Last Descent of the Great Bend of the Yangtze - Part II

(This is part 2 in a 3 part series. Read part I: Take Me to the River)

Meeting the Golden Sands

Just Another Day on the Jinsha
Just Another Day on the Jinsha

I awoke at 7am to the sound of tent poles being dismantled - a luxury after the previous day's pre-dawn start. If we were going to do the full 120 miles we needed to be ready to go by 10am. On a weekend backpacking trip that would be a piece of cake - but for 28 people to pack tents, cook and eat breakfast, and load the aforementioned two tons of gear back onto the boats in two groggy hours, it would be quite a challenge.

The second day was similar to the first in terms of distance and difficulty: 20 miles, and a dozen or so fun wave trains, including two class IV rapids. We also managed to make a brief stop at a very small village inhabited by the Pumi minority group. When our trip leader was here on his recon trip he spoke with one of the local farmers, who invited us to come pay him a visit. Arriving this time after a steep 400 foot climb up the hillside, we were greeted only by a young man who seemed justifiably hesitant to have his home invaded by 28 foreigners. Most of the villagers, he said, were out working in the fields. Sure, almost half of our group was Chinese, but to a Pumi villager in this remote canyon, someone from Beijing was hardly more familiar than someone from San Francisco.

Pumi Village Households
Pumi Village Households

We quickly acquiesced to his uncertainty - he was willing to speak with a small number of us, but the rest of us headed back. As we descended down to the rafts I wondered whether our interest in this seemingly pastoral lifestyle served any purpose other than our own edification. It was hard to imagine any positive outcome from our visit for this young man, or his few neighbors.

The few who did stay behind and speak to him clearly had his best interests at heart. They were China Rivers Project co-founder Kristen McDonald, filmmaker Kyle Dickman, and a US based researcher named Lexi Tuddenham. These three would make a point of interviewing as many locals as possible over the course of our seven day journey, as well as all of the trip participants. Some folks were happy to discuss the dam project, hopeful that these foreigners with fancy video cameras could somehow help publicize their plight. Others were reluctant, perhaps worried that they would be exposed to project developers who might not have much tolerance for their opinions.

The Audience is Watching
The Audience is Watching

One thing the locals were quite clear about was their bewilderment that we'd dare to run huge rapids that, to them, marked the navigable boundaries for their decrepit fishing boats. We saw all kinds of craft, ranging from 30-foot-long rusty steel motorboats to 40-year-old worn-through rubber life rafts - and for them going above or below the nearest rapids was out of the question. So it was no surprise that when they saw us approaching a chaotic mess of steep waves, with no sign of parking our boats, they'd all flock to the rivers' edge to watch us flirt with death.

We probably weren't the first crazy rafters they'd seen. For the past five years there have been two commercial raft trips per year on the Great Bend, run by American adventure travel companies. Prior to that rafting has had a troubling history in China, and nowhere more so than on the Yangtze, where in 1986 twelve Chinese died on the ill-fated first descent.

Apparently, over those past few years the local farmers had begun to accept that rafting wasn't certain doom. They didn't beg and plead with us to abort our mission for the sake of our own lives, as had many locals on a previous expedition on the more remote Class V upper Salween River in Tibet. Here on the Yangtze, they'd merely congregate on a big rock alongside the river to hoot and holler us through the waves.

Kristen McDonald Bashing Through Baptism Rapid
Kristen McDonald Bashing Through Baptism Rapid

A typical Great Bend rapid was about a quarter mile long, with waves up to ten or twelve feet high. In a 16-foot rubber raft that adds up to near vertical moments, and more than a few close calls! We smashed through the first rapid (named "Baptism" by Western rafters) without incident, other than getting completely soaked by the chilly 50 degree water.

Spirits were high after that, and a few more hours of drifting through the deep gorge was icing on our cake. Well, for some it may have felt like drifting, but for the oarsmen it was a slow and steady battle to keep the rafts moving through the upstream wind. I was delighted to arrive at our next camp, yet another shimmering expanse of golden sand ("Jinsha" means golden sand in Chinese) with more than enough space for our small army. We hit the beach and began the ritual of setting up camp once again. The crew only had one day of experience, but we were beginning to work together well.

