#that and using reverse time and ascend to make platforms high enough for things

[hyrules-warrior]

My favorite shrine hack has to be taking 2 seconds and firing bomb arrows at all the bullseye targets instead of doing whatever the puzzle actually wants me to do

[mithrasisgay]

Lights

@tyrias-library Hope it’s okay to tag you, even though this doesn’t fullfill a prompt!

On AO3

SUMMARY: The pirates of the Chimaera are well aware what eerie lights on the Open Sea mean - Krait. Their prisoners using these lights to wave down ships, begging for help. Every sailor worth their salt knows to avoid these dreaded towers, for their own good.

The fog lies heavy on the surface of the Unending Ocean, making navigation fort he Chimaera nigh impossible. The ship glides slowly through the waves, as distant thunder cracks, lighting up the impenetrable blanket of mist.

“Lights! Lights on the Horizon!” calls Cariyen, the ship’s only Sylvari from the Crow’s Nest, then swings over the small platform’s railings and descends the mast. “Starboard side, Captain.” She elaborates, when she is down on the main deck.

Captain Asha Gaets, flanked by her loyal First Mate Snezz, is already peering through her spyglass, brows furrowed as she strains to make out anything. “I see ‘em. Very faint. Think they’re moving a little.” She says, lowering the spyglass from her eye and looking down to her asuran companion. “Mh, bad idea, Captain.” Snezz remarks. “We’re too far out to be encountering anything friendly.” “I know.” Asha responds. “Krait.” “Those lights mean that they have prisoners, trying to wave down ships.” Snezz speaks up a little, as the crew gathers around. “We’d do best to avoid them, unless we want to join them in their cages.”

“Prisoners?” a sharp voice enter the conversation, as Farris Nightrunner, a young Charr, squeezes her way through the small crowd. “Boss, we gotta help them. Who knows what the greasy snakes are doing to them!” “That’s a terrible-…” Snezz begins, but is cut off quickly by Farris’ growl. “Coward! If we leave them, their blood’s on our hands. Your hands!” she snarls at the small Asura, who does not even flinch. “These waters are their domain, Farris.” He calmly argues. “If we engage, we will all suffer their fate. There’s courage, and there’s recklessness.” “Are you calling me a fool, you sniveling runt? You might run from a challenge, but we-…” Farris stops mid-sentence, interrupted by the Captain firing a gunshot into the skies.

“Good thing that decision isn’t up to you two.” Asha says, stowing her flintlock on her belt again. Snezz looks up to her with hope in his eyes, but she only graces him with a crooked grin. “Farris, you’re right. We’re going in.” “Captain-…” “No. Zip it up, Snezz.” Asha raises her hand for emphasis. “I’m not leaving these people.” A brief beat of silence occurs, in which Snezz leans back against the mast and huffs in exasperation, wondering how Asha Gaets even stayed alive before she met him, but elects not to further defy his Captain. Not out of respect, but because he knows her well enough to understand when she won’t budge on a decision.

“Cariyen, Liamu, Farris and Auri.” Asha calls again. “I want you with me on a rowboat. Snezz, you have command of the ship. Bring us in, but stay out of visual range.” “Aye.” Snezz says, and makes his way to the wheel. One of their deckhands is already pushing in a crate for him to stand on, while another two begin lowering the rowboat. Asha steps forward, her striketeam in tow. Her eyes narrow as she gazes at the lights.

 --

There’s a tense silence among the rowboat’s passengers, as it approaches the Krait Deeps. Asha sits in front, staring on ahead, while the two Charr, Farris and her mother Auri are busy rowing behind her. Cariyen, the Sylvari is behind them, carrying a magical light in her hands to illuminate their immediate vicinity. At the back end of the boat sits Liamu, the tiny asuran necromancer, currently in the process of summoning a selection of horrors to aid in the fight to come.

“Cariyen.” Asha says, and the Sylvari snuffs out her light. She looks up, now much closer to the lights she’d spotted and feels oddly nostalgic, reminded of the glowing pods in the Pale Tree’s boughs she used to look upon from below. But that is where the similarities end. The closer the rowboat gets to the Deeps, the more the area’s eeriness is replaced by horror. Pained cries pierce the silence, the sound of whips and hateful voices taunting. Farris’ upper lip pulls back in a snarl.

“Get ready.” Asha order in a hushed whisper and draws her rifle. A splashing sound briefly draws her attention, but it’s just Liamu’s minions jumping overboard and swimming ahead. The group holds their breath and listens. Minutes go by, and Asha’s gaze rests on Liamu’s face.

