Guyuan, now in the Ningxia autonomous region of the Hui muslims, had its heyday during the Wei Dynasty back in the 6th century, so no surprise then that the fast trains are giving it a miss. The 1 hr puddle jumper (China Eastern outsourced to some random local set up with a worryingly wobbly left engine) provides a whole new perspective. We leave everything urban behind after about 5 minutes.

The terraces look like those laser cut plywood topographic maps, riven by deep gorges. Although Ningxia is largely desert, this area must be less barren in the growing season – the major crop is wheat.

Getting into town after we land has more drama than seems necessary. Normally the move is to ignore any feral private taxis milling at the exit and make a beeline for the sedate metered versions that never rip you off. But here (45 minutes out of town town) even the official taxis have an angle. The driver doesn’t want to do the trip for less than 50Y ($8), but his passengers don’t want to pay more than 30Y. So he first entices us with an offer of 30Y (which we all know is too good to be true) then drives outside the gate for an enthusiastic game of musical chairs with all the other taxis (we passengers are less enthusiastic). The music stops when our cab is filled up with the maximum (3) all going to approximately the same place.

Having been to Ningxia before, Guyuan is everything I expect it to be.

Except this speaks of quixotic dreams. It’s always dark (unlike everything else) and doesn’t seem to move, so who knows.

Why am I even here? Back in the day when it was a major gateway on the Northern Silk Road en route to Xi’an, Guyuan (or to be more accurate its environs an hour and a half out of town) acquired a set of Buddhist grottoes, which are intriguing because they’re less visited than most. Now I’m here it’s no surprise why: In yet another fail, the bus Lonely Planet has promised, either doesn’t operate now, no longer operates or has never existed depending on who at the hotel is offering an opinion. But are we even talking about the same place? It turns out everything has 4 names: The name LP gives it in English, the name LP gives it in Chinese (neither of which are recognizable to locals) its actual name in Chinese, and its name in the Hui language, which everyone speaks here. Undeterred, the nice young ladies at the desk determine they can find me a driver. I am in their hands.

Mr Mo of the incomprehensible diphthongs. Our language barrier workaround puts paid to any small talk

And find me a driver they do! Mr. Mo (the Hui language is a cacophony of chirps and swallowed consonants so his actual name consists of diphthongs never encountered in the English language) is a cheery type who doesn’t speak English (no surprise there) but also doesn’t read Chinese, which makes any communication between us a challenge. No problem! He rapidly figures out a workaround: I convey my question to my translation app which converts it into Chinese on my phone. He takes a screenshot and sends it to his wife, who translates it into Hui and tells him what it says. Of course this means I never get an actual answer, but at least he knows what’s on my mind. This turns out to be important when we arrive and find the parking locked. Fortunately the ticket collector is on site (sadly she has to let me in free). At least, thanks to Mrs. Mo we can make a plan for him to wait for me outside the gates while I climb the mountain. Besides a girl selling water (of course I buy a bottle) there is no-one else here.

The water girl is so insistent on coming with me I almost have to push her away. At least she can read Chinese so I can tell her not to take it personally but I am an old lady and need to concentrate if I am climbing mountains.

The grottoes in question. The name Mount Sumeru (the Hui name) appears nowhere in English language explanations of the area which call it Xumishan, a bad approximation of the Chinese name.

We’re headed up here I guess

First stop the giant Buddha. I am deeply skeptical of the claim that it is the largest Buddha in China, but on close re-reading realize it is the largest seated Buddha in China. It is impossible to get a good picture

The rest of the caves are artfully draped around the mountains. This being China, getting to them will have been expertly planned

Apart from a few obvious design flaws

The grottoes themselves are nothing special. The really old ones are closed up. Still its great to be up in the mountains on this clear, crisp day, without thousands of my closest friends.

I make my way up to what looks like it’s the top

Unfortunately it’s not, but the rest will have to wait for another day. No wonder my energy is flagging; I later find out that we are actually at 7,000 feet.

But now of course we have to get down.

Possibly this will get better round the corner

Nope

I make it down unscathed and ask Mrs Mo to tell her husband to drop me off at the museum. Here is the paydirt! The Guyuan county plain is home to innumerable Wei graves that are largely untouched. They have produced some amazing Silk Road artifacts:

This incredible jug is carved with Grecian mythological figures

Byzantine coins, etc. etc.

Plus some delightful funerary objects

And a decent Buddha at last

I celebrate at the best restaurant in town.

Disclaimer, it is a Wednesday

Their specialty is lamb soup with dry bread. Usually one gets the bread, crumbles it into the bowl and hands it back for the soup, whereupon the bread swells up. Because this is the best restaurant the bread is cut up already. I want to order the bigger size, but am not allowed to

I pass on the (extra garlic). No beer in Hui country