A Typically Perfect Yangtze River Camp
A Typically Perfect Yangtze River Camp

A 7-day river trip is also 7-day camping trip, and a 7-day camping trip with 28 people sounds a little bit crazy. I think this is where the river helped out quite a bit, teaching us teamwork as we made our way downstream. Cooperating, we unloaded the boats quickly, and within a few minutes the night's kitchen crew was hard at work setting up the propane stoves and getting our gourmet meal started. This was one area where the Chinese guests could really show the Americans how it was done. With a few coolers full of veggies, and an impressive arsenal of hot pepper sauce, the bilingual cooking crews whipped up delicious regional dishes every night. Particularly skilled were the Szechuanese, who refused to cave in to typical camping food shortcuts, and routinely had us lining up for seconds (and something to cool our mouths). After a long day on the river and a satisfying meal I didn't hesitate to look wimpy - I went straight to bed.

Terraced Fields, Cotton Sheets, and Mah-Jong

The Terraced Fields of Baoshan
The Terraced Fields of Baoshan

On day four of the trip we parked our boats early in the afternoon, and hiked straight up the terraced canyon wall. From the river we couldn't see much, other than the usual crops growing on hundreds of brilliantly built terraces, themselves an engineering marvel. The usual crops around here are wheat, rice, and rapeseed (for making vegetable oil), among others. Where there once was a craggy, dry and dusty 45 degree slope, we now stairstepped up and over small, crescent-shaped fields, negotiating our way through the maze of tiny irrigation canals that now keep this desert mountain green. It's a stark contrast to the dam-site we passed the day before. Instead of bulldozers taking a few months to tear apart river banks, here generations of Naxi families have spent over a thousand years transforming a vertical desert into a garden.

Baoshan Village - Above the Yangtze
Baoshan Village - Above the Yangtze

An hour's hike brought us to the gate of Baoshan, a 1300-year-old stone village, where our leaders had reserved space for us in two local guesthouses. After having spent a few days in the beautiful but Disney-like Lijiang, it was a treat to experience this charming and unexploited village. Basically just a converted family home, our guesthouse was one of a few hundred houses built onto the steep hillside, all of which shared our stunning view of the river and the barren canyon wall on the other side. The team was tired, and having clean beds to relax on before we set off exploring was a welcome break.

And what a delightful adventure it was to explore Baoshan. There were no roads, only a labyrinth of well-worn stone paths leading between whitewashed mud-brick buildings. Around every corner was another beautiful and unique sight: A farmer and her small horse plodding up the alley, each with equally huge bundles of wheat on their backs: a group of village elders playing cards beneath a gorgeous fern-laced cliff: children playing basketball in a small town square: an old man smoking a pipe on a thousand year-old bench. The homes were large and solid, the fields were green, the people looked healthy - was this truly the pastoral paradise it appeared on the surface?

Baoshan Locals Playing Mah-Jong
Baoshan Locals Playing Mah-Jong

I took an evening stroll out into the fields. There were only a few paths leading out of town, and this one contoured around the mountain in the direction of a neighboring village. Absorbing the peaceful quiet, I admired the craftsmanship of the terraces, often walking on 8-inch-wide paths which stood atop handmade stone walls. A group of young children were playing on the next path down - I could hear their laughs and chatter as they made their way toward a large cave in the limestone wall across the creek. And as the sun went down, I wondered where in the world, where in MY world, would this be possible? Kids going to play in a cave in the dark, a mile from home, while their parents chatted and played mah-jong in the street - and none of them afraid.


Certainly the people of Baoshan face challenges. The rising waters of the Yangtze, if the Ahai dam continues, will be one of the greater ones. I wondered if their ancestors built the town this high above the river just in case such a hare-brained human idea became reality. Turns out they just wanted to reserve the more fertile lowlands for growing their food. With the best farmland underwater, that ancient foresight won't be of much consolation.

(Part 2 in a 3 part series. Photos by Colin Carpenter)