The little woman has her eyes closed, and an expression of deep concentration on her features. “Twenty, maybe more.” She reports. “There will be many under the surface. I am drawing their attention to my minions.” “Cause some chaos.” Asha orders. “Once they’re busy with your little friends, we jump into the fray.” Liamu nods, digging a tooth into her lower lip, as she coordinates several individual undead at once.

An angry hiss sounds, then a battle cry and a cacophony of combat noises breaks loose. Asha stands up in the boat. “Auri, element of surprise.” The Mesmer nods and hands her oar to Farris. The air distorts around the boat as she raises her hands, channeling her magic, cloaking the group in a veil of invisibility. “Let’s give ‘em hell.” Asha growls and steps off the boat, just as it comes to a stop on the Deeps’ surface gangplanks.

The rest of the team follows her, Cariyen leaving last and pulling the boat onto the wooden planks. They stick close together, watching Liamu’s minions maiming and being maimed by their serpent enemies. Asha assumes a crouching position and levels her rifle on the largest Krait she can see, aiming directly for his head. When her shot rings out, her invisibility falls off her in a flash of purple magic. A barrage of bright blue arrows arches over her head and comes down on the Krait with the fury of a god. The group swarms out from behind their Captain. Cariyen seeks high ground, while raining her magical arrows down on the enemy. A cloud of toxic locusts ascends the tower, gathering around the heads of a group of Krait that were about to come to their brethren’s aid. Shrill cries fill the air, broken up and distorted by time itself warping and twisting from Aurelia Sharpwit’s shield. Clockhands made of ethereal light spin in reverse, rewinding the Krait into their previous positions, opening them up to attack. That attack being a jet of fire from the mouth of Farris’ flamethrower. Those that do not immediately die, shriek and try to slither away, into the water, but Auri’s magic freezes them in motion and her daughter’s flames consume them entirely.

While the battle on the central platform rages, Asha makes her way upward, rifle at the ready. The prisoners are all in the upper levels of the tower, locked up in crude cages. There are some stragglers in her way, most of which she can dispatch at range, or punt off the ledge with the butt of her rifle.

“Help! Please! Please help Quaggan!” cries a prisoner as Asha approaches the first set of cages. They’re unguarded, as most of the Krait are currently down, fighting her crew. Only one of them has movement inside, a little quaggan, all alone. Left and right are only putrefying corpses, picked at by birds. Asha rushes over, pulling her crowbar out of her backpack, and getting to work on levering the cage open. “Don’tcha worry. That’s why we’re here.” She assures the prisoner inside. The poor quaggan is beaten and bruised, and holding one of its hands close to its chest, clearly broken. It takes her some elbow grease, but Asha manages to wedge the doors open, and the quaggan limps out, fearfully looking up at its savior.

“It’s okay. Stick with me. My friends are distracting the Krait.” Asha explains. “I’m going further up. There’s more prisoners there.” “Quaggan will follow you.” They reply. “Too wounded. Nowhere else to go.” “I’ve got a ship. We’ll patch you up and take you home.” Asha promises as she moves on up, mindful to reduce her speed, so the quaggan can keep up with her.

Another voice addresses her as soon as she comes in view of the next set of cages, one platform up. “Hey, you! Let me out right now!” demands an Asura, with enough spirit in her to rattle at her cage’s bars. She wears black and red, tattered, but still very much recognizable as Inquest. Asha pauses, but shakes her head and jogs over to her, then gets to work on the door. “How’d someone like you end up so far from Maguuma?” she asks while she works, and the Asura huffs and puffs for a moment before responding. “We were on our way to Orr. That’s all I’m classified to tell you.” “You the only survivor?” Asha inquires, and the door creaks open under her assault with the crowbar. “I think so. I haven’t seen any of my krewemates.” The Asura steps out of the cage and Asha positions herself protectively between her and the quaggan. “Great. Well, I saved you, which means you owe me. So keep your mouth shut while I free the other prisoners and we all get to go home alive.” She states and moves on the next cage. Inside is a humanoid creature Asha cannot discern. They’re blue, but clearly breathing, clad in a full-face mask and adorned with a pair of luminescent wings.

