3-Day Self-Driving Tour on the Southern Anhui Sichuan-Tibet Highway
Where to spend the three-day Mid-Autumn Festival holiday? Northern Zhejiang or Southern Anhui? Starting from my city, the distances to both places are similar; the local customs and natural scenery are also quite alike, both being beautiful and picturesque. If going to Zhejiang, Huzhou is too close, and I have visited Hangzhou many times; a weekend is enough for these two places. Further south, places like Ningbo, Wenzhou, and Taizhou are a bit too far for driving. Wenzhou doesn't seem worth revisiting. What about Fuyang or Dongyang? I visited these two places 20 years ago and had great impressions. While I was hesitating, I came across an old article about the 'Southern Anhui Sichuan-Tibet Highway,' which suddenly changed my mind: I decided to go to Southern Anhui.
The eastern entrance of the Southern Anhui Sichuan-Tibet Highway is in Ningguo County, Xuancheng; the western entrance is in Jing County; the northern entrance is in Xuanzhou District. We entered from the eastern entrance. The entrance is narrow, allowing only two cars to carefully pass each other, with many motorcyclists weaving through wearing cool helmets, twisting the throttle and flashing by.
The uniqueness of the Sichuan-Tibet Highway is not just the narrow roads. The rugged mountains, the varied streams, and the beautiful forests along the way make this route extremely suitable for self-driving and cycling.
There are many S-curves and hairpin turns. When making sharp turns, the navigation warns you to turn sharply left and beware of oncoming traffic. But you can't see oncoming cars because it's a steep uphill slope—they are on a different plane. So while stepping on the gas to climb, you crank the steering wheel hard to the left, sitting upright with your nerves on edge. Following the winding narrow lane, it feels like a ribbon casually tossed by a fairy onto the mountainside, twisting and fluttering, sometimes disappearing into the deep green bamboo groves.
At wider spots, there are viewing platforms for visitors. Walking down a few steps from the platform, you suddenly encounter a calm water surface—mountain streams converge here, the deepest barely reaching below the calf. The stones at the bottom must have fallen from nearby slopes, smoothed by years of stream flow, covered with moss, slippery underfoot. Take a few more steps, and you might end up sitting in the water—the moss on those stones sways in the water, oblivious; a family of wild ducks nearby just glance over, turn around, and paddle away on their little feet.
We passed a bald cypress forest, still green now. Later in late autumn, the green feathers of the cypress will turn orange-red, very spectacular. Nature is the boldest painter—indigo and vermilion, two jarring colors, placed together without transition, deliberately making an impression on viewers.
This summer has been especially hot with little rain. Where streams flow, there are shallow shoals, and in many places, pebbles are baking in the sun. Some water activities, like drifting at Moon Bay Scenic Area, once over 2 kilometers of water, have been shortened to 300 meters. In other areas, all-day drifting has been limited to certain hours, waiting until enough tourists gather before releasing water from upstream reservoirs.
My destination was the 'Ink Painting Tingxi Scenic Area' located in Danankeng Village, Tingxi Township, Jing County, Xuancheng, Anhui. Along the way, the 120-kilometer route, except for sheer cliffs, every village we passed seemed to have every household running a guesthouse. From the outside, each was nicely decorated, some with upturned eaves and pavilions, others with rocking chairs and hammocks. All without exception had large, clean floor-to-ceiling windows where blue sky and white clouds lingered.
With such a massive number of guesthouses, under current conditions, they are definitely operating at a loss. From my walks in the village, there were very few tourists. I wonder when the money spent on renovations will be recouped.
The inn we stayed at was named 'Between Water and Clouds' (Shuijianjian). I loved the name, so familiar. Was the landlady also a fan of Chiung Yao? I asked, and indeed she is, just one year older than me. Besides this inn, she also runs a smaller guesthouse higher in the mountains near her parents' home. This inn is rented from the neighboring Danankeng Village Committee building.
We took a photo together; I am big and she is small. Despite her small build, she is really efficient! The inn is spotlessly clean inside and out. Although the renovation was done five years ago, all facilities look new: white curtains are clean, windowsills have no dust, shower curtains are smooth without a single drop of water. Due to the prolonged pandemic, there are very few guests; she can no longer afford to hire helpers. Now she does the cleaning for more than twenty rooms on two floors herself, and she also cooks for guests. At the busiest time, she used to employ six to seven workers.
