Transportation

Generally, we have found that if we book transportation through a travel agent we get unpleasantly surprised. Sometimes the actual bus is quite a bit rougher than the one shown in the picture by the eager agent. Other times, it doesn't leave as expected, or takes forever to get to our destination. We have done better visiting the bus and train stations ourselves to make our reservations. Nonetheless, the Three Gorges trip includes a shuttle to the bus station in Chengdu, then the long distance bus to Chonquin, then a shuttle to the dock, then booking the actual ferry, and then a bus from the destination dock on to the next city. With that many steps, we were too likely to have one or more steps take too long or not have seats, and get stranded. So we crossed our fingers and bought a full package from the travel agent at the Traffic Hotel in Chengdu. We looked at the pictures, and even had them call the ferry to confirm the actual facilities on the ferry leaving the day that we would go.

The surprises started immediately. The 7:30 AM shuttle bus was late. And while we explicitly asked if the long distance bus leaves from the new bus station in the SE of the city (that's where the faster luxury buses are), and the agent said yes, the shuttle took us off to the north, stopped in the parking lot of another hotel, and ushered us off the bus. The driver spoke no English, and he sped away. Other westerners were also getting dropped there and we congregated together to see what was next. Soon, a private bus arrived to take us to Chonquin. Not as fast as promised, but it was comfortable and even had a TV screen with English language movies!

The next surprise was at the ferry dock. The first clue was when the guide was quite concerned that one couple had booked first class (out of the five classes). We stood on the dock looking at quite a variety of boats while he ran around frenetically. Finally he came back happy, and told the first class travelers to head off toward a particular boat. Then he led us back up the hill. After crossing through the mud we headed off toward an area of much less attractive boats. Some were just barges. Some didn't look seaworthy.

The pictures of the boat had a nice dining room with white linens. The actual boat had a tiny room with about six tables covered with plastic. The phone call had reported that second class cabins had private bathrooms. On the actual boat, these had disappeared. The picture of the boat had a nice deck on top for viewing the gorge. The actual boat just had a roof.

Maybe we have become a bit jaded, but we weren't put off. We knew to discount whatever the travel agents say. All in all, the bus got us here and it isn't a bad boat. We came to have a couple of days on the river, and see the Gorges, not for a luxury cruise. We're happy.

We even had time in Chonquin to get a new digital camera. Unfortunately, our Nikon 800 quit working in Thailand and we lost two weeks of pictures before getting it repaired in Chiang Mai. It died again in Dali, so we didn't get any pictures of the Tiger Leaping Gorge, Jiuzhaigou, or other places for the past couple of weeks. We haven't found a competent repair shop, so did some research on the internet while in Chengdu to get a replacement. Armed with specs on twenty cameras (and US street prices) we were able to find a great camera shop in Chonquin and get a new Nikon 775 for just $25 above US street prices. I guess we will ship the other one back to the states to get it repaired and then sell it?

The Three Gorges

We first visited the Yangtze River up in the mountains of northwestern Yunnan, where it ran thick gray from sand and silt, like glacial melt. We hiked along the river as it crashed through the Tiger Leaping gorge, cutting a swath through mountains 15,000 feet high. Further upstream, the Yangtze ran within 30 miles of the Mekong River. These two rivers diverge by thousands of miles before reaching their destinations. If the Yangtze, so critical to Chinese civilization, hadn't been able to cut through, it too might head south to Indochina and arguably the history of China would be very different.

We joined the Yangtze again in Chonquin. Here it already resembles a tame industrial river. It is wide and flat, full of traffic. But that would be misleading. The current is swift and the power of the water is still clear. The Yangtze River periodically floods huge areas of China downstream, taking thousands of lives and wrecking billions of dollars of damage. The floods also nourish the most fertile lands of China, helping successfully feed 1.2 billion people. The Chinese have dreamed for decades of damming the river to stop the floods, and now the dam is being built. Heralded by the Chinese as a symbol of development, the dam is also a poster child for environmentalists about ecological destruction. The dam will create the largest reservoir in the world.