“She’s put up a good fight.” The Asura comments. “And the Krait pressured her tenfold for that.” “She’s alive, though.” Asha says and gets to work on the door. “That’s enough for me.” “Quaggan knows her.” The quaggan adds. “She got captured near Quaggan’s home.” “When?” Asha asks. “Quaggan does not remember.”

“They were here when I was locked up. So, more than a week ago.” The Asura contributes. “Hey, do you have a ship or something? I’m not a good swimmer.” “I do. She’s circling the Deeps just outside of view.” Asha responds and gets the door open. She casts her crowbar aside and crouches down to inspect the creature. She looks horrible. There are deep gashes all over her arms and back, likely caused by bladed whips. Her wings have holes and the left one’s main bone is completely shattered, as if intentionally crushed. Under the creature’s heavily damaged armor, Asha gets a glimpse of greenish black flesh, an ugly infection, or a necrotic curse. She presses two fingers against the creature’s neck, feeling a slow, but steady pulse. Relying entirely on the mechanical exoskeleton around her left arm, Asha lifts the creature up and takes her out of the cage.

The rest of her team is luckily just ascending the planks. “Ah, good. We’ve got wounded.” Asha says and hands the creature over to Cariyen. “You and the Quaggan can go back to the boat and row over to the Chimaera. Tell Snezz to bring ‘er in, then take care of these two. Be ready for more wounded. The rest of you, spread out and gather any survivors on the central platform. Me and my new friend here will establish a perimeter.”

While she speaks, Asha pulls one of her pistols from her belt and hands it to the Asura she freed. “Don’t try anything funny. You’re outnumbered.” She hisses to her as she passes. “C’mon.”

Cariyen, and the Quaggan accompany them down to the platform, before getting on the boat. “I will see you soon, Captain. Be safe.” The Sylvari says, before grabbing the oars and starting to make her way back to the ship. “You too.” Asha calls after her, then turns back to the Asura.

“What a massacre.” She comments, as she steps over the piled up Krait bodies, burned, pierced and rotted away by Liamu’s magic. “They deserve worse.” Asha simply justifies. “You don’t look too hurt.” “I’m not.” The Asura admits. “They were too busy beating the living daylights out of my neighbor. I thought I could use that to slip away, but… Where would I go?” “Fair.” Asha says. “You got a name?”

The Asura hesitates visibly. “It’s Mhido.”

--

It took a good twenty minutes to reach the ship, but once she is back on the Chimaera, with Asha’s command passed on to Snezz, Cariyen has time to care for the wounded. She already cast a mild regeneration spell on the quaggan’s superficial wounds while on her way back. “Let me see your hand.” She asks, and the small creature shyly extends their arm to her. It causes them obvious pain, so Cariyen already has a numbing spell ready on her fingertips when she makes skin contact. The bone is, thankfully, cleanly broken. Cariyen closes her eyes, gently nudging the bone back into its regular place, and funnels healing into the quaggan’s body. Both bone fragments slowly connect again, a fragile connection, but with time and care, the injury would mend fully. She puts the arm in a splint and wraps it in a bandage for good measure.

Then, she turns to the unconscious creature. Her hands brush lightly over her whip marks, closing the open wounds and rejuvenating her body’s natural regenerative powers. Likely awakened by that energy, the creature jolts and grabs Cariyen by the wrist. “Where am I?” she asks in a sharp, heavily accented voice, attempting to sound menacing, but her fear shimmers through. “Be at ease.” Cariyen soothes. “You are safe. We attacked the Krait Deeps you were held in and rescued you. You are badly injured. Will you let me mend you?” A few seconds pass, and the creature’s grip loosens. “You defeated the Krait?” “Not alone. My crew and I did.” Cariyen responds and gently frees her hand from the creature’s. “I have to set your bones straight before I can mend them. This will hurt.” “Do not hold back. I can endure.” The creature says and Cariyen gets to work on the mangled wing. It is entirely limp, and the creature is likely unable to move it at all. One by one, Cariyen reconstructs the shattered bone, making her way from the base to the tip of the limb. The entire time, the creature is completely silent, only the odd, sharp inhale hinting that she feels pain. “What were you seeking among the Krait?” she eventually asks, while Cariyen begins mending the wing. “Their victims. We saw the lights from afar and decided to intervene.” The Sylvari explains. “In exchange for what?”

Cariyen pauses and looks up at the creature’s mask. “We did not do this for a reward.” She states and the creature falls silent again, in quiet contemplation of what altruism might be.

