The raft trip from Yangdi to Xingpiang, Yangshuo
We made our way onto a bus down to the small town of Yangdi, approximately 45kms from Guilin. When we were dropped off at the intersection, to where our next bus would take us the final few kilometers to the river, there were groups of local people mixed in with domestic tourists and some extremely loud and brash ladies, who were clearly touts for boat trips down the river. The fact that none of them really spoke much English didn’t putter them from their pitch.
Down by the river the husbands and associates of the female touts loaded passengers into bamboo boats and floated off down the river. The raft trips from here are for two to four people, going down the Li River to Xingping. Getting from there to Yangshuo was pretty straightforward, but returning all the way to Guilin was a tad trickier. The fact that it was Golden Week turned the prospect into an epic. So we weren’t in the market for a trip.
Then we got talking to an English speaking Chinese couple who were hoping to hire a raft to take them half way to Xingping before returning here, as they had arrived in their own car.
After they’d negotiated there price I enquired to the driver how much it would cost plus two (and a half). He of course quoted double (halves go free). But after some negotiating, we were able to tag along for little over the original price, so we offered to split the total cost with the couple and thus hopefully cement our lift home in their car when it came time to leave.
We stopped by at his village for a look around, set in some of the most spectacular riverside scenery you’re ever likely to see. Yet even here it was impossible to escape Golden Weeks chaos.
Most tourists who visit Guilin take ferry boat trips down the river to Yangshuo, from where they are bused back to Guilin. This late in the afternoon we’d assumed they’d all have passed on by as they leave Guilin in the morning. What we hadn’t anticipated was the boats returning back up the river empty; and there were hundreds of them, struggling along against the current, as we floated by.
Following the flotilla back up river was infinitely worse since we were only slightly faster, and for much of the journey, we were in a traffic jam of diesel belching ships. However, it was made infinitely more bearable by the sun’s light show silhouetting the beauty of the magnificent karst setting.
As the raft puttered into the wharf it was pitch black. We dropped a hint by asking the driver if there was any transport at this time to the main road, to which he replied we may be able to get a motorbike taxi. Fortunately our fellow passengers saw the folly and invited us to join them in their Volvo hire car with less than a thousand kms on the clock and gadgets I thought hadn’t even been conceived yet.
After the car’s GPS had safely delivered us the 6 or so kilometers down the single road to the junction we all exited the vehicle in an attempt to find us a ride back to Guilin as, tragically, our friends had a hotel in Yangshuo. Fifteen minutes we stood at the side of the road futilely attempting to flag down a passing bus. This may not sound like a long time and admittedly it isn’t but during it we were passed by easily a hundred coaches and a dozen buses, all obviously delivering those ship passengers from the flotilla, seen out on the river, back to Guilin.
But we got one, we said our goodbyes, squeezed into the aisle, located a few inches of spare butt space, and got em home. Tomorrow was our turn to sample the delights of Yangshuo.
