railway

Summer ’25: VII – Dali (again) x Nanning

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A cuddly panda left behind. It needed rescuing. A stop in Dali was a necessity. Between wanders to temples and another cable car ride, things were taken easy, in a way holidays should be taken. Slowly and steady.

Stomach bugs are horrid. Talking on the porcelain telephone to the Almight above between vomiting and laying liquid pooh at a dramatic rate is no fun. A day of rest and little else felt like a waste. Sometimes you have to stay still to move forwards. Such crappy days demand rest. And water. Lots and lots of water. No matter how much was drank and how much medicine, it didn’t seem to shift. Until it shifted. And then it took a day for an appetite to reappear.

Cable car ride two (Zhonghe ropeway) required dangling legs and the breeze in our hair. The climb upwards had close views of squirrels on treetops and butterflies drifting below. At the summit of the ride, midway up Cangshan’s slopes, the Zhonghe Temple spreads across, underneath a relatively level footpath stretching for miles in each direction. The Cloud Pass (or Jade Belt Road) pathway runs for 20km (12.5 miles). Crossing waterfalls, jutting views, and numerous pools of water make the walk through fresh air and greenery a pleasant one.

Yunnan is famous for its connection to Tibetan living, Buddhist beliefs, cats, and nature. The mountains, valleys, and produce of the region are all closer to nature than other Chinese provinces. Behind the commercial fronts, there is a more open conversation being had, and with that more freedoms. It is rare to see women smoking, same-sex relationships, or plentiful pet dogs and cats around China’s huge cities and metropolitan areas. In Yunnan’s Dali and Shangri-la, this is the norm. Old values and West met East refusing to let go. The attraction of Yunnan is visible and bold. Fresh air and nature invite tourism and migration. This Tibetan plateau is much more than a tourist spot. It makes you feel. Connection never switches off.

A journey to Nanning would break our return to Guangdong. A late night arrival and a late morning departure made finding a hotel close to the station essential to the plan. If you enjoy living underground like the Teenage Murant Ninja Turtles, then Geli hotel is for you. Located in the shiny expanse of the Nanning East Railway Station there is little reason to see daylight again. A choice of late nights foods, drinks, and delivery services help you to chill deeper underground.

The railway check in level is just above the lair, so be prepared for bright light when you choose to resurface. A decent room with an unusual view behind massive curtains. Expect comfortable beds and a decent rainforest effect shower. The toilet pumps are a tad loud, like the underground railway system, but sleep comes as easy as a fox in a den. With sleep in the bag our 1128 train to Guangzhou South was easy. The 17 minutes to transfer at the other end was a tad tight. All in all, we did it. We connected well. Job done.

From wanders on high to hours on trains, the pleasantries of travel made way for return.

Summer ’25: III – Bamboozled

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Treated by family to a spot of travel and unwinding, we set off from a station nearly an hour from the place of residence.

In Guangdong, like many cities in China, you can drive by taxi for an hour and not leave the jurisdiction of that same city. Not even close. So, we arrived at station one, departed for station two, and arrived at station three in Yangshuo. 300 miles [482km] travelled across 2 hours and 42 minutes. Or further than London, and quicker than any British railway journey. Huizhou is massive at around 4,217 square miles [10,922 km²]. It is substantially large compared to neighbouring Dongguan, Shenzhen, and Guangzhou. A formidable region to navigate.

Badly Drawn Boy’s Everybody’s Stalking marked the train journey’s early moments through the tunnels of Guangxi. Through fine lyrics befitting the view out of train D1814’s window, the train rolled into the Karst-mountain surroundings of Yángshuò (阳朔). A quick lift from our hotel owner seen us dropped off at the digs, 阳朔源园饭店（20元人民币风景区店) 兴坪镇画山厄根底村76号, which is with Ergendi village. A bag of huángpí (黄皮) wampees (Clausena lansium) followed a delicious dinner. The grape-sized fragrant fruit, with a large seed core, sat well on a belly of bamboo-cooked sticky rice, some baby bamboo shoots, and pork sliced between taro. After seeing the cormorant fishing birds posing, the Li River (漓江Lí Jiāng) flower, and a multitude of tourist boats, nightfall followed a heavy storm. Bedtime soon followed.

