Visiting Huangshan was one of the toughest experiences of my life.

As we planned our trip to China it steadily became my number one priority, although it’s not the easiest of trips, even within China.

Then, about a month before we were leaving I found out that a good friend of mine had died in a climbing accident.

On the one hand I wanted nothing to do with mountains, on the other it felt like a way of honouring him, of seeing what it was he loves so much about mountains.

As I walked around in a muddle at work, I took myself off to the library to breathe.  I opened a National Geographic book and the very first picture was of Huangshan.  I was going.

When Mandy had to go back to England I thought about cancelling this leg of the trip and going straight to Beijing.  I emailed the Old Street Hotel who were wonderfully prompt and helpful - I also spoke to Ctrip and they too were extremely informative; I could have cancelled with almost no fees, but after a day at Les Suites Orient I felt that I was well enough to tackle the mountain.  Our plan had been to arrive, stay at the Old Street Hotel, climb the whole mountain (rather than taking the cable car) stay on the top at the Beihai Hotel to enjoy the sunrise and sunset and then come down the next day with hopefully enough time for a little sightseeing before our flight to Beijing.  I decided to follow the Old Street Hotel manager’s advice and take the cable car instead.  (“It is 2 hours and you will see nothing.” she said of the walk.)  I also decided to cancel the Beihai Hotel (no fee as it was booked through Ctrip) and book an extra night at the Old Street Hotel; partly because from the online reviews it didn’t sound like the kind of place I wanted to stay alone, and partly because I was worried about eating any dodgy food.

As my flight in was delayed by almost 2 hours I was relieved to see a friendly face waiting for me in arrivals - Mr Wu, the hotel’s complimentary driver waiting to drive me in style to the hotel in his luxury car.  I was glad I’d also booked him to drive me to Huangshan the next day - it’s about an hour each way from Tunxi, the nearest town, and a regular cab costs about the same as the hotel car (300RMB - £30).

Despite being delayed there was still time to visit the local supermarket, over the bridge for some essential supplies.  This is possibly the cheapest supermarket I’ve ever been to.  My supplies; two bottles of water, a baseball cap, three bags of crisps, a Snickers, a pack of Oreos, bag of M&Ms, a Coke, a can of coffee came to the princely sum of £4.31.  (I know this looks horrendously unhealthy but I did have a sack full of organic, vegan, protein rich, “counts as one of your five a day” energy bars that I’d carted - possibly illegally - from London too.)

Then it was time to sit down in the hotel restaurant (open to non-guests) and try to carb up.  The waitress was excellent; once I’d chosen a few things I asked her what she would recommend as I was going up the mountain the next day; she considered for a while and then added “You need rice.”  Everything was freshly cooked and extremely tasty and ridiculously cheap - I packed away as much as I could and then headed up to my room.

I was scared.  Scared to go up the mountain alone (I had asked about a guide but the hotel manager had said it was very easy).  I was also scared to stay in the hotel myself.  After Yangshuo and Shanghai, when Mandy or I would sometimes forget to lock the door because we were so relaxed, here there were signs asking me to remember to lock the doors - being in the middle of a busy town with a restaurant downstairs it was like staying in a real inn - and they were very conscious of their guests’ safety.

Being surrounded by so many temples and superstitions had already made me wonder what I really believed in, especially when I was visiting The Big Buddha in Hong Kong.  The night before the mountain I knew - I believed in my Christian faith - because I was praying hard!  Praying that I would be safe.

I actually woke up in the middle of the night having a panic attack - I’d fallen asleep with my hands on my chest and I was convinced that someone was strangling me.  I finally got back to sleep.

After having stayed in newly built hotels this was my first experience in an old hotel and looking back at this and my Beijing experience I wonder if what was really affecting me was the chi, or the energy of the place.  The Huizhou culture includes wonderful stone carving; they carved stone windows so that air and light could come in but no one could get in to steal anything.  I found myself thinking that this was a very poor place, but when I really compared it to Yangshuo I wondered if it was not just a place that guards everything fiercely.

