Ping’an seemed to me an excellent starting base for walks through the hills of the Longji rice terraces area. The Wandelgek had visited rice terraces areas before on the isles of Java and Bali in Indonesia, but although impressove too, these were topping that.

The name Longji Rice Terraces (“Long Dragon’s Spine”) (traditional Chinese: 龍脊梯田 or lóngjǐ tītián), also called the Longsheng Rice Terraces (“Dragon’s Victory”) (traditional Chinese: 龍勝梯田 or lóngshèng tītián), are located in the town of Longji in Longsheng Various Nationalities Autonomous County, about 100 kilometres (62 mi) from Guilin, China.

I’ve written before about the importance of trying to understand at the very least some words that are used a lot of the language(s) spoken in a foreign country, because through language you’ll understand a lot more about the local culture, history, geography and cuisine. Because of this The Wandelgek had noticed the similarities in culture, story telling and history between Vietnam and this part of China. Read more about that in this blogpost:

Vietnamese Dragon Legend

Ping’an is in the middle of the rice terraces of Longji …

… walking out of the villages means within 1 minute walking distance gets you surrounded by rice fields.

At the verge of the village a Yao woman in traditional dress was selling old coins and red Mao books of which some were translated into German (English too, but they had been sold out).

I asked her with the help of Tao as a translator whether she was interested in earning a bit of money in exchange for a photo session amidst of the green rice fields and she friendly said yes and named her price.

Somewhere in the awesome rice terraces around Ping’An, we stopped and I was allowed to make this amazing photo series.

1. Remember the hair is never cut until the 18th birthday and then the cut hair is attached to the new grown hair …

2. After having unwinded and detached the hair, she rearranged it again, …

… including the bun in front, indicating she had been married and had children …

3. Next the black scarf was placed …

4. In the end some additional pictures to share …

 

After settling our business deal we said farewell and started to ascend toward one of three viewpoints …

As we climbed, we entered more and more into Tao’s area of expertise, rural China and its agriculture.

The views were improving with every meter we climbed and got closer to viewpoints with names that could have escaped from Chinese legendarium …

Nine Dragon Five Tigers Viewing platform, or the Seven Stars and Moon Viewing point e.g..

Meanwhile Tao was explaining about rural economy, rice terrace building and rice culture …

Chinese rice cultivation in the Longji (Dragon’s Backbone) terraces combines local glutinous landraces with an extremely fine‑tuned, gravity‑fed water system that links forest, village and paddy into one agro‑ecosystem.

Water drainage systems

The terraces climb from valley bottoms to about 1 000 m elevation, with dozens of very narrow steps stacked on each slope, supported by stone or earth ridges that also serve as small bunds for holding water.

The Longji system is described as “forest above and fields below”: upper mountain forests and springs are deliberately conserved as the primary water source for the irrigation network.

Sometimes the practical use is combined with a pleasant one, like e.g. the cooling of bottled soda drinks …

Water comes mainly from:

• Mountain springs and small streams feeding into head‑canals.
• Rainfall, which is high in this subtropical monsoon climate and stored temporarily on terraces.
• Groundwater and seepage, which move laterally through terrace soils from upper to lower levels, helping reuse water multiple times.

Longji’s irrigation is a gravity system of hand‑built canals, ditches, and in places bamboo pipes that distribute water from the mountains down through each village’s fields.

Wherever water appears, earlier farmers dug canals and carved long, narrow belts of paddies along the contour, so almost every flow path is captured and reused.

Within the terrace sequence:

• Main and branch canals run along the hillsides, feeding individual paddies through small inlets cut in the bunds.
• Each terrace bund holds water and soil; the overflow spills gently into the next lower terrace, creating a cascading reuse system that traps nutrients and minimizes erosion.
• Farmers constantly maintain bunds and face cracking risks; if cracks are not sealed before flooding, terrace walls can fail and collapse under the water load.

This structure allows relatively even water access from top to bottom, echoing similar “democratic” distribution principles documented in other Chinese terrace cultures where community rules and water guardians ensure fair sharing.

Next Tao talked about:

Rice cultivation

Rice paddies in Longji follow a seasonal rhythm of flooding, planting, controlled drying and reflooding that aligns with the monsoon and the crop’s growth stages.6

In early June, water is brought onto the terraces and young rice seedlings are transplanted into the main fields, creating the iconic mirror‑like water surfaces.

Key rice types and traits mentioned for Longji/Longsheng:

• Long glutinous rice: local sticky rice, prized for taste and often used in traditional foods and festivals.
• Horse‑tail glutinous rice: another sticky landrace, named for its panicle shape and adapted to the cooler, higher terraces.
• Red glutinous (fragrant) rice: aromatic, red‑pericarp sticky rice with high cultural and market value.
• Baidou glutinous (rongpabai) rice and tonghe rice: additional local varieties noted in Longji’s variety lists, kept for their adaptation and culinary qualities.

