We took a two night trip to the rural farming village nestled in the valley of Binglang after our time at the karsts. We were glad to venture off the beaten path for a bit and bright and early the day after our arrival we set out with a guide for the caves.
Our hostel was brand new, and I mean window-not-installed-yet new. During the day and into evening the ambiance was unique as we studied and relaxed to the sound of excavators and plummers sawing pipes.
Our hostess provided first class home cooked meals alfresco and it was while having a multi dish breakfast of rice porridge and fried rice when our guide strolled up. He must have been in his late 40s, short in stature and had a steady, calm and confident demeanor. It was apparent in the way he scrambled over boulders and loose earth at the mouth of the first shallow cave with the ease of a billy goat that he knew the terrain as well as the back of his own sturdy leathered hands.
The first cave we arrived at was more of a natural arch no less than 50 feet across and wide.
The walls were peppered with the scars rock climber’s anchors had left in the surface and climbers footprints were left undisturbed in the dust.
We cleared the cave and were instantly transported into a secret realm, concealed from all but the eye of the beholder. The valley floor was wide and lush and and beautiful pattern stained the gentle chasm’s walls. Our guide led us steadily forward into the onminous shadow in the rocks ahead. Entering it eerily reminded me of crawling down the gullet of the earth. It was cool and dark in the mouth but as we penetrated deeper into the throat, other than the trickle of water, it became deathly quiet, for we where more than 6 feet under. The weak beams of the flashlights would go a short distance before it vanished from our vision, overwhelmed by the endless darkness. The five of us had 3 flashlights together. Nick and I felt our way through the darkness without much guidance.
Our hands were our eyes, guiding us over invisible rocks and streams we couldn’t see. Once in a while our guide would stop us to point out some neat formations formed by dripping water and minerals. The cave itself was about a kilometer long. It wasn’t as grand in size and formations as Kentucky’s Mammoth Caves but the independent feeling of not staying on a lit path with plaques everywhere and the fact that you could actually get lost and die in there made it more magnificent, at least in my opinion. When we crouched, almost crawled to reach the exit, our eyes had little time to adapt to all the light even though we were still out of the sun’s direct light on an overcast day.
The ferns reaching for the light in the mouth of the cave were backlit just so that they appeared to have a radioactive glow to them, and we stopped to admire the resilient flora more than once, which was an excuse to catch our breath as we traversed the faint path back into the valley. It was quite a humid hike back to our hotel on foot, most of it was through brush and rice paddies with limited water. We really enjoyed our excursion to the country but there wasn’t anything to do for many miles, not even a convenience store to buy snacks, and the next morning we caught the early bus, bound for the river town of Fenghuang.
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