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…from the week:

We’re biking through harvested fields burning piles of cornstalk, avoiding the peanuts spread on the flat cement road that winds between farmland and rows of trees.  I am behind, and I come up the incline that spreads into open space ahead of me.  The Yellow River carves its wide and deceptively lazy swathe some 15 meters down the bank, opening the sky.

My pickled feet feel funny plodding their palid path across dark silt sands.  The water is cool and seems somehow clean, though covering my cuticles with its silt in seven centimeters.  Yep, it’s yellow.

We are biking again.  Now it is the mountain in front of us that rises into a sky closed by mist and pollution, a smattering of rain.  Turn over, and over, and over.  The climbing gears are necessary.  Look at the ground; it’s moving slowly underneath you even though you’re turning, turning, turning, burning.  Checkpoints.  The next pile of grain…  okay, good, turn it over… that tree, come on!  Come on!  Switchbacks.  And then, the road levels and you look up and the others are smiling.  We are at the pass.

Arms dark, body white, water dark, sky light.  Cold mountain resevoir pushed back against the valley, deep, they say.  Too deep to swim; but only if you can’t.  Plunge, splash, get the soap… can you hand me the shampoo?  This is great!  Lean back and let the water support you as you feel the raindrops falling from a sky that was closer than it was this morning into a pool so much higher than sea level.  Was it really an accident we stopped here and it started to rain and they had a room?

It’s after noon when we arrive at the base of Mount Tai, so we eat lunch and try not to pay tourist prices while discussing our next move.  Climb the mountain, if it’s not too expensive.  We’ll check the west gate to see what’s the story.  We can leave our bikes here in the room for $10 total?  And equipment?  Sweet.  Let’s do it.  Let’s climb the mountain before the gate closes.  It’s a road and stairs the whole way, anyway…  Where did we get this energy?

The sky gray and occasionally drizzling rain, we begin ascending in rain gear.  Step after step.  Fifteen kilometers.  We make it to the stairs after dark, suppertime.  It feels like two a.m. and we’re leaving on a fishing trip or something.  It’s only 8 o’clock.  The wind picks up and the moon is bright through clouds.  Step by step.  By ten thirty we are at the top.  We have a room.  We have big thick blankets and plans to get up before the sun, lest it should rise without our supervision.  It does anyway, hidden in a big thick blanket of clouds, letting the wind have its way with us.  But the former “communist issue” green ankle length coats help our cause, and we take pictures and turn our backs to the blasts.  Even conquerors need a warm place and a hearty breakfast.

This entry was posted on Saturday, September 29th, 2007 at 8:31 am and is filed under Drew's Posts. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.