WALKING IN THE TIGER LEAPING GORGE

YUNNAN PROVINCE, CHINA

 

Marjory Kirk

WEA Ramblers

   In October I was part of a group of Intrepid Walkers who tackled The Tiger Leaping Gorge (approx. 40K) in the upper reaches of the Yangtze River, Yunnan. Our walk started from a tiny village called Bai Shui Tai which was reached by a 5 hour bus ride from the city of Zhongdian - a high cold city in the mountains. The bus ride was very scenic, through quite amazing mountain areas, with the occasional village in valleys below, and road workers camps along the sides of the road here and there. Some incredible roads have been blasted into and over the mountains during recent years, connecting populated and previously isolated valleys, and providing access to the outside world. Landslides and fallen rocks are a constant hazard, particularly during the wet summer season, and the roadmenders must be kept pretty busy with repairs. One camp even had a Tibetan yurt with a Lama in residence.

    About lunch time we arrived at our destination, a very basic guest house in a small village. A hot lunch of noodles and vegetables was brought to us in the outside eating area, and the afternoon was occupied by a tour up the hillside opposite to visit the limestone terraces, which are a famous feature of the region. Semicircular basins of gleaming white limestone terraces marching down to the base of the mountain. The area is the home of the Naxi minority people, and the Dongba culture, who have their own language and picture writing - quite different from Chinese.

The next morning we were up early to start the first day of our walk. Unfortunately I had not been well in the night, and was suffering from the dreaded stomach problems to which visitors are subject in that part of the world, but there was no option but to put my 'best foot forward' and carry on. We were a party of 15 in all, including our leader, the Naxi guide Sean and his Australian wife Margot, so a small horse and driver was hired to carry our water and other supplies for the day' trek.

I was thankful that my pack could go on the little horse, too.

    Our course was along the main road at first, then down steeply into the valley through a quaint little village, winding our way down a muddy track through the higgledy-piggledy houses and outbuildings. It was harvest time, and cobs of Indian corn were drying everywhere, on roofs, courtyards, rocks - anywhere that presented a dry airy surface. Through fields, along terrace walls, up a fir-clad mountain side, and eventually back onto the road again, where we had a lunch break. Not feeling too good, my lunch was a couple of bananas, while the rest of the party tucked into rolls, with all sorts of fillings, biscuits etc. provided by Margot. Sheer determination carried me on. A pass high on the mountains in front of us was pointed out. Just up to there, then we begin the descent. All this time we had been at an altitude of about 3,5OOm. The de5cent started well enough, but got steeper as we continued, down to the valley. No good for one suffering vertigo, we had been warned ! The

last part of the descent was across a landslide of white limestone chips, with just about enough room for a booted foot on the track. No hand holds and a very slippery slide down down down - just don't look! At last we reached the village of HaBa and our guest house. Chinese style buildings round a court yard, outbuildings round two sides with grain, animals and so on. Basins of hot water were provided for us to wash in our rooms. The toilet had the usual view over a cliff, but the beds were warm and comfortable with a cotton doona for covering. Our hostess and helpers provided a delicious meal for the party, but I just kept to rice. I shared a downstairs room with our guides in preference to an upstairs room with other members of our party. Chinese homes have two storeys, and most have folding doors opening to the courtyard.

    Up early again next morning, and a breakfast of very tasty noodles was provided. Our guides had located a truck going part of the way to their guest house at Walnut Garden, which was to be our next destination, and for a fee of 100 Yuan, about $20, the driver agreed to take Margot and I, and also some of luggage, on to the guest house in the Tiger Leaping the party s

