7/7/25
It rained even more overnight. We ate a quiet breakfast. The dining hall was almost deserted. Every time we moved the women sprung into action. There were no dough sticks for some reason. Very unusual for a Chinese breakfast buffet.
As we were packing the rain started again. Still, nothing was gonna stop us today. We headed out of Mianning and towards the G108. Before we even left the town we started going uphill. This first climb started off with a gradual gradient. We were set to rise 460m over 12 km. Thick cloud scuppered any chance of good views of the Xiaoxiang mountain range to our east. An unusually high ridge line and straight set of peaks. The almost 5000m summits were considered inaccessible.
After a few kilometres we passed a large number of incense sellers. The wizened faces of the women reciprocating our smiles. As we got above the vilage of Jiancao it started to rain. It wasn’t enough to make us put our waterproofs back on. We’d stripped them off as they made us too sweaty. The hill began to get steeper. There were two switchbacks, with one kilometre long stretches in between. Of course it was also teeming with trucks. Clouds continued to obscure everything. The temperature was a reasonable 20C. Light rain is preferable to scorching Sun.
The road was perfectly surfaced. The truck drivers all gave us plenty of room and often waved with a toot. The expressway lay below us and cut through the mountain. We ascended through a small pass. The descent was a pleasantly mild gradient. A herd of cattle were scattered across the road. Their master lacking control. The animals took precedence over all other traffic. White rumble strips were our biggest adversary. We tried to navigate between the bumps but they were usually offset by a few centimetres.
A grand landscape opened up at the base of the huge peaks around us. The enormous G5 expressway crossed the town of Caogu, 30m in the air. The G108 was the original road. Bypassing the town would have stripped the people of passing income, were it not for the steady stream of trucks.
The next climbed tested us. Another 200m of ascent that had several steep spots. It culminated in a 1200m tunnel that went downhill through the mountain. It was a rather terrifying experience. The rumbling thunder of trucks amplified by the concrete road. It would have nice to have laid our eyes on Huatou just behind us. It rose to 4751m. Rather than the huge peaks dominating the area, it was just cloud.
It felt easy at first but there was 20km of uphill left. Then it started to pour with rain. After a short pitstop at the petrol station, we meandered around the concrete pillars of the expressway. Lorries kept thundering past. They were more intimidating in the rain. We still didn’t bother with our jackets. Jonathan put shoe covers on. Frankie didn’t. As we climbed the wind became more powerful. The rain became heavier. It was 14C and we felt positively freezing.
Eventually we seemed to breach the clouds. Now the precipitation was just a little furry. The air was amazingly clear, but it felt thinner. The woods looked like temperate rainforest, moss and algae covered the branches. From the map we knew it to be the Giant Panda National Park. As far as we knew there were wild pandas, somewhere.
The climb to the top was long and seemingly endless. The few corners left little to anticipate. Thankfully the views were incredible, though still limited by clouds. The rain had almost entirely subsided. We stopped a couple of times near the top. A potential viewpoint was scuppered by extensive power lines. We didn’t waste much time before descending.
We opted to only travel 4km. Down to a ‘scenic spot’ known as Menghuo. We’d earnt the altitude, we should enjoy it. The moment we turned in we saw a large number of tourists. A large cluster of yellowish buildings. All the same dimensions. Supposedly there was a hotel here somewhere. After being ‘harassed’ by a bus full of school children, we pushed our bikes up a steep road between the houses. Some clearly abandoned.
It turned out that there were many individual little hotels. We happened to ask someone for the location of a hotel, and they ushered us in. A family run establishment with a few rooms. We tried to shower and warm up as quickly as we could. Frankie’s fingers were numb with cold. However, the daughter of the owner came knocking. She tried to kick us out, or rather take us to another hotel. It was odd, because they’d been so welcoming. Now she said they couldn’t log our stay on the system. The computer didn’t work. Her father was on the phone. We stood our ground. It’s illegal for foreign tourists to be rejected from hotels now. A recent law mandates acceptance, punishable by big fines. Just as we were about to reluctantly relent, the father came over and said all was well. He’d successfully talked to the police.
Our plan to visit the scenic spot was scuppered by the fact it was late. It closed at 5pm. We made do with walking to the little set of food stalls and ordered a selection of barbecued tofu and vegetables. We ate our little dinner overlooking the foggy mountains. Half a dead pigs head in the foreground. Rain started to fall, and it soon became heavy. After our meal we ran back to the hotel. Our legs furious with us. We could feel the altitude, even though we were only at 2500m.
Back in our room we snuggled under the duvet. It was a mere 14C or thereabouts. Unfathomably cold for us. We watched another episode of Ragnarok. Then started Scott Pilgrim vs the World. A classic film Frankie hadn’t seen. We had a bowl of soya milk with our crispy sugar wheat sticks. It was a quiet place apart from the occasional rumble of trucks on the nearby road.
Surly They Won't Make It 