The sounds of a second rowboat being returned to the ship has Cariyen looking up. The Inquest Asura, Farris and a number of freed prisoners step onto the deck, in varying degrees on injury and weariness. There is more work to do.

[bernardhiking]

The Great Huangshan Loop

Date of hike: September 22, 2019

Country: China

Region: Huangshan

Trailhead: Xihai Hotel

Hike Destination: Same (loop trail)

Distance: 15 km (10 miles)

Elevation difference: ca. 900 m gain

Difficulty: Tough

I jokingly refer to 2019 as my “Huangshan year.” Indeed, I was lucky enough to go to China’s “Yellow Mountains”—Huangshan—no less than THREE times in one year, in three different seasons. In total, I have hiked Huangshan 5 times now, and from the accumulated experience of all those trips, one hike has emerged as the all-around, undisputed, greatest favorite. I am referring to the great loop from Xihai Hotel down to the bottom of the West Sea Grand Canyon, continuing down to Sanxi Bridge, and then climbing up on the other side of the canyon, via Fairy Walking Bridge, to BaiYuan hotel, and from there via Bright Peak and Flying Rock back to Xihai hotel. This is the mother of all loop hikes in the area, clocking in at 10 miles and involving close to 1000 meters in uphill climbing (as well as the same in descending) over steep and partly crumbling steps. But the best part of this hike—aside of the usual stunning scenery—is that it takes you away for hours from the insane crowds that make enjoying Huangshan not always easy! I had scouted out this route during my previous visit to Huangshan last May; but at that time I’d gone about it awkwardly, descending to the bottom along the regular trail, then taking the funicular up to the rim of the canyon, hiking up to Bright Peak, then reversing direction, and descending all the way back down to the bottom of the canyon, only to ascend the same steps I had taken down in the morning to go back to the canyon rim on the Xihai side, thus not completing the circle and also backtracking a significant portion of the route… a mess. So, here I was now with Liang, to do it right this time. 

But before we tackled the great loop trail, we planned do some conventional sightseening in the wider Huangshan area. This involved returning to a scenic village called Hongcun where we had visited back in 2015. This is one of the insanely popular AAAAA tourist destinations in Anhui Province, a picturesque gem that is almost made unpicturesque by being so overrun by tourists. At our first visit, we had been too rushed to truly appreciate what the place had to offer. Liang invited her parents along for this trip, giving them the chance to experience those touristic hotspots and classics of the Chinese cultural heritage, which they’d not previously explored. We met up with Liang’s parents at the high-speed railway station in Huangshan City. From there, we took the public bus to Hongcun. This bus ride reminded me of how much China had changed in one generation. When I went to Huangshan for the first time, back in 1987, the buses were dilapidated, missing entire window panes, the gears grated, the road itself was potholed and not paved throughout, with stretches of unsecured dirt road beside a raging river or zig-zagging over dizzying abysses without guard rails, making it a rather hazardous experience. But now, we were sitting in an all-electric bus that silently glided over well-paved roads, equipped with USB outlets in the back of the seat. And there now was an elaborate safety protocol, and buckling in was mandatory. If you did not follow this safety precaution, a beeping sound would instantly alert you to not being buckled in.  But although everybody was following instructions in that regard, there still was incessant beeping left and right: Turns out that as soon as you put a piece of luggage on a seat, the sensors embedded in the seat assume that somebody is sitting in it, and the alarm goes off. So, one by one, the passengers had to strap either pieces of luggage with the seatbelt to stop the annoying beeping. Talk about overdoing it. The scenic town of Hongcun had already been crowded with tourists when we first visited it in 2015, but four years later, the situation had become even more drastic. In addition to tourists, there were now literally thousands of students from all over China practicing painting and drawing, trying to master perspective and scene. Liang’s mom kept asking them where they came from. Turns out, these youngsters were from all over the nation--practically all provinces were represented among the participants of these artistic field trips. During our first pass through the town, under the eye of a hot sun glaring down from the cloudless sky, we could not quite connect with the town. Nothing really stood out, and the general feeling was of being underwhelmed. So, we returned to our hotel about a mile outside the village to spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing. Then, we all returned at dusk when the crowds had began to thin out; there was some breathing room now, and when we stumbled upon the large circular pond in the center of town, which we somehow managed to miss during the afternoon outing, we were quite enchanted by the scene, marveling at the clear reflection of the whitewashed buildings and bright red lanterns in the body of water. 

