Through the heart of China

A cruise on the Yangtze River reveals much about the land that it slices through and the people who live along it.

SHERRI HILDEBRANDT STAFF WRITER

The steps from the bus down to the boat were uneven, rocky and a little muddy. In the dark Chongqing Harbor, the Victoria III floated, a bright spot in dense amber fog that turned the working boats and tugs anchored nearby into ghosts. For the next four days, the Victoria would be our home as we cruised down the Yangtze River through central China.

It was night when we boarded, and it seemed an appropriate introduction to the Yangtze: a little mysterious, rough around the edges, secretive. In the next four days, we would come to know other aspects of the river: relaxed, mighty, sleepy, agitated, proud. And, we would spend a lot of time contemplating how construction of the world's largest hydroelectric dam, well under way downriver in the village of Sandouping, would affect this artery through the heart of China.

We made our trip in October, a good time to visit and popular with tourists because the weather throughout China is temperate. The summer floods are past and the landscape is still green.

Riverboat cruises between Chongqing and Wuhan have become increasingly popular with international travelers in the last few years, and are likely to become more so in the next 10 years. The almost 800-mile cruise takes passengers through China's Three Gorges area, site of some of the country's most spectacular scenery.

Once the Three Gorges Dam is complete in 2009, the area will be under the waters of a newly created reservoir 373 miles long -- roughly the length of Lake Superior. Cities, farms and factories on this stretch of river will be submerged, along with archaeological sites believed to hold evidence of human life 5,000 to 6,000 years ago. The jutting peaks of the Three Gorges will become islands instead of mountaintops.

Before all this was gone, I wanted to see it.

So I called my sister, Joan, who enthusiastically agreed to be my traveling partner. We chose to go on an organized tour of China that included the Yangtze cruise, for although both of us have traveled extensively and Joane had made a previous trip to China, we wanted to make the best use of our time and not have to worry about details.

Our 19-day tour started in Beijing and concluded in Hong Kong, with the three days and four nights on the river as one of the highlights.

Our group of 28 settled into our cabins the night before we sailed. Though hardly Titanic in its proportions, the Victoria III (just like sisters I and II) did have a twinkling chandelier in the reception area, plush red-and-navy floral carpeting, and an elegant wooden staircase curving up to a balcony and the upper decks where most of the cabins and lounge were located.

With its dark wood detailing and slight, musty smell of cleaning liquid and furniture polish, it felt a little like we were visiting a great aunt's house that floated.

Our cabin wasn't much different from one you'd find on any cruise ship: small.

It was 155 square feet, with a little bathroom on the right and a tiny, nearly useless closet on the left of the entry. There were a few built-in storage units on either side (again, not especially commodious) and a bed along each wall. Each cabin had a closed-circuit TV on which programs about the gorges were broadcast, as well as a variety of China-related films, including ``The Last Emperor'' and ``Eat Drink Man Woman.''

After exploring the ship from the observation deck on top to the tiny gift shop near the front desk, we decided to call it a night, at which point I learned exactly how hard a bed can be and still qualify as a means for rest. The next morning, before we had even weighed anchor, I noticed cabin attendants delivering foam mattress pads to some of my fellow travelers.

I enthusiastically added my name to the list of sufferers. That extra few inches of padding for the remaining three nights couldn't have been more comfortable.

As we prepared to pull out of Chongqing during breakfast, we glumly looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows and were a little dismayed by the heavy smog that prevented us from seeing much beyond the boats immediately around us. This wasn't unusual, we were told. Because of China's dependence on coal for fuel, the air quality, especially in larger cities, is terrible.

That's one of the things the new dam is supposed to improve: with 26 hydroelectric generators, it is intended to supply about 15 percent of China's energy needs.

Once the Victoria was under way, we went out to the windy observation deck where the air was still chilly with morning damp and watched Chongqing, and the smoggy haze, slip away. Soon we were cruising past rugged, mountainous hills.

``Can you believe it?'' Joan exclaimed in amazement, as the scenery quickly became more impressive. ``We are actually traveling down the Yangtze River!'' It wasn't the first time we would share our incredulity.

After our first glimpse of life along the river, we gathered with the other passengers in the Yangtze Club lounge on the top deck to hear cruise director Tim Klein tell us about safety procedures and features of our floating hotel. A native of New Jersey, Klein hardly looked or sounded the part of an authority on Yangtze River trips -- until he switched into Mandarin without hesitation to introduce crew members to the Chinese passengers.

