Polis polis potatis gris

©Paddy Booz

I love this sign, Paddy took a picture of it in Danba, Western Sichuan. Poor Police, I hope they won't be arrested by the Ice Pol for bad spelling...or global warming....or going out stenciling after a night on the town.

Emei Facts

Map of Emei from 1938

Unesco World Heritage site since 1996.

9.519722° N, 103.3325° E

Highest summit: Wanfo Ding (10,000 Buddha Summit) 3099 m.

Middle summit: Qianfo Ding (1,000 Buddha Summit) 3085 m?

Tourist/traditional summit: Jinding (Golden Summit) 3077 m.

Some sources claim Jinding and Qianfoding to be the same summit, others that there are three separate summits. In actuality there seems to be two main summits with a small outcropping between them. But is this Qianfoding or something unnamed? Please enlighten me anyone who knows!

Emei Moutain is one of the Four Buddhist Holy Mountains of China (The other three being Wutaishan, Putuoshan and Jiuhua Shan).

The patron saint or house boddhisattva of Emei is Samantabhadra (Puxian 普贤菩萨 in Chinese). Puxian is the Boddhisattva of Action and the Protector of the Lotus Sutra.

The meaning of the name Emei 峨嵋山 is subject to much speculation. Emei is said to mean "high" or "lofty" but has traditionally been translated as "silkworm-moth eyebrows". According to James M. Hargett in his excellent definitive book on Emei Mountain "Stairway to Heaven" , State University of New York Press, SUNY, the earliest reference to this name is Li Daoyuan (d. 527) "Although Mount Emei is 1,000 li south of Chengdu, on clear, autumn days if you gaze at the mountain from afar, its two peaks seem to face one another like moth eyebrows." Hargett: In other words, the mountain's twin peaks resemble the arched, antennae of a silkworm moth (e 蛾) and so the name was adopted as the name for the mountain.

Emei Mountain Conquered!

Naughty macaque that stole a milk package from Chinese tourists.

Macaques patrolling their turf between Leidong Ping and Jieyin Tai.

Following the abandoned monorail. Not for the faint hearted at 6 meter drops.

Paddy, Minna, Jari and one of our faithful construction workers engulfed in the bush.

Golden Summit with statue of Puxian (Samantabhadra) on his elephant.

Golden Summit from Wanfo Ding

Wando Ding summit (3099 m) with swirling clouds

Flat summit of Dawashan from Golden Summit

Clouds over the plains of Sichuan from Golden Summit

View from Wanfo Ding (10,000 Buddha Peak) past Qianfo Ding (1,000 Buddha Peak) over to Jinding (The Golden Summit). All images above ©Ingrid Booz Morejohn

After 25 years and several trips to this mountain I finally "conquered" the highest peak of Emei: 3099 m Wanfo Ding! :-) A small triumph but great fun nonetheless, as the weather is usually so very fickle on the top. My last three trips were socked in with fog and even snow and ice! When we got to the top and found a couple of construction workers who knew the way we couldn't resist bushwhacking over to the far highest peak of Emei, something I have been wanting to do for years. Paddy and I and two Finnish friends Minna and Jari headed off along the path beside the abandoned Monorail. 22 meters of elevation (the difference between the Golden Summit and Wanfo Ding) made a difference and the view back onto Jinding was breathtaking. So now I have been on both "moth eyebrows"! What a day!

Red guards in Chengdu and Red Detachment of Women

Emy and I chanced upon a dance school performance in Zijing Park yesterday. Groups of little girls (and a few serious kungfu boys) dressed in all manner of costumes and colours scurried about, got shouted at by their dance instructors, scolded by their mothers (who primped and bettered make-up, tweeked costumes and acted general maternal fuss-buckets), jumped up on stage, twirled around (pink butterflies), flapped their long sleeves (Tibetans) and brandished large red stars (red guards), all with enormous dedication, enthusiasm, flashing of blinding white teeth, boldly made-up eyes and tightly pinned and coifed hair. Seldom have I seen so many ponytails in one go.

It was the last group of red star carrying girls that caught my attention though. Their faces were heavily painted, they wore braids and grey Mao caps each with a red star in front, had militant little shorts-pants on and bold red leggings. Their faces were frozen in dedication, perfect miniature Red Guards (紅衛兵 Hóng Wèi Bīng) about to perform a dance from the model opera Red Detachment of Women (红色娘子军 Hóngsè Niángzǐjūn). Emy who is 10 years old didn't give it a thought and most likely not the little girls themselves who all seemed to be the same age and probably had no understanding of late 1960s China and its politics. But I wondered what the people in the audience felt when seeing these girls dress as they were and dance as they did.