Farmers increasingly plant “rice hybrids” that tolerate altitude and give higher yields than old varieties, though the physical labour on terraces remains intense and limits large‑scale intensification.

The terraces create a recycling system for water, soil and nutrients, in which each step acts as both paddy and sediment/nutrient trap. Fertility traditionally comes from barnyard manure from cattle, horses, sheep and pigs, which enters the terraces and is then retained by the bunds as water flows from one level to the next.

Important management features in Longji include:

• Use of local landraces adapted to specific elevations and micro‑climates, reducing risk in this marginal mountain environment.
• A “recycling” management of water and fertilizer, where terrace ridges prevent nutrient loss, and re‑used water carries dissolved nutrients downslope.
• Community rules and conventions that coordinate seed, fertilizer, water and soil management, ensuring long‑term sustainability of the terrace system as both a production landscape and a cultural heritage site.

Typical field‑level practices, similar to other southern Chinese double‑rice systems, include:

• Land preparation under about 10 cm of standing water to puddle and level soils.
• Continuous shallow flooding during early growth to suppress weeds and stabilize seedlings.
• Mid‑season drying around the end of tillering to reduce unproductive tillers, improve root health, and save water, followed by reflooding.
• Later intermittent irrigation with no deep, permanent flood, which can maintain yields while significantly improving water productivity compared to continuous flooding.

Research in comparable southern China systems shows that continuous flooding maximizes early‑season yields, but regimes with mid‑season drying and intermittent irrigation save water with only small yield penalties, improving overall water productivity.

Such approaches are compatible with terrace systems like Longji, where water is finite and must pass through many fields.

Another route marker showed us we were going in the right direction …

The path above Ping’an rose in slow, careful spirals, as if the mountains were exhaling stone into terraces and steps, inviting the feet of wanderers to follow their breath. Half‑clouded skies floated overhead: wide, soft sails of grey drifting apart to reveal generous patches of bright sky. The afternoon felt unhurried, a long held note, as the village below waited in patient silence for evening to descend.

The Wandelgek walked there, a solitary figure on the old stone paths, sandals tapping a quiet rhythm along the spine of the hills. He passed between tea stalls and weathered railings, climbing from one viewpoint to the next where the land unfurled in great green ribbons, terraced slopes curling around the valley like the rings of a sleeping dragon. On one side, a cloud would drift low, softening every line into a faint watercolour; on the other, the sky would open suddenly, pouring blue into the world so that every flooded paddy shone like a shard of broken glass turned gently in the light.

Nine Dragon Five Tigers-the king‑of‑the‑hill viewing platform

This is the “No. 1 viewpoint” for Ping’an: the highest, most panoramic spot where the whole Dragon’s Spine seems to fan out beneath you. From Ping’an village it takes about 1–1.5 hours of stone‑paved steps, winding through misty air and bamboo, but the final reveal is well worth the climb.

The name comes from the way nine dragon‑like ridges branch off the main spine of the mountain, while five smaller, tiger‑shaped hillocks crouch nearby like guardians of the terraces. From the platform, the rice‑field ribbons stretch endlessly, each tier falling into the next like a green staircase carved into the sky. In the morning the mist curls between the ridges; in the afternoon, under your half‑cloudy skies with sudden patches of blue, the paddies turn into a mosaic of silver and jade, reflecting the sun whenever it slips through the cloud. It is the classic photo‑spot for both wide‑angle shots and selfies with the “whole” Longji valley in the background.

At the higher viewpoints, the murmur of voices from Ping’an faded and the only sounds were the wind in the bamboo and the distant splash of water breaking from one terrace to another. The Wandelgek paused often, resting his hands on worn wooden railings, watching the shifting balance of light and shadow glide over the slopes. A patch of sunlight would slip from the clouds and slide down the mountain, gilding one side of a ridge while the other remained in subdued, silvery shade, as if the day itself could not decide between dream and clarity.

As the afternoon thinned into early evening, the colours deepened: greens turned darker and more secretive, the sky’s blue thickened behind the thinning clouds, and the terraces slowly lost their sharp edges, becoming softer bands of tone stacked into the dusk.

The Wandelgek began his descent toward Ping’an, following paths that threaded along rice‑field walls and dipped briefly into small clusters of houses perched on the slopes. Smoke rose in delicate twists from kitchen chimneys; the smell of cooking followed him like a reminder that the day’s wanderings must always end in some human warmth.