It is sad that for most people of this area, actually visiting the Yellow Mountain is beyond their means, because of the 230 yuan (£23) entry fee.  Although tourism dominates the area, with countless photos, videos and paintings of the mountain in every shop, many people here will never see this natural treasure with their own eyes.  It is in such contrast to the gentle beauty and culture of Yangshuo where the people are part of the landscape.

When I woke up I tried to eat breakfast, but all I could manage was a half bowl of noodles - I didn’t even see the specials, I was so nervous.

This time it was a smiling Mr Wu Senior who was my driver, in another luxury car.  It would have been a very enjoyable ride had I not been petrified.  Finally he dropped me at the main gate where I bought my ticket, a walking stick (vital - get two!) and was ushered onto the tourist bus.  In many tourist areas you’ll find that transport is strictly segregated - it might not be that noticeable at first - until you realise that all the Chinese people on your bus are American Chinese, Australian Chinese... maybe even Beijing Chinese? 

The bus then took a winding journey up steeper roads until we reached the unsegregated cable car station. One of the things I really wish I had done was stop to look at the 3D miniature model of the mountain - but of course I whisked straight through the tourist information area and upwards.

The cable car ride to Po Lin in Hong Kong was nothing compared to this.  As we passed each ridge and kept on ascending all I could think was how sorry I felt for the poor English tourists I had seen firmly avoiding the cable car and heading up the paths.  Two hours?  I am not sure if I could have climbed all the way up in two days.

As the cable car flew over sharp ridges and I rapidly bonded with the other passengers (oohs and aahs transcend all language barriers) I was so relieved that I’d followed the hotel manageress’ advice and not the guide books!

Within minutes we arrived at the Wild Goose Station.  Tour groups, children, many elderly less able-bodied people; looking around I really appreciated the value of a society that makes it easy for all to see this kind of view (or at least those that can afford it!)

Coming out on to the viewing platforms at the top of the mountain I was stunned, each new view had me reaching for my camera, but I don’t think any of my photos or videos could really capture how special this place is.  It is quite simply the most beautiful natural place I have ever visited.  But I was also feeling something else, my friend and his accident were never far from my thoughts, and having gone up the easy way and enjoying the stunning beauty all I could think was, why, why couldn’t he have gone up in a cable car to enjoy this kind of beauty?

It was quite slow and busy to start with, not because of ridiculous overcrowding but just because we all stopped with our mouths wide open every time we turned a corner and saw another angle of this incredible mountain.

Another thing that kept me smiling were the wonderful Chinglish signs, one of which read as follows:

1. 1.Please do not enjoy the views While walking!
   

2. 2.Smoking is prohibited on the way.
   

3. 3.Don’t flirt monkeys by feeding.
   

4. 4.Be cautious in thunderstorm.
   

5. 5.Mind your steps in rain and snow.
   

The first of these is actually a warning to either stop and appreciate the view, or walk.  Some of the steps are precarious, but more importantly the views are so stunning that there are common accidents when people walk and look at the same time. 

People also have a tendency to get carried away and try to climb a bit higher up on the protective wood or stone barriers to take ever more impressive photos - for which there was the great sign “Stop Climbing The Walls”.

The words going round my head were beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, but another voice behind it warned me “This much beauty could get you killed.”  As well as the height, the sheer breathtaking forms in the mountains were dizzying and I could see people taking crazy risks right in front of me.  I couldn’t believe that people were actually clambering up and over safety barriers to sheer drops just to try to get better photos. 

It’s a curious place, China.

As I wound my way round the east side of the mountain it was all wonderful fun.  Asking strangers to take my photo, then having them jump in with me, sitting to enjoy one of my cans of Nescafe and a Snickers. I was there, I had arrived.

I also discovered another popular tourist attraction on the mountain - me.  That old snarky response to being stared at “would you like a photo?” well now I just said it for fun (or because I had the sneaky feeling they were trying to take photos of me without being obvious).  Somewhere in photo albums or on Chinese Facebook pages there are random photos of me with whatever is Chinese for “strange white girl” underneath!