Then we stopped at a tea shop and tasted the local specialties of green tea—including wild green tea—served by a chatty lady who was both knowledgeable and passionate about her product, and it began to be really fun. After purchasing a few bags of the local green tea varieties, we returned to the mirroring pond and sat down at a restaurant table for dinner, directly overlooking the whole scene. The next morning, we returned one more time to the town to watch the first sun rays caress the village and see the sky reflected in the outer pond.

When we had had our fill of this lovely scene, we return to the central pond, and this time we were fully convinced that the AAAAA rating of this town was well deserved. The scene was so picturesque that it really gave rise to the impression that one was stepping into a picture, a painting, a little piece of fairy landscape.

After a Chinese breakfast consisting of congee, steamed bread buns, and deliciously preserved raddish, we boarded the bus to Tangkou, setting off to the base of Huangshan. 

After the usual formalities, which I had grown to know so well during my previous trips (i.e. the entrance ticket booth, the shuttle bus to the cable car station, the gondola ride to the top), we arrived on top of the mountain at 3 pm. The density of the crowds was beyond my expectations for late September, and so the walk to Xihai hotel was not the most pleasant. I thought it was a pity for Liang’s parents to have this particular introduction to the fabulous scene, with all the shuffling and squeezing and jockeying for position on lookouts, but I had forgotten that this was what they were likely used to at all the other tourist spots they had gone to. In order to get away from the crowds, which sometimes may seem impossible, you need to be a little ingenious as well as enterprising. For one thing, timing the outing to the very beginning and end of the day makes a difference because the day-trippers are gone by then; also, traveling in off-season (which here means the dead of winter) is a nice crowd-avoidance technique; but the best year-round crowd-dissolving strategy is doing something that requires greater than normal endurance and basically just means to hike away from the beaten tracks, something most Chinese tourists don’t do. Chinese tourist crowds are the embodiment of conformity: they will go to a particular lookout which is already overcrowded, only because it is “the” famous scene that people can reasonably be expected to recognize if shown a picture of it with you proudly posing in front of it; another lookout nearby goes almost unvisited simply because it does not have the official seal of approval and is not, therefore, “important,” although it may well offer even better views than the one validated by the “wisdom” of the crowd. 

After our arrival at Xihai hotel, toward evening we ventured out to see the sunset. On a spot high above the valley ground, we huddled down in our hotel-supplied parkas (it had gotten very chilly) to wait for the moment of sunset. It was spectacular: the sun, which had been blocked by a layer of cloud, emerged from underneath that grey shield just before it touched the horizon, bathing the scenery in bright orange and yellow hues for a short space of time. 

We had planned to begin our big hike, the Huangshan Grand-Canyon loop, early in the morning. But since it was cloudy and windy in the morning, we delayed the start of our 7-hour hike as long as we could, i.e. until noon. Finally, just as predicted by the forecast, the clouds began to disperse, and the sun came out just as we set out at 12 pm. As can be expected in the middle of the day, the steep steps down to the bottom of the ravine were pretty crowded now, and every once in a while people were bunched up at the steepest and narrowest portions. Still, we decided to just go with the flow and not be too anxious, which is the only recipe for enjoying the great scenery along this trail. The steps here twist down an almost vertical mountainside, and they are a true marvel of engineering, as they had to be built by hand. The steps here often protrude perpendicularly from vertical walls of rock, and it is hard to imagine how workers had installed the fastening bolts and poured the concrete, all the while suspended from ropes and working with hand-held tools. In addition to the challenging nature of the trail building, it is astonishing how much effort was lavished on details here: every once in a while, a tree would protrude from the platform on which one walked because rather than cutting it down, the engineers built the trail around the tree trunk; also, the railing on the side of the steps was made from concrete in a way that mimics wooden branches being intertwined, thus making for a seamless visual effect. The Chinese really do master the high art of extreme trail building. Now that we had exchanged a hiking mindset, properly speaking, with a leisurely sight-seeing mindset, we actually enjoyed the scenery, together with hundreds of fellow tourists. We beheld soaring walls of reddish rock, boulders impossibly balancing on tapering pillars, twisted umbrella pines dotting every geological protrusion in sight, while the occasional man-made structure, like a pavilion, provided just the right balance to complete an almost artistic composition of the landscape. 

