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High points of a China visit

Climbing Hua Shan difficult, but worth it

By Amanda Zirgulis
The Daily Cougar

Daily Cougar reporter Amanda Zirgulis is spending seven weeks this summer in a volunteer program in Xi'an, China. Every other week, Zirgulis will share her observations about life and work abroad. This is her third report.

XI'AN, CHINA -- The cable-car line is long, but it moves quickly as the people shuffle through like cattle, looking at the sacred mountain above. The name alone evokes fear: Hua Shan Mountain. I have heard countless horror stories of local Chinese people having heart attacks from exertion or tumbling off the cliff face. As I look around, I fear I may not be the only one worrying.

Hua Shan Mountain is about 74 miles east of Xi'an and has five different peaks to climb. The South Peak is the highest at 7,086 feet -- I hope that, with a little luck on my side, I will reach that point. 

After taking the cable car to the North Peak, I notice that the chains lining the paths up the mountain -- the only thing separating you from a rocky death -- are covered with locks. People buy locks on the mountain and snap them on the chains to signify love for each other. When the lock falls off, it means your love is over.

There are also numerous drink stands that charge exorbitant fees for a bottle of cold water. I suppose they figure they've got you -- where else are you going to go?

As I begin my ascent, I'm overcome with the incredible views. The air is cool and the paths and stairs are busy with people climbing up, up, up. As I'm reaching the Center Peak, mist begins to envelop me and a grandmother passes me. A man with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth climbs stairs that are nearly vertical.

As for me, I'm out of breath, red-faced and have little hope of making it all the way. A mob of Chinese people begin taking my picture and filming me with their video cameras. Westerners on Hua Shan are apparently not very common, and for some locals seeing Westerners anywhere is a special occasion.

I climb onward, hearing traditional Chinese music playing in hostels along the way. At some points the stairs are so narrow that I have to turn my entire body sideways to continue. I feel my legs about to collapse and my lungs begging for a rest. Nearby is a sign that says "Safety first, no fooling around." Perfect for a fraternity house.

Hours later, with only one slip on the stairs, I make it to the South Peak. I can't believe I climbed all five peaks, and the mist is so thick that I can't see past the flimsy chains that keep people from tumbling into the abyss.

But I know I've made it. I know I'm bad. And I know I deserve a nice cold Tsingtao when I make it back to level ground.
 

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