We had come to Lijiang with only a loose understanding of what there was to do here. I knew it was named a UNESCO world heritage site in 1997 and that led to a flood of tourists. I knew that there was a famous snow mountain where you could see a glacier. I knew there was a city nearby called Shangri-La not because it was the setting of the famous novel Lost Horizon but because the townsfolk had renamed it to take advantage of the fame the name enjoyed. I knew there was a hiking trail along the tiger river gorge. So on our first night here when we walked into one of the ubiquitous tour operator’s stores and looked at options my first choice was the hiking. It was a reasonable 160 RMB ($25 USD) per person for a two hour drive up to the river, then four hours of hiking, and then a two hour drive back down. Before booking Yang quickly stepped outside and called the taxi driver from earlier in the day to see if he could beat the price. He could not so we booked it.

We met our tour group in the front of the main square in the Old Town which was directly below our hotel. The tour guide read off names of the attendees and when he got to my name said “Lao Wai?” (foreigner) because he either didn’t recognize my name or more likely the reservation just said “lao wai” on it. In any case, the effect was humor and I yelled back “jar” (here).

We boarded the small 15 person bus and headed out for what turned out to be a 3.5 hour drive. Yang was all set to sleep when she noticed just how cute our tour guide was and decided to stay awake for a bit longer to listen to him introduce the tour. The guide told us that the Lijiang people originally had just two family names, either Mu or He. The Mu’s were the royal and privileged. The He’s were the common people. Our driver was a Mu and would have owned a large farm with many wives. Now he was our driver. The guide went on with stories and sang a few songs. We made one stop so a young man with diarrhea could get off the bus and find a bush. The guide asked him if he wiped his butt when he got back on the bus. The guide played a game where people had to guess what minority he belongs to and Yang was right that he was Tibetan.

We made a couple stops along the way, nothing to write home about although I am writing home about it. It was quite cold both on the bus and off it and at one of the stops Yang and I spent most of our time standing next to an open fire trying to keep warm. It was then that I looked up the altitude of Lijiang and found it was 8000 feet. No wonder it was so damn cold in the morning and at night. We stopped for lunch in the Shangri-La area and because of the cold tables were set up for us in the sun; in the parking lot. I went for a short stroll after lunch and a young Tibetan girl sang for me as I walked by and she sat with a friend. Her voice was impeccably sweet. Pictures below is Yang having lunch with fellow travellers and Yang with the handsome tour guide.

After lunch we drove back down the hill and made our way along the tiger river gorge, the river several hundred feet below us. The road was in various states of construction and looking out the passenger window down sheet cliffs we knew we could trust our driver. We had to. It was the cars coming in the other direction that worried me. When we finally got to the trail head our guide gave us a few rules. First, when he whistles (he whistles loudly) everyone should gather up. Second, walk or take pictures. Not both. Lastly, don’t go into the water otherwise the next person to see you will be in Shanghai.

We hiked down to the river, maybe a mile or so. On both sides of the river were sheer cliffs, as high if not higher than you would see in Yosemite. When we got to the valley floor with only a couple hundred meters away from the river the guide counted heads. We were one girl short. The guide says he doesn’t lose any money if he returns with less people. In fact he gets a bonus for survivors. When we got to the river, it was magnificent. If you can imagine the sheer cliffs and rapids that would tear rafts in two. After some time near the river it was time to climb back up and then head home. Yang and I took the “hardest” route back up a pair of ladders that went straight up the cliff face. It was not nearly as scary as I thought it would be. This is not to say it wasn’t without fear. Pictures below are Yang and I standing on tiger leaping rock – supposedly a tiger leapt across the river to the rock.

Here’s Yang about to head up the latter and a view up the north side of the gorge.

We got to the top, beating the rest of our party by a while so we rested in the snack bar. All gathered again we climbed into the bus for the ride home. After ten minutes the young man with diarrhea sat next to me and tried to strike up a conversation as I was the only foreigner on the tour. He thought my Chinese was better than it was and Yang quickly informed him I am illiterate. So Yang acted as a translator. He mostly wanted to discuss whether America or China was a stronger country, values of both cultures, and so forth. Eventually the conversation waned. Yang and I then we napped, read, and talked our way the rest of the trip home.

Do it again. For sure. But I’d rather make it a 2-3 day hiking trip with the right gear and a small group of hiking friends.