Hot Springs?
We began our second day much like we ended our first, coldly. We rose to find a light smattering of snow and breakfast being prepared, Dicky and Not Dicky had apparently been up for some time. With our business in the brush taken care of we lined up around the fire jockeying for the elusive no-smoke-from-the-fire spot. Sergio, being ill and all, was the last of join us already talking about how he just couldn’t go on. He kept referring to his need to get healthy so he could teach, a point of view that completely bewildered us. He looked like a crack addict with his huge stashes of Chinese medicines that seemed to have no effect no matter how religiously he took them. I offered up an Advil Cold and Flu that was sent from the States and is real actual symptom reducing medicine. He didn’t want to take it, natch. Wouldn’t want to accidently feel better. The manner in which he was carrying on seemed to leave only his writhing death as a logical outcome. In order to keep this happy camper on the trail we encouraged him to just try another day and see if he didn’t feel better after the hot springs. We are gluttons for punishment.
After camp was packed, we mounted or beasts and headed back in the direction we had come. In fact, we backtracked to a road we had crossed at a small village and began to head West on the road. Riding on a road was so not what we were looking forward to but Dicky made motions that seemed to indicate that the wet weather had forced this less than exciting path. We stopped in the village while the mileage, (meterage?), was checked on the horses shoes. A large group arrived just as we were leaving and we were feeling pretty good about being just four. Even with Sergio being such an Eeyore. We continued along the road for an hour before riding up on another large group headed to the same destination. Our disappointment in not being alone was greatly sated by four attractive English girls. Gillian, Liz and Sam are co-workers from some grossly polluted city whose name I don’t recall and Lindsay works near Shanghai and was travelling alone. Additionally, Guillame and Julie Ann are from Paris but live in China where she works and he studies in Shanghai. A man from Japan who works in Shenyang and two female friends from near-to-Santai Mianyang rounded out this large group.
Not Dicky had jumped in a van in order to arrive well ahead so our campsite was established and it wasn’t long before we had all eaten lunch and were ready to head to the hot springs. We set out with towels and swimsuits, (swimming costumes, the English call them), in hand ready for a nice warm soak. After walking by many beautiful but empty lake beds we finally arrived at the hot springs. It was ringed with Chinese tourists soaking there feet but no one was actually in the bubbling water. It seems that simply by calling them hot springs doesn’t actually make them hot springs. After hiking several kilometers to get here and with what we had put ourselves through yesterday we were resigned to partake of this ‘natural’ wonder. Whatever the original shape of the hot springs it had since been boarded off into a pool shape on all five, (four sides and the bottom), sides. This also resulted in it having a slick surface which Evan exploited to make a quick and memorable entrance by using the stairs. Oops. Just as he had yesterday, Jon was quickly in the water preaching the gospel of its comforts to those of us less inclined. It was not long before the lau wei count reached seven much to the delight of our amused Chinese onlookers. A few minutes was enough and after posing for these great fake smiled photos we were out.
A nice walk back was made better as Sam carried my sopping wet towel nearly all the way down. It was really nice to speak to, um, native English speakers even if they do talk all funny England English.
That evening we spent a good amount of time around the fire chatting and playing stoopid but fun games that somehow involved singing. A good time was had by all.
The next day took us our seperate ways but we all felt richer for having met.
The most amazing social miracle of the day was, incredibly, Sergio appeared to feel better. The whining was certainly down. He was smiling and joking. In one extremely memorable episode a quite animated Sergio was trying to explain to us why he often referes to Chinese people as shi fu. He continues to claim that it means master and it is to show respect. In his newly invigorated zeal to show us what he meant he mimed, um, cunnilingus to express ass kissing. His hands were outstretched in front of his face and his tongue was flailing. That may be how ass kissing is done in Spain but perhaps this is why he has a hard time meeting girls. We had this image burned to our retinas in mixed company.
We tried to arrange for him to go back with the group that was returning to Song Pan so we could continue our trek uninterrupted with no luck. It seemed that his horse was more important than him. Funny thing is that I was really beginning to share that sentiment. He would continue another day. Like it or not.