On the buckled road to the epicentre of China's deadliest earthquake in decades, the stream of refugees fleeing collapsed homes and unburied corpses is almost outnumbered by a flow of anxious families trekking in. The town of Wenchuan and hundreds of smaller settlements have been cut off from traffic and telephones since the massive tremor on Monday which Beijing say may have killed more than 50,000. And hundreds of people desperate for news of their families have decided they can no longer bear the wait, even though they are ill-prepared for dangerous treks of up to 70 km (44 miles). "I haven't heard from my husband since Monday. I need to know what happened to him," said teary De Chunli, struggling up a steep mountain path in the high heels and sequined outfit she was wearing when the quake levelled their house in nearby Dujiangyan -- which is at least still reachable by road. "I'm worried he might be injured or need food," she added, undaunted by the dazed and injured refugees streaming past her from the town some 30 km away where her husband had been meeting a friend. Those leaving warned that people were fighting over food, medicine and water in some of the worst hit towns -- but many hunting for loved ones seemed oblivious to the dangers ahead. "We have enough water for one day, after that we'll just have to see," said Chen Fubin, who had rushed from her home by the coast to try and find her parents in Wenchuan -- at least two days' walk away along a road littered with broken bridges, landslides and rivers swollen by torrential rain. Almost no one had brought tents, though aftershocks make sleeping in the few buildings left standing a dangerous gamble, and blocked roads meant many of those trying to reach more distant towns and villages were making the trip in vain. These unofficial search parties are extra work for officials already struggling to provide food, water and shelter to worst-hit areas. But no one wants to turn them away. "It is a bit more to do. But, well, I can't say it is a burden. Looking for their family is very important to Chinese people," said Zheng Wenqiang, a prefecture cadre supervising food and shelter about 25 km from Dujiangyan. He did not mention until asked that as he worked to rescue others, he had heard nothing from his own family in Wenchuan. GENEROSITY AND GRIEF There were countless others like Zheng. The self-sacrifice and generosity of ordinary people caught up in the disaster was one of the few glimmers of comfort in the stricken region. Men whose motorbikes were trapped between landslides or broken bridges offered the weak and injured free rides along stretches of road that were still passable. Those heading out offered spare food to people trekking into the area and farmers and soldiers boiled water for travellers. "Our house was up that hill but it collapsed in the quake, so this is just something I thought could help the other victims," said a woman stoking a wood fire under a huge pot of water, who like many helping out refused to give her name. "I'm just another survivor, just another Chinese person," she said with a shrug. Many on the road seemed surprisingly stoic, even cheerful, given the ordeal they have endured or the trek they have ahead, but beneath the calm they are fighting hard to keep their minds off the possible fate of their families. Mu Xunqing, who had been laughing and chatting with her family as they rested in a rare patch of shade, collapsed in a wailing heap when another group told her they were giving up after two days trying to reach Wenchuan. "My mother, my mother," she sobbed, as her friends and family tried to comfort her. Her group eventually decided to turn back but begged others who planned to push on as far as they could to look out for news of their families. Yang Ke passed on the names of his parents and sister, along with several mobile phone numbers and a simple, poignant note. "I hope you see them. Call me." (Reporting by Emma Graham-Harrison; Editing by Nick Macfie and Sanjeev Miglani) Story by Emma Graham-Harrison REUTERS NEWS SERVICE