China -

wo hours northwest of picturesque Guilin, a gentle climb up from the river valley and into the mountains, waits the dragon. His arched spine, hewn centuries ago from a mountain ridge by the Zhuang and Yao peoples, still forms the backbone of their society. His skin changes chameleon-like with the seasons; from granny apple green as the rice ripens and is harvested to a shimmering copper brown when the terraces lie fallow. His scales are the silver, grey and green stones that wind round his flanks along the well-trodden paths. He is over 650 years old. His haunches rest at 300 metres and his nostrils flare another 800 higher.

Ping'an, the main village that tends the dragon, is a traditional Zhuang community. With a stable population for centuries, they warmly welcome visitors, particularly ramblers wanting to roam the terraced farmlands.

From the car park halfway up the mountain, the village is a 15-minute walk along a pretty stone path lined with Zhuang touts and tourist attractions. Behind them, the terraced mountains and passing clouds form an impressive backdrop. Women with jet-black hair wrapped into tight coils offer to unravel their tresses and proudly recount their child bearing history. Each childbirth entitles the mother to an uncut length of 18-year-old human hair to be wrapped into her coiffure; the bigger her hair, the more fertile the mother. Beyond, on the wooden bridge marking the gateway to the village, others embroider shoes and purses. Day tripping shoppers snap up curios in a picturesque mall of global tourism. Menfolk hoist sedan chairs on their shoulders to carry indolent tourists through this majestic entrance and into the rolling splendour of the Dragon's Back.

Tucked away beside the tourist trail, Ping'an is a perfect retreat for a few days enjoyment of life's simple pleasures – relaxing in the sun, tasting the local food, taking in the view and exploring the trails that cross the mountain connecting Zhuang and Yao villages. Wooden houses cling to the side of the ravine, tacked onto stone platforms cut into the mountain. Following the network of stone paths to neighbouring homes and out to the rice terraces, a walk is an immersion in another time. There are no wheels in the village. The only transport is by foot. The hand-cut paths cross tiny bridges over little waterfalls and bite into the sometimes steep slopes of the 2,800-metre mountain.

From Ping'an village it is possible to wander a variety of circuits skirting the rice terraces and vegetable gardens. You'll see the villagers cultivating corn, sweet potato, tomato, capsicum and cucumber. For the more active, there is a five-hour walk to the top of the mountain and back, which passes through splendid alpine scenery. The next village, Zhong Liu, is a two-hour trek around the mountain. Beyond the first viewpoint, you pass by a lake and fork right, through the forest canopy, to emerge in a bamboo forest that faces an intimidating rack of rice terraces. If you continue for another hour, Darzai is a lively village for a good lunch or an overnight stop. The forested areas of the mountain are home to a plethora of fungi and pretty flowers. Big furry spiders with long legs and white abdomens amble across the paths. The multitude of bird life does its best to catch them. Water either crashes over a fall or gently trickles from an irrigation channel. On some mountain passes you will come eye to eye with a wizened old water buffalo or rub shoulders with a produce-laden peasant.

In the evenings, spending time with your host family is a great way to learn about the culture. Nearly all families have lived on the Dragon's Back for centuries and are happy to tell stories of the people and land. They may ask you to dine with them or treat you to a welcoming song over cups of rice wine. Zhuang learn to sing almost before they can speak and it is unheard of for them to be out of tune. The songs often comment on your character or your journey. I joined a gang of weekend travellers from Shenzhen for a meal and many cups of homemade baijiu. The meal was simple, reflecting the reality of the community. Villagers only eat what they produce locally, but within those limits create delicious spreads. Meals are based on vegetables, tofu, chicken, eggs and pork. Egg stir-fried with greens, eggplant stuffed with minced meat, and smoked pork with bamboo are tasty alternatives to the customary hot pots.

After dinner I clambered goat-like across the narrow stone paths of the valley and back to my Bed and Breakfast. There I ran into a distinguished gentleman with a colonial English accent who explained that he was on a trip from Hong Kong with his friends to learn about 'provincial cooking', as he put it. He and his posse were restaurateurs who wanted to learn how to make traditional meals in the village, using only the ingredients available from the local market. In a kitchen hired from a local resident for the night they killed a skinny chicken and an even skinnier duck, drained the blood and cooked them. What could have been a feast, ended up a tasting session for five gourmet tourists. As they ate they discussed the peasant way of life and how sustainable tourism could benefit it.

The choice of accommodation in Ping'an demonstrates how successfully the locals have already adapted to such a concept. Hostels are located in traditional-styled, multi-storey family homes, with the upstairs for sleeping and downstairs for living. They are built with new timber and almost every room in every house has splendid views over the terraces. Some even have balconies and ground floor sundecks. If your first choice of room doesn't have the view you want, ask to see another.

From your chosen vantage point, soak up the view of the surrounding hillsides. Like Escheresque cakes, terraces spill onto terraces, while others spiral like a snails' shells into towers topped with floating pools When fallow, the waterlogged fields are a giant mirror for the constant circus of clouds dancing around the mountain. At first glance they seem the embodiment of peace and tranquility, but once your eye adjusts to the trickery of the geometric dimension, the terraces spring to life. Farmers shout across hills and up and down slopes to each other. A wife brings lunch to her husband, dogs run about and buffalo work and rest. It is hard to imagine never having heard the sounds of the rice scythes, the slosh of paddy water and farmers' chatter ringing out across the Dragon's Back.