Travel | A Visit to Huangguoshu
AIAI-assisted translation·Read the source version
On the fourth day of the last month of summer, I set out. The previous day I had left Guiyang and travelled southeast to Anshun, then continued for about an hour to Huangguoshu. I rested at the hotel through the morning, gathering my strength before departing.
Huangguoshu has long been called the largest waterfall in Asia, and visitors arrive without cease. The scenic area has several entrances and is managed in good order. Buses from the visitor centre reach three main sights: Doupotang, Tianxing Bridge and the Great Waterfall.
I had already visited Doupotang the day before. It was the height of summer; the sun blazed overhead and the crowds were dense. Tired from the journey, I looked only briefly before returning, without taking the time to appreciate it closely.
This morning I returned to the visitor centre and went to the Great Waterfall. Xu Xiake, the traveller of the Ming dynasty, once visited this place and praised its force in his travel writings. Seeing it with my own eyes, I understood that his words were no exaggeration. Though visitors blocked the path and their voices never ceased, the waterfall plunged from the cliff like a white silk ribbon suspended in the air. Spray rose upwards and mist filled the sky. Its power was so immense that the noise of the human world was instantly forgotten.
Xu Xiake wrote that it resembled ten thousand lengths of mermaid silk spread across a gate; its vertical fall could not be measured in fathoms, pearls and jade were smashed apart, and the returning spray rose like smoke into the air, fierce and magnificent. Only after standing there myself did I understand that the sight witnessed centuries ago remains unchanged today.
The Water-Curtain Cave required an advance reservation. I had not arranged one and could not enter, which remained a considerable regret.
After returning to the hotel for a short rest at noon, I set out again for Tianxing Bridge. Despite its name, Tianxing Bridge is in fact a broad scenic area whose paths mostly follow the mountain. At first I saw only jumbled rocks beside the path and tall trees hiding the sky. It seemed no different from an ordinary woodland and felt rather uninteresting.
After a hundred metres, however, the mountain path began to twist between stone slabs. Walking there evoked the dwelling place of some ancient recluse. Water murmured nearby; trees cast their shadows across one another, and cicadas sounded through the rain. The place suddenly became secluded and still.
Yet every few hundred paces stood another shop selling food, cold drinks and souvenirs. Visitors gathered around them while vendors called without pause. I often felt that what I was visiting was less a landscape than a business, less a journey than a carefully staged commercial tour.
Fortunately, the path still followed the natural terrain rather than a broad road cut through the mountain. When a boulder blocked the way, one had to turn sideways or bend low to pass. Some trace of the wild remained in the act of walking.
Unfortunately, many ordinary plants and rocks had been forced into service as named attractions. To my eyes they were common things; imposing names upon them only stripped away their natural interest, an unnecessary addition like drawing legs upon a snake.
After about an hour I reached Tianxing Cave. Its narrow entrance allowed only one person at a time and climbed in twists for a little over twenty metres. Another thirty metres brought a sudden opening. Stalactites hung from above and stalagmites stood in ranks. It belongs to the same karst landscape as Zhijin Cave; though far smaller, it was still remarkable.
After leaving the cave, I walked for another hour or so. The sound of water gradually grew, changing from a quiet murmur into a thunderous roar. Rounding a stone corner, I suddenly saw several great currents surging outwards. The waterfall is named Silver Chain Falling into the Pool, and the name is deserved. Water struck the rocks, waves and white foam boiling as the flow plunged down in the shape of a funnel. Its force was imposing enough to hold me there for a long time.
Much walking remained before I finally reached the exit. Nearby, local women sold fruit and vegetables beside the path. Most were middle-aged; some had greying hair and slightly bent backs. From the bus on the return journey, I saw them again carrying cucumbers, watermelons and other produce mixed with blocks of ice in baskets on their backs, walking into the scenic area to sell them. Even the entrance lies more than ten minutes away by bus, and those coming from nearby villages must travel several li. To carry such weight, day after day—the labour is easy to imagine.
By the time I returned to the hotel, sweat covered my body and my limbs could scarcely support me. Guizhou summers are often said to be as cool as spring, but in my experience the heat was severe, no different from Wenzhou. Climbing mountains and crossing water consumed still more strength. Guizhou cuisine is usually very spicy, and several people travelling with me suffered stomach trouble; I was no exception.
Looking back upon the day, the mountains and rivers were extraordinary, the waterfalls powerful and the caves profound, each possessing its own character. The journey was exhausting, but it was not made in vain.