Our taxi driver said, more or less, “You gotta be kidding”, as he turned the car onto the jungle path.
It had been a 2.5 hour drive from Haikou International Airport in Hainan; not short but nothing compared to the nigh-on 5 years it had been since I had enjoyed swimming in an open ocean. Not acceptable. So when the better half mentioned the gym on a beach, I more than sat up and took notice.
A perpetual sea breeze makes Wanning the surf capital of China. Yet that in itself is misleading. Wanning may be the city with jurisdiction over the Riyue Bay Haimen Tourist Area, but that’s all it is. It’s also half an hour distant. To the nearest high-speed railway station.
Hence it was a flight from Nanjing to Haikou for us, although Sanya would have been nearer (we like their Hawaiian theme, but been there, bought the T-shirt, twice) and Qionghai even more so (flights out of Nanjing are few and far between).
The G98 expressway cutting through Hainan that is the most direct link to Wanning as it departs Haiko gave way to what were to be perpetual reminders of Vietnam; endless palm trees surrounding the rice fields with a big, hot Asian sun setting in the background. Back in Paradise.
Then, with our driver thoroughly bemused but his car undamaged, there nestled in the foothills between those rice paddies and raw, untamed jungle, lay our accommodation; Dai Zhai (呆宅), which we can take to mean “foolish hangout”. Looking out from our pool-side room, we didn’t feel silly at all.
Even less so, when it transpired the staff therein, more than aware of their somewhat out-of-the-way location, were prepared to drive us, gratis, almost anywhere. And even come back to get us. All we had to do was dry our swimsuits on the roof of the hotel, admire the view and take to a hammock with an offering from the foolish fridge.
Leading us there, past the heliport catering to tourists which is essentially a field, was the mostly-paved road dotted with rustic shacks, each destinct for their stack of surf boards outside. And little else mostly; a makeshift barbecue here, a rusting jeep there. That was the first eye opener; quality varies wildly in the surf-lodge world.
And price, as it would turn out, was, as ever, a very good place to start. That, and being open minded enough to accept that surf schools don’t necessarily need to be beside the sea.
For the vicinity of ¥800 was the price to be paid for a lesson for one at one of the big-name, seaside-surf hangouts, just a few minutes walk from China’s National Surf Training Base (that’s where the gym on a beach comes in). Two or three clicks inland, however, along the Y228 Country Road, we paid ¥476 for two, plus ¥5 each for insurance. Death-defying rides on e-bikes to and from the beach were included in the price.
The quality of instruction was no doubt equal, and arguably superior, given the teenage member of our party was up, standing on her surfboard through the waves, within 20 minutes of entering the water.
Leaving us hungry. And hence back to the drag along Riyue Bay’s beach. There, that the western bar’s burger, the Korean BBQ and the Thai beach restaurant’s cuisine were all perhaps the best we have ever sampled all proved the magic of the beach-and-surfer effect.
But there was not to be Another Day in Paradise, meaning the long road again awaited. With method to our madness, however, we had planned on strolling the oldest part of Haikou, aware the City is a heartbeat from Hanoi.
Such proximity was greatly influent over Haikou in the last days of the Qing Dynasty, not least in its architecture and today’s sheer number of bikes, both dead ringers for the Vietnamese capital. Crossing the road not for beginners.
Haikou’s Old Town is truly where it’s at. Here, returning overseas Chinese provided the French, Portuguese and other Southeast Asian influences that can be seen at work in architecture, largely accidental, which in the 21st Century is nothing short of jaw dropping.
Hainan is well served out of Nanjing Lukou; the island’s flag carrier has surprisingly-generous space in its economy offering. Again, more legroom for that tall foreigner.
