Letter from China: A smorgasbord of outdoor pursuits across Guilin's karst peaks

by Xinhua writer Tian Zijun

NANNING, Oct. 16 (Xinhua) -- In Yangshuo, a county under the administration of Guilin City in south China's Guangxi Zhuang Autonomous Region, rugged limestone towers thrust upward like the fingers of slumbering giants, beckoning bold and curious climbers to test their mettle against the earth's unique features.

It was late in this year's unseasonably warm summer when I found myself in the rugged corner of the region, famed for the raw beauty of its karst peaks and its popularity as a location for idyllic rural retreats. The air was thick with the hum of cicadas, river mist and the scent of sweet osmanthus, the area's signature flora.

I had come chasing what had become Guilin's most audacious draw: a smorgasbord of outdoor pursuits amid karst peaks that have transformed a once-sleepy rural setting into a global magnet for adventurers.

What unfolded was not mere recreation but revelation. With its sun-dappled trails and vertigo-inducing heights, Guilin offers visitors a sense of elation. And an economic renaissance is taking place across its winding rivers and vertical hills, where pedaling bikers and ascending rock climbers tell a story of a booming tourism sector.

My expedition began at Moon Hill, an iconic limestone arch whose first route was bolted by legendary American climber Todd Skinner in the 1990s, sparking a flourishing rock-climbing scene that earned the town its reputation as China's Yosemite.

Wang Kun, a recent college graduate and my guide, meticulously inspected the steel cables of a via ferrata route -- a fixed-cable system that democratizes this niche sport for novices. In recent years, its popularity has exploded via social media, drawing families and thrill-seekers alike.

After a short, uneventful haul up the aptly named Sky Ladder, I reached the bolted route. Pre-placed anchors along the rough rock face and a creaking safety harness were my allies as I labored toward a designated spot. There, a steel-bolted wooden plank protruding from the rock face offered a brief respite, allowing me to capture my daring exploit with drones before I began the final rapid descent back to the start of my route.

For a first-timer like myself, the experience was a visceral reminder of why climbers speak of "flow," which triggers a state of hyper-focus amid perceived peril.

From the summit, the appeal of my endeavor was readily apparent. The drop below me sharpened with every move, and the view was a breathtaking panorama of green spires and Lijiang River tributaries coiling like silver threads -- a sight that has lured poets for centuries, and now attracts massive crowds.

"That was the easy mode," said Liu Yongbang, an elite climber who, along with his wife, has set up shop in Yangshuo to coach children to scale the rocks. "The multitude of mountains here offer all types of climbing experiences, from the bolted ease of via ferratas to traditional routes requiring delicate footwork and years of professional training."

From beginner slabs to awe-inspiring overhangs graded up to a difficulty of 5.14, which indicates extreme difficulty, the more than 70 crags and 1,200 routes of Yangshuo's karst hills are a climber's dream.

The data underscores the climbing surge. Yangshuo now attracts over 200,000 climbers annually -- a leap fueled partly by the sport's inclusion in the Olympics and partly by a post-pandemic desire for outdoor escapes, according to local authorities.

Tourism here is often associated with "painless" activities like rafting and sightseeing, but it has pivoted toward more personalized adventure-based experiences, with climbing and paragliding taking center stage.

Yet this growth also invites anxiety. The environmental strains of tourism have prompted actions to promote sustainability, like the Yangshuo Climbing Association's mediation work between visiting climbers and locals to safeguard routes from being overdeveloped.

To gauge the local sentiment, I sought out business owners in the area. At a cliffside cafe, I met Curry Chen, a local restaurateur and the owner of several hostels, who explained that locals and climbing enthusiasts began bolting crags in the late 1990s after foreign visitors introduced them to the sport.

"Climbing brought the world here," Chen said, gesturing a chalk-dusted hand toward the peaks. "Locals used to lease out land to outsiders who were well-versed in monetizing outdoor activities, but now we guide, we bolt, we peddle. It's the growth pattern we rely on."

Chen's account echoes a broader shift. Thanks to the foreign pioneers who first came to scale these peaks three decades ago and the Chinese enthusiasts who now preside over Yangshuo's karst landforms, which account for nearly a quarter of the country's climbing routes, a slew of businesses have sprung up, including gear stores, hostels and training providers.

"We have seen a growing number of urbanites opting to move to the crags," Liu said. "For some, the state of 'flow' induced by climbing is a perfect break from their daily routines. And this pursuit is not solitary -- it is a communal rite, blending physical exertion with the poetic stillness of the land's scenery."

His words also highlight a local employment boom, with thousands of residents now tied to the scene.

On Jiuping Hill -- more widely known among climbers as the "wine bottle cliff" and the site of the area's annual climbing festival in 2016 -- I met Alex, a British expat who shared my sentiments.

"It's not just the routes, it's the community," he said. "My kid built courage on via ferratas, and he's working his way up to become a pro."

Locals like Zhang Mei, who works at a gear shop and is from a nearby village, brim with enthusiasm: "Climbers bring cash, jobs and global reputation to our hometown."

Later, when I was paragliding from a peak, the canopy opened and the crags became a dizzying mosaic. I reflected on Yangshuo's ascent on China's outdoor adventure scene. From Skinner's first route in the 1990s to the 1,200 routes that exist today, climbing has recast local tourism by injecting yet more vitality into the rural landscape.

It is a pattern: adventure fuels prosperity. And ongoing initiatives to create more family-oriented activities promise even broader reach. ■