Huangshan: My Spontaneous Trip to China’s Yellow Mountains

The main appeal for staying in hostels is the likelihood of getting to know the most spectacular of world travelers and grand individuals. I’ve met an English banker turned stuntman who spent six months training at the Shaolin temple; a Swiss watchmaker competing for the Olympic Wushu team; a hairy hitchhiker who traversed the Gobi desert by foot; the youngest political campaign manager in the Canary Islands. Each manic conversation over bottles of Qingdao beer in the dying hours of the night implants a dangerous idea into your subconscious: there is so much to discover! Not too long ago, I met Alban – a German guy around my age with wild eyes, disheveled hair and a brimming smile that hinted he’d seen his share of the world and welcomed new adventures. As a professional musician, he hits the road globally on a monthly basis but is located in Berlin; a perfect home-base for those stricken with Wanderlust. Although we only spent two days together, special individuals can leave a deep impression that is all the more poignant due to its brevity. I’m hoping to visit him soon in my favorite German city. So when he recommended checking out the Yellow Mountains near Shanghai, I booked a train ride without much thought. If this wild character found it interesting, I would have to check out Huangshan (黄山 – literally translated: Yellow Mountains).

The extent of my planning before I arrived consisted of booking a train ride and a cheap hostel. When I entered the quaint, European-styled hostel that I chose for its supposed proximity to the mountains, I met a Russian clowness. She lives in Shanghai as a professional clown, along with her presumably merry band of university-trained Russian minstrels. I bet the parties at clown universities are a real riot. Picking her brain on the mountain, I soon realized that this was less a backyard hike and more a multi-day expedition. As it was already midnight, I decided I would sleep on it and figure out my itinerary in the morning.

The Research Phase

My first lesson in unpreparedness was the important distinction between Huangshan, the city, and Huangshan, the mountain range. The city is a relatively small frontier town in the Anhui province of China, best known for its proximity to the famed mountains. In fact, the city changed its name to match the attraction in an effort to promote tourism in 1987. This name change greatly added to my confusion when planning my expedition. Seeing as about 2 million tourists visit each year, the change must have been worth it. That being said, I was just about the only Western tourist throughout. Although Huangshan is a UNESCO World Heritage site, it is almost exclusively visited by Chinese tourists. There weren’t even any Germans around!

Normally I can sleep through the typical hostel noise of people coming in and out at all times of the night, but there was such a commotion around 6 AM that I was thoroughly awake. This hostel is primarily a resting point for mountaineers, rising early to conquer the 60,000 steps of the Yellow Mountains. I decided to take advantage of my insomniac state to start planning.

I had to read blogs, online itineraries and trip advisories all day long, and I felt like I was cramming for a test. There was so much to learn. Three different starting points, six routes, seven peaks. I also made the mistake of booking my hostel for four nights, meaning I would need to head up and down the mountain the same day. And yet, every guide said to spend the night at the top.

Google maps, my trusty squire throughout my travels, was incapacitated by the Great Firewall (a much less spectacular tourist attraction in China than its rocky predecessor). I resorted to the Stone Age: a paper map from the lobby. I also grilled the hostel workers and guests, and my Mandarin came in handy. Adding to the trouble was that different maps and guides used unique names for mountain landmarks. Some of the English translations were hilarious (Beginning to Believe Peak, Greeting Guest Pine). The weather report was also dismal. Tomorrow was supposed to rain, but the next day had clear warm skies. All the more reason to stay up on the mountain.

The Itinerary

Finally, I picked a route. I would start from Mercy Light Pavilion (慈光阁站) and climb up from there instead of taking the cable car. I was looking for a challenge and desperately wanted to avoid the hordes of tourists riding the cable car. I decided to bite the bullet and spend the night at a hotel at the top. To save money, I considered sleeping outside, but it drops below freezing around that time of year. Then I would catch the sunrise, hike through the West Sea Great Canyon (西海峡谷), and check out the east peaks before hiking down to the east entrance, Yungu temple (云谷寺). The final step: stockpiling supplies and booking a place at the top to stay.

I was just about to grab the last bed in a highly rated place – the White Cloud hotel – when one of my roommates invited me to check out the overlooked and overshadowed town itself. Read more about the colorful characters I met on my way to the mountains here. When I came back, of course the hotel was all booked out. In fact, all the hotels were showing about 100$ for the night. No way would I pay that price!

Relying on the guilt-inducingly kind help of strangers, I asked my hostel room friends if they could find me a cheap place. We searched for about an hour, calling around and scrolling through Chinese sites, until we found one place. It was so obscure that it wasn’t on the guide map or any English sites. It had horrible reviews. Beggars can’t be choosers and worst comes to worst, I’ll just sleep in the lobby to stay warm. We spent another thirty minutes figuring out how I could pay since I didn’t have a Chinese bank account. After downloading four different Chinese travel apps, I found one that accepted visa and was good to go.

Finally, I picked up some interesting snacks – hawthorn candy, peanuts (for protein), and candied sweet potatoes. Lots of waters too. I was ready. Let the journey begin!