But how wrong I was. According to Wikipedia this Chinese ballet premiered as early as 1964, two years before the start of the Cultural Revolution. It was adapted from an earlier film that was in turn adapted from a novel which was based on a true story that happened on the island of Hainan in the 1930s. During the Cultural Revolution however it was selected as one of the "eight model operas" (八个样板戏 bā gè yàng bǎn xì) permitted. It was this opera that Richard Nixon saw when he visited China in 1972, seven years before the normalization of the Sino-US relationship. It remains a very popular ballet today and is still performed, both in China and around the world.

Wikipedia:
Despite its political overtone and historical background when it was created, it remains a favorite of music and ballet lovers nearly 30 years after the Cultural Revolution in China. Many numbers were based on the folk songs of Hainan Island, a place that, with its coconut trees rustling in tropical wind, evokes much romantic ethos. Though there are unmistakable elements of Chinese music, the music of this ballet was performed with basically a Western symphony orchestra.

A photograph will be posted sometime in the future...

Penises and breasts

Yesterday was a day of Chinese studies at Chinese Corner, art class at QSI finishing up the mosaic project we've been working on with the 11-12-13 year olds and also...penises and breasts. I'm not trying to capture your attention in the most spectacular way because I can't post any pictures for the moment - believe me when it's possible again I'll post the evidence to prove to you that yesterday was just another typical day in China, i.e. a series of both mundane and bizarre experiences.

I had to go up to Jinli Street yesterday to buy a birthday present and was wandering around the back alleys when I heard the magnetic pulse of salsa music. I could hardly contain myself and had to immediately figure out where this music was coming from. Salsa is not the usual Jinli fare which usually specializes in classical and vernacular Chinese culture and rarely anything Western. But lo and behold salsa it was and I finally found where: The back of Jinli is now connected with the Wuhou Gongyuan and they were participating in the ongoing "Intangible Culture Festival". A group of scantily clad Australian dancers were doing a ripping salsa with all body parts jiggling and wiggling to the beat. How certain parts of the ladies anatomies stayed inside their dresses I think it was not only me wondering but all the mesmerized old Chinese men and women who made up the greater part of the audience at this time of day. The rhythm and enthusiasm of the dance troup was great though and I couldn't help jiggling along with them.

After the Australians bounced off the stage there followed a group of Chinese men balancing a large bamboo pole on their foreheads, juggling with it etc. On the sidelines I noticed other Chinese acts, most unusual being a group of very serious looking men dressed entirely in straw: straw hats, straw skirts, straw leggings and strangely each one had a substantial-looking straw "attachment" dangling between their legs. I didn't pay it much notice until they started dancing. Whoops! That dangling straw thing sure caught the audience's attention now as it turned out to be the focal point of the dance, help up high in the sky with a eye-riveting red-painted tip, jerked about and held with firm determination by the wildly dancing men.

The old ladies in the audience were giggling now and I asked the young man beside me where these dancers came from: "Hunan" he answered, as he distanced himself from me and my questions. When I later showed Burton the pictures he said "Must of been some kind of fertility dance". What a way to be distracted on this certain day.

Remembering the earthquake

Here is a brief description about what happened to us in Chengdu one year ago, something I wrote to tell friends and family. Our experience of course was nothing compared to what the people (who lost so many loved ones) up in the quake epicenter area experienced, something a hundred thousand times worse: 

As you all know the earthquake happened on Monday May 12th, 2008 at 2.28 pm in the afternoon. This was our daughter Emy's birthday and luckily, because of this we were all in Chengdu city and not up in the mountains where I had planned to take visiting friends. 

The day before the earthquake Paddy had just come home from Yunnan in time to celebrate Emy's big day. On the morning of the 12th we got Emy out of bed and celebrated her birthday in the Swedish way with presents and treats. She and Burton went off to school and I and Paddy spent a leisurely day catching up on talk and work. Just the week before I had been away in other parts of China working for 34 days straight. The day after I arrived back our guests from Sweden arrived and Paddy left for Yunnan. The 12th was a fantastically lovely day, sunny and warm and wonderful. I had sent our guests off to visit a temple in another part of town. I was feeling exhausted and loving the peace and quiet at home. For the evening we had planned to take Emy swimming, then all join up for a dinner at her favorite restaurant. 

