The first travel agency we stepped into was not helpful. There was just one guy sitting there and he didn't seem interested in talking to us. So we walked the few feet to the next agency and found some much more helpful people.  We booked a trip to the water cave for the morning and rock climbing for the afternoon. The total was 238 RMB (36 USD) per person.

They drove us out into the countryside in a minivan and dropped us off at a ticket stand for the water cave. The traffic was a little crazy, it being a holiday weekend, but the scenery was beautiful.

This arch-shaped rock is called Moon Hill:



From there we got on a dilapidated little bus with 15 or so other tourists. I walked to the empty seats at the back of the bus and just started laughing. The bus was falling apart. Really! You could see the road through large holes in the floor. One of the seats looked as though it were in the process of falling through the floor. We zoomed over small bumpy winding dirt roads on what was pretty much the most exciting (ie terrifying!) bus rides we’d ever been on. Any minute we thought the bus would come apart completely. It was awesome.

At the entrance to the cave there were lockers to store your valuables in and the 5 of us, knowing we intended to swim inside of the cave, decided to strip down to our swimsuits and leave everything else in a locker. None of the Chinese made this same decision.
Here are the instructions posted at the entrance:

The cave tour began in a little boat. We had to hunch over for the first few hundred meters to keep from hitting our heads on the low roof of the cave. Then we got out of the boats and walked through the rest of the cave. Our guide turned out to be a student who was just working there for the holiday weekend. She was nice, if a little nervous, and she pointed out the rock formations that looked like animals. I can't really remember her saying much else. We walked through to the end of the cave and then on the way back we stopped to enjoy the mud pool.

I love mud! I was so excited to jump into a big pool of mud!

We rinsed off the mud in the cold running water coming from a spout in the wall. The next stop was the hot springs which, in my opinion, needed to be much closer to the mud pool. Have you ever wandered through a cave in nothing but a wet swimsuit? Brr. After soaking for a while in pools of naturally hot water we returned to the outside world.

The bus we took back to the main road was a much bigger and sturdier bus than the crazy little coming-apart-at-the-seams one we'd ridden on the way there. But all the same, we had to wait for the driver to figure out a way to secure part of the underneath of the bus that was hanging down in a way it was not supposed to be.

The bandages I’d bought at a pharmacy that morning to protect my injured hand where not helpful and ended up coming off. Ouchie.



But I thought I did pretty well, all things considered. I made it to the top of 2 different climbs but on the third one I got really tired about two thirds of the way up. I thought I could stop to rest by letting go of the rock and leaning back on the rope but this turned out to be a bad idea. I guess because of the slight outcropping above me, once I released my hold on the rock I fell back and found myself dangling out of reach of the wall. I twirled helplessly in the air as I flailed and kicked and tried to get back to the rock.

“Come back to me!” I cried to the wall. “I’m so sorry I ever let you go! Come back to me!” But the obstinate rock wall remained just out of reach. 

“Swing!” yelled the guide at the other end of my rope. Or it might have been “swim,” it’s hard to tell from that height.

“I’m trying!” I yelled back.

“Kick the wall!” was the next advice she offered.

“I can’t!” was my frustrated reply.



I was stretching my arms and legs out the as far as I could but nothing was coming into contact. Finally I worked up enough momentum that I came just close enough to brush the wall with my toe. It wasn’t exactly a kick but I toe-poked that rock as hard as I could and that got me swinging hard enough that I could kick the wall and eventually I managed to grab onto something and pull myself in. By this point the harness had gotten uncomfortably tight around my crotch. And I was still really tired and I still couldn’t find sufficient grip on the rock to actually ascend any further so after clinging there desperately for a while I prevailed upon the guide to let me down.

The view from the rock:

That night we had dinner at an Indian restaurant, the most expensive meal of the weekend at 63 RMB (almost 10 USD!) per person.

Back to Yangshuo. Saturday April 30th 2011

Yangshuo is a really amazing place and I highly recommend visitors to China making a stop there. I could not believe how clear the air was and how clean the rivers were.

When it finally got late enough that the travel agencies were open we spent an hour in one discussing our options for the day. In the end we broke into two groups. I was in Group Awesome or the adventure group, as we called ourselves. The other members of this daredevil group were Matt, Jo, Stephanie, Cecilie and Sven. None of us had ever met Sven before, he was a lone German traveller from Shanghai who happened to come into the travel agency just as we were leaving. 

We rode bikes through picturesque countryside to the Yulong river. At the river we boarded bamboo rafts, each propelled by guides using long poles. I was sharing my raft with Matt because at that point I was still talking to him because he had not yet betrayed my trust by failing to email me the pictures he promised. The water was cool and clear and the day was warm so, risking reprimand from the Chinese I decided to jump in. It felt great. After my little dip Matt decided to do a back flip off of the chair. Our guide didn’t seem to mind and the Chinese tourists were greatly entertained.


Stefanie and Cecile on a bamboo raft. They bought this picture from the photographers who had a business set up on a large floating platform in the river, taking photos of tourists.