The area to be flooded includes The Three Gorges, where the Yangtze pierces through the last hills/mountains before the long journey across flat western China. This has always been somewhat of a tourist area, but since the reservoir will obliterate the gorges by 2009, it is now a very popular destination for sightseers eager to get a glimpse before it is gone.

Zhongdian

We are now very deep into the ancient Tibetan Kingdom. The area has been carved into provinces, of which only one is now known as Tibetan, but the area still looks and feels like Tibet. The women wear the Tibetan dresses, and the villages have the Tibetan stupas and monastery.

We talk with one Tibetan woman on the street. Forgetting the strict ban on speaking the Dali Lama’s name, when we hear that she is a Buddhist, we tell her that we had attended his recent teachings in Dharmsala. The Dali Lama had been sick a year earlier, and rumors spread that he had died. With strict government control of information, this was the first that she heard that he was alive! Her face suddenly lit up with the most immense radiance, and then equally quickly she realized how risky it was to be on an open street with the name of the Dali Lama mentioned so her face instantly lost color, her posture sagged and she left without a word. We are sure however that she would quietly let others in the village know that their spiritual leader was still very much alive.

We stay the first night at a backpacker jaunt, with many other travelers. However, we have a problem.  We routinely keep 2-3 weeks of local cash on hand and restock at banks or ATMs (yes, even here in deep rural China) every week, so we have a runway of 1-2 weeks if we get stuck. Then we also have VISA card, travelers cheques, and the universal greenbacks as additional backup.

In New Dali, the ATM was not working, but we still had plenty of money so pushed on. Then we extended on hike in Tiger Leaping Gorge longer than planned, and spent a little more. There was still little worry, since Zhongdian is a larger village –it is county seat. We arrive and the banks are closed for May Day. No problem, we’ll check tomorrow. The next day the bank is still closed. In China there are several banks, but only the Bank of China is allowed international exchanges. The other banks are open and sympathize with our plight but cannot wire an ATM or bank withdrawal  We check around to the hotels that cater to more up-scale western tourists. They can accept travelers cheques, or exchange greenbacks for local currency. However, they can only provide those services for guests at their hotel. We are spending less than $5 at the backpacker jaunt down the road, but figure we could have one upscale night and consider the increase rent to be just a kind of ATM fee. We query about the price -- $70 a night! Yikes, we live off of that much for a week or two! We walk out considering additional options.

The next day the bank is still closed. We find out that it will be closed all week for the May Day holiday. That’s a problem. We circle around to a few more local businesses to see if anyone will exchange the travelers cheques or greenback and come up dry. The next day is Friday and we are just about out of cash. We do not have enough cash to get through the weekend until the banks open on Monday. Rod is calculating the options –we have a tent and just enough money (27 cents) to buy some rice and hike into the hills for the weekend.

Fran is not at all comfortable with hiking into the hills. She is scared. She heads back to the hotels that cater to the western tourists. In Asian Buddhism, it is very unusual to show frustration or anger publicly  Instead the spiritual teachings are to be able to remain inwardly calm (not just stuff it). If they see others in stress, then it is very uncomfortable and they try to help promote calmness. So here we have a culture clash. Fran was getting scared and frustrated, and the Tibetans were trying to he help her calm down. Since they were not helping her with the real problem (exchange the travelers cheques!) she only got more frustrated, which made them focus even more on calming her down.

Returning to one hotel to plead for the third time, Fran goes bezerk! The desk clerk explains again that she cannot help, while she scans the lobby and manager’s door. As she continues to say she cannot help, she pulls out $20 in local currency. Fran hands he the US $20 bill and takes our travelers cheque. The clerk continues to repeat that she is sorry she cannot help, as we tuck the money into our money belt and leave. She likely took considerable risk to help us.

Rod leaves with great memories of Zhongdian, a beautiful Tibetan village high in the mountains that the Chinese government is renaming Shang-ra-la to promote tourism. Fran leaves with considerably different memories and has no desire to ever return. Sad.

Tiger Leaping Gorge

The Yangtze River begins high in the Himalayas in western China. Shortly after the so-called "first bend" in the far west of Yunnan province, the Yangtze pierces through the mountains to head east, unlike the Mekong which passes only 30 miles away and yet ends up thousands of miles south in Vietnam.