At 2.28 pm I was sending off some pictures on the computer when the house started to rumble. It was like the whole building was in spin-cycle in the washing machine and something had gone terrible wrong. I knew immediately that it was an earthquake and shouted to Paddy in the next room. We both ran to our front door which is made of metal and thought we would be safe there. But the rumbling had turned into a roaring boil and it was like being inside of a popcorn maker. The noise was deafening. We live on the 13th floor and the house was being shook back and forth and everything was bouncing up and down and crashing on to the floor. All the other earthquakes I have been in (in California) lasted only 10-20-30 seconds. This one didn't want to stop. Paddy shouted that we should try and get out of the house. We were convinced the house was going to come down - working in China for so many years has made us all too sceptical and cynical about how houses are constructed and if the proper methods and materials were used. We both flew down the 13 flights of stairs in our bare feet (there was no time to take anything with us). I was still in my pyjamas. Bits and pieces of cement were falling around us and on every floor we met more people trying to get out. The earthquake finished just after we got out the front door where we met hundreds of other people streaming out of all the buildings around us. It had lasted for a full three minutes. All we could think of after this was to find our kids, our friends and get away from any building as soon as possible. Paddy braved running up 13 flights of stairs again to quickly get our passports, money, shoes, computers and to lock our door which we had left wide open. We had no idea if any large aftershocks would bring the whole house done. All the time he was up there I could see the windows quietly vibrating. It felt like the earth was a living, breathy animal, panting after an enormous exertion. He was gone for about five minutes, when he came down again a large aftershock hit and we all ran out into the streets. 

We quickly bought water and then two bicycles, shops were closing up and people were trying to contact friends and relatives by cellphone. Mobile connections weren't working and the streets were clogged with vehicles and people trying to find each other. Luckily no one was showing panic, even though we have heard that a small number of people in Chengdu leap out ofbuildings in fear and died that way. We made our way to where we could find our friends and children. Luckily everyone was safe and sound. Only then did we learn where the epicenter was -- just outside of the city in the mountains to the NW and that it had been enormous (7.9 magnitude). We also learnt name of towns and cities that I had never heard of: Beichuan, Hanwang, Yingxiu. Quickly we heard that two large schools had collapsed on top of 900 students. 

As time went on the numbers of casualities increased and unspeakable horrors were revealed about what had actually happened.  It is incomprehensible how entire cities can be crushed to rubble within a few seconds.

After the earthquake we have experienced fantastic warmth and generosity from all people around us (thank-you Kim, Johnny, Barry and Carin!) and we have all, Chinese and foreigners alike, gotten to know each a little better and been pulled closer together. I love Sichuan even more today than before and don't want to leave the area. Fun-loving Chengdu isn't the happy-go-lucky city it once was and everyone seems to be suffering from a collective depression, but day by day things get a little better. The Chinese people are incredibly resilient and tough and outside the city everyone is concentrating on getting through each day, minute by minute. It is too painful otherwise. 

 The kids have also been fantastic and seem to be doing all right after a few ups and downs. At the moment they are concentrating on getting through their last two weeks of school. During the actual earthquake they were thankfully outside of their school building doing sports. They felt the earth rumble and shake (it sounded strange they've said) and watched the school clocktower sway back and forth in an odd way, the lightning rod a top whipping frenetically back and forth. They didn't feel scared at that time and their teachers were very calm and responsible. Only afterwards when they joined up with their parents and witnessed all the adults acting scared and weird did they feel fear. Something for me to think about in the next disaster. Up on the 13th floor when the earthquake hit and I could hear the buildings crashing together and our terrace ripping apart, I experienced true, primitive anxiety. I wasn't at all brave, I was terribly scared and realized that I very much like being alive. I was no hero during this time and it taught me a lot about myself and my weaknesses.  

When Emy realized there would be no birthday celebration this day she said "This is the worst birthday of my entire life". In the evening, when we and a hundred plus other people had all gathered together in a garden to spend the night outdoors out of range of potentially falling buildings, Barry Jones got everyone to sing Happy Birthday to her in English and Chinese. It was very moving when we all knew that not so far from the city there were thousands of children lying dead, their parents distraught, searching for them. When Emy and Burton were allowed to drink a lot more soda pop than usual during the first earthquake week Emy said: "This is the best earthquake I've ever had".