After the raft rides the other girls wanted to do some swimming too so the 5 of us had fun jumping off a bridge while Sven (not dressed for swimming) took pictures. He put these pictures on a CD and sent it to Matt but apparently it got lost in the mail. Not that it matters because even if Matt had received it, I still wouldn’t have the pictures.

Matt, who loves jumping off of things more than just about anything in life, (including sending pictures to people who trusted him) really wanted to jump off of the Dragon bridge but we weren’t sure exactly where it was. Every person he asked gave him a different answer about how far away it was. Some said we could get there in half an hour on bikes while others said it would take at least 3 hours. We decided to try anyway and to enjoy a ride in the countryside even if we never made it to the bridge. On the way Matt met a lady who said she lived near there and we could follow her home if we liked. Soon we had a caravan of bikes following her through tiny villages, past rice paddies and around large plodding cows. It took about an hour but we found the bridge and Matt’s purpose was soon complete. To the awe of an audience of both locals and camera-toting tourists he did a double backflip off of the 600 year old 9m high stone bridge. Several times. 

On the way back to Yangshuo I was in the front of the group going at a reasonably quick pace when Sven suddenly yelled that I needed to turn right. I tried my best to obey but didn’t alas, I didn’t make the turn. I ended up on my back in the dirt with the bike on top of me. Ouch. My left palm was torn up and I had grazes on my right shoulder and leg but I think the biggest casualty was my pride. There’s just no way to recover gracefully from a spill like that. I considered pretending to be REALLY hurt but instead went the “I’m not hurt at all” route and hopped back on my bike as nonchalantly as I could. What, that? That’s just blood. No big deal, I’ve got plenty. 

We got back to Yangshuo without further incident. We were all sunburned by the time we got there. Where was all the rain that had been forecast? We had expected thunderstorms all weekend! Instead we got sun.

We had a quick lunch and then met the others at the travel agents where we hopped in a mini van for our next excursion. We went to the part of the Li river that is pictured on the 20 RMB note. 

See, right there! I was there. It was just like that! But in color. And with boats full of tourists. And now every time I encounter a 20 RMB note I have to tell people this. Here’s the 20 I owe you and look! I was there! 

We had a nice little cruise up the river and back again on a flat bottomed motorized boat. The scenery was just beautiful.

Back in town we had dinner in a pizza place then returned to the hostel where we finally checked in. We showered and changed and checked out the hostel’s rooftop bar. The mountains were lit up at night, which was pretty cool looking. Matt and I went out for juice because we were still friends at that point because I didn’t know he was a lying picture-withholding traitor.

Friday (April 29, 2011) night we took the 10:30pm bus from Guangzhou to Yangshuo. As it was an overnight trip we had hoped for a sleeper bus with beds but were disappointed to discover that the only bed on board was for the drivers. There were two drivers and they alternated driving and sleeping between them.


Matt, James, Jo and Pippa on the bus ride to Yangshuo.

We had been told that the journey would take 8-9 hours so we were expecting to arrive in Yangshuo around 7 in the morning. At 4:15am we were abruptly awakened and informed that we had arrived. We blearily stumbled off the bus into the dark and near-empty street. The bus continued on to Guilin leaving us standing in the dark, laughing at the unexpectedness of the situation. What now? It was the middle of the night, everything was closed and we had nowhere to go.

We figured we might as well try and find our hostel, not that we would be able to check in any time soon. It seemed as good a destination as any. There was a man who met us as we got off the bus, trying to sell rooms at his hotel. Perhaps our refusal offended him because when we asked if he knew how to get to Monkey Jane’s (our hostel) he pointed us in what turned out to be the completely wrong direction.

As we wandered down the road I happened to glance up and was startled to realize that I could see the silhouettes of sharp, imposing mountains looming above us, seemingly just beyond the buildings of the the street. As we gazed around us in the darkness we became aware of these mountains in every direction.

We eventually found the hostel after a fair bit of wandering through the dark and silent town. We couldn’t check in but we were allowed to leave our bags. The reception area was occupied with a few obnoxious drunks so that didn’t seem like a good place to hang out. We asked the desk clerk if he knew of a good place to go to watch the sunrise. He told us it was too cloudy so there wasn’t going to be a sunrise.

“Oh, so the sun won’t rise today?” I asked as innocently as I could. Apparently the joke didn’t translate as he replied that no, it wouldn’t.

We walked down to the river. It wasn’t far.  We may not have been able to see the sun but it rose anyway, contrary to the hostel clerk's prediciton. It was beautiful to watch the gradual brightening of the misty world. The jagged mountains slowly became sharper and the strangely clear water (clean natural water in China??? What is this place?!) seemed to almost glow in the half-light of approaching dawn. The gentle rain only added to the peaceful beauty.

The Li River at dawn

By 6am it was raining in earnest so we retreated to a dumpling shop for breakfast. 


Jo, Matt, Ashley and Pippa ponder the menu at a dumpling shop