Partner Games
Page 50
It really was. Huangshan was like something out of a movie. It was early, so there were thick layers of misty fog amongst the hills. Pretty green trees were everywhere, and dotting the pathways and lower tree branches were red ribbons and locks of all kinds. It was a bit like a fairy tale, and in my sleep-deprived, travel-weary state, it was soothing to look upon.
“Maybe we should just follow the other tourists and ask questions?” Georgie said. She approached a nearby man with a guide. “Ni hao,” she greeted him with a wave. “We’re looking for the Hot Springs?”
The man didn’t know, but two other tourists had a map, and we studied it for a bit before heading off with them to the Tourist Pavilion.
We passed another tree covered in red ribbons. “I wonder what they mean?” I asked. They had Chinese words written on them, but I couldn’t read a lick of it.
“I borrowed some guy’s phone on the plane and read that they symbolize the deaths of people that fall from the paths here.” Plate sounded unconcerned. “Kinda cool, huh?”
I shot Swift an alarmed look. “Not cool. Not cool at all.” I was already a bit worried. It seemed that Huangshan was a tourism hotspot because of its steep mountain paths. There was supposed to be an incredible view at the summit.
I did not plan on making it to the summit, because I did not like heights. So I prayed that everything we’d be doing was at the base of the mountain. I had my doubts, but I hoped.
After walking up a tree-lined path, we spotted the tourist area. “This is so pretty!” I exclaimed as we approached. Steaming pools of water surrounded a small yellow building with a bright red, squarish roof. Trees dotted the path and mist curled around the building. It was like nothing back in the United States, and I loved the sight of it. I kept holding my monocle up to my eye so I could see more of the wonders that Huangshan had to offer.
“We’re not here for pretty,” Swift reminded me.
Right. We were here for the race.
Off to one side was a stand with the World Races logo. Standing next to a stack of disks was a woman in a bright red gown with huge sleeves and a high mandarin-style collar. She had a bright blue ornate headdress that was spiky with flowers and beads.
“Over there!” Georgie cried, racing for the mat.
We all piled onto it at the same time, startling the woman. “Ni hao,” she told us in greeting, holding out two disks.
“Xiexie,” Georgie said. Thank you. We repeated her, all thanking the woman and then racing off with our disks so we could read them in private.
“Man, I hope there’s some serious Chinese food challenge up in here,” Plate said. “I’m fuckin’ starving.”
“Shhh,” Georgie said, and began to read.
Welcome to Huangshan! The Yellow Mountain is one of the most scenic places in all of China, and is a mountain sacred to the Tao religion. You will need to get to the top of the mountain for your next challenge, and to do so you must climb the many steps of Huangshan. There are two paths – the Eastern Steps, and the Western Steps. You must decide which one you will take and purchase tickets. One is short but not scenic, and one is scenic but much longer. All told, there are over sixty thousand steps on the mountain.
Look for your next clue at the summit of the North Peak.
Please note that the cable cars are off limits to racers.
I groaned. “We can’t take the cable cars?” I watched one cross overhead. It looked scary, but a lot safer than going up the mountain ourselves. “Sixty thousand steps? Are they kidding me?”
“It’ll be fine,” Georgie said quickly. “We’ll take the shorter path and go slow if we have to. No worries. You guys ready?” She looked at the two men.
Plate rubbed his stomach. “I’m starving.”
“We’ll eat on the way up,” Swift said. “I’ve got some protein bars. We need to get going. This place is crowded and is only going to get more crowded, and we don’t want to get stuck with the other teams.” He turned to me and squeezed my hand. “You going to be okay with climbing?”
“Do I have a choice?” My voice was wobbly.
He gave me an apologetic grin. “No?”
Yeah, that was kinda what I figured.
~~ * * * ~~
We asked around (and took photos with a few tourists, because they recognized Georgie) and found out that the Eastern Steps were the much shorter trail. It was less than five miles, whereas the Western Steps – the one with the beautiful, scenic routes that everyone raved about – was over nine miles.
Nine miles of climbing stairs? No thank you. I didn’t care how good the view was. Swift and Plate were in agreement – the shorter path was the way to go.