 

Written June 2008

Anniversary of May 12th, 2008 Earthquake

Empty house, near Yingxiu May 2009 ©Ingrid Booz Morejohn

Yesterday (blogspot runs on American time I think) was the first anniversary of the Sichuan Earthquake. It was an emotional day for me: For one, my daughter turned double-digit and I felt that time was slipping away and that she was getting too big too soon. (I've hopefully got another 9 years with her before she moves away from home so some comfort there). Secondly, the memories from the earthquake last year are still all too fresh and recently accentuated by our visit through the epicenter at Yingxiu.

Paddy and I (tearfully) watched the documentaries and commemoration on Chinese TV and saw how the government eulogized both the victims and their families but also glorified the party and the government's efforts to save lives and make everything right again. Better to concentrate on the positive and not all there still has to be done. Or all of the people that have fallen between the cracks and aren't reached by the enormous state reconstruction apparatus. Every other picture was one of the flag of the Communist Party and or the seal of the PRC. I suppose no different than the number of American flags that were shown after Katrina or 9-11 (Wenchuan and Katrina however were natural disasters with no political agenda). In Sweden we are more discreet in showing our flag and equating disasters and tragedies too closely or patriotically with our government (even after the 1994 MS Estonia tragedy or the 2004 tsunami). 

Driving through the quake area the other day I sometimes felt like one of those "morbid tourists" that I wrote about on Feb 2. The TV showed them yesterday too, how Chinese busloads and caravans of cars and motorcycles visit Yingxiu and are guided around amongst the still highly visible ruins by the teenagers and young people that survived the earthquake. In the beginning their guides are cheery and strong and tell how boulders the size of small houses rained down upon their heads and how entire mountains slid into and over the city, crushing and smothering everything in its wake. After a while, when things get more personal and they relate what happened to them and their families and the people around them they break down crying and can hardly continue. It is all still too horrible to think about and I wonder how long these young people - just at the beginning of their lives - will have the energy and emotional balance to keep on talking about something so close to the bone. I hope that they will be able to move on eventually to a life that doesn't revolve around the earthquake everyday. But like victims of any huge disaster or tragedy loosing a large portion of your family is something that will alter your life forever. 

As 14.28 crept up on the clock yesterday (the time of the earthquake) I began to feel a little anxious and wanted to have everything in order. I made sure that this year I had already showered and dressed and that I had my shoes on (last year I was still in my pyjamas, lazing about, and that's how I ran out of the house). When 14.28 arrived the commentary on the TV stopped completely and the cameras panned slowing around the epicenter in total silence for one minute. Complete quiet in China is always something particularly peculiar and the effect was very unsettling and moving. It even seemed that the city around me here in Chengdu was quieter than usual, but a look out the window showed me that no, most people were actually going about things as usual, loading cars with goods, bicycling, chatting, talking on their cell phones. 

We spent the evening at the Bookworm participating in the earthquake anniversary benefit. As ever my extreme admiration for Peter Goff, the Bookworm staff and ALL people, too numerous to mention, Chinese and foreign, that have helped out at Sichuan Quake Relief over the past 12 months, finding earthquake victims who have "fallen between the cracks" and helping them in ways both big and small. Within just a day of the earthquake their relief efforts began and they are still going on, with numerous short and long term projects that really make a difference in people's lives. All profits from last night went directly to quake relief projects. (Burton and his band Ze Puppies played too and everyone sang Happy Birthday to Emy, thanks for the yummy cake Kim Dallas!). Last night was also the release of Abigail Washburn's (of Sparrow Quartet fame) and David Liang's CD Afterquake. The CD mixes the actual sounds of the rebuilding with the voices of relocated school children, talking and singing. Truly moving. More here. 

The Sichuan government, sister provinces and cities all over China, and the enormous efforts of all people in the quake areas have also accomplished a truly heroic amount of reconstruction this past year. There is so much to do it just seems so overwhelming...you are all TRULY AMAZING.

Lest we forget: The Wenchuan Earthquake killed up to 90,000 people, injured 400,000 and made 5 million people homeless (5 million is the entire population of Denmark). A tragedy of this proportion can't be put to right over night, work will go on for many, many years so please remember how people still need our help and support. 

Huanglong 黄龙 and Xuebaoding

Charles, Isaac and Burton having a snowball fight at the pass overlooking Xuebaoding in the far distance. 

