Shanghai to Jiuhuashan to Thousand Island Lake and Back

[guangtouge]

Day Two
The previous night I had listened to some podcasts, but fell asleep doing so. When I woke up, my phone had no credit left, which was likely because more recent versions of the podcast had been automatically downloaded while I slept. I added finding a China Unicom vendor to my list of things to do that morning to my list (along with breakfast and getting my bike started) and headed downstairs.

In the lobby, because I had not put the cover on, a toddler was in the middle of a photo shoot with my bike and one of the younger staff members wanted to chat with me about it. Because I am not a particularly social guy, and at that moment was doubly so because of the tasks at hand, I just walked out and down the street. I found my way to a few cell phone stores and eventually to one that could add credits to my phone. While getting coffee, my phone rang and informed me that ‘my beloved vehicle’ was being molested. I figured the young guy working at the hotel had decided to do a photoshoot of his own.

I headed back to the hotel, asked the staff not to touch my motorcycle, ate and headed downstairs to try my luck at starting the motorcycle.

I pushed the bike down the ramp, and started attaching my bags to my bike. At this point, a young boy arrived to watch, and I attempted to strike up a conversation with him. He just shook his head to let me know he didn’t understand. Soon enough however, the rest of his family, including his mother and grandmother had joined, and I found I was giving a little English lesson. When the bags were in place, I put the key in, and discovered the bike had decided overnight that it was ready to go. I said goodbye to my students, and headed down the road to the 318. Happy to be on my way again, and hopeful that my newfound luck would continue through the rest of my trip.

On the road, 318 was great. The pavement was smooth, and the bike seemed to be running fine. Then I reached a point where there was a sign up a ramp to an ‘expressway’ as the road continued around a corner. I ended up skipping the ramp and heading around the corner. There I found a cloud of dust trucks and cars. Not yet a fan of riding in the dirt, I checked my map to make sure that was going to be the way I needed to go and decided on the ramp instead. Up the ramp, I encountered a different dirt road, that lead right back to the same road I had just avoided (I think). In any event, the dirt didn’t last long and I was on to lumpy concrete in no time at all.

This imperfect concrete gave way to potholes, then to dirt and rocks intermittently. I kept my speed low, and watched oncoming traffic intently. Keeping me alive seemed to be somewhere far down the list of their concerns, with avoiding potholes being somewhere far above that. As trucks approached, I made sure to keep a bit of distance, as there was always the chance an Audi was going to pop out from behind it in passing mode.

In the event no cars appeared from around the back of the oncoming trucks, there was always the chance that the driver of the truck would be so intent on avoiding road imperfections that they would be oblivious to any wild gesturing or honking I might attempt as a means of questioning their list of road priorities. This would then lead me to make the, admittedly easy, decision to choose to point the bike towards portions of the road that might just as easily serve as a sculpture of Dane Cook’s cheek as a section of highway, rather than continue the game of chicken.

The 318 was also interrupted at one point by a wall, but a wall with a small vehicle sized hole in it. This hole allowed me to continue on my way without having to take a detour. Off to the side of the road, I was still happy to see countryside, and despite the behavior of the traffic, it was relatively light.




By the early afternoon I was motoring through Xuancheng. At one of the Sinopecs near where the 318 would continue, I pulled in to fill up with gas, shutting down for the first time since the night before. As happens occasionally, the attendant was a bit chatty. When I parked my bike and entered into the store for something to drink, I was informed that I had made the wrong decision on bottled water, and my selection was returned to the refrigerator and replaced with the right brand of water. The question of whether or not I had eaten lunch was also raised, to which I responded in the negative. This was followed by a few minutes of insistance that I eat lunch. It was going to be free. Figuring I was going to be treated with some microwavable noodles, I gave in and went to see what was on offer. To my surprise, it was a homecooked meal. Though the food was not bad, I hardly ate any of it. I just wanted to hear my bike start and be on my way again. I thanked the attendant as politely as my severely limited Chinese would allow and headed off.




As I continued on my way towards Jiuhuashan, everything continued to go well, with the exception of a group of three tour busses. The lead driver of this group insisted on piloting his bus at 100+ kph speeds bullying any vehicles that got in his way off the road. This included large trucks heading the other direction. As I hung back to avoid what felt certain to be a catastrophe, I was able to see the expressions on the faces of the near victims. Including the disbelieving face of a jaded truck driver that had been forced onto the shoulder of the road as the bus passed in his lane.

Heading into Jiuhuanshan, I was aware of the fact that motorcycles were not allowed at some point, again thanks to Motokai’s post. I kept my eye open for signs indicating that I was not welcomed, but did not see any until I was already on the winding road up to the top of the mountain. Had there been any doubt that I had passed the point where I was welcomed, it would have been put to rest by the helpful bus driver that, as he exited the base of the mountain, honked and shook his hand at me to let me know that I was in the wrong. This warning was shrugged off, and he was off to join his fellow bus drivers in the nationwide sociopathic game of chicken, and I was off to find that I was entering a new game of chicken myself.

Around the countless hairpin corners, there was roughly a 50/50 chance I would be in competition with oncoming traffic for the apex of the corner. The mirrors positioned alongside the road helped alleviate the issue, but I still found myself going slower than I may have otherwise gone. Knowing I was almost at the top, I prepared for the next corner, thinking ‘slow, look, lean...fuck.’ Sure enough, as I began to lean into the corner I was greeted by the large grill of a Ford truck. This resulted in a panicked grab at the wrong breaks and me dropping my bike. As the bike went down, my hand clipped the brand new left mirror, breaking it off.

The driver of the truck slowed to watch me begin to pick up my bike, then went on his way with a trail of other sadist behind him.

Having hoisted my bike back up, I had a moment to think how bad it would be if my bike failed to start, but with the sound of the engine that moment ended and I rounded the last few corners up to the gate.

At the gate, I was greeted by a handful of people, lead by two security guards. The more senior guard, indicated by the rotundness of his belly and practiced apathy, put his hand out, grunted and motioned that I should turn around. I decided to meet his apathy with refusal, and kept asking about hotels until they told me to buy a ticket (190 kuai) before entering and finding my hotel.

Happy to be in the gate, I pulled into the first hotel and booked a room. I still had a few hours of light left, and headed off to try to get a few photos. While walking around, it was clear that this was not a destination frequented by foreigners, as nearly all of my conversations were with giggling interlocutors and saying ‘hello’ to me in English was a sure laugh for any passersby and their friends.

The degree to which I stood out at this destination was made particularly clear by the fact that I was being asked if I was the one that had driven the motorcycle up there. This was, as always, followed up by a series of questions including ‘how much’ and ‘how far.’