seriously considered jumping for the chance to take what I assume would be highly dangerous and illegal photos, but opted not to since it was rain-slicked and literally nobody knew where I was in case something went wrong. From there, a series of bridges and platforms brought me to Emperor’s Throne, an incredible lookout from which one could see the vast majesty of Zhangjiajie Forest Park, with its incredible stone spires standing up to 3,000 ft. tall, spanning the 5 miles wide canyon!!! Of course, my view wasn’t quite that. I saw numerous spires rising out of the mist, seemingly untethered to the unseen ground below, stretching off into grey void. Which in my opinion was equally awesome, and was made even more special by the fact that after I saw the park tomorrow, when the sky was clear, I would have seen two sides of the park: the scenic sunlit canyon overlook that every tourist sees, but also the empty grey mountaintop shrouded in mystery. Something I doubt very many people have the fortune to see.

I drank in the view, took a slew of pictures, and retied my boots for the hike back, which would be almost all uphill. I took another break at the rest stop pagoda and decided against exploring the other path to One Dangerous Step in favor being certain I would have enough time to walk to Dingxiangrong Village and check at least a few hostels if some were full, though I didn’t expect them to be when the weather was like this. I made good time down the road, toying with thoughts of roadside murders of a lone traveler at twilight in the mist, and had no trouble at all finding Dingxiangrong Village. Or, at least where the village used to be. Because it wasn’t there anymore. Rather than the small village full of hostels and shops I expected, what I found along either side of the road was a swath of destruction. Nearly every building was rubble, just a pile of wood, tile, and concrete. And the few buildings still standing at all were all at least partially damaged, often their roofs collapsed or half the building missing entirely.

I double and triple checked all my maps, but every one of them said there was a village here, and that it should have stores and restaurants and a place to sleep. But I couldn’t find any of that, just empty lots where buildings used to be. At this point I could feel the panic starting to set in and snapped my brain down into survival mode. I had less than an hour until nightfall, nowhere to sleep on a cold rainy night in November, and zero gear to sleep outside with. Social customs be damned, I needed to find shelter ASAP. I located the nearest building on the side of the main road and just walked in, calling “Hello??” and checking rooms until i encountered someone. There were 4 people in matching uniforms, all sat down on old computers, in what appeared to be a small office space. They looked very surprised at my arrival to put it lightly. I presented them my phone with the pre-translated message “I am lost and need to find somewhere to sleep and eat. Can you help me please?” They took the phone and all crowed around it talking, while I stood dripping onto their floor in the corner. After a few minutes of what I assume to be translation and discussion a lady made a big X with her arms and shook her head. She handed me her phone which read (and I remember this exactly) “No village to sleeping or eating go down mountain bus.” I figured that meant return to the bus stop I had gotten off at and there would still be buses running to take me back down the mountain to Tianzi. I thanked them profusely and walked back into the now-resuming rain, probably leaving them with a very odd story to tell their friends and family.

By the time I returned to my initial bus drop off point the only light was from the occasional roadside building. There wasn’t a bus to be found in the lot so I started making plans in case one never came. If worst came to worst there was a public bathroom nearby I could sleep in, that would at least be out of the rain. I also spotted a nearby building that appeared to be a bunkhouse of sorts. The front door was open and inside I could see several rows of beds and a couple people talking inside. I assumed that was a place for park workers to sleep so they could get an early start, and figured I might be able to snag a bed there with a little pleading.

My survival plan thoughts turned out to be unnecessary though, as a bus did eventually pull into the lot. I immediately got on as soon as the door opened and plopped down, dripping wet. The driver got out for a while but the way I figured even if he didn’t come back this was an acceptable place to sleep. He did of course, and took me back down the mountain to the Tianzi entrance, where I set about searching for a hotel manually. After a little prowling around I had it narrowed down to a couple places and just picked one at random to start. I strolled in, disturbing a family of 5 in the midst of dinner, and asked for a room via Google translate and a little miming. The younger lady, probably the mother, got up and took up station behind the front desk to help me. She seemed to understand what I needed but kept making an upside-down ‘ok’ gesture with her hand that I couldn’t figure out. She showed me upstairs to my room and then it hit me that she was making the sign for money! I had forgotten that Asia uses the finger-thumb circle for money while Europe rubs the index and thumb together. I handed her a ¥100 bill, which seemed sufficient for her as she didn’t ask for more. She then made an eating motion to which I nodded several times to which she pointed downstairs and left.

My room was small, just a bed, dresser, and functional bathroom, but that was completely fine by me! I would have paid pretty much any amount for a warm bed to sleep in instead of a concrete bathroom bench. I unloaded my bag, changed into dry clothes and crept back downstairs to the kitchen/seating area. The mother was frying something up on the stove and a middle aged man eating dinner motioned for me to sit next to him. He served me water and pushed a bowl of fried green over. I have no idea if he was offering me his own food or it was like a communal side dish or what but I was starving and wasn’t about to turn down the chance to eat. He tried a couple times to start conversation but all I could do was say “sorry, English” and shrug. He eventually wrote a message in the margins of a nearby newspaper which I tried to translate with Google but it didn’t seem to like handwriting. I was able to communicate with him via text but not him with me since he didn’t seem to be able to use the English keyboard. I eventually found the function that let him draw out his characters which worked out well because it took him several minutes to write out a sentence, giving me a chance to demolish the food that was being delivered. The mother served a huge bowl of fried greens, nuts, and what looked like peppers, which I set upon like a ravening wolf. It was good food, made better by hunger and the relief of guaranteed shelter for the night.

Jin, as he introduced himself, was a construction worker that lived and worked nearby. He would often stay at this inn when he was on a job, as was the case now, and was good friends with the family that owned it. He was married, but didn’t get to spend as much time with his wife as he wanted, and wanted to know all about my travels. We chatted for about an hour, him slowly writing out sentences on the glitchy Google translate screen, and me speed typing responses and shoveling food down my gullet. Any time my water got low Jin would refill it, which he explained was a way of showing his respect and gratitude for talking with him, which reminded me of the aspects of Japanese culture I was familiar with.

After eating and continuing our conversation, I bid Jin goodnight, and we took a few pictures for him to take home and show off his new American friend to his family. I left him to chat with the host family and waddled my way back upstairs to my room. I spent a few minutes taking in the lanterned bridge just outside and the quiet sounds of a small mountain town at night, then fell face first into bed and passed the heck out. What a roller coaster of a day. From struggling to find a bus, being marooned with a mandarin orange grandma, catching my first glimpse of the misty pillars of Zhangjiajie Park, wandering its deserted mountain paths lost in childlike wonder, finding a pile of debris where my hostel should be, nearly getting stranded on the mountain, and ending my day in good company over a warm meal, it was a hell of a ride and everything I could have asked for from my journey so far!