Lungta, "wind horses": small paper offerings that Tibetans through into the winds whenever crossing a pass. 

5588 m high Xuebaoding seen from the 4007 m high pass overlooking Huanglong Valley. 

Xuebaoding in the background and the roof of the highest temple (Huanglong Si), a Daoist temple, silhouetted in the foreground. The original temple was built in the Ming Dynasty. It is heavily reconstructed today and was not open to visitors. It is also here that the annual festival Huanglong festival is held in spring.

Incredibly hardworking "beifus" carrying up to 100 kilos of wooden planks to the upper reaches of Huanglong Park to construct new walkways for park visitors. They make on an average 40 yuan a day. If they start very early in the morning and carry two loads a day they can make double. It is extremely hard work at this altitude (many of the tourists were sucking on oxygen bottles and all they had to carry was one small bottle of water). Many of them come from the earthquake areas and are desperate to find work anywhere they can. Every one of them met us with a smile as they were walking up and some of them asked for water to drink. Everytime I visit a scenic area or famous mountain in China I think of the enormous amount of work put into constructing the thousands and thousands of stone and wood steps and walkways. Truly coolie labor at its worst in my opinion, I think these workers deserve much better. 

The stone pagodas in the foreground are said to be the tomb of a Tang Dynasty general and his wife.  At this time of year the pools were the most beautiful powdery blue.

The classic postcard view of the upper pools of Huanglong.


All photos ©Ingrid Booz Morejohn

HUANGLONG

After we left Songpan we headed back to Chengdu via Huánglóng and Píngwǔ. Huanglong is only 90 minutes by car from Songpan and one of the world's most stunning nature areas. Over 3,000 pools of incredible shades of powdery turquoise blue cascade down the mountain side beneath Xuebaoding Mountain (5588 m). Xuebaoding is the highest mountain in the Minshan Mountain Range, located only 300 km north-northwest of Chengdu as the crows flies. The pools are made from calcite deposits and have taken thousands and thousands of years to create. We visited Huanglong on May 5th, an absolutely brilliant day but still quite early in the season. The surrounding vegetation was brown and the rhododendrons were still only fat buds, almost ready to unfurl their beauty. At this time of year there is only water in the uppermost pools behind the highest temple. End of summer (lush green vegetation) and autumn (yellow, red and green leaves) are the very best times to visit Huanglong with all the pools and waterfalls bursting with water. If you are lucky to visit just after a heavy snowfall in winter everything will be blanketed in white snow, only the turquoise water of the upper pools showing. In winter the park can however sometimes be closed. 

There is a cable car at Huanglong that I highly recommend all to take. The entrance is located down the road from the main entrance. The Swiss made cable car takes you up to a high altitude viewing platform with views over the entire valley. From here it is a one hour walk on a basically level walkway straight to where the path connects with the main gate path just beneath the upper temple. From this point it is a short walk up to the upper pools. Down again to the main gate is an almost 5 km walk over planked paths and steps. Believe me, it is much easier going down than up and if you want to fully enjoy all the areas of Huanglong with ample time to truly enjoy the scenery - spend the money on the cable car. 

Huanglong means "Yellow Dragon" and takes its name from how the pools ripple down the mountain side, just like the scales of an enormous dragon. No other place in the world has such a large collection of pools as here, it is truly unique. 

Entrance fee: 

200 y full adult price/150 y for children over 1.30 m (under 1.30 free) and anyone over 65 yrs old. Cable car up is 80 y and down 40 y. 

Songpan Horse Trek part 12 Travel tips

"Songzhou", the old name for Songpan on the north gate ©Ingrid Booz Morejohn

Most people visit Songpan only as a springboard for a horse trek or a drive-by on the way to Huanglong and Jiuzhaigou. Little Songpan doesn't deserve quite such a cold shoulder. This town of about 70,000 people has a unique history that deserves closer scrutiny. Indeed places like this in China are rapidly disappearing so if you want to catch a last whiff of a town with a "frontier" feeling please spend at least one day exploring its back alleys. 

