After our horse trek Amy and I met up with Tim who had decided to take a train up north rather than fly and therefore toured Songpan on his own. Amy and I reeked—to put it delicately—after our three days of dirty (understatement) clothes and exhausted after three days of riding a horse in an uncomfortable saddle in painfully cold weather. We were kind of a mess and Tim enjoyed making fun of us for it.
However, after showering off about the top 1/3 layer of grime in the shower and resting easy in a big bed with an electric blanket, Amy and I were surprisingly rejuvenated by the next morning. We got up the next morning to take a long car ride over to 黄龙(huanglong) or “Yellow Dragon”. The driver was some relative of Emma’s and he was pleasantly talkative as we made it past the purest of white peaks jutting into such a bright blue sky as I have never seen in polluted Hangzhou. The clouds hovered low and fluffy as if not daring to rise above the proud mountains that boasted sharp peaks and tons of fresh white snow.
We arrived in Huanglong just an hour or so after it opened (having left uncomfortably early that morning). Amy and I, who had seen pictures and read reviews about the acclaimed national park/scenic area were psyched. That was actually kind of an understatement. All of the photographs promised an unreal landscape of clear pools of pure water, trees laced with powered snow, and mountains enclosing it all. Tim took a conservative side, trying to remain unimpressed so he wouldn’t be let down so hard when the real thing wasn’t as beautiful. About 10 steps into the park on the wooden platform that led all the way around and surrounded by thick trees on both sides we prematurely said “well, this isn’t exactly what I was expecting”. However, another 20 steps later the path led around the trees and out in between a unreal landscape of everything those pictures promised.
We joyfully walked the stairs together literally “ooh”ing and “aah”ing over just about everything, taking so many pictures I’m surprised our cameras didn’t break from overuse.
The “hike” (as a long walk up too many stairs to fathom is often referred to in China) was about 5 hours. I enjoyed the first 3/12 thoroughly with my friends. The next half hour I enjoyed with Tim, as Amy, an impatient, antisocial masochist who enjoys running flights of stairs in high altitudes with very little oxygen, ran off by herself. The last hour I did not enjoy. In fact, it was really Tim’s false hope of “oh I think I see the top” that kept me going. See, for a while towards the top the scenery gets less impressive. The mysterious pools of curiously blue water become fewer as the altitude gets higher, and the waterfalls weren’t quite as impressive. I was actually enjoying the top less and less (a direct correlation to the air that was getting harder and harder to breathe) and said upon many occasions that the top wouldn’t be worth it. I’m pretty thankful that Tim was as annoying as he was, though. The top, just like the pictures, reviews, and our own initial expectations suggested, was stunning. Once at the top you have an opportunity to look down and see a birds eye view of the pools that collect together like a winter lagoon scene. I sort of wonder how this place got the name “Yellow Dragon”. It’s neither yellow nor dragon like, but I do suppose it commands the awe and wonder that such a mystical creature would elicit. Plus, you know, the Chinese like their dragons.
However, after showering off about the top 1/3 layer of grime in the shower and resting easy in a big bed with an electric blanket, Amy and I were surprisingly rejuvenated by the next morning. We got up the next morning to take a long car ride over to 黄龙(huanglong) or “Yellow Dragon”. The driver was some relative of Emma’s and he was pleasantly talkative as we made it past the purest of white peaks jutting into such a bright blue sky as I have never seen in polluted Hangzhou. The clouds hovered low and fluffy as if not daring to rise above the proud mountains that boasted sharp peaks and tons of fresh white snow.
We arrived in Huanglong just an hour or so after it opened (having left uncomfortably early that morning). Amy and I, who had seen pictures and read reviews about the acclaimed national park/scenic area were psyched. That was actually kind of an understatement. All of the photographs promised an unreal landscape of clear pools of pure water, trees laced with powered snow, and mountains enclosing it all. Tim took a conservative side, trying to remain unimpressed so he wouldn’t be let down so hard when the real thing wasn’t as beautiful. About 10 steps into the park on the wooden platform that led all the way around and surrounded by thick trees on both sides we prematurely said “well, this isn’t exactly what I was expecting”. However, another 20 steps later the path led around the trees and out in between a unreal landscape of everything those pictures promised.
We joyfully walked the stairs together literally “ooh”ing and “aah”ing over just about everything, taking so many pictures I’m surprised our cameras didn’t break from overuse.
The “hike” (as a long walk up too many stairs to fathom is often referred to in China) was about 5 hours. I enjoyed the first 3/12 thoroughly with my friends. The next half hour I enjoyed with Tim, as Amy, an impatient, antisocial masochist who enjoys running flights of stairs in high altitudes with very little oxygen, ran off by herself. The last hour I did not enjoy. In fact, it was really Tim’s false hope of “oh I think I see the top” that kept me going. See, for a while towards the top the scenery gets less impressive. The mysterious pools of curiously blue water become fewer as the altitude gets higher, and the waterfalls weren’t quite as impressive. I was actually enjoying the top less and less (a direct correlation to the air that was getting harder and harder to breathe) and said upon many occasions that the top wouldn’t be worth it. I’m pretty thankful that Tim was as annoying as he was, though. The top, just like the pictures, reviews, and our own initial expectations suggested, was stunning. Once at the top you have an opportunity to look down and see a birds eye view of the pools that collect together like a winter lagoon scene. I sort of wonder how this place got the name “Yellow Dragon”. It’s neither yellow nor dragon like, but I do suppose it commands the awe and wonder that such a mystical creature would elicit. Plus, you know, the Chinese like their dragons.