Stranded in Zhangjiajie

The town we were in last night was Wulingyuan itself, the town, not the scenic area. A nearby stream from the dam a few km away has been reworked to provides rapids, white water, and yesterday afternoon we enjoyed watching a dozen or so rafts float by, engaged mostly in water-fights. The rafts themselves were smaller than what we see in Montana/Idaho, and brightly colored. The stream's name was Suoxi.

Tuesday had its thrills. First was the 326m ride up the Bailong Lift (to the top in 118 seconds), recognized by Guiness at the world's highest outdoor elevator. From there we hiked the Yuanjajie walkways among the karst summits, a steel bridge, the world's highest natural bridge (so it said), Tiansheng Qiao. Today was mistier and hazier than yesterday, but still gave the karsts off to good effect—more “authentic” it seemed. Yesterday we saw them bottom-up; today more top-down. Fascinating either way. After the hike, we boarded a curiously smaller bus. We soon discovered why: a 45 minute thrill-ride, faster, tighter turns, narrower road, exposure everywhere. Vicki had befriended a Tasmanian couple--part of a somewhat larger UK/AU group—and conversation distracted her from the thrill-ride. (The only Anglos we've seen here; and hardly any Americans anywhere). I should mention that Wulingyuan NP is strictly internal bus transportation, no private vehicles at all. There are some queues, but the longest we had to wait was perhaps 15 minutes (compare the hour-long taxi queue at Shanghai's Hongshou airport).

So, you ask, how do the Chinese drive when there are only tour-buses on the road? Still at warp-factor speed, I would say, but with obviously collegial deference to fellow drivers and buses.

The bus deposited us at the summit of Tianzi Mountain (Tianzi Shan), the highest point in the park, and a short walk took us to a Buddhist pagoda, excellent vistas, and the enormous but impressive monument to He Long. He Long was one of Mao's lieutenants, from the Long March in 1935 onward. Both were from Hunan, and, Josh said, the Long March actually started from Zhuangjiajie.

The day's final thrill was the cable car ride back down to the valley. These were high-speed six-person cars that took you right up next to the karts all around. Another bus ride returned us to Wulingyuan (the town), our driver, and another half hour ride back to Zhangjiajie. We're eating light tonight—noodles—but enjoying the fresh green oranges we bought on the mountain top. Yes, oranges: orange on the inside, but with green skin on the outside. And quite good too.

Tomorrow would have begun a new adventure, negotiating the train to Yichang, where we have no reservations, and booking the Yangzi cruise to Chongqing. But the train was sold out for tomorrow (we were told), and now we are looking for any way to get out of Zhangjiajie to Yichang. We'll be in Zhangjiajie another day, Wednesday, but at least we have an internet connection. Zhangjiajie is tiny hamlet--a mere 1.6 million in the metro area. But not a word of English anywhere.