Piercing the mountains is no small task. The mountains are routinely above 3,900 meters (13,000 feet), and in fact the Tiger Leaping Gorge slides between the Jade Mountain at 4,900 meters (16,000 feet) and the Haba Snow Mountain (only a bit shorter). From the top of the gorge down to the water is a remarkable 3,900 meters (13,000 feet)! That is one tall gorge!

The gorge has become quite well known in recent years, and attracts an international crowd. Nearly every place we visited in China was mostly filled with Chinese vacationers, but not Tiger Leaping Gorge. This was full of Europeans and Australians.

To get to Tiger Leaping Gorge, you pass through LiJiang. We skipped it and went straight to the trail head. Later we passed through LiJiang again and regretted that we didn't spend more time there. It has a large old town area that has been converted completely to tourism, with tiny cafes and shops in a beautiful setting. The Jade Mountain towers over the city. The old town is full of tiny winding cobblestone alleys and masonry buildings, with shade trees and flower pots. Tourists just hang around town for a few days taking a welcome breather from the difficulties of traveling in China, sipping Espressos and eating pizza.

The road to the Gorge is undergoing construction (and reconstruction). Many parts are gravel, potholed, or single lane. The road is built onto the rock landscapes following the river, and many workers are building roadway the old way. The bus stops for occasional dynamite blasting. Adjacent areas have been converted into quarries and stone blocks are being cut by hand and drug to the road bed. The workers live at the construction sites in simple shelters made of blue tarp, sometimes perched on flat areas only a few yards wide between the road and the cliff dropping to the river.

We don't speak Chinese, but manage to tell the driver where we want to get off. We follow along on the map, but it is simple. The highway eventually joins the Yangtze, and then the hike starts when the river turns away from the road into the gorge. We follow the river, and then surprisingly cross to the other side. Unsure, we just stay on. Then the road leaves the river, and the bus keeps going. However, the driver seems to remember where everyone wanted to go, and has made a couple of unprompted stops for other people already. We trust he knows what he is doing, and sure enough, he pulls over a few miles later and lets us know we have arrived. We pile out, the bus speeds on, and we look around.

We are at the end of a tiny town, one road wide and three blocks long. We start looking for the "Backpacker Cafe", which is the place to get information, leave bags, etc. It doesn't exist anymore, and the old location is vacant. We manage to find the general direction to the trail across the river, and check into a hotel for the night. We wander around and find a different cafe across the river that seems to have good information on the hike. It turns out that everyone calls it the Backpackers Cafe except the owner, who has his name on the sign instead, and he moved the location. Somehow, everyone is supposed to find him away, and I guess we did. We have a nice dinner. After we return to the hotel, the power goes out. We step outside and find the entire town stopped. There is now a line of cars and trucks stopped in the road from one end to the other (waiting for construction dynamiting down the road), and the whole town is black. We finish the night by candlelight. A typical day in rural China.

The next morning we get an early start. We read about a Nasi family just a couple of hours up the gorge that has a bed and breakfast, and plan to get there for breakfast.

The directions to the trailhead are to just wander down the road, and follow the arrows through the school. We manage to figure it out easily enough. The school turns out to be a residential school --the children spend the week there, returning to their families on the weekends. There are no provisions provided by the school except for the location. The kids (10-13 years old) do their own laundry, sweep the school, and other chores. They even cook themselves --as we pass they are finishing off breakfast, having cooked on open charcoal fires, and are beginning to clean up before school. They learn to work hard and take responsibility for themselves, in exchange for an education.

The trail begins to climb gently past a few fields, shacks, and other paths. We begin to see the mountain rising on the other side, although they disappear into the clouds above. We can't really see where we will climb to, but the guidebook says the first four hours are all uphill, much at a very serious incline. I think it rises about 4,000-5,000 feet, but there aren't any topographic maps and we are unable to communicate enough to ask anyone. We brace for a stiff climb.

After just 90 minutes we are at the Nasi family house for breakfast. We stop and have a great meal of potatoes, tomatoes and eggs. Everything on the menu is straight from the garden. Quickly we regret not hiking up to this point last night. The family is very friendly, and while they understand no English (or Mandarin Chinese for that matter), we feel very welcomed. The house is built around the four edges of a square, with an open courtyard in the center. The bottom level includes space for the animals and storing grain, as well as the kitchen. The upper level includes the sleeping rooms, with a balcony overlooking the courtyard and across to the gorge.