The weather was also awesome up here; banks of clouds would appear in seconds, then lift just as suddenly.  Although I was very lucky with the weather it was easy to see how a cloud sea could just descend and suddenly reduce visibility and I was actually glad that I’d ditched our original plan of staying up on the mountain.  I really wouldn’t want to be finding my way on the mountain in the dark or near dark with such changeable conditions and with such huge groups of safety oblivious tourists!

I’d managed to get up the mountain ever so quickly, without any of the queues the guide books had warned about, (mind you I’d planned this for a Monday to avoid the holiday crowds), I was feeling ambitious about not just enjoying the top of the mountain but possibly taking the cable car over to the Nunnery, where apparently there was a very nice vegetarian restaurant.  But first of all I wanted to check out the legendary Beihai Hotel where we had planned to stay.  When I first caught sight of the hotels through the clouds it looked incredibly romantic, but when I got closer and realised that between my poor Chinese (well non-existent really) and their poor English I couldn’t even order a cup of tea (and it didn’t look the kind of place I’d want to drink or eat anything) I was once again relieved I was heading back down that day.

Another fascinating sight on Huangshan are the blue uniformed porters carrying enormous loads - sometimes of building materials - tiles, sand, cement.  They also carry all of the food and drink up the mountain!  Whereas in other places they’d be using the cable cars to carry up loads like this, in China manpower is cheap.  Space in the cable cars is reserved for the paying tourists.

As the Hallelujah Mountains in Avatar were based on Huangshan (you can buy Avatar T-shirts in the gift shops up here!) I also think that the Na’vi - the blue aliens in Avatar - were actually inspired by these blue uniformed porters.  They seem to be taller and stronger than the average Chinese man, or maybe that’s just the impression they give?

At the Beihai Hotel area there is a huge lock and key and fences where padlocks hang like garlands on the fences.  The padlocks are carved with lovers’ initials and then locked forever to symbolise their love.  For me, although walking up to Red Cloud Peak (sometimes known as Purple Cloud Peak) was a bit of a washout view wise, what moved me was the single padlock chained up here, as if whoever locked it wanted his, or her love to stand apart from the rest.

Sensibly, when I rounded the top of the Purple Cloud Peak I couldn’t see a direct route down the other side, so I retraced my steps.  (I have a feeling that this was the advice that the old Chinese fan maker was giving me at the bottom of the peak - by the way if you ever need a handmade Chinese fan I have his business card.)

Having struck out on finding anything to eat at the Beihai or other hotels, I continued my healthy diet of cans of Nescafe (sold in all the shops on top of the mountain!) Snickers bars, energy bars and the odd bag of crisps as I continued around through the Cloud Dispelling Pavilion to the third cable car station on the mountain.  The Red Cloud Station goes to Songgu Station and, according to my guide book a Nunnery with a great vegetarian restaurant.  But just looking at the beginning of the cable car trajectory and my knees felt weak.  I sat down and had my lunch and decided that was it for me.  I’d slowly make my way down to the Mercy Light Station and back to the hotel.

It was only noon but I’d started up the mountain at about 8am and I was beat.  Heading round onto the west side of the mountain top the terrain started to become more dramatic still.  I rounded a corner and saw a stone bridge over a sheer drop.  I’d like to tell you it was the only way forward, but actually there was another parallel way cut into the stone, but I felt the need to go across.  I told myself the only thing to fear was fear itself - it didn’t seem to help.  I practically crawled across, but I made it.

I was starting to get a little bit confused by the signs and my map now, but whenever this had happened on the east side of the mountain I’d found that the paths led back to each other so I didn’t worry too much as I took a left hand turn.  I also didn’t worry too much when I saw the sign asking people to refrain from entering the West Sea Canyon after sunset - after all it was midday.

Big mistake... huge.

In a way I was quite pleased to see the steps go sharply downwards- I was heading down the mountain after all.  And I had my new sturdy walking stick (the first one I bought at the base of the mountain turned out to be wobbly so I got a new one in one of the tourist shops) and plenty to drink.  (They also sell Sprite and Fanta up here.)