There were eggplants growing here too, not just rice and a lot of them looked pale yellow.

This probably depends on tgecstage of ripeness of tge eggplant, although there are yellow variants too. In this case it was probably the first though because The Wandelgek noticed some larger deep purple eggplants as well …

The next viewing point came into sight …

Seven Stars with Moon – the fairy‑tale glow viewing tower

On the opposite side of Ping’an lies Seven Stars with Moon (Seven Stars around the Moon), a viewpoint that feels more intimate and whimsical. The concept is simple but magical: seven small hillocks stand in the middle of terraced fields, each crowned by a dot of vegetation or a tiny house, while one central, larger “moon” field is often filled with water. From a distance—or from the small viewing tower—this looks like seven stars circling a glowing moon in the middle of the valley.

Many visitors walk up from the village’s western side, passing snack stalls and photo‑huts where locals rent Zhuang minority costumes for very Insta‑friendly portraits. The climb is tiring, but the payoff is photogenic charm: the moon‑like field reflects the surrounding ridges, and the “stars” cluster around it like a celestial clockwork. In the late afternoon, when the sky turns patchy blue and the lower terraces catch the last light, the whole scene softens into a warm, almost storybook palette. When evening falls and the village lights come on, some of the tiny “stars” glimmer with their own lanterns, blurring the line between earth and sky.

The Wandelgek as a travel photographer has sometimes the opportunity to take a bit more time to photograph and his series named Design by Nature is a result of that:

Design by Nature

Some of the zoomed in photo’s in this area qualify as future entries in that series.

Surreal views ….

Loved zooming in on these …

I’ve been to Java and Bali and have seen these before, but not so high up the hills and not in such a large area …

Beneath you can see the “moon” and some of the “stars” …

 

 

The “moon” is a lake formed in a depression on top of a hill …

 

A last view showing some of the “stars” and the “moon”. With a little imagination, the small road could be a comet winding its way through …

Why travellers love both

• Nine Dragons and Five Tigers gives you the “wow” of scale: the grand, sweeping panorama that makes you feel small in the best possible way.
• Seven Stars with Moon gives you the “charm” shot: the postcard‑perfect, slightly poetic composition that looks like a fable illustration from a folk‑tales book.

If you’re walking above Ping’an in the afternoon, moving from one to the other lets you see the same valley from two very different stories: one of power and dragons, and one of quiet stars and moonlight in the rice‑field water.

The light now faded fast …

… and so we descended fast as well …

By the time he reached the lower viewpoints, the village lights had begun their quiet bloom. First a single window glowed amber through the wooden lattice, then another, then the pale rectangles of guesthouses and small restaurants flickered on one by one, as if someone were tracing lines of fire through the dusk. Out in the fields, tiny points of light appeared as well—lamps and work lights, low and scattered, caught in the mirrors of the paddies.

As we got nearer to Ping’an again, the first solitary buildings, like a shed …

… or probably a hotel or house showed up …

The Wandelgek walked the final stretch into Ping’an between two worlds: above him, the sky still held a stubborn patch of blue that refused to let go of the day; below him, the rice terraces and village glimmered with the first steady stars of electricity. The half‑clouded heavens dimmed, almost reluctantly, and the fields answered with their own constellations, laid out not in the distant vault of the night but close to the earth, following the curve of the hills.

It was really nice to walk toward Ping’an again …

 

The rooftops of the old wooden houses were some times quite elaborate …

 

The last meters to the hotel where a well deserved dinner was waiting …

The lights brought coziness (or better: “gezelligheid” in dutch) to the village …

When he finally stepped onto the wooden streets of Ping’an, the mountain behind him had become a layered silhouette, edged with a scatter of lights on each terrace, like necklaces hung upon the dark shoulders of the land. The Wandelgek turned once more to look back: the viewpoints where he had stood earlier were now invisible, folded into shadow, yet their memory burned quietly in the illuminated lines of the fields. Above, a few late clouds drifted like ghosts across the fading blue; below, the rice terraces held their own soft galaxy, reflecting the last of the sky in small, shimmering fragments, as if day and night had agreed to meet halfway just for this walk.

Then he walked back to his hotel and spend most of the remainder of the evening in its restaurant, eating and drinking, reading and writing in his travel journal.

He had quite some walking plans for the next day but decided not to leave early, but rest a bit longer than usual. There were two options for a walk tomorrow, but he decided to take the shorter one. His physical condition was not well and although he didn’t yet know why he decided to not push it over its limits.

Tao had joined the owners of thehotel to celebrate the harvest festival (about which I wrote earlier in my blogpost on Ruyi Peak).

Then it was time for a shower and some Chinese television in my room, before going to sleep.