Day trip leaves me seeing red - but not as I had hoped

Ever since the autumn wind arrived, I've been planning a trip to see the red leaves. Fragrant Hill in western Beijing is too famous and crowded; the Hongluo Temple in Huairou district too far away. So I chose Jiufeng, a national forest park northwest of the Summer Palace.

The traffic turned heavy as soon as we entered the Badaling Expressway and when we finally made it to the mountain, two hours had gone by.

Although a sudden wind almost blew us away, we were determined to find some red leaves but were first enchanted by the many brilliant roadside chrysanthemums.

Under some tall, handsome pines, we found China's first seismological monitoring station, which began recording earthquakes in 1930 and exchanged information with the rest of the world.

My son, who is very persistent if he likes something, pointed out a narrow path up into the wooded hill. We had to leave the smooth main road and began climbing with much effort.

To our surprise, we suddenly came across a small opening where 14 ancient stone tablets were erected in a circle. Each one carried a symbol of the Eight Diagrams, a set of strokes Taoist believers used to make divinations.

I later found out that some tourists had chanced upon these tablets last year and the park managers had restored them to their original place.

Everyone was crying out for lunch and it was cold out of the sun. Just a dozen meters up, however, chestnut trees were glowing in the sunlight. "Why don't we go up there and eat some fruit in the sun?" I suggested.

Bathed in the sun, we enjoyed pears, oranges and apples. And the view was grand. With rugged rocks, yellowy grass and trees that haven't suffered from trimming or pesticides, the mountain has a masculine strength that others don't.

Just around the corner, we found a pavilion perching on a protruding rock like a bird. A tablet nearby says the pavilion provides the vantage point to view the mountain. It was true. The mountain looks just like an eagle spreading its wings, hence its name Jiufeng (Eagle Peak).

We still had a long way to go before we could find Red Leaf Valley but our stomachs protested strongly and we had to turn back. Along the main road, there were several maple trees wearing the last few red, golden, brown leaves.

The most memorable leaves, though, were from several tall oaks. They were not red, but each leaf was like a golden hand reaching up to the sky, not leaving the mother tree until it was crispy brown.

The next day I heard that 100,000 tourists had thronged to Fragrant Hill while we were at Jiufeng. Parking was impossible, there were lines for the toilets and more people than trees.

Some self-claimed guides had led daring tourists to climb over a giant rock and loaded them on a van, saying it was the fastest way to get down the mountain. Five minutes later, the van finished the bumpy journey - and the fee was 50 yuan per passenger.

Well, so much for red leaves. I've seen far better views of the capital in autumn.

(China Daily 11/06/2008 page20)