We hike on, not pushing real fast but not stopping much either. The trek is rated at nine hours of hiking today, and we don't know how we will compare to their times so we figure to keep moving. No need however. It later turns out that we are at the top in three hours.

The route up is called "28 bends" for all of the switchbacks. Locals differ on how many switchbacks there really are, with estimates from 29 to 34. There are some small ones that nobody counts, but it is unclear about others. Fran stops counting past 40.

The views are well worth the climb. Since the trail mostly goes upwards, the view doesn't change by going down river, but instead by going up. Looking across, down below is the same view as the last viewpoint, but a new one is now directly across. First the view is of the silty, muddy river. Above that is vegetation and contoured farms. One farm is built along a narrow stream. The beds are perhaps only 50 feet wide, but the terraces climb up the hillside from several hundred feet. The farm is more vertical than horizontal. We watch it as we climb, and it slowly disappears. Above that zone is different vegetation, then a zone of dark jagged rock, then softer lighter rock with a bit of grass, then another color of rock topped by snow glaciers, with jagged peaks at the top. As you climb more of the upper zones come into view, and the ones below drop off.

We decide to spend the night up in the gorge rather than hike down. It is just too beautiful. We stop at the local favorite guest house, but it seems to be too busy, too noisy, and not friendly. We wished we had stayed at the Nasi house last night. We hike on to Five Fingered Mountain Guest House. It is a simple guest house, much like the Nasi family in which we had breakfast. Again, everything on the menu is in the garden or running around the yard. There is just one other group of hikers, three men of whom one can speak a bit of Mandarin.

The family consists of one very old woman, well hunched over and under four feet high. She later tells us she is 72. She slowly ambles over to us, her wrinkled hands extended from under her hunched frame and her head lifted to reveal a very welcome smile. She speaks, but we do not understand the words. The eyes and hands however extend a deep "welcome" and she invites us to tea.

The family includes a man in his fifties, two younger women, and one little boy. There may be four generations here, with many missing family members. It is a hard life. Westerners sometimes refer to such hunched-over old women as "Mao's women", since their bodies were broken with years of toil. However, nothing has broken this Grandma's radiance.

We relax and enjoy the hospitality with tea. We order dinner, and it is great. We watch as the preparation starts with a trip to the garden for the vegetables. Afterwards Grandma invites us into her den, a dark windowless room with a few sticks burning in the center of the dirt floor for heat. She has a heavy pot of water for tea on the fire. She smokes and talks to us with her hands, her eyes, and her words. We motion, and think we have exchanged our ages, our number of children and their ages, and such. Much is lost, except for the warmth of her heart.

Later the family eats. However, they consider it too rude to eat without inviting their guests to join, so we must sit at their dinner table with them. There is barely enough rice for them, and just a few other treats. We take a small pinch to not offend and then allow them to eat their meal as we all sit at the table. One of the younger women speaks some Mandarin, as does one of the travelers, so a few words get translated from English to Mandarin, and then to the local dialect. But mostly communication is with gestures and smiles. This is a very gracious and generous family. The man opens a beer to share, so I buy a beer also and we all share the two of them.

The next day we decide to extend our hike by going part way up Haba Snow Mountain toward the glacier. The family is very concerned that we might not be safe, and offers to guide us for a few dollars. But we would rather just stroll along ourselves for a few hours, and do not intend to go to the more dangerous parts. We are unable to convince them. The other travelers also want to go up the mountain unguided, but we encounter considerable resistance. Eventually, we just begin to wander off and the family decides that they need to move their goats up the hill, so one of the women needs to go up the same trail. They just can't bear to have us travel alone. We have a nice walk and our escort stays with us for several hours. Eventually, we turn around and the other travelers continue, and the escort returns with us. We all pay her a small sum, but really believe she came just because we were guests and it was her responsibility to ensure our safety.