It was also rather nice to bump into two very pleasant Chinese girls who spoke really good English who were happy to walk with me (it was getting a bit lonely at this point, as the tour parties seemed to have disappeared).  They were even so kind as to wait for me when I was being a bit slow.  (At one point the steps down were so steep that my knees just stopped.  I’ve no idea if it was my earlier stomach bug, muscle fatigue or just terror but for a few seconds I literally couldn’t move.  I stood there as my options flashed before my eyes - could they stretcher me down?  How would they get a stretcher?  ...before something kicked in and my knees started working again.)  In that moment I learned a very important lesson - don’t stop on a flight of stairs, because you may not be able to start again!

Despite my few moments of panic it was still fairly humorous, chatting away to the two Chinese girls as we encountered more and more stairs.  But as we walked, and walked, and walked, with no signposts or other paths, it became clear that we were lost, and I was also horribly aware that unlike on the Red Cloud Peak I’d gone too far.  I quite simply didn’t think I could make it back up the stairs I’d climbed - forward was the only option.

Once again the Chinese tendency to draw “artistic” maps was causing me problems.  I couldn’t figure out where I was on the hotel’s beautifully drawn map, neither could the girls on their more functional map.

All we could do was keep walking.

The last cable car down the mountain was at 4:30pm.  It was now about 2pm - I’d been walking for nearly two hours and had no idea where I was.

Even if I had, I started to realise that a two dimensional map is almost useless in such three dimensional terrain.  You may know which way is east or north, and it may only look a little way away on the map, but you can only go in the direction of the path.  This may mean climbing down eight flights of stone stairs, turning a corner and then realising that you now have to climb back up sixteen flights to go a hundred metres east.

Finally we found a signpost with two arrows - one pointing down the mountain to a destination I’d never heard of, the other pointing back up to the Walking Fairyland Bridge.  Although this was on my map it was also miles from either cable car station.  I didn’t want to go back up, and I didn’t want to believe that I was so far from the cable car station - but one of the Chinese girls was adamant that the other path was a worse idea.  I knew she was right.

So we went up... and up... and up... and up... Every time I turned a corner hoping to see the path go down... it was up.  I was so exhausted, frustrated I could have cried - instead I beat my stick gainst the rocks and like a child shouted “no more up!”  Strange white girl indeed.

But the very kind Chinese girl was proven right as slowly more and more tourists appeared coming the other way.

Now I find it quite disturbing that although I was lost and stressed, when I asked any of these people where we were on the map, not only couldn’t they answer, they really didn’t seem to be bothered.  Most of them were staying on the mountain (including my Chinese girls) and their response to my panic about getting down was - why don’t you just stay up here?  I suppose I could have tried but I didn’t have my passport to check in, plus I wasn’t sure I’d be able to eat anything or sleep up here at all.  Like my knees I felt that if I stopped I wouldn’t be able to start again.  So I kept going.

Every time I passed someone and asked how far I was from the cable car I heard 9 minutes (or was it 90 minutes?) 20 minutes.  One hour.  There was no way I was going to relax until I got there.

Although the very kind Chinese girls had waited for me several times when I was going slow I felt that I had to go as fast as I could and I stopped waiting for them to catch me up (sorry ladies.)

The journey started to get more surreal, one minute an older Japanese lady and her companion flew past, each one with two state of the art walking poles - another time I flew by a Chinese teenager struggling up the stairs.  At one point I opened a bottle of Fanta, took a swig and then carried it for the rest of the journey, not feeling I even had the time to stop for another sip or to put it away.

When I finally reached the stunning and rather famous Walking Fairyland Bridge walking across that was no bother at all.  Although I was faintly disturbed when I told an American guy walking the other way that there was a much more dangerous bridge further on and he replied “Excellent.”  Hmmm... I was over danger.

Looking on my map I realised we had been lost in Xihai Canyon, or West Sea Canyon - think the Hallelujah Mountains plus the Grand Canyon!

I was practically running now - 3:30pm, when I reached the point where the path is just foot holes carved into a giant boulder.  I screamed in my own head “don’t look down” and didn’t even stop to look back once I’d gone across.

