Guilin has been on my list of fantasy places to visit since my Aunty Margaret and Uncle David visited the town in the late 80s. I vividly remember the pictures of the lumpy green hills surrounded by bamboo rafts floating on blue water.

 

The lumpy hills certainly didn’t disappoint, the water did a bit - there was more in the sky than in the rivers and no hope of anything vaguely blue.  I was also surprised to find that Guilin is a proper city rather than the quaint backwater of my childhood dreams.  One day we hired bikes and set off out of the concrete and into the karst.  It was great to get out in amongst all the freaky mountains, but the chill air was soon a bit too much, rumour abounded in our frozen hostel that there was sun in Yunnan.  Is drizzle enough of a reason to move on?  It was this time.  

 

H