In the ghost-like town of Xidan we found a shop to buy green tea and cigarettes and got directions for the pass. After a rest we set out up what were little more than goat trails, until we got onto the more regular paths. I was having a rush of energy and enjoying the strain. Brook was a little weaker, partly because he was mostly living on boiled rice and fresh tomatoes. We met lovely locals who pointed us on in the right direction. But it was always up and up. We thought we could get over the pass within the day but as it drew close to 5pm we decided we really needed to find accomodation. At a kind of supplies cabin we asked if we could stay. They said no. We thought it a little mean. But I guess you can't count on the hospitality of others. So we walked on, Brook looking quite dejected.
At another supplies cabin we asked again. Fortunately there was an english speaking young woman who translated for us and arranged that we could stay there for 10 rmb each. The man of the house offered me a kind of rice whiskey, which I gratefully consumed and the woman fed me a watery egg soup and large bread dumplings. Brook ate rice. We both purchased beers from our hosts and drank away. The five year old grandson of the couple taunted us with his sling for a little while and then became quite friendly, and a male friend of there's sat around the table with us, making it a company of six.
The man of the house sang traditional tibetan songs and then asked us to sing. I sang Dylan and swing low sweet chariot. Then he showed us a knife that he told us had been passed down through eight generations. Expecting a cold night we were pleased when our hosts brought out rolled up matresses and blankets and we lay on the floor, with the smokey fire bringing some extra warmth to the mountain cabin. I guess not having a chimney keeps more warmth in the room.
In the morning, after some yak butter tea, a chunk of cheese to dunk and some old salted fatty pork, I was set for another days walking. We set off waving to the enthusiastic young grandson. From our nights rest we walked over the pass, an hours walk, and then dropped half an hour to Yubong. We were intending to stay there but feeling tired and not much like hanging around, we pressed on from this quaint mountain cluster of dwellings. Followng the river and valley getting back to Xidan would either take three or eight hours, depending on who you asked. We took the gamble.
We walked through a wooded area and then followed the river as it steeply dropped into a gorge. It was spectacular. Sheer cliffs rising above us. Rocky paths and bolders beneath our feet. Up slopes and then looking down on the cascading waters we came to a split in the path. We chose the upper path which after 10 minutes began to fade. We retraced our steps and then dropped down towards a tiny scratch on our eyes, which was a distant bridge, stopping to grab crab apples on the way. It was wonderful but our fourth day. Feet and legs were aching. Brook wisely succombed to my offer of sweet biscuits, breaking his veganism for some very much needed energy.
We crossed the bridge, stumbling on. I started to get optimistic and made predictions of Xidan being just around the next corner. " We'll be there in no time.... forty minutes!" The path then rose and became a ledge. To the left and above us cliff face, to the right a steep and long drop to the river below. Our ledge ranged from 1-2 metres wide and water droped from above and joined our course, sharing the ledge. The waterway huged the inner part of the path but in places spilled over and down 60 metres and more to the river below. In these places I opted to trudge in the water sometimes up to my calves. Brook lunged on in his heavy walking boots, stepping where he could on dry compacted stone and shingles, in some places six inches from the edge. He didn't want to get wet feet.
This part of our journey was dangerous and exhilerating. Fantastic views. A guide book would never advise this route. We took pride in our adventurous spirits.
A couple of locals passed us on the ledge going the other way. "Xidan zai nali ma?", I said after greetings. Hoping it meant, "Is Xidan this way?". They seemed to say, "Yes, about two hours away". This turned out to be an over hopeful prediction, possibly designed to not cause loss of motivation. Say what people want to hear. We came to a section where the ledge had slipped away in a mini avalanche. However the incline was such that Brook could stomp over, digging his boots into the shingle and earth mash. In my trainers I eased over, pushing grooves into it and then trusting my weight on the holds.
After about five hours walking from Yubong and six and a half for the day, we met a local who accurately predicted that it's another one and a half hours. We pushed on with Brook losing morale. I felt unusually well within myself, enjoying the inner determination which was overcoming the pain in my legs and feet. Being refused water from a local dwelling we came to, or miss-understood, we took some from the mountain slope and continued. I saw a silhoetted horse on a jutting out rock and wanted to take this majestic photo but was too tired. We were both on auto-drive.
In Xidan we forgot the lay-out and couldn't find a phone or shop. We were now beginning to get frustrated. Still very few visible people in this town. I wandered around the back of a house to look for somebody that could help us with a phone to call a taxi or advice on where to stay. A woman with a load on her back didn't understand what I was saying. I got back down to Brook and was glad to see that he'd flagged down a van which could get us back to Deqin for 60 rmb each. We began to try and haggle but then realized that firstly the driver wasn't going to budge and secondly we desperately wanted to rest up. Not keeping to our initial plan of walking all the way back to Deqin I gladly drank some coca cola I got from a shop we were taken to, and smoked a cigerette. Before setting off, the van driver dropped off his chinese tourist passengers and Brook and I helped a little with taking some boxes off the roof of a local bus, being a little taller than the locals. It was a lovely feeling to be involved. I don't think I could have walked another day.
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