Seems like many paradise regions become Piccadilly Gardens: that once flowery bowl of sunshine now covered in concrete and steel. The village of XingPing, near Yangshuo, has undertaken drastic growth in little over two decades, and really symbolised the idiom rén shān rén hǎi (人山人海) or people mountain, people sea. Allegedly the river Li below flows with over 215 cubic metres per sec9nd. The people on the shores seemed equally dense. Photographers, fashion people, tourists, local canvassers, and every manner of people seemed to congest the tiny footpaths of XingPing (兴坪) village.

We had a plastic bamboo raft trip upstream on the Li river, savouring the humongous Karst peaks and bends of the powerful river. More food, including a full chicken boiled in a soup within a bamboo tune followed. Plenty of wandering was had. Sadly, without speedy legs, the waterfall pond, Pubutang and Tiger Mountain Waterfall shall have to wait. Our train outwards to Guiyang was caught on time.

Guiyang straddles the eastern edge of the Yunnan-Guizhou Plateau and is apparently around 1100m [3600′] in altitude which may seem debatable as you traverse districts. The roads resemble Spaghetti Junction in Birmingham (England) with bridges crisscrossing lengthy tunnels and slopes throughout the surface routes. A decent subway and rail system serves the city and outer region. The Yelang valley was a pleasure to visit, a truly unique and hidden gem within China. Twenty years were taken for the recreation of an ancient culture. The stone sculptures and artwork are fantastic. Song Peilun’s vision is a highly recommended visit. Oh, and we saw a monkey at the Qianling Mountain Park, having clambered a large peak and being consumed by a passing storm. That was fun.

Return of the Bus Journey

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No plan survives contact with the scheduled 76 bus. Nor the second timetabled bus. Arriving late into town meant one of two things. The 192 bus or a train. The train is the quicker option to Stockport. The price, a modest £5.30 one way, demanded a mortgage. The things you do to try to get to work on time. Cycling is off.

Having missed the 0748 Manchester to Bredbury train, I tried to slingshot ahead of the later service arriving to Bredbury at 0835. Sadly, the bus at Stockport’s Heaton Lane bus station was scheduled for 0835, too. Murphy’s Law. My cursed aching muscles and sudden varicose vein development on the right leg suddenly became weighted against a potentially exhausting bike ride to work the next day.

Having rang work to say I’d be late, I questioned how getting up earlier to arrive at work later made sense. This is Britain, formerly Great Britain. The new Manchester Bee Network for public transport is the least integrated and most underwhelming range of services known to mankind. People in Himalayan foothills have more reliable public transport options. Adding a rebrand to buses, trains, and trams in Manchester makes as much sense as being a Public Relations officer for Suella Braverman. Lifestyle choices, my arse.

Better late than never? I want to work. I enjoy my job. Today, however, I still feel worn down, lethargic, and done in. Still, it could be much worse. Jules Verne could turn this morning’s journey into an adventure. Likewise, it could be much better. Here’s to a blessed week.

Village Station

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The driver of the taxi asked why I was heading out so early. I had told him the train time. He replied, I was “going to station with nothing there.” I said all was well. He repeated that the South station was bigger. The North station is new. Nothing there.

On arrival, I exited the car and strode into the mammoth station. The same station had been visible for miles before. It towered over fields and stood out against the distant mountain backdrop. Construction sights lay to the south. The future, planted over land. Towering carcasses of homes yet to be lived in.

The small station door opened to a gargantuan air-conditioned palace of seats and emptiness. Little life lurked within. A few stragglers ahead of their train sat in the bright space, gloomily surrounded by thoughts and little else. Two places to buy snacks and food shone light outwards. Little else, but the beaming display screens gave any sense of activity. A list of a dozen trains spaced throughout a long barren day highlighting the newness of it all.

After a brief wait, a mouthful of terrible coffee and a chicken-based something or other, I descended to the platforms below. Through one of four gates marked a route to the ten platforms beneath. Four future platforms failed to hide their newness and dust. My gate, 2B, stretched wide before passages led down shiny steps and a string of escalators beating the sound of passage.

The long platform stretched under the concrete mass above. Polished tiles on the footway stretched hundreds of yards each direction. A dozen railway train carriages could fit under here, ten times over. Each tenth of the station could welcome and bid farewell to hordes of people, masses of commuters, and reunite the long divided souls of relationships come and gone.

The platform edge, trimmed in white and yellow, displayed floor electronic information boards, guidance, and warned of peril beyond its edge. Each rail beneath and cable above a guide for the monstrous intercity trains. I watched as the smooth gliding train rolled seamlessly along rails into a wide pit beneath the station platforms. It crept to a silent halt. The few passengers boarded. I waited until last. I stepped on board. The journey begins.