Geese, Mopeds and a Cloud of Dust: Stalking the White Cliffs of China

I’ve done some climbing. I’ve been cold, hungry and scared, but my first climb in The People’s Republic was all that, with some rustic flavor thrown in.

It's my third week in China, and my climbing partner heard a rumor of some cliffs north of us. Based on only a sparse description and a very small photo, I quickly agree to spend my weekend looking for China's next climbing Mecca. It’s like that. The climbing areas are mostly untapped, and the secret hope of being the first climber is a haunting dream. But in China, even the promise of a new cliff sometimes pales next to the challenge of getting there.

It’s 7:15 on Saturday morning. We were supposed to meet at 6:30 but my partner overslept, again. I make the effort and greet him with a smile. To get to the downtown bus depot, we use Guangzhou’s modern and efficient subway system and arrive two minutes too late for the early bus. I keep my comments to myself. My partner doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe it’s because he’s Chinese and used to delays. I also notice I have the bulk of the climbing gear, but his backpack seems more full than mine, I wonder what he has that I don’t, but I don’t ask.

An hour waiting in a crowded, under ventilated depot is the perfect prelude to the rest of the trip. With eleven other passengers, we board an exceptionally large and extremely well air-conditioned bus for a two-hour ride.

Within minutes I regret not packing my sleeping bag. An artic blast pours from the air-conditioning vent. It’s a cold that lets you count every nasal hair. My partner casually pulls out his down jacket. I casually keep my comments about his parents to myself. Settling into the deep cushioned seats, I drink my bottled water before it freezes.

Our mobile meat locker lands us in Ying De. It’s a cliché that China is a nation of contrast, but one I wholeheartedly embrace. Dressed in shorts and t-shirt, the 90-degree heat outside is a welcome relief. But, Ying De isn't our final destination.