Gorge. In my rather weakened state I was happy to accept this arrangement, and the early arrival at Walnut Garden would enable Margot to get the evening meal prepared for the rest of the party. I climbed in front with the driver, the passenger with his little son, and Margot got on the back with the luggage. Up and along mountain roads, wonderful views and amazing terrain. We let the passenger down at the end of a very rough track where he was to catch a ferry (more of this later) Then through a huge half finished housing estate, which Margot said had been at a standstill for about 2 years. Right in the middle of no-where, very poor soil, bleak and unproductive looking. Hundreds of much needed houses standing there like sad ghosts, but it would be hard to persuade people to settle there. Maybe some Chinese speculator was loosing a lot of money? Hard to say. Then back on the new mountain road to Walnut Garden. Up until a couple of years ago the only access to Tiger Leaping Gorge was a bridle track over the mountains and through the Gorge. Now the new road, blasted into the hillsides, provides access for vehicles able to brave the rough conditions. I helped Margot and two young girls with lunch preparations, had a HOT shower, and my clothes went into the washing machine - unheard of luxuries in such a remote spot.

    The guest house is about 13 years old, and consists of two typical Chinese houses, built on a little ledge hacked out of the mountainside. Water is provided by a clear natural spring, from which the guest house takes its name. Cooking facilities are in an outhouse, on a primitive woodburning range, and a two burner gas cooker. No daylight except through the open door, but there is power for a while at night for the one longlife bulb hanging from the rafters. The group arrived mid-afternoon, hot and tired after about 18k through the mountains. Showered and refreshed, they enjoyed a wonderful evening meal, and settled down in the outdoor eating area to watch the news by satellite and later a video film. It was quite a strange experience to watch TV in such a remote place. Technology in China is advancing so quickly that nearly every village has its satellite dish although household water is still carried from the streams.

    Next day was a day of rest, which we were all glad to enjoy One or two energetic members made the long steep descent to the Yangtze River, and got back just as a violent thunder storm echoed through the mountains. Torrential rains cascaded down the slopes on the other side of the Gorge, and we could see rocks falling.

    Next morning we were due to walk the last 23+k out of the Gorge to Qaitou where our main baggage had been stored, but at 6.00 am we rose to pouring rain and darkness. Early breakfast, and off we set along the road. Reaching a waterfall about 3k along, we found it impassable. Water cascading down the mountain side had washed away what was left of the road, and rocks were falling on the other side. We retraced our steps back past the Spring Guest House, and continued down the Gorge in the opposite direction. Rain was still falling, there were rock falls along the road, bits had subsided from the edges, far down into the Gorge, and there was the ever present danger of falling rocks. After about 12k we left the road and scrambled up a steep hillside track, over a stream which operated a water-driven threshing machine, and shortly found ourselves among the unfinished houses, and down the rough track as far as the truck had gone 2 days before. Now began our descent to the Yangtze River ferry. The track zig-zagged steeply down on and on, and the last stretch above the swift flowing river was a little ledge hacked out of the rock cliff, just enough room for one boot at a time. At the bottom waited the ferry barge. The boatmen were very skilled in handling their craft, which they took upstream, and let the current bring them back down, to the landing place. Again, another steep scramble up the high banks, till the level fields were reached. We teetered along the banks of paddyfields, slithered through the mud, watched by the occasional placid buffalo. Eventually we reached a small poor village, where we were to get a bus. Our guide sent someone to make a phone call, and we were told our bus would come for us 'in a few minutes', from the nearby town of naji.

Meantime the local children and several men regarded us with much amusement and teasing. We were invited to wait in the warmth of the shop' courtyard, where a type of council meeting was going on. We understood it concerned celebrations for the millennium, and there was much heated argument.

    Our bus duly arrived, and we thankfully piled on, wet and tired. We could look up the Gorge and see the mist and rain shrouding the mountains where we had walked.

The bus journey to LiJiang was 3 hours of mountain road, almost nil visibility, fog and rain - so rough that the back of the bus became airborne on a couple of occasions - but we slept peacefully through the journey, blissfully unaware of cascading waterfalls, rock falls, passing other buses etc.etc.

We had walked in the Tiger Leaping Gorge.