Later we hike down all the way to the water. The upper trail is fine, but down by the river there are a few tricky areas. One involves holding onto a cable while climbing down a vertical rock face. We are glad that Jamie showed us a few rock climbing techniques last year! Once we locate a few key toeholds it is not very difficult.

Fran has several "character development" moments on this trek. With her fear of heights, the peak was the first challenge, since the trails have drop-offs of literally thousands of feet. The rock climbing descent was also enough of a challenge that she wanted to find a different route back up. We did, but then encountered the bigger challenge. One segment was a rickety wooden ladder up a vertical rock face, with a couple of rungs broken. It was actually more stable than it looked (or we wouldn't have used it) but it took some nerve.

Coming out, we encountered several people who took the trail the wrong way (from the east instead of from the west). That end has major road construction, so the entire trip consisted of walking into a head wind on a hot dusty gravel road past road construction equipment and dynamiting. Needless to say, the simple choice of direction (which was wrong in some guide books) turned the hike of a lifetime into a horrible, sweaty trudge. We talked some of them into taking the other hike, just to overcome their horrible day and leave with good memories.

Unfortunately, the camera was not working during this hike, so there are no pictures.

I noticed in our message board that several of you made reference to Fran traveling with an Old Goat. I assumed that meant this hike, since there were many goats. In fact we had to scramble off the trail twice to let goat herds pass by. Since the camera wasn't working, and we hadn't written up the stories yet, I am impressed that you figured out that we saw goats!

New Dali

Dali is a small city by a large lake in northwest Yunnan province. It is know for its cobblestone streets and traditional stone architecture. It is well written up in Lonely Planet, so it has become a tourist destination. It is also a great place to kick back and recover from the extremes of traveling. Fran, having just come down with a cold and weary from the long bus ride, does just that for the first 24 hours upon arriving in town.

Our haven was Karen's Guesthouse...a pleasant and inexpensive place to live while in town. Karen is a young Bai (the local minority group) woman, who at 20 decided to start her own business. She likes to cook, so she wanted to open a cafe. After receiving a loan from a family friend, she rented a building and prepared guest rooms. While waiting for her license from the government (which can take quite a long time), she quietly rents rooms very reasonably for 10 Yuan per bed. We were very impressed with the capitalistic opportunities available today in communist China. That a young woman can have so much success speaks volumes of the changes in China since it opened to the west. It also says a lot about her. Karen made our stay in Dali very enjoyable - sharing stories of our lives and sharing her food.

We were actually fortunate to arrive in time for the Third Full Moon Fair (Sanyou Jie). The Buddhist roots of this festival have long been overshadowed by commercial aspects of modern life. Today it is an extra festive market attended by seemingly everyone in the region. The streets are filled to overcapacity by people representing every minority group and with foreigners like us. Vendor stalls line miles of streets selling food, every imaginable product, carnival games and even a trip to the scale to find your weight. Horses, motorcycle taxis, tour buses and cars vie with pedestrians for every spare centimeter on the streets; their honking adding to the cacophony of voices speaking many languages. Vendors with megaphones add their message to the din. The colorful traditional clothing of the minority groups is as diverse as the skin color and facial structure of those who are wearing them. And everywhere is the dust; swept across the dry hills by the fierce wind.

We awoke early for the opening ceremonies of the festival. After pushing and shoving through the crowds on the street for an hour, we arrived at the stadium. Thirty to fifty thousand people, like us, strained to see the main field over the heads of those in front. On the field were 1000 performers, dancing to a common rhythm while dressed in their different traditional clothes. Colorful banners and flags fluttered from their hands. It was truly an expression of their ethnic differences and of their unity as peoples of China.

The horse racing began with a flourish after the dancers cleared the field. First the women, then the men raced in heats of four, for the winning flag. Riders on bareback racing like the wind on their ponies competed with jockey style riders on full size horses. One skilled rider rode bare back and without reins; clutching the pony only with his powerful knees; his arms flying and gently striking the horse’s mane to spur him on. All wore their traditional dress.

The stadium cleared after the racing ended. We followed a group to the older part of the city, the part that has escaped the hordes of tourists. Many parts of the city remain simply a place where people live and work. And for us it was an escape from the constant refrains of "Hello! Where you go? Taxi? Watch? CD? Postcard?"

