From: Paul A. Brunner ([email protected])
Subject: China TR
Newsgroups: rec.climbing
View this article only
Date: 1996/10/17
Nothing like a little twist to rec.climbing: this is a report on a
trip
that I took to China to climb new and scary limestone towers.
I
(hopefully) made it shorter than my usual rambling’s found on
Tuan’s
Yosemite page. Instead of waiting in line for Nutcracker, all
ya need is
a plane ticket......
Kudos/general spewing/barf can be sent to me at the above address
(hit
the return button twice, it’s a long way to Hong Kong)
**********************************************************************
THE YANK AND BRIT IN CHINA - June, ‘96
When I returned to Hong Kong I was pleasantly surprised to find
“me
climbing mates” had returned too. But, Yosemite, Chamonix,
Pakistan, and
India had diminished our climbing view on Hong Kong crags.
We needed to
be in Hong Kong for the moolah, but wanted something more challenging
than Lion Rock and Tung Lung.
We had previously traveled to Guilin/Youngshou and marveled
at the
picturesque limestone towers spread across the range with rice
fields
below. Skinner and gang put up some routes on Moon Hill,
sight of the
Nixon/Mao meeting in ‘72. But, to give you scale, Moon
Hill was only one
of a thousand, just in the area. Zillions were spread
across the region.
Huge monstrosities, rising a couple hundred to 2,000 feet.
We knew this
was prime, Virgin turf, and we drooled (and still do) at the
thought of
picking off one line after another.
Time was the issue Ya, Hong Kong is great for moolah,
but you have to
have time for these projects. But, fortunately, the airline
schedule fit
into the scheme of things. “Whaaaaaa!” (equivalent of
“wow”) came from
the office staff as I dashed outta the office at 6:30 PM on
Friday night.
Cutting work early did not fare well. Doing the
resident thing (cutting
immigration lines, etc), I flopped in my seat at 7:20 PM and
stared at
Pete, my trusty English partner. Pete’s a motivated guy
and instantly
produced some frosty soldier’s. “Cheers, here’s to new
routes!”
An hour later we were in Guillin, commandeered a taxi, and chucked
in the
REM “Out of Time” tape (eliminating the nasal Chinese music).
Before we
knew it, we were at our usual shanty hotel in Youngshou, in
our usual
room. To give you an idea of conditions, lighting was provided
by
connecting two wires. Hey, it only cost US$10 for two.
Youngshou is
sooo cool and quirky. It’s like Santa Cruz or Boulder,
except in China
and on a smaller scale. Anyway, we wandered down the path
to our
favorite hangout: The Green Lotus Restaurant.
“Ahhhhh, Mr. Peeeeta and Mr. Pwaaaal - good to szeee you again..”
The
lovely Jasmine greeted us with two large bottles of Tsingtao
beer.
“Jasmine, when are you going to marry me?” “Ahhh, Mr.
Peeeta, back for
climbing again, eh?” Jasmine definitely knew better, but
joined us for
an evening of reminiscing as trucks bounced down the road, putting
a new
grit of dirt on the beer.
The next day with some quick grub at Suzanna’s, we caught a
tri-ped to
the project: a 1’000 foot beauty. Tuffs of small bushes
sprouted in
different areas, except where it was overhanging. On one
side our
objective was visible, a crack going all the way to the top.
We wandered
through the rice fields while a farmer with an ox was ankle
deep,
plowing.
We had enough gear for the climb, but mentally, that was a different
subject. I mean, this is China, not California or Scotland.
Totally
different hazards. We had agreed that if any of us got
whacked, we would
avoid the local police/hospitals and just get to the airport
as fast as
possible and back to Hong Kong.
I took the sharp end and stemmed up the wide, overhanging maw
which would
make Brutus of Wyde proud. It was funky going and grungy.
Being a new
route, holds broke off. Being limestone, pro was dicey.
I ended up duck
taping hooks in pockets and using the Big Bro in wide sections.
Holds
were possible, but if I reached up high, would there be some
viper in
that pocket? The belays were slung blocks with other odd
forms of
back-up. It was hot: 90 degrees with 95 percent
humidity, I was
dripping. Pete was happy to take the next pitch - while more
of the same,
he would no longer get showered with loose bits.