When I first visited Songpan over 20 years ago it was half the size it is today, there were only a few  remnants of the city wall left, the bus station and its attached "hotel" rooms were some of the filthiest, grottiest in China. The bus ride from Chengdu took two 11 hr days and it was the only journey in China where I actually hit my head on the ceiling of the bus, the roads were so bumpy, bad and dangerous. Whenever I was in Songpan I was either exhausted and dirty myself from a recent trek or horseride and usually also just "passing through" to other areas. But I did spend time there and truly enjoyed the rough-and-tumble Wild West feel of the town. It was a great place to see Tibetans dressed up in their "city" finery: leopard-skin trimmed long coats, amber, coral and turquoise decorated hair, gold teeth and brilliant smiles. People rode horses up and down the streets and the shops were all wooden two-stories with oxblood red trimmings and warm yellow facades. Just as today there was a strong muslim influence with a lovely neat and tidy mosque, ladies with their hair covered and halal butchers. It was a touch of the Silk Road, Lhasa and frontier trading-post-China-of-the-past all thrown into the same mix, ready to be savored along with some dried yak beef and a loaf of bread. 

Songpan has existed since the Tang Dynasty and has seen numerous battles and wars in its role as an important and strategic military post. Situated at a crossroads between Tibet, Qinghai, Gansu and Sichuan it has also served as a vital trading center for tea and horses. Songpan suffered heavy damage during the Ming Dynasty and it was from the Ming that the remaining city walls date. Volatile relations between local Tibetans and Muslims have also witnessed numerous tragedies in the past but today one could say that relations are quite stable and peaceful.

Transportation

There are numerous daily flights from Chengdu to Jiuhuang Airport that is about 1/1.5 hour from Songpan. Buses leave daily from Chengdu and normally take 8-10 hours to arrive. Since the May 12, 2008 earthquake the road via Wenchuan-Maoxian has been in serious disrepair so the road can not be guaranteed. The road via Mianyang/Pingwu/Huanglong however is in perfect condition and takes about 9 hrs by private car or rented bus. Songpan is easily accessible from Huanglong (1.5 hr) and Jiuzhaigou (ca 2-3 hr). There are no buses from the airport to Songpan, quickly grab a taxi from the airport, hopefully you will find other people to share the cost. We rented our bus from Sam's Travel (2nd fl Holly's Hostel) in Chengdu, very economic, great driver. 800 y a day plus a sum for the driver's lodging and meals. You can seat 14 people in the bus including one row reserved for luggage. A bargain if you have enough friends to split the cost. 

Shunjiang Nianqing Kezhan, a regular "motel" that you can drive your car into at night.

Accommodation

We stayed in spotless double-rooms with attached WC/hot shower at the Shunjiang Nianqing Kezhan right behind the horse trekking company and Emma's Kitchen in the northern section of town, not far from the North Bus Station.  120 y a night. Hot water all the time if there is electricity in Songpan (!). There are of course both cheaper and more expensive hotels in and around town.

Massage

There is a great massage centre (Snowland Tibetan Medical Massage Centre) located right beside Emma's run by Henanese Dong Li Xia (Lisa) and her Tibetan husband Hago Tenzin Wangyal. They also employ a local blind man (Mr Mi You Jun). High quality massage and nice, cosy atmosphere. Tel 13678372990. Email: tibetanmassage@163.com/tdgonkatsang©hotmail.com.

Teahouses

Best teahouses and cosiest atmosphere on a sunny day is along the Min River near the south end of town, the old wooden Yinyue Bridge and the Guanyin Fort (Guangyin Ge).  

Sightseeing

There are two mosques and a muslim center in town, the finest is located behind Emma's in the northern end of town. Don't miss the two beautiful old wooden covered bridges. The Guanyin Ge on a SW hillside, the old city gates and reconstructed city wall, the kitschy historic-romantic statue of Princess Wencheng outside the north gate. The main street has lots of shops and good people-watching. Around the mosques you can buy the best China-famous dried yak and beef meat (great for treks). Local honey, mushrooms and medicinal herbs are also a very good buy. Outside Songpan on the way to Huanglong is a quite grotesque, over-the-top monument to the Long March, that supposedly passed this way (debatable as to whether they actually went this way) in the 1930s. You can't miss the huge statue of a soldier holding a rifle surrounded by some very clunky statues at his feet.

Horse trekking

The two former horse trekking companies are now combined as one: Shunjiang Horse Treks (Shunjiang Luyou Madui), office on Shunjiang Beilu beside Emma's in N Songpan (tel 723 1201) just south of the bus station, east side of the road.

Problems

Songpan often suffers from lack of electricity (= no hot water), bring a flashlight. Be prepared with patience when this happens - think of the people who have to live with this every week of the year. Altitude: 2835 m, which can cause headaches for those having just arrived by air. 

