Lying in contrast to still mostly-slumbering West Street is the Li River, which has been steadily awakening since before the first lights of dawn. On the river itself, long, and thin boats called zhu pai, which consist of four long and thick heat-treated bamboo poles lashed together, skirt the river's surface, cutting gracefully through the ethereal vapor rising above the water. These boats - and the cormorants, turkey-sized waterfowl used for snatching fish from the water - are a favorite photo opportunity for visitors, and those who do not visit the river in these early hours may make the mistake of believing that they exist solely for the benefit of their hungry camera lenses.

On the Li's western shore, Taichi practitioners move trancelike and purposefully, each motion tracing well-worn lines into the surrounding air. Chi Kung practitioners - often, but not always older than the first group - use fists and the trunks of trees to pound out rhythms on their kidneys, legs and backs, a practice that must have great benefit, being both ancient and Chinese. Last to arrive - and longest to stay - is perhaps the strangest group of Li river regulars, the English students who come to the river in the early morning hours to pace along the stone dock, English book in hand, practicing their lessons. Yangshuo, in addition to being a nexus for western travelers, has also become a magnet to young people from rural China who see even a basic mastery of English as a ticket out of a life of farm or factory work. Their relationship with the travelers is quite symbiotic. Always eager to practice their English conversational skills, the students freely provide advice, information, and accompaniment to visitors who might otherwise be stuck relying on guidebooks or paid tour guides.

Back on West Street another stage in the awakening of Yangshuo is well underway, as those travelers not given to excessive late night revelry sit down to breakfast in places with names like Minnie Mao's, The Green Lotus, and the well established Lisa's Café (whose generic-sounding name is more than made up for by the joi de vivre of its hostess, a preternaturally wise and strangely multilingual girl of 18 called "Baby Panda", and the near floor-to-ceiling shrine of Chairman Mao's little red books residing on the western wall).

After breakfast - or brunch, for those inclined to sleep in a bit - visitors will pursue the activities that are most in line with their tastes, age groups, and overall thirsts for adrenalin. Inexpensive, yet perfectly serviceable bicycles with mushy shock absorbers are available both with and without accompanying guides. For some, the ride to, and subsequent hike up, Moon Hill (so named because of the spherical hole carved through the hilltop by the river of another geological age, though local legend provides a more colourful explanation involving, typically enough, a dragon and an enraged hero) will provide more than enough exertion for the day.

To another group of adventure seeker, one drawn to Yangshuo in increasing numbers, paths and stairways are viewed as a weakling's way to the top. To rock climbers, the fang-shaped mountains that fill the surrounding area are not mere scenery to be enjoyed from afar. They are each of them vertical challenges, beckoning 'Conquer me...if you dare.' For those inclined to spend some time pitting grip against gravity, there are several clubs in Yangshuo which will show you the ropes - literally and figuratively.

For those seeking adventure in the other direction, the Karst scenery also provides ample opportunity for spelunking. Some of these are mere neon-lit tourist traps, but others promise a more genuine - and foreboding experience. Not far from Moon hill sits a small pond located in a tiny farming village, The pond is actually a finger of a larger underground lake that is the sole ground-level entrance to a vast underground labyrinth which the locals (forgoing the usual Chinese knack for snappy nomenclature) have named "Water Cave". Those wishing to explore this cave must hire a guide, a boatman to lead them through the dark and watery maze of stalactites that leads to the underground beach from which the journey - one filled with slippery paths, low-hanging ceilings, crystal clear pools of azure water sitting beside waiting pools of mud and underground waterfalls - begins.

Some, of course, prefer their exploration neither above nor below the mountains, content instead to enjoy the sharp limestone from the deck of a riverboat. From the main dock, boats to the riverside town of Fuli are available for hire at a reasonable price. A town of old, early Ch'ing dynasty style architecture, Fuli is an excellent place to chew on freshly cut stalks of sugarcane while shopping for delicately painted fans and scrolls depicting scenes evoking Chinese scenery and legends. Fuli's lesser known industry (which might account for the town's subtle, musty smell) is mushroom cultivation, and the visitor keen on mycology should find the fungus factory on the main road, where row upon row of wound peat logs sit with mushrooms in various stages of growth, of great interest

Whether the afternoon's exploits have been above ground or below, most visitors trickle slowly back some time before supper, heading back to hotel or hostel to stow newly purchased presents, tend to chaffed fingertips, or wash underground grit from their hair. It's still early in the season, and competition among local businesses for travelers patronage is fierce, and every restaurant and open-air stall promises "the best beer fish" or "the finest stuffed Li river snails" in Yangshuo. Over these and other traditional Guangxi province culinary delights (or any number of the plethora of western dishes available), Yangshuo's short term adventurers will swap day-trip tales with each other as the sun sets over the River Li.

Of course, these tales will also be shared with a fourth group of Yangshuo tourists - those who never made it out of town. And herein lies the only real hazard inherent in a trip to Yangshuo. With so much worth seeing and doing beyond the immediate hills surrounding town, many visitors will find themselves unable to escape from the pleasant gravity of the town itself. These uber-slackers will instead be content to plant themselves in the rooftop garden of a West Street café with a novel or three, perhaps heading downstairs for a quick calligraphy lessons with the restaurants proprietor (who, in typical Yangshuo fashion, probably runs a side business teaching calligraphy, Chinese cooking, herbalism, or any number of subjects ranging from the mundane to the arcane). Perhaps they'll have ventured as far as the riverfront temple for a chat with one of the English hungry students, or an impromptu Taichi lessons with one of the local masters. Or perhaps not. After all, why rush things? Tomorrow is another day.

Originally Presented in Silkroad Magazine, October 2003. All Rights Reserved