The streets of old Dali are a meandering, narrow concrete ribbon between old brick buildings. As we walk, we see areas of mustard, bean and wheat stalks lying on the streets. As we see one truck going back and forth over a pile of bean stalks, we discover what is happening. It is harvest time and the easiest way to separate the seeds from the stalk is to thrash it by foot and vehicle power on the streets. Down one side street we see a group of people set up a large winnowing machine. Two people feed the bean stalks into something like a garden shredder. The person at the other end gathers the beans into large bags as they feed out the funnel. At another place, a woman sets up a simple room fan next to a pile of mixed seeds and chaff. She lifts the pile by basketsful, depending on the wind to separate it into two piles. All of this work is going on during a festival day....the farmer in China works hard and long.

In the distance we see twin golden pagodas rising above the humble building of old Dali. Our walk towards them is interspersed with the calls of the horse taxi drivers...Taxi? The taxis are colorful carts with surrey drawn by pony...they look interesting but we decline their offers. We make it to the pagodas, but are unable to take pictures (our camera is broken). You can see them though at http://www.cnto.org/images/dali.gif.

We walk long into the evening, enjoying the sights, smells and general hubbub of the Third Full Moon Fair. But if you plan such an excursion, take our advice; pack your earplugs, for the noise is unbelievable.

The days spent in Dali are so different that they demand separate web pages. Day One provides a picture of the city and the festival crowds. Day two is a picture of our real love - outdoor hikes.

Rising out of the outskirts of town is a cable car, connecting the city to the foothills of the 1500m (5000 ft) mountains. We read in our travel guide that there is a temple/ monastery and a trail at the end of the cable car run. Partly as an escape from the crowds and partly for the sheer enjoyment of fresh air and stretching the leg muscles, we begin the hike up the mountain. The trail winds up the steep slope (at least there aren't stairs as there have been on just about every hike we've undertaken!) under the cable car.

We soon discover that we have entered a graveyard. In fact, the entire surrounding hillsides are covered with graves. We are a bit uncertain at first if we should proceed - we don't want to show any disrespect. Our discomfort disappears, though, when we meet many families picnicking near the graves of their ancestors. The language barrier keeps us from asking the many questions we have about their funeral customs. From our perspective, what a missed opportunity!

Upon reaching the temple, we find that it is little more than a museum to a religion that was shed by the Party. The view is spectacular, though. We can see the whole city and the farm fields surrounding the large lake. The mountains on the far side of the lake are equally clear. What is even more amazing than the view is the fact that we can hear the festival crowds, even though we are miles away. It is a very audible drone punctuated by horns and megaphone buzz. Is there no escape even in the mountains?

We decide to have lunch before we continue the hike along the face of the mountain. There are many restaurants nearby, displaying their fresh food in front. The experience of selecting food in this part of China is not one that the average American is used to. Our Chinese friends will probably laugh at our squeamishness. You simply choose your ingredients. In one basket is the forest mushrooms...another the lichens...another the fresh greens in water...peppers, onions, tomatoes...small live eels wiggling in a bowl...snails in water topped by a basket of frogs...fish swimming in tanks...chickens and their eggs. All of this to be prepared fresh for you. At the moment of selecting food, we ponder the wisdom of vegetarianism and choose a plate of vegetables and rice.

After lunch we set out for the hike along the trail. It is said to connect to a monastery 11 kilometers away. In reality, the trail seems more like an ancient highway, just wide enough for carts and foot travel. It is constructed of flat flagstones, tightly fit together. Fran obligingly watched Rod as he marveled at the trail. He talked on for some time about how this rock fit with that and how ingeniously it was constructed. Fran listened and set a fast pace to overcome the travel weariness, hoping that Rod would follow.

The serpentine trail stayed at the same elevation, going deep into a creek crevasse and out to the points of the slope. The mountains it traversed were breathtakingly beautiful, covered with pines. At time it seemed little more than a shelf carved out of the steep slope, granite cliffs above and below. The creek waters gushed forcefully down the mountain, clear and fresh in the many pools and waterfalls they formed. At one point we followed a sign on a side trail in Chinese, not knowing what discovery awaited us. We found a Buddhist shrine and a little further up a ledge where monks must have meditated for centuries. The rocks to the ledge were well worn. The heights were dizzying as the granite cliffs descended sharply into the valley below. One could quite easily picture a mystic perched on his shelf in the mountain mists. The whole mountain had a spiritual feeling in its beauty.