He told us that the Victoria III, built in 1997, is the newest of the three river boats. Each holds 154 passengers (there were about 100 of us aboard), and 112 crew members.

Meals would be served in the Dynasty Dining Room. Breakfast and lunch were buffet style, and offered a combination of Western as well as Chinese fare, but dinner was exclusively Chinese, served family style.

Appetizers, ranging from cold sliced meat to dumplings to spicy pickled vegetables, started each meal off. That was followed by soup and a combination of entrees that included chicken, pork, tofu or beef. Inevitably, there would be a green vegetable (usually some kind of sauteed cabbage, spinach or Swiss chard), and possibly a large fish showing up whole on a platter.

Surprisingly, rice usually didn't arrive until near the end of the meal. Our tour escort, Jeanne Wisner, told us it was considered rude to stuff oneself with rice -- it indicated there hadn't been enough of everything else. And yet, rice was served at every meal, including breakfast. Dessert was almost inevitably fresh watermelon, canteloupe or honeydew, except for our last night on the boat, when we were served a rare treat: apple pie and ice cream.

Later on our first day out, assistant cruise director Kate Harrisson, a native of England, gathered us for an introduction to the Yangtze River.

To most Chinese, the Yangtze is known as ChangJiang, which translates as ``Long River.'' It is the third-longest river in the world after the Nile and the Amazon, and goes by various names depending where you are along its 3,940 miles.

Starting in the Tibetan Plateau at 20,000 feet above sea level, it wends its way across China through 11 provinces and municipalities before it pours into the East China Sea near Shanghai. About one-third of China's population, or 350 million people, live along the Yangtze. Much of the rice that feeds China is grown near the Yangtze's banks.

A murky, brownish-ocher color, at times the river seems to simmer and swirl like a quickly stirred cup of strong coffee with milk; at other times it meanders quietly, a smooth highway of water.

Early in the afternoon, we arrived in Fengdu, or ``the city of ghosts,'' which includes among its various temples one dedicated to the god of the underworld. The story goes that during the Han Dynasty (220-206 B.C.), two scholarly officials, Yin Changsheng and Wang Fangping, decided to leave political life to practice self-cultivation through Taoist teachings. They became immortal, and their surnames, when combined, Yin and Wang, sound like ``King of Hell'' in Chinese.

On returning from the slightly theme-park-in-nature excursion to Fengdu, some members of our group agreed the hellish part was the climb up the hill from the boat to the bus, followed by a 600-step stairway to the temple. A round trip via chairlift is available for 15 yuan (about $2).

As we continued downriver, the human scenery was as interesting as the natural scenery. A lot of living takes place on the shores of the Yangtze. Old fishermen cast their nets, women washed clothes, teen-agers sat in groups near the water, children played on the shore, staring for a moment then waving enthusiastically.

Even as we sailed through seemingly desolate passages far from cities, a small boat would appear from behind a rocky protrusion, its lone passenger sitting on the bow meditatively smoking a cigarette. The rocky walls on either side of the boat became steeper and more threatening as we neared Qutang Gorge, the first of the three.

Still, there were signs of humanity. ``Look up there,'' I'd say to Joan. ``On that little path. There's someone walking.'' We'd pull out the binoculars and see a man or woman intrepidly navigating a tiny mountain path, usually carrying something that looked heavy on their shoulders.

On almost any level spot along the river perched tiny farms. Little more than what we would call a garden, the farms were scratched out on near-vertical slopes. Inevitably someone was stooped over, working the land by hand or with a hoe. In larger fields, we'd see a mule or ox pulling a plow.

When I saw those farmers I invariably thought of how their lives would change dramatically in the next decade. Most of them would have to leave their homes because of the dam. Land that one family may have worked for generations would be under water. Then the family would be among the estimated 1.3 million people to be relocated by the Chinese government at a cost reported to be at least $1 billion.

``For some of the young people, the move has quite a lot of appeal,'' Kate Harrisson told us, citing the allure of plumbing and electricity in new, government-provided apartments. ``But for the older people, the change will be quite upsetting.'' Already, more than 100,000 people have been relocated.

The morning of our second day, it was clear that though we all enjoyed relaxing on the boat, we really had come to marvel at and learn more about the gorges themselves. We crowded onto the observation deck around Rick Lee, a Chongqing native who served as our river guide, as we entered Qutang Gorge, the shortest of the three at about five miles. We quieted as the boat slid through the narrow passage between the walls of the towering, wind-scrubbed gorge. Frequently misty and windy, we were lucky to have clear skies so we could see to the top of the striking peaks.