This continued on for a couple more pitches until about pitch
5 when I
stepped off, what appeared to be a bomber ledge, and it
collapsed,
sending TV size blocks past Pete. “Bloody hell, it cut
the rope halfway
through!” Higher up, after 50 feet of run-out the pro
was non-existent.
I had no bolt kit, pins, etc. since we wanted to do this
clean. I was
now paying the price. “I’m not meant to die here, this
isn’t happening.”
While I was quivering, contemplating my doom, I noticed a group
of locals
staring up at me from the field. They had the traditional
straw hats,
smoking and petting the ox. Some how, this sight comforted
me, and I was
able to get past the doom section and place another “bomber
duck-tape
hook.”
After 8 pitches, we topped out. It was, as the late Rob
Slater said,
“the coolest summit that I have ever been on.” Or, as
Pete said, “the
dog’s bullock’s.” It had scraggly bushes, some birds nests and
a stellar
view across the misty valley with other limestone towers.
We could even
hear chanting in a far away village. “Too bizarre, mate.”
We rapped down using “tat” and nuts. Yes, I was spooked
that one of
these “bomber” blocks would yank just like the ledge I was previously
standing on. At the base, grungy as hell, we laughed the
laugh of
beating The Reaper and had a quick chat with the farmer, using
our
limited Mandarin. He did, however, give us lift back to
Youngshou in the
back of his truck, along with his grandmother and ducks.
Jasmine was skeptical of us naming our new route after her,
like we were
looking for a free beer or something. Hell, the beer was
already cheap,
nothing like the US$8 we were paying per pint in Hong Kong.
The Chinese
thought all this climbing riffraff stuff was (1) extremely dangerous
(2)
meaningless, a waste of time, and (3) we should be in the fields
helping
the comrades plant rice. Yeah, sure, how true, sooooo,
let’s go play
ping pong! A great idea, but they wumped our butts game after
game. One
guy even had a handicap of a cigarette and tooth pick in his
mouth -
hmmmm, actually, they all did. We finished the night weaving
through the
cobblestone village, laughing how it would probably be a 100
years or
never before someone would 2nd our route.
Next day - Sunday. Dammit, it’s raining, the monsoons are on
the way. We
still did the slog up to Moon Hill, since it’s overhanging and
has more
new, bolted routes. I led the 10’s and 11’s.
Pete dragged me up the
12’s. We returned to the Green Lotus, muddy, and had final
beers with
Jasmine. She actually looked sad to see us go. “Sooo
soon, why?” Back
in the taxi with no shocks, Pete chucked in the REM tape to
eliminate the
Sha Tin horse race commentary. After the usual airport
bribing/haggling
we were comfortably seated on our Dragonair flight, swearing
to return so
we could (1) climb more new routes (2) marry Jasmine and (3)
try and wump
the toothpick boyz at ping pong!
New Route: “Jasmine” 8 pitches, 5.10+ or 5b, E2+
Beta: - bring hooks and duck tape.
- update yer Will
- never, ever, fly China Southern airline
Paul Brunner
Hong Kong
From: Paul A. Brunner ([email protected])
Subject: China TR
Newsgroups: rec.climbing, uk.rec.climbing
View this article only
Date: 1997/05/22
Ahhhh, yes, we HAD to return to China for more abuse on new
routes. Here’s a
trip that we sandwiched between Thailand and (that heinous)
Korea Ice climbing
venture. The report’s longer than I intended, but hell,
it was a good time!
Happy reading. International fame/flames welcomed.
THE YANK AND BRITS IN CHINA, PART II
January 10-12, 1997 Youngshou, China
===========================================================
Me and the boyz had just returned from a successful Thailand
trip and were
enjoying our new-found strength on the local stone. I
was amazed at Pete’s
ability, not only climbing, but his transformation from the
“Queen’s” English
to proper California slang: “Bloody hell, lads, that pitch
was gnarly!” The
combination of not wanting to blow such (profound) strength
plus a trip to the
pubs made us conger up evil thoughts. Another pint made
statements bolder. Martin
and Adrio (jealous of our new routes in Thailand - I suspect)
threatened to put up
their own...in China. We really didn’t care since we had
already knocked off
two separate lines on two separate towers. But, when the
scurvy dogs
mentioned that they were going to whisk the lovely Jasmine off
her feet, Pete
sprang to action: “Rubbish, that’s bullocks.” (translation:
fuck off, you
kooks).