Quite enjoying the walk and the scenery, we decided to hike the entire trail to the monastery. Around dusk we reached the end of the trail and the highlight of the day. We did not find the monastery, but what we did find had us wishing we had more time for exploration. Quite simply put, we found a creek flowing between gorges. But that description does not do it justice, it does not begin to describe its mystic beauty.

I shall attempt in words to describe the creek as we did not have a camera to capture the image. (Note: The mountains run north to south, with the creeks running from the west). We were able to climb to a high point looking down on the creek as it flowed out of the gorge to an open area below us. Looking west the sun infuses the steep rugged cliffs with gold. A few windswept trees poke from the upper heights, the lower covered by deep green vegetation. The higher mountains in the distance poke up behind the gorge cliffs, also highlighted by the setting sun. Below us a trail, mostly steps, winds up along the stream. At one point it crosses the stream by suspension bridge. At the uppermost point the trail disappears around the bend of the gorge, only adding to the mystery of the place. The call to continue our exploration around that bend is hard to ignore. (Those of you who know Fran well, know that it is difficult to stop her when she just has to see what's around the next bend in the trail!)

But ignore it we do as we are still miles away from town with no idea of how to get there. As any lost hiker knows, we follow the stream as it pushes down the slope. Just as full darkness descends, we reach a road and hail a passing bus. We soon recognize the bus stop right in front of the guesthouse door, entering with the lingering beauty of the day still in our minds. We will carry that image in our hearts and minds for many years to come.

Guilin

Rod's viewpoint:

You may have seen Chinese art with fanciful landscapes that are just punctuated with numerous jutting hills/peaks, totally covered in greenery, and lush meadows and streams in between. Well it turns out there is such a place.

Guilin has been the inspiration for Chinese landscape art for centuries. Everything is green. The soil is very fertile clay, and the farmland is very lush. Everywhere, it looks just like Peter Chan's garden in Portland --the raised bed Chinese style of gardening. And then these lush meadows are tucked in between towering Karst (limestone) formations, which are beautiful jagged rock covered in green trees. It is quite striking. If you are not familiar with Guilin, look it up. Here's a pointer to a few pictures: http://www.chinahighlights.com/photos/glalbum.htm.

We stayed in Yangshuo. Many people have repeated the old Chinese saying that supposedly every school kid knows: Guilin is the most beautiful place in China, and Yangshuo is the most beautiful in Guilin. As you might expect, Yangshuo is a tourist town. It has received Chinese vacationers forever, and in the past two decades has expanded to be a bit of a refuge for western travelers. There is even a street named "Western Street", and it has pizza, burritos, hamburgers, and Jimmy Buffet tunes. This is quite an anomaly here --we are in rural, southern China and there is very little Western influence. We stayed just off that street, in an area that is a mix of both Chinese and Western. It was more interesting.

Guilin and Yangshuo are places to go outside and see. The landscapes are incredible. With a moist and hot climate, and very fertile clay soil, you can imagine how lush it is. What a wonderful contrast to northern Thailand, which was quite dry.

We rented bikes and just headed out on a road. We were soon following the river on dirt paths which were not on the map. We went through several small villages, wandering through the Karst formations and lush farms. It is just breathtaking. It is also refreshing that while this area is populated, the farming methods are very sustainable. The plowing is done by water buffalo. The land is very carefully terraced to flood the rice field and protect the soil. The other crops are planted in raised beds, maybe 3-5 feet wide, with two or even three crops interspersed. All drainage is carefully controlled, so no soil is lost. It is quite impressive, and very productive. The vegetables are so lush!

Let me describe Karst formations. Visually, they look like huge pillars jutting out of the valley floor, several hundred feet into the air. They are taller than wide, and the sides are nearly vertical. Yet, the rock is fairly heavily cracked, and trees are growing on all of the sides and top. The peaks are a combination of craggy rock face and greenery. Geologically, they are also interesting. Remember that this area was once under the ocean, and has risen due to the northern movement of the tectonic plates that include Southeast Asia and India. This is the same force that formed the Himalayas. The Karst formations are limestone, meaning they are the old ocean floor deposits. Over the years they were broken and tilted, so that they are currently standing on end. In between, the rivers have flooded and filled in the lush valleys.