In this area, the Ba people buried their dead in wooden coffins hung from the cliffs thousands of years ago. This is the only area that holds evidence of that culture, thought to be one of the world's oldest.

Chinese archaeologists are scrambling to unearth as much information as they can before the area, and all traces of the Ba, are lost underwater when the dam project is complete.

Docking at Wushan that afternoon, we were ready to explore the Lesser Three Gorges of the Daning River. We all disembarked and clambered up a muddy hill and steep stone steps with the help of the crewmembers, who were without fail polite, helpful and good-natured. (They even humored our efforts to say ``good morning'' and ``thank you'' in Chinese.)

After dodging peddlers crying ``ello, one dollah!'' as they tried to sell us everything from packets of postcards to silk scarves to pomengranates, we boarded a bus that took us on a wild ride through the narrow, crowded streets of the city to another dock where we got on small motorized sampans. Soon we were cruising down the Daning, a shallow river which sparkled a startling aquamarine.

The flat-bottomed boat grated harshly against nearly submerged boulders as our experienced captain and first mate skillfully used bamboo oars to keep us heading upriver through rapids and shallows.

Surely, we thought, we must be in the middle of nowhere. Then suddenly a ferry boat would come by, shooting a spray of water at us. And out of nowhere a group of peddlers would appear on shore, selling bottles of water, pop and beer, snacks, and tourist trinkets under hastily set-up bright blue tents. Children hoping to make their own sales dashed into the water to run alongside the boat to beseech us to buy colored glass globes.

Before our sampan turned around to take us back to Wushan, we scrutinized the sides of Misty Gorge, where golden faced monkeys were said to romp. No monkeys, but we did see what Jeanne said was a rare pied wagtail and some less-rare mandarin ducks.

Back on the Victoria, we were getting excited about our trip through the Wu Gorge, known as the most graceful of the three.

We weren't disappointed.

We cruised through late afternoon light into sunset as the 12 peaks of the Wu Gorge rose up from the water's edge on either side. Each peak seemed to be folded behind another, rising dreamily up from the water's edge.

Close up, we could see they were heavily wooded with fir trees but from a distance they looked black. Each had its own lyrical name -- Goddess Peak, Flying Phoenix Peak, Reading Students Peak, Gathering Immortals Peak and Gathering Cranes Peak.

Early the next morning we would pass through Xiling Gorge, the longest at 45 miles, and, until the 1950s, the most dangerous of the three. The treacherous rapids and shoals were blasted away, making Xiling now the safest gorge for river traffic.

In the dim morning light, the mountains slowly emerged from an early haze. The quiet of the morning was broken only by an occasional murmur at the beauty surrounding us or the click of a camera shutter. We clutched mugs of hot coffee as the sun burrowed through the morning haze and streaked the sky with pink.

By the time we left Xiling Gorge, the sky was bright, though not sunny, and in Sandouping village, we were herded off the boat onto buses that would give us a look at the source of much discussion: the Three Gorges Dam.

Hundreds of workers milled about at the base of the dam, scheduled to produce some power by 2003. In addition to helping supply China's power needs, proponents hope the dam will provide irrigation to the Hubei region as well as curtail flooding on the Yangtze. (Floodwaters had inundated parts of the Yangtze region only months before our trip.)

Critics say the dam really won't have an impact on flooding, and that the hundreds of millions of tons of silt, rock and garbage that flow through the Yangtze each year will turn the reservoir into a huge cesspool.

After leaving the dam site we were still full of questions about the effect of the project on the life of the river and of China itself. Would the cruises continue? Yes, we were told; though the landscape would change dramatically, the cruises would offer new and dramatically different vistas of the gorges.

Would everyone really be moved out? Yes, the government had already resettled as many as 100,000 people.

Once out of the Xiling gorge the landscape flattened dramatically. The Yangtze became wide and busy as work-a-day river traffic picked up, and there were more boat toots and whistles bouncing back and forth. After passing through the Gezhouba Dam and Locks, we arrived in bustling Wuhan that afternoon. The Victoria would turn around and begin its trip back upriver with a new group of tourists the next morning.

The gorges were behind us, their peaks and drops still sharp in our memories. And memories, it seems, will one day be all that is left of them.

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