Last Descent of the Great Bend of the Yangtze - Part III
(This is part 3 in a 3 part series. Read part I: Take Me to the River)
Dust in the Wind: Ahai Dam Barrels Ahead
If the 160-meter-high Ahai Dam is completed, its designers will be able to proudly say that their concrete work erased a thousand years of lovingly crafted Great Bend terraces in just a few years of reservoir filling. The legacy they are focusing on is surely a more positive one: increased distribution of eletricity to a power-hungry China, and increased efficiency for the Three Gorges Dam. According to the engineers, the main purpose of this eight-dam cascade will be regulating flows and sediment for the world's largest hydroelectric power station downstream. Whether or not all eight dams are actually required to make this work, and what that says about the design of Three Gorges itself, are all unknowns in China's disordered grand plan.
After leaving Boashan we climbed aboard our trusty rubber rafts once again and dropped into the next gorgeous canyon. It was another hot and sunny day, but somehow the air seemed a bit hazier than previous days. We floated on downstream unsure about the reason...Was there a forest fire in the area, or smog blowing in from a neighboring industrial center? Could there be fog mysteriously rising from the river in this dry climate?
Seven miles and two hours later the reason finally became clear. We had arrived at the local dust factory, also known as the under-construction Ahai Dam site. Where there once was grass, cactus, and the occasional boulder we found bulldozer-scoured hillsides spreading massive clouds of dust into the sky and up the river canyon. After five days of remote beauty, floating through this mega-project was an otherworldly experience. The signs appeared slowly: first the dust, then evidence of new roads, then cheap, litter-strewn worker housing, dozens of dump-trucks, and a gargantuan concrete plant. Still we drifted on, into the cold, dead heart of this modern marvel. Eight-hundred-foot high slopes of freshly dynamited rock spilled into the muddied river on both sides for over a mile, until we finally saw the beginnings of the concrete leviathan.
With us on the trip was a Chinese scientist named Yang Yong who specialized in the Yangtze and was well-versed in the grand plans for harnessing its hydropower. Astounded, we learned that the construction of this dam isn't even legal. It has been approved by the local prefecture government, but final approval rests with a State Council and Ministry of Environmental Protection, which has still not ruled on the legality of Ahai and its sister dams. Yet here we were in the midst of a massive construction project that must have begun a few years prior. The dam's investors and contractors had apparently decided to go ahead and get started, perhaps hoping to push the project beyond the point of no return and force the approval of an official permit. We asked Yang Yong how things could develop this way, without more control from the national government. Who was in charge here anyway? "It's driven by independent special interests," he said, "and there's not a comprehensive plan for managing water in the west."
If the dam continues to barrel ahead at its current pace, rafting will no longer be an option here, as early as next winter. The group of rafters who had been here a few weeks prior to us were forced to end their journey in Baoshan, due to blasting here at Ahai. On this day, we made it through without danger. We floated past dam workers and suit-clad supervisors who signaled us to "pull over." Did they want to offer a friendly greeting, or prevent us from passing through and documenting their encroachment? We opted not to find out, as we kept a comfortable distance from shore and let the cameras roll. Almost an hour after entering the construction zone, we left the dusty scene behind. Still trying to comprehend what we'd seen, I jumped in the river to cool off.
The Great Wall-banger
I focused on the oars as we left the dam site behind and pushed downstream into a headwind. Soon the dust and mayhem diminished and we were once again alone in a beautiful place. The character of the river continued as before - relaxing stretches of flat water followed by refreshing rapids. We appeared to be easing into a wider section of the canyon, but the boatmen weren't quite ready to let down their guards yet. We still had the most formidable obstacle of the entire trip to tackle - "Wallbanger" rapid.
Some rapids around the world, with names like "Jugbuster," "The Paralyzer," or "Coming Home Sweet Jesus" beg the question, "what exactly happened here to inspire THAT name?" Not so with Wallbanger. You guessed it - the river goes straight into a wall. Grand Canyon sized waves gather speed for three hundred yards as the river bends left before slamming against a jagged black wall of metamorphic rock. Here the river splits in two, one half veering off at a 90 degree angle to the right, and downstream, and the other half forced back upstream into a whirling helicopter eddy. Fail to make it to the right and we'd either get sucked back upstream and have to try again - from a more challenging starting point - or hit the wall and get flipped over.
Even though there was only one line to take, our crew of intrepid raft guides studied the rapid for almost an hour, trying to figure out exactly which surging wave offered the path of least resistance. Finally, we pushed out into the current and set up for the waves, pulling hard to the right. The first boat got pounded in a wave at the entrance, throwing them off course, before the oarsman finally regained control and pulled his craft safely to the right. Raft number two also had a close call as one of the oars was yanked out of its oarlock by an unruly current. They recovered in time to miss the wall by a narrow margin.
If it seemed our squeaky clean record in the Yangtze's rapids was being challenged, it was. Today the rapid may have been more aptly named "Oar-buster", as five out of the six boats would have similar difficulties, including one broken oar. The river was sympathetic to our cause, however, and we gratefully gathered our wits on the downstream side of the wall, which had escaped un-banged.
With the worst of the rapids behind us, we were able to relax and focus on the next big challenge on our schedule: the final evening's talent show. Throughout the day impromptu dance duos, barbershop quartets, and performance art ensembles had gathered whenever there was a lull in the rapids, to whisper and plot for the evening's presentation. After dinner we assembled under the lukewarm glow of two dozen headlamps for a cross-cultural Sino-American Idol variety show, to officially seal our newfound friendships with silliness.
Communication between Americans and Chinese had definitely improved throughout the journey, as we grew patient and learned to interpret each others' accents, but here was a way to share a bit of ourselves without stumbling over precise meaning. It would be difficult to misunderstand the trip's youngest participant dancing to a cell-phone ringtone - everyone was delighted. Other acts like a bizarre faux-Kabuki theatre and an amateur magic show just made us laugh.
The show's highlight was a Broadway-worthy rendering of the Yangtze River song by three Chinese men, including one who had been present on the disastrous 1986 first descent. Thirty years later he delighted in the opportunity to update his perspective on river sports, reflecting after the trip, "for me rafting has generally been a time of hardship and loss, so it has been wonderful to enjoy the river." As a priviliged Californian, rafting has primarily been about enjoyment for me, and this trip was no exception, though the specter of hardship and loss hangs heavy over the Yangtze.
(Part 3 in a 3 part series. Photos by Colin Carpenter)
- Part I: Take Me to the River
- Part II: Meeting the Golden Sands
- View an 8-minute Video Slideshow of the trip