Songpan Horse Trek part 10 Our horsemen

The horsemen that lead your trek are as important as safe, strong, stable and reliable horses. They know the personalities of their horses inside and out, they stay close to you if you are insecure, let you be independent if you prove yourself to be a good rider, set up camp for you, make your bedding, cook your food, sing you mountain songs, boil water for your coffee and tea, drink moonshine with you if you like and generally are salt of the earth, rough and ready guys that live very hard lives but are full of laughs and smiles if you give then half a chance. A horseman/groom/stable lad is called a mǎ fū 马夫 in Chinese, (the name also means pimp or procurer!) and we had 11 along on this trip. They were great guys and kept us safe and happy the entire time. They were especially attentive to the needs and safety of the children.

The youngest one (not this guy, who said hardly a word the entire trek!) was teased and taunted by the other younger horsemen, one of the mafu looked just like David Niven with a thin moustache (sv. "tangorabatt"), one of them suffered from terrible asthma and weezed up and down the mountains, but also smoked cigarettes. The two oldest men - 59 and 60+ - were quiet and sage about everything; the muslims mock chided the Tibetans often about how quarrelsome and problematic they were as an ethnic group, but reassured us that in the Songpan area the different peoples just tried to get along without too much trouble. Songpan has a very strong muslim presence and in the past centuries horrible, murderous fighting has gone on between the two dominant groups. The muslims in our group gladly drank wine and spirits but were very firm (all the horsemen actually) that we absolutely not let any of our pork sausages come near their cooking pots or into the cookhouse. 

The oldest horseman, 60 something. 

Break in the sunshine while the tea water is boiling. The horseman to the right took every breaktime to catch a lie-down.

Most Tibetan men in the countryside carry knifes. In the larger cities this is usually not allowed although many still do. Since the troubles last year all knifes in the Tibetan shops in our street in Chengdu have been taken away and are not allowed to be sold (even small pocket knifes). This horseman is carrying a beautiful knife, probably a family heirloom, handcrafted in silver. 

Our horsemen all live in villages around Songpan. The horses we were riding were their own horses and the mafu's ages ranged from around 19 to somewhere just over 60 yrs old. Most of them were Tibetans, the rest Hui Muslim and even a few Han Chinese. When they are not working for the horse trekking company they are farmers or herdsmen. They split the horsetrekking fee about 50/50 with the trekking company and when there are lots of tourists (i.e. no earthquakes or political problems that close off the Songpan area to travelers, particularly foreigners), they can make a fairly decent wage if they work many treks a season. None of them wore proper footwear (in our eyes) usually only simple sneaker boots or leather shoes. They had on thin jackets and coats, easily ran up and down the mountains if needed, slept around the mess campfire at night and were up early in the morning, cooking, gathering firewood, getting drinking water and calling down the horses from the mountains. 

This horseman (the same guy as the first shot above), 59 years old, was severely kicked in the foot by his horse on day 2. Bob L is a doctor and is inspecting his swollen foot for any serious damage. All the other horsemen were very curious and as soon as they knew there was a doctor in the group they gathered around, helped interpret (from Chinese into Tibetan) and one even showed a cut finger and shyly asked for a band-aid.

My horseman Meng Jun and me upon arriving back in Songpan. His name means "Mongolian Soldier" and he is a Hui muslim. He has been riding horses since he was four years old, now he is 24, married and has a 4 month old little girl. He's a great guy and was sort of the leader of the mafu, probably because of both his leadership ability and that he could speak both standard Chinese (some of the Tibetans only spoke rudimentary putonghua), a little English and could communicate well with all the ethnic groups among the horseman. An all-round great guy.

At the end of the second day he and I raced our horses back to camp at breakneck speed. I won but I have an inkling that Meng Jun just might have let me win on his lead horse Blackie. When the others got back to camp all the horsemen and my kids gave me the "ultimate awesomeness" riding award. I felt elated afterwards but also glad I didn't fall and break every bone in my body. Not to be recommended!

All photos ©Ingrid Booz Morejohn

Songpan Horse Trek part 9 Return to Songpan

One of the three largish Tibetan villages (Shang Zhai, Zhong Zhai and Sanlian) in the Munigou Valley. In the foreground a pile of mani stones and prayer flags. 

Six year old Tuva Appelquist riding all by herself with her ever attentive horseman. 

