Karst of thousands

I think I got a little distracted in that last post and forgot to talk about Yangshuo itself. A great little town of which the touristy bit is only one main cobbled traffic-free street. That it happened to be chock-full of hostels and cafes with street seating offering both Chinese and Western food for dirt cheap also helps. Yeah sure it was a bit touristy backpacker disneyland, but in my opinion ya don't turn down a decent toilet seat after weeks of squatting! That's a metaphor. Well not really. Anyway it was cool for a few days. The best was when we hired these dual-suspension mountain bikes (well neither the front or the back shocks actually worked so at least it was even) and set off into the hills surrounding the town.


We were told again and again that we'd get hopelessly lost without a local guide - which of course we did - but that's what we were after anyway. Just a relaxing cycle over clotted sucky mud and tiny rocky tracks winding between the paddies, with each unseen stone threatening to throw the bike sideway and ensure an instantaneous mud-drenching.

After the first 6 hours or so we found the track ended on the side of the Yulong River, so hailed a local boat person on his bamboo punt for a lift further downstream. Ok he wasn't actually just cruising past, there's about a hundred of them fishing for tourists. I think every farmer has a bamboo raft tucked in the back shed. Certainly every time you'd ride past a sweating peasant toiling the fields he'd raise his head with a wide smile and an insistent chorus of "Hello! Bamboo? BAMBOO???"


Well anyway down the river we cruised on our particular raft, bothered only occasionally by the odd itinerant old snack woman on another raft offering to sell us a bag of peanuts, or a bottle of beer for our punting boatman. Initially it crossed our minds that this might not be the most responsible thing to do (especially if every passenger that day bought our man a coldie), but then we thought what the hell, let's get old boaty wasted!


Thankfully we hopped off before the alcohol hit his veins and jumped back on the bikes for another hour or so out to Moon Hill (a hole in a rock) where Sarah cursed me roundly as I dragged her up approximately 1,200 carved stairs in a mountainside on what I've now termed the stone staircase tour of China. Back down we cycled to the "real original accept-no-imitators Water Cave". It was kinda cool - definitely no Jenolan caves. We whacked on a thin plastic hardhat and were thrown into a small boat to drift through a miniscule crack in the rocks. Once deep in the blackness we were lead around stalgmites, columns and slippery rock faces trickling with water by an affable, but completely untintelligible guide. Of course there were Chinese tourists in suits slopping around. The best part was the MUD BATH!


It was dark when we exited the cave and rode our bikes back into town through the pitch black paddies along a gravelly highway with giant buzzing insects crashing into our faces and the only light being the odd truck careening towards us honking wildly and blinding us completely with its high beams. Dinner and a couple of beers later and we were flying. I think someone spiked my gin and tonic because after 2 beers and a gin I was too trashed to talk and had to be led back to our room. Well maybe it had something to do with 12 hours of cycling and walking with very little food and near-dehydration.

Nah, I completely blame the dengue.