29/7/25
Mediocre was the only way to describe breakfast. Predictably, the hotel was very quiet, there only being a few guests, and thus the array of foods was underwhelming. The noodle chef insisted there was no milk in the coffee, when it was clearly pale and not black. Most of the food was barely warm let alone hot. Having paid handsomely for the plushiest hotel our expectations had been dashed.
Ah well, onwards and downwards, both from our 11th floor room and further into the Sichuan basin. First though, we stopped at the coffee shop. The hotel had not provided. We sat inside, stupidly delaying our departure. There was nothing remotely appetising about a ride in 38° heat. Intercity ecological boulevard, that’s how the road to LeShan was described. There was nothing ecological about a four lane highway. However, we found a little slice of heaven. The west bank of the river was hidden behind a gigantic concrete wall which gave us a shaded path to cycle in.
Once the wall vanished 10km or so later we were mightily exposed. Then we found a secret cycle path. They were so easy to miss as they didn’t have any signs. Tower blocks lined the horizon. They looked a bit ridiculous but high density housing was a must. Making it look pretty is impossible. Our cycle ride was over as quickly as it started, we rode through Leshan and headed straight to the scenic area.
Convincing the security guards to let us in with our bikes, in contradiction to the signs, was surprisingly easy. Through the barrier was the scenic area, a fake village, and some hotels. Five Coloured Lotus was a vegan restaurant, hotel attached. A sign, if you like, and a veritable bargain. Only ¥160 for the night. The room was already startlingly cold, even without the air conditioning. A mild disagreement with the cleaning lady about positioning the bikes, led them to be stuffed behind the entrance gate.
Straight down the tree shaded street we marched. Beelining for the giant Buddha of Leshan. Electric buggy’s whizzed past, as we tolerated our walk in stiflingly hot conditions. It wasn’t cheap to get in, ¥80 each. Their entrance system was frustratingly tracker orientated. Our passports were our tickets. Inside we followed the signs, and hordes, up the many stairs, the meaning of engravings beside us eluding us entirely. It didn’t take long to find lines of shops at the mini theme park.
Soon we found the massive Buddha’s head and peered downward trying to see the rest of him from above. It was a long way down, and the ‘ride queuing’ system made it even longer. Tracking down the side of the cliff face on a perfect rock cut staircase we were sweltering. Our clothes were drenched. Everyones faces were beading with sweat. Adaptation to these temperatures was a pipe dream.
Dwarfed by the Buddha we watched a group of ladies sing and dance in front of a row of plastic bags with fruit and drinks ‘abandoned’ by tribute givers. Security guards each had their own air conditioning unit and umbrellas to relieve them of the heat stress. The 71m statue lives at the confluence of the Min and the Dadu. Often it’s sited as being three rivers, but if one wants to be picky the Qingyi joins the Dadu slightly upstream and out of sight. Tour boats were fighting against the fast flow of these combined rivers.
Escaping the Buddha took ages. Not allowed to walk back out of the North Gate, and too hot to bother with the other ‘attractions’, we headed to the East Gate, admiring Lingbao Pagoda on the way. Merely another 2km of walking, punctuated by a lemonade from Mixue, and we were back in our hotel room. Hiding till the Sun slunk lower.
Like a cannon, the Sun was still capable of blasting us at 6:30pm, as we ‘hailed’ a DiDi. Zhanggongqiao Food Street was renown in Leshan. Colourful neon style signs, hundreds of different stalls, and of course people. Within seconds we’d bought spongy fried tofu with grated carrot, doused in something rather sour. Tofu filled pitta bread came next. Takeaway hotpot appeared popular with the other tourists. As were we.
Having managed to buy potatoes and stinky tofu, rejecting the first serving as it was covered in ‘bone broth’, we stood on a bridge observing and were observed. A friendly family took pictures of us with all their children. Frankie couldn’t resist buying a caramelised stick of strawberries to munch on as we walked back.
Both being near, and in, the river was immensely popular with the locals. Bats flew all around us, silently lapping up the insects. Lanterns lit up the bridge. Oriental buildings were identifiable far in the distance by their fairy lights. Cliffs glowed, the giant Buddha’s location obvious but out of sight.
Surly They Won't Make It 