The following Friday night we were on the Dragon Air Cattle
Car flight. The
flight attendants were busy primping, the mainland Chinese hacking
and
spitting in the aisle, and me and the Brit’s were knocking back
the brewskis
that we swindled out of UA’s Red Carpet Lounge. After a quick
taxi-hell ride
and a check-in to the slimy Red Dragon Hotel, we headed over
to Cafe de Paris
to see... Jasmine! But, look out! Pete had flowers,
Ad had perfume, and
Martin a poem. I had..... doh! nothing. Oh
well. “Peeeetaaa, Pwaaaaal,
Maaaateeeen, and Eattttt - iz gooot to seee yuuuz.” It
was disgusting
watching the boyz swoon over the lovely Jasmine, but at least
we got a free
beer out of the deal.
The next morning, we hopped aboard a motorcycle with sidecar
and took a
hellish ride to the base of our project: A cylindrical limestone
beauty,
rising 500 feet, with sheer walls and “tuffs” of greenery on
the top. “Bloody
hell, looks like a Dr. Seuse character!” A little meandering
through the rice
fields got us to our intended line. “Woooo-hoooo, it goes,
IT GOES!” For
limestone, it was amazing to see a crack/groove that shot straight
to the top,
overhanging slightly all the way, and not a bit of shrubbery
in sight.
Pete and I went through the usual prep at the base. “OK, here’s
the US$1,000.”
If anything happened to one of us, the other
would buy/bribe/steal the
fastest transport to the airport and the next available flight
to Hong Kong,
bypassing the rickety Chinese hospitals along the way.
“My lead, my lead, my
lead...” “No way, Mate.” The usual ro-sham-bo decided
that, yes, it would be
my lead. The first pitch involved thin moves and sketchy
placements down low.
Being a new route, it was quite chalky/dirty - don’t need
that chalk bag! Up
higher the crack widened and after 40 meters, I came to a small
stance,
perfect for a belay. The belay set up was interesting:
#4 Big Bro in a
pocket, #5 Camalot and #3 Big Bro in the crack. Equalize
the monsters and
brought Pete on up.
Wow, what a view! And, there were a couple farmers
in the field below with
their ox looking up. Pete’s pitch overhung even more and
after he rounded a
small roof, I could not see him, and at one point no rope fed
out for 10
minutes. “Pete, you ok?” “Yup-yup-yup. Mate, I’m
gonna go for it - I got in
good pro so don’t worry.” Jesus, I hate when Pete says
this. I checked the
anchors and then curled up in a small ball waiting for impending
hellish
results. Sure enough, there was instant movement followed by
the clattering of
gear - Pete took a 20 footer. “Zoiks, Pete, you ok?” “Yup-yup-yup.
Just me
ankle, that’s all - I’m gonna try something different now.”
Good idea. It
wasn’t until I followed the pitch that I could see what Pete
was up to. He
was trying to send a seamless corner, void of holds which looked
like a Lynn
Hill Nose special. “Damn, Pete, looked like suicide.”
“Bloody hell, mate.
But, ya gotta go for it.” Even though Pete’s ankle looked
sore, he resumed
his humming and reciting poetry so I knew he was ok.
Pete was in the middle of reciting Yaets when I took off
on the next pitch.
A groove that ended with a holdless roof took up the first 30
feet.
Traversing right, with rickety pro, I was able to find an escape,
just as “me
wee arms” gave out. I reached for a plate size flake but
the damn thing was
loose. No choice - it was the only hold available.
Pulling delicately down
and not out, I was able to make the move and get to a spot to
finally put in
pro - whewwww! Higher up the pitch eased back in angle
and I soon entered
the “Dr. Seusse Zone” which meant that I was near the top.
Pete took a
whipper, following, when the plate/flake gave way. I could
see some of the
curious onlookers below running for cover.