We bought our tickets and started climbing.
At first, it wasn’t so bad. There were lots of tourists and the stairs were gradual, and the trees lined every path. It was pretty, and the early morning weather was cool. But as the day wore on and the stairs got even steeper, the sun got higher in the sky and things grew warmer. The crowds were noisy and stifling, and people jostled each other, pausing to take pictures of a particularly pretty rock formation or a tree. Red ribbons were everywhere, and I remembered what Plate had said – that they stood for each person that had died. Surely that couldn’t be right, could it? There was no way.
But the thought of it still made me antsy.
A food porter walked up one side of the narrow path with two bags hanging from a pole across his shoulders, and as he walked, people purchased water and snacks from him. We did, too, because we were starving.
“Is it a bad sign if they’re selling food along the climb?” Georgie asked me.
“Yes,” I said flatly. Yes, it was.
We continued climbing. The stairs grew steeper, at one point carved into an almost sheer cliff with nothing but chains to hold onto as a railing. I whimpered, closed my eyes, and clung to the rock. Swift moved to the outside and encouraged me as I climbed, but it was rough, especially knowing that we had impatient tourists waiting behind us.
I thought we’d never make it to the top. After about three and a half hours, countless stairs, and my legs wanting to fall off out of sheer pain, we reached the summit.
I collapsed on the cobbled pavilion and stretched out under a tree. “Can’t…walk…another…step,” I moaned, my legs cramping. “Leave me behind.”
Swift chuckled and extended a hand down to me. “Come on. We’re almost there.”
Yeah, we were almost to our next challenge. Whoopee. With a groan, I let him help me up and didn’t protest when he swung my bag onto his shoulder again. I was being a bit of a baby this round, but I didn’t care. I was a scholar. I had no leg muscles, damn it. The elevation this high up made sucking in deep lungfuls of air difficult. I leaned down and rubbed one aching calf before falling in step with the others.
We hunted around, looking for the World Races clue-stop amidst the throngs of tourists. There were, strangely enough, hotels atop the mountain and lots of scenic places to take pictures. Of course, the ever-present red ribbons were covering the trees and handrails as well, which wigged me out.
I spotted something bright blue and peered around a backpacker. “Over there!” I said, pointing. “I think that’s another girl like below!”
“Maybe we should just follow the other tourists and ask questions?” Georgie said. She approached a nearby man with a guide. “Ni hao,” she greeted him with a wave. “We’re looking for the Hot Springs?”
The man didn’t know, but two other tourists had a map, and we studied it for a bit before heading off with them to the Tourist Pavilion.
We passed another tree covered in red ribbons. “I wonder what they mean?” I asked. They had Chinese words written on them, but I couldn’t read a lick of it.
“I borrowed some guy’s phone on the plane and read that they symbolize the deaths of people that fall from the paths here.” Plate sounded unconcerned. “Kinda cool, huh?”
I shot Swift an alarmed look. “Not cool. Not cool at all.” I was already a bit worried. It seemed that Huangshan was a tourism hotspot because of its steep mountain paths. There was supposed to be an incredible view at the summit.
I did not plan on making it to the summit, because I did not like heights. So I prayed that everything we’d be doing was at the base of the mountain. I had my doubts, but I hoped.
After walking up a tree-lined path, we spotted the tourist area. “This is so pretty!” I exclaimed as we approached. Steaming pools of water surrounded a small yellow building with a bright red, squarish roof. Trees dotted the path and mist curled around the building. It was like nothing back in the United States, and I loved the sight of it. I kept holding my monocle up to my eye so I could see more of the wonders that Huangshan had to offer.
“We’re not here for pretty,” Swift reminded me.
Right. We were here for the race.
Off to one side was a stand with the World Races logo. Standing next to a stack of disks was a woman in a bright red gown with huge sleeves and a high mandarin-style collar. She had a bright blue ornate headdress that was spiky with flowers and beads.
“Over there!” Georgie cried, racing for the mat.
We all piled onto it at the same time, startling the woman. “Ni hao,” she told us in greeting, holding out two disks.
“Xiexie,” Georgie said. Thank you. We repeated her, all thanking the woman and then racing off with our disks so we could read them in private.
