Cruising the Yangtze and the World’s Most Dangerous Hike

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The Gonzo finds me on two narrow wooden planks, resting on iron rivets, nailed into a solid rock face on Mount Huashan. Below me, a 1000m plummet, and the snow and ice are making it awfully slippery to hold on. I am here because of a picture that circulates on the Internet, claiming to be, amongst other things, the world’s most dangerous hike. With harnesses in place, danger might not be the right word. Scary comes to mind. Mind numbingly frightening as all hell is more accurate. Mount Huashan is a two-hour drive from Xian, China’s most ancient city and the historical seat of its opulent dynasties. As one of five sacred mountains in the country, the rocky peaks attract hundreds, sometimes thousands, of domestic tourists every day. They arrive in buses, purchase tickets (with optional insurance), and take the cable car towards the north peak. From here rock-hewn trails lead to the four cardinal peaks, punctuated with temples along the way where one can make blessings, and secure engraved locks on iron chains. For an atheist country, the Chinese have always been a superstitious lot. Dressed casually in sneakers, they hike up steep, stone cut steps amongst weathered peasants carrying heavy boxes of food to sell at stalls along the way. It gets cold above 2000m, and I’m not dressed for the snow that dusts the trees, the ice that forms sharp teeth on the mouth of temple ceilings. There is just a smattering of westerners, amazed that such a hazardous trail could exist, never mind that it is popular with Chinese of all ages. Conforming to the unwritten rule that hiking is a cordial hobby, I hear laughs and see smiles, in stark contrast to grim people I encounter in the city. From the boys who got a kick playing with my arm hair on the plane to the couples and families on the mountain, in central China I’m a rock star, someone to be admired and photographed. As the trail gets steeper and slippery, I take the cement fork that leads to the “Cliffside plank path” at 2160m, located between the south and east peaks. The human traffic peters out considerably. The wind blows with the warmth of frostbite. Walking through a temple, I scale a rocky mound to see a majestic view, holy almost, and a narrow trail to the planks. A knee-high chain of iron is all that stands between me and a parachute-free skydive off the edge. My knees wobble, I say a thankful prayer my mother isn’t seeing this. A plaque in Chinese indicates that it will cost 30RMB’s ($4) to continue, but a sign has boarded up the path ahead, which seems to disappear anyway. All this way to find “the world’s most dangerous hike”, and now it is closed. I laugh. There’s not much else to do. Then, a young guy arrives with harnesses, and casually pulls away the sign. The adventure is on. I pay him the cash, and he attaches me with two Carabina hooks, briefly showing me how to use the them to make my away forward. Canyoneering in Costa Rica reminded me that one hook must always be attached while unlocking and reattaching the other. Nice to know I’m learning when it comes to these sorts of things. My hands are freezing, and in a touch of kindness, the guy takes off his thin white gloves and gives them to me. He knows I’m going to need them. I don’t know what I’m in for.

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