The white building is nestled among green mountains. At night, opening the window, it's so cool! At that moment, I understood what 'night cool as water' means. The village has only one main road—the one coming from Jing County. At night, no cars pass, no streetlights, the sky is a piece of ink, and the only sounds are autumn insects chirping and the murmur of flowing water. The night is too quiet, so quiet that it keeps you awake.
Morning was announced by roosters crowing near and far. The landlady was cooking breakfast. She said, 'The tea garden next door is nice; you can take a walk there. Breakfast will be ready when you come back.'
This tea garden is a star enterprise of the township, owned by Lühuan Company, with their hotel next to it. Early in the morning, when the mist had not yet dissipated, I met a pretty little hen on the mountain path. She seemed troubled: this person might catch me. Should I fly into the nearby woods? There were companions cooing and pecking on the ground. But between the path and the woods was a drainage ditch about a meter deep—for this cautious hen, it might as well be a chasm. She looked down, stepped back a few times, wanting to jump but afraid. Finally, fear of humans overcame fear of heights. As I approached, she flapped and flew into the woods, instantly hidden by dense green leaves.
Lanxiang tea is a local green tea, named because the leaves unfold in water like orchid blossoms. Anhui has many mountains and streams, with a warm and humid climate; many famous teas are produced here: Huangshan Maofeng, Qimen Black Tea, Liu'an Guapian. I brewed a cup of this year's April tea; the liquor is light, but the aftereffect is strong. From morning to afternoon, I drank two water bottles' worth, walked the whole day until my legs were sore, but late into the night my eyes were wide open like copper bells, and I was full of energy.
The Ink Painting Tingxi Scenic Area originally charged an entrance fee of 50 yuan, but now it's free. When I asked the landlady, she said, 'We had a disagreement with the village! With so few visitors now, charging tickets would drive even fewer people away. It's been free since this spring.'
This place is worth spending a whole day wandering around. I borrowed the landlady's electric scooter and rode into the mountains. The road was too narrow; occasionally, cars from the east end met cars from the west end, unable to pass simultaneously, so they had to go back and forth, carefully looking for a wide enough spot to inch past each other.
The water is not deep; taking off shoes and socks, walking barefoot on the streambed is truly delightful. At 3 p.m., some tourists set up a table on a shoal, playing cards with their feet in the stream. It reminded me of an anecdote: in summer, at Dujiangyan, people set up mahjong tables by the river, soaking their feet in the cool water.
There is a section called 'Southern Anhui Shu Road' (Shu is an ancient name for Sichuan) in the scenic area. It's about 2 kilometers long, a winding iron ladder with extremely steep slopes. Between each step you can see the cliff below, treetops far beneath. The higher you climb, the more timid you become. With a pounding heart, you reach the viewpoint at the end. The sky is clear, the glass floor beneath is bright—strangely, it doesn't feel scary. The mountain wind howls, giving a feeling of 'wanting to ride the wind away.'
The Shu Road ticket is 75 yuan per person; after the glass walkway, you can either walk down or slide down (30 yuan per person). The up-and-down hike takes about an hour, but sliding takes only 2 to 10 minutes (depending on your own speed). After putting on special sliding pants, gloves, and foot covers, you sit on a winding marble slide. The staff gives a slight push, and off you go! Lean back, like an arrow—accelerate; sit up, keep your body vertical or lean forward, lightly touch the channel walls with your feet to slow down. I used to think only kids liked slides and didn't understand their endless joy. Having tried it myself, I finally realized how much fun it is—truly delightful!
The water quality in Tingxi is excellent—tea brewed with it tastes good, chickens raised here are plump, loofahs are sweet, fried eggs are fragrant, dried bamboo shoots are tender and delicious. Living in such an environment, maybe my lung nodules and thoracic aortic sclerosis would disappear?
According to the landlady, many people here live past 90. Yesterday they were working in the fields, and overnight they passed away peacefully. Such cases are common—almost no one lingers sick in bed for years. If given a choice, I believe most people would prefer such a calm way to depart.
I am a difficult-to-please tourist—I found Lianyungang too crude and disliked everything from hygiene to service. Yet I am also the easiest to please—this trip to Southern Anhui was extremely satisfying! With a curious mind, I felt beautiful scenery everywhere and new experiences at every moment, satisfied with everything from accommodation to service, from food to water quality, from scenery to recreational activities.
'Only Mount Jingting never tires of looking at me, nor I of it.' It shows how important it is that we take a liking to each other.