“Man, I hope there’s some serious Chinese food challenge up in here,” Plate said. “I’m fuckin’ starving.”
“Shhh,” Georgie said, and began to read.
Welcome to Huangshan! The Yellow Mountain is one of the most scenic places in all of China, and is a mountain sacred to the Tao religion. You will need to get to the top of the mountain for your next challenge, and to do so you must climb the many steps of Huangshan. There are two paths – the Eastern Steps, and the Western Steps. You must decide which one you will take and purchase tickets. One is short but not scenic, and one is scenic but much longer. All told, there are over sixty thousand steps on the mountain.
Look for your next clue at the summit of the North Peak.
Please note that the cable cars are off limits to racers.
I groaned. “We can’t take the cable cars?” I watched one cross overhead. It looked scary, but a lot safer than going up the mountain ourselves. “Sixty thousand steps? Are they kidding me?”
“It’ll be fine,” Georgie said quickly. “We’ll take the shorter path and go slow if we have to. No worries. You guys ready?” She looked at the two men.
Plate rubbed his stomach. “I’m starving.”
“We’ll eat on the way up,” Swift said. “I’ve got some protein bars. We need to get going. This place is crowded and is only going to get more crowded, and we don’t want to get stuck with the other teams.” He turned to me and squeezed my hand. “You going to be okay with climbing?”
“Do I have a choice?” My voice was wobbly.
He gave me an apologetic grin. “No?”
Yeah, that was kinda what I figured.
~~ * * * ~~
We asked around (and took photos with a few tourists, because they recognized Georgie) and found out that the Eastern Steps were the much shorter trail. It was less than five miles, whereas the Western Steps – the one with the beautiful, scenic routes that everyone raved about – was over nine miles.
Nine miles of climbing stairs? No thank you. I didn’t care how good the view was. Swift and Plate were in agreement – the shorter path was the way to go.
We bought our tickets and started climbing.
At first, it wasn’t so bad. There were lots of tourists and the stairs were gradual, and the trees lined every path. It was pretty, and the early morning weather was cool. But as the day wore on and the stairs got even steeper, the sun got higher in the sky and things grew warmer. The crowds were noisy and stifling, and people jostled each other, pausing to take pictures of a particularly pretty rock formation or a tree. Red ribbons were everywhere, and I remembered what Plate had said – that they stood for each person that had died. Surely that couldn’t be right, could it? There was no way.
But the thought of it still made me antsy.
A food porter walked up one side of the narrow path with two bags hanging from a pole across his shoulders, and as he walked, people purchased water and snacks from him. We did, too, because we were starving.
“Is it a bad sign if they’re selling food along the climb?” Georgie asked me.
“Yes,” I said flatly. Yes, it was.
We continued climbing. The stairs grew steeper, at one point carved into an almost sheer cliff with nothing but chains to hold onto as a railing. I whimpered, closed my eyes, and clung to the rock. Swift moved to the outside and encouraged me as I climbed, but it was rough, especially knowing that we had impatient tourists waiting behind us.
I thought we’d never make it to the top. After about three and a half hours, countless stairs, and my legs wanting to fall off out of sheer pain, we reached the summit.
I collapsed on the cobbled pavilion and stretched out under a tree. “Can’t…walk…another…step,” I moaned, my legs cramping. “Leave me behind.”
Swift chuckled and extended a hand down to me. “Come on. We’re almost there.”
Yeah, we were almost to our next challenge. Whoopee. With a groan, I let him help me up and didn’t protest when he swung my bag onto his shoulder again. I was being a bit of a baby this round, but I didn’t care. I was a scholar. I had no leg muscles, damn it. The elevation this high up made sucking in deep lungfuls of air difficult. I leaned down and rubbed one aching calf before falling in step with the others.
We hunted around, looking for the World Races clue-stop amidst the throngs of tourists. There were, strangely enough, hotels atop the mountain and lots of scenic places to take pictures. Of course, the ever-present red ribbons were covering the trees and handrails as well, which wigged me out.
I spotted something bright blue and peered around a backpacker. “Over there!” I said, pointing. “I think that’s another girl like below!”