We arrived at the bottom of the canyon one hour after the start of our hike, and here I proudly took over as guide for the next, most demanding portion of the tour. We used the bathroom at the funicular station to change into lighter clothes (it was getting quite hot at the bottom of the ravine), and then, we struck out happily again, leaving the bustling crowds behind at the funicular station, while we had the trail all to ourselves. This next long stretch of trail sees very few hikers because it is basically a large detour that requires a high level of fitness and quite a bit of endurance to make it through. The original trail, leading directly up to the Fairy Walking Bridge along the near vertical wall of the canyon, had been destroyed by rockfalls. So, now instead of reaching the Fairy Walking Bridge in about one hour from the funicular, one has to detour at least three hours to get to the bridge by an indirect route, and hardly anybody is willing to do that. But for us, this was exactly where the fun began. We reached Sanxi Bridge, the lowest point of the hike, about 30 minutes later and here supplied our liquid reserves by buying a few more bottles of water. Then, after a short picnic, we set out on the serious portion of the trail: a few miles of steep uphill climb on steps with treads so narrow that even a number 7 size shoe does not fit on it, requiring one to walk upstairs at an angle so as to place the whole foot on the step. The raisers are often higher than the tread is deep, and the edges of the steps are frequently eroded, creating a slope rather than discretely molded steps. These difficulties of the trail were partly compensated for by the rails that were constructed all along it—indeed, I found welcome purchase to pull myself up with one hand, while the other arm was pushing the hiking pole for additional support. After a while of this, I almost entered a hypnotic state of slow, methodical, rhythmic movement: right foot, left foot, hand pulling, other hand pushing with pole…. 

Sweating profusely, we quickly gained altitude and soon saw the valley ground recede below us. We met only about two or three other hikers coming down toward us on this stretch (as well as, incongruously, one police officer stationed at a lonely outpost where he’d watch a handful of hikers pass all day). Approximately two hours later, we arrived at the Fairy Walking Bridge and shot a number of pictures there, as it was such a marvelous spot. The bridge is another triumph of Chinese trail building, as the path spans a deep chasm, beginning and ending in a tunnel dug through the rock. Standing on this bridge, one really feels like being part of a fantasy movie set. 

After the Fairy Bridge, my most favorite part of the trail begins. Here the scenery turns from nice to awesome, both in terms of the charming details like a little fir tree that found a foothold of life in the midst of a smooth slab of rock, and in terms of the grand amphitheater of the West Sea Canyon that lay spread out in front of our eyes. 

Straining our eyes, we could even see in the far distance the twisting line of the trail that we had descended to the canyon floor earlier. The trail now follows the knife edge of a long ridge, delicately perched between two valleys with great views on either side. Here also is the place where I had taken the picture last May that now hangs in Liang’s office. That picture is focused around a bright red wild azalea shrub growing on a narrow ledge in the rock. The new one is focused on another beauty.

When we arrived at Baiyun hotel, which is also the top station of the funicular, we were four and a half hours into the hike and started to feel a little tired. Also, truth be told, it felt strange to be back in the hustling and bustling crowds after having traversed a long stretch of pristine nature in almost complete silence and blessed solitude. At this point we decided to make a little detour: instead of heading directly to Bright Peak and thus making our way back home by the most direct, efficient way, we proceeded toward Turtle Peak, in the opposite direction of our loop. This was a good decision because the scenery subtly changed to reveal the yellowish, rounded boulder piles which are Lotus and Celestial peaks bathed in the late afternoon sunlight, truly a privileged view to behold. 

The sun was sloping toward the horizon now, and we calculated that if we made our way home directly, we’d arrive at the sunset lookout place at about the right time. Bright Peak, which we reached about 40 minutes later, was bustling with people and echoing with blaring loudspeakers, and we did not dwell there. Instead, we headed toward Flying Rock to watch the sunset from that perch. We picked a spot just a few hundred meters above Flying Rock and had the pleasure of being only in the company of a group of birds that excitedly hopped around on the ground and flew back and forth, while the silence was broken only by the most beautiful bird song. The birds looked a bit like blue jays, except larger and with longer tails. The sun was slowly dipping into a blueish haze now, and as it did, it changed color to become a dim reddish disc, so that one could look directly into it. The whole view was framed by the descending skyline of a nearby ridge and encircled by branches of long-needled pine trees. Marvelous.

As soon as the sun hit the horizon, it got instantly chilly and the wind picked up. This was our signal to head down the last bit of trail and make our way quickly to Xihai in the remaining daylight, while the sky above us lit up in intense hues of orange-yellow afterglow. We arrived at the hotel at 6:30 pm, just in time for an early dinner that we were more than ready for.