Finally I arrived at civilization - the Tianhai Hotel - it was 3:50pm and found a lady who spoke English... who told me that the Mercy Light Station was that way... two hours away!  She shook her head and then agreed that maybe, just maybe I could make it back to the Wild Goose Station in time.  I limped off as fast as I could go, and suddenly saw a wonderful sight - a tour party - with a wonderful tour guide holding a yellow flag - hoorah!  Desperately I asked him if I could make it to Wild Goose Station in time for the last cable car.  He looked very worried and said “if you go quickly.”  I wanted to shout that I could barely crawl.  My hands and arms were aching from leaning on my walking stick, my shins were screaming from practically running up and down a mountain, but I went... as quickly as I could hobble, dodging the blue uniformed porters carrying massive tiles between them and yelling at me to get out of their way.

Luckily the paths had started to flatten out, and I finally made it to the deserted cable car station.  It was 4:27pm.  I looked in desperation at the woman at the counter as I tried to buy a ticket.  She looked at me in shock, which I took to mean I was too late, but she shook her head, sold me a ticket and managed to explain that, as there was no one else there I would just have to wait for a few other passengers.

A few minutes later I was ushered into a cable car, with about three guys who clearly worked on the mountain.  As the cable car finally started the descent I started to cry... and cry... so hard that my contact lenses fell out.

Through the blurriness at the bottom of the mountain I made out a bus - but no, the driver waved me off, only local Chinese on this one.  A taxi driver approached me and offered me a trip back to my hotel... there was a lot of bartering about whether we were going to the front gate or the other gate or back to my hotel... anyway as I was coming down in his car I finally got through to the manageress of the hotel on my phone - Mr Wu Sr. was worried as I was supposed to be down by now, but he was on his way to meet me.  I paid the driver for the trip to the Front Gate - he was a bit miffed to not get the full trip... and I realised after he dropped me that I was actually at the East Sea Gate, but I really wasn’t that bothered.  I was off the mountain.

As I made to pick up my pack and start walking down again (it may strike you as weird that I was happy to walk, but I felt that I could walk forever in a straight line - just as long as I didn’t have to go up or down any more steps) a single yellow butterfly landed on my pack - like the ones which had accompanied me on my journey around Yangshuo.

As I hobbled down the road I didn’t worry - the advantage of being a little white girl by herself was that I was in no doubt that Mr Wu Sr. would find me.

A beep of a horn and I was sliding onto the back seat of his luxury car.  He looked at me in confusion (I was a mess) until I found the appropriate word in my guide book - “shu de”, he laughed his head off (it means “lost).  All the way back to the hotel Mr Wu Sr. was calling his mates telling them the story of the girl he’s just taken up the mountain - I knew it was about me because he kept shouting “shu de” and laughing.  In a nice way.  (He didn’t laugh when I cancelled my sight seeing trip for the next day.)

I walked in the door of my hotel, ate, took the lift up one flight of stairs, slept, woke up in the middle of the night, ate Snickers, slept, came down for breakfast, ate, went back to bed (via the lift), slept, ate, checked out.  Walked around the town slowly, (great if you want to buy paintbrushes or anything super, super cheap - I actually bought pity stuff as I was the only customer in town!), came back, ate, walked across the street to the reflexology place, then came back for one final huge meal before finally heading off to the airport, and Beijing.

So if you are planning on visiting Huangshan, or anywhere really, my one most important piece of advice is to observe the point of no return.  Consider your journey as you take it and always ask yourself; am I capable of making it back the way I came?  And when you reach the moment of knowing that you could just about make it back the way you have come and no further - turn around and go back that way before you get lost.

I guess you could say this was the journey I had to make to understand my friend, to understand how you could be seduced by the idea of a mountain, then thrilled by the first few sights, how it could be so easy to bite off more than you can chew, even for me on an “easy” mountain, to find yourself past the point of no return to feel that the only way out was through, to get into trouble, to succeed, to survive, and then feel the desire to do it all over again.  To try to be adventurous and to try to be careful, knowing that in your heart you’re not really the kind of person who could ever actually play it safe.