Once Pete reached the belay, we unroped for the 40 feet of 4th
class
scrambling to the top. By this point we were on extremely
sharp/pocketed
limestone which Pete dubbed “kitchen knives.” At the top,
we let out a whoop
and could spot Adrio and Martin topping out on a similar pillar
across the mud
flats. Lotsa hoot n hollerin’ going on with some of the
farmers joining in.
The rap back down was nerve racking, but we soon lowered into
a crowd of
locals + their trusty ox. We were psyched! A classic
new route on another
unclimbed tower - woooo-hoooo! The only thing left behind
was some tat (rap
slings) and a #5 stopper at one of the rap stations. We
called our route
“Pluto” after the Disney character that we left in a key pocket.
Out on the
road we hooked up with the other lads and they named their route
“Hippie Hunt”
after the unsociable low-life backpackers in Youngshou
that only hang out and
write in their diary. Transportation back to Youngshou
was in the back of a
gravel truck.
Back in town, the lovely Jasmine welcomed us with some huge
bottles of Tsing
Tao beer. A couple beers later meant a big tug-of-war
match in the middle of
the road.....using my rope! It quickly got out of hand
when the locals joined
in and there were over 70 people participating. It was
at this point that the
few functioning brain cells that I had left determined that
the breaking
strength was soon approaching. Luckily, however, Martin
attached one end to a
truck and told the driver to “hit it.” With 70 folks
on their butts, I had
to chase the truck for a block before he stopped dragging it
through the
typical road muck. Cleaning the thing would take on industrial
proportions.
The rope deal was not the only shenanigans for the evening,
hell, we were just
warming up! We rented roller skates - yea - the ones that
have metal wheels
and you strap em to your feet. We were ok in the beginning,
but when we took
the action out on the cobbled streets it was mayhem. Food
stalls were the
main (unintended) collision object. Ooops. We had
better success playing
pool and ping-pong, beating everyone except some guy that had
a tooth pick AND
a cigarette in his mouth. At this point, we were, well,
totally sloshed.
Time for some Karoake! “We are the world” was a big hit
and we even did a
tribute to the ailing Frank Sinatra (“My Way”), but the Brits
sang the Sex
Pistol’s way. Eiiii-yaaaa. 2 AM now and we’re out
in the streets with one
shop open that sells.... FIREWORKS. Yeah , they even had
the 8 foot mondo
roll that last for minutes. At first, we were only going
to light it in the
street, but with Hugh and Linda asleep, we couldn’t resist.
Back at our room
on the third floor, we hung the monster roll outside by a broom
handle, lit
the momma, and shut the window. It lasted 4 minutes and
probably woke up the
whole town.
The next morning, with double-vision and the hippies still scribbling
in their
diaries (Dear diary: That obnoxious American and the Brits
are STILL
here....). Hugh claimed that the firework episode was ok since
he woke up and
got another “shag” out of the deal. But, after our 3rd
cup of Tibetan (ooops,
make that Chinese) coffee, dissension broke out. I wanted
to do another first
on a tower that looked like it would go with some aid.
Pete’s ankle was
swollen, and the other lads were mumbling about definitely NOT
tackling
another sketchy project. “Damn, I’m not clippin’ bolts
at Moon Hill, you
bums.” So, I spent the day floating down the river and mountain
biking through
the back country, checking out potential projects.
Youngshou is so beautiful
and untapped from a climbing perspective. It’s one place
that I’ll continue
to come back, even with those manky Brits!
Epilogue: Good news and bad news. The bad news is
that Jasmine married the
super-lame-kook-dork-hippie and moved to Israel. Jasmine
looked extremely
remorse when she announced that she had just gotten married.
She said it was
“for the good of her family and she could now send back money.”
There’s talk
in the pubs about sending Pete to Israel to rescue her...
The good news,
however, is that Pete just returned from Youngshou, and put
up 5 new routes.
He also came back with 100 photos of new projects and said,
“Time for you quit
your job so we can set our mark on Youngshou.” Hmmmmm,
I think I see a bright
future!
Pete and Paul’s route: “Pluto” 5.10, 4 pitches,
natural pro
Adrio and Martin’s route: “Hippie Hunt” 5.10, 3 pitches,
natural pro
Paul Brunner
Hong Kong