Actually, the day started on bikes. We rode up to the picturesque Dragon Bridge on the Yulong River as a warm up. I chose the far bank as we would walk back along some of the near bank later. As expected, we saw no other tourists on that side of the river; not until we hit the Dragon Bridge anyway.

After obligatory photos we headed through the village to meet Alf and Xiao Su on the far side at the start of the hiking section. They had come by car to give us our food for the day and to take the bikes back.

We headed through one small village before I could put the first challenge out to the two guests. Alf and I have been puzzled by some strange mounds on the far side of this village. They are definitely artificial - but their purpose defies reason. There was to be no enlightenment today but with photos to be posted with this article soon we are hoping for someone out there to provide the answer.

The next challenge was less intellectual. We came to the end of the village plantations only to be told that there was no way through. From memory I could recollect a bit of scrambling here so we ignored the helpful locals and skirted around the thorny goat excluder until we could make our way past without a scratch.

The sesnse of freedom was shortlived as we soon turned the corner to see back-end of Baisha, never an attractive town. Fortunately our route took us up and away from that, up to a glorious little shelter from the days before motorbikes, when this route would have been well trodden.

On the far side is a pretty little valley. We stopped to scramble up a convenient rock. The sheer face on the one side provided great sport, and the easy descent on the other could easily be hidden from the camera.

We were now walking along an ancient 'Way' or 'Dao' - the same 'Way' as used in Daoism. The cobbled path rose up over a saddle and was temporarily replaced by steps cut out of the bedrock below, only to drop back down to the next village.

I knew I had to be careful here having gone wrong at some point on my last hike. I just about managed to eliminate my previous mistake when a kindly old soul guess our intent and pointed down the least likely option. Bless him - we turned the corner and I recognised the spot where Alf and I had clambered up a small mountain as an excuse to rid ourselves of an annoying  tourist on our original passage this way.

We hiked a little further before deciding that the view proffered suited our tastes. We laid out the ponchos and tucked into the welcome lunch. Bacon and cheese baguettes - not exactly traditional but spot on.

Unfortunately, our excellent choice was recognised by the only other foreigners to pass by. They got off their bikes and started to buzz all around us, perhaps in the hope of getting some of our delicious snacks. They obviously didn't get the tranquility thing.

It didn't matter. We only had to walk out through the next village to get on another redundant path and to feel alone again. This path took us up into a rare patch of coniferous trees; a welcome bit of variety. We even got to see the results of a recent rockfall, and to appreciate that we weren't underneath at the time.

On the descent I could make out one of the options for the next section. However, the two were coping well with the terrain and opted for the longer alternative. That was lucky because the views back down through Spring blossom were glorious.

We pushed our way through dense undergrowth, surprising goats and perhaps other wildlife unseen. Whether or not we surprised the goatherd around the next corner will remain a mystery. He didn't seem at all phased by the appearance of three foreigners in his secluded wilderness; he just carried on whistling his flock down off the slopes and carrying on as if such things were either the norm or not worth worrying about.

Anyway - he was the last soul we saw until dropping right down out of the next feature of the hike. I didn't let on until we could actually see the walls before describing the fortress that we were about to enter. The mountains here are rugged enough, but someone in the the distant past had considered something important enough to fortify three passes and create a sizeable retreat up in the hills.

We scrambled through the big stone gate on the far side and I cut a way down the bramble infested slope to the last feature. This is reached by crossing a new dam and skirting the edge of a small reservoir - one that had been bone dry on our first trip.

I walked around to where two thick parallel walls were set at the edge of the bowl and asked for suggestions. Alf and I had struggled with this one for a while. Our guess, a bomb shelter, had only been confirmed once I showed my wife a photo of a plaque on a rock nearby and she had translated the characters for airfield.

Xiao Su was waiting for us just over the rise, smiling as usual. (Perhaps he is always glad he doesn't have to take part in the activities.) He loaded us up and took us back to Yangshuo avoiding a slog along the road. An excellent day again, and another one worthy of a celebratory beer

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