Heading home on Day 3. The first hour was spent riding for a little over an hour on the main, paved road from Erdaohai past Shangzhai village. We then headed up into the mountains, following paths past fields and farm houses. The weather was brilliant with clear blue skies and views of distant villages and snow-clad mountains. The distance between our camp just below Erdaohai back to Songpan was covered in about 3 1/2 hours.

Burton Booz. 

"Sleepy" taking his usual lie-down. 

View from the pass over the city of Songpan with a distant Xuebaoding (5583 m) (the highest peak of the Minshan Range) in the middle of the picture. Spring has arrived and the mountainsides are quickly turning green in this first week of May.

At the pass. 

It is in villages like this that some of the horsemen live. 

Walking down from the pass (too steep to ride), Songpan in the far distance. 

Just above Songpan walking the horses down the last part of the mountain path. In the background a part of the ancient Ming Dynasty city wall and the reconstructed city wall and main south gate can be seen.

Our triumphant return to civilization was straight through the main streets of Songpan. We all rode with straight backs and happy smiles on our faces, the kids were particularly proud of themselves (rightly so!). My horse Blackie, of course, could hardly contain himself and I had to fight hard to keep him from galloping all the way back to the trekking company. I shouted back to Meng Jun behind me: "Which way? Which way?" and he shouted back "Don't worry, the horse knows the way!" All around us were cars, trucks, bicycles, tourists, vendors, music, tooting and noise, noise, noise. What's good about cities: hot showers and good food. Bad? Crowded spaces and.....NOISE!

Another group photo of the Songpan Wild Bunch on the last day before we ride back to Songpan, see how happy we look!!! L to R, front row - Ingrid Booz Morejohn, Su Wen Bo (our great driver from Sam's Travel, Chengdu),  Zoe D, Isaac G, Burton Booz, Charles D, Maya L, Heidi W, Emy Booz, Sam G with mum Catherine P, Tuva A with two horsemen. Back row: interspersed among the mafu: Isabelle D, Meng Jun, Bob L, Arnaud D, Paddy Booz, Ethan G, Kattis and Nicklas A. (Missing the four Belliers, Staci and DJ Latoison who returned to Chengdu earlier and Ingrid Sr who stayed in Songpan during the horsetrek). 

All photos ©Ingrid Booz Morejohn

Songpan Horse Trek part 8 Wuzuogou

In the early mornings the horses were called down from their morning grass munch on the surrounding mountains for a breakfast of last night's vegetable leftovers and broad (fava) beans which are also called horse beans in English (hú dòu or cán dòu in Chinese). The horsemen had special high-pitched calls to bring the horses in, most came willingly but a few had to be chased on foot. 

Beautiful muted Tibetan colors of a saddle pad.  

Day 2 was a ride up a side valley slightly south of Erdaohai that was a geological extension of Erdaohai called Wuzuogou (Five Lakes Valley). We reached this from our camp just below Erdaohai by riding for a short distance on the paved road then taking a path heading east. There was a small tractor path up into this side valley which local villagers used to collect rocks for building material, firewood and get access to camps where they herded yak. We rode the horses through the water to cross. 

Wuzuogou has many strange geological formations where you can literally witness how the surface skin of the earth has been pushed, twisted and shaped into the landscape we see today. Cars can't come this way, only those on foot, horseback or small tractor or motorcycle. At the very end of this valley are five small interconnecting lakes and a rock formation called Kuashi (Collapsed) Cliff. Unfortunately we never made it that far because of an incident with one of the horses. 

Logs were laid across the river for those crossing on foot. Some of the horses could walk over this way but one of the horses fell through the logs and almost broke its leg. It had to be lifted out by its tail. Luckily it wasn't injured and no one was hurt. Later another horse kicked its horseman badly in the foot and tried to bite and kick another horseman. 

Folded over and over again, you can literally see the formation of the topography here (click to enlarge). 

Tibetan camp with yak hybrids out to pasture. The camp was guarded by tied up dogs, best not to get too close. 

Because of the seeming irritability of the horses today and the various mishaps we experience getting this far (and lot's of small children) we decide to give everyone a rest and a wonderful laze about in the sun. We break for coffee, tea, chocolate and gorp (or "CRAP" as Ethan G called it: cranberry, raisins, apples and peanuts). The horses calm down after this and we still have a wonderful day out in beautiful nature, sunshine, perfect quiet and pristine air.

Tea time!

All photos ©Ingrid Booz Morejohn