We came around one Karst peak into an isolated little meadow. Entering the other side was an old woman with a water buffalo and its calf. The calf was sighing/bellowing such cacophony! It echoed and filled the canyon, with sounds not unlike the music you might hear in Afghanistan.

Everywhere the children greet foreigners with a hearty "Hallo!" It is a bit of a game, with one kid saying "hallo" and then the others joining in after you return the greeting. For the youngest kids it seems like pure fun, although with the teenagers it also includes a bit of sarcasm in the greeting. On our bike ride, we joined up with one Chinese man for several hours, and he told us many stories. He was a bit secretive about himself, and didn't give his name or let us take his photograph, but we did learn that he was from Taiwan and was a writer/photographer trying to work in Guilin. The timing of meeting him was great, because we have just finished making all of our travel choices throughout China, and he was able to confirm the good choices and make additional suggestions.

We also met several middle school students eager to practice their English, which is now compulsory in middle school and high school (a total of six years of study) having replaced Russian some time ago. As with many parts of the world, traveling with only English is not so hard if you look for some school kids wanting to practice. They are looking for pen pals to write to. It might be fun to connect them with a school or group of kids in the states.

Fran's viewpoint:

Just to add some verbal images to Rod's story which may paint another picture of what life is like in rural China...

While bicycling down the highway we meet a farmer coming from the other direction. He is elderly and humbly dressed. He pulls a wheelbarrow cart: a wooden platform 4 ft wide by 5 ft long. It has slatted sides and large wooden wheels. The lower sides of the cart extend past the front and are the poles with which the cart is pulled. The cart is overflowing with colorful mustard which was harvested that day. He smiles and calls out "ni hao" (hello) as we pass.

This being an agricultural area, the people have created a very interesting transportation alternative. Imagine a tiller or riding lawnmower with a large pulley engine. It has handles for each hand and grips that operate brakes and power. Now attach a cab and truck bed to it and sometimes a canopy. You now have a vehicle that carries everything including farm produce, large rocks for construction, people home to their villages, and garbage collected in the early mornings.

Down a dirt road leading to a village, we see a long building with a tall smoldering smokestack. It is a kiln, the wood fire inside warming the air around us. To the side are long rows of bricks, drying in the sun. Brick making factories are a common sight as the buildings are all made of local brick.

Villages...the old brick almost crumbling into the same colored dirt...houses closely set together with narrow dirt pathways weaving between them...dirt floors so packed with footwear and water over the years that they resemble smooth concrete...tile roofs sagging under the weight of years...courtyards with chickens pecking for their meal...people sitting in dark doorways eating their meals and visiting...a community center (pole building with roof and no walls) with old people visiting and young people crowded around the pool table offering advice as the player takes his shot...electricity and satellite dishes bring the modern world into the village...one room stores with their display case of packaged snacks and daily necessities...cobbled streets wide enough for new Honda Accords to drive horn honking past the youths walking home in neatly pressed uniforms from school...women working barefoot in the fields, bending over to plant the starts of rice in the flooded plot...the people always ready with a warm smile and a hello (in English) for the foreigners.

Kowloon Park

Kowloon (the part of Hong Kong on the mainland peninsula) is not a very beautiful place. The main zones are very urban, but have more of the unpleasant sides of life than Hong Kong. There are touts everywhere trying to sell you something, and in some places it is difficult to be left alone. But in the center of it is a great refuge, Kowloon Park.

We stumbled upon the park by accident. It isn't actually highlighted in our guidebooks or the tourist info. We wanted to stay a night in Kowloon to shorten the commute, and ran across the park as we walked around looking for a hotel. Subsequently we visited the park several times.

Here's a quick list of what's there: an aviary, several ponds, a classical Chinese garden, a sculpture garden, a maze made of hedge, and a courtyard surrounding a huge Banyan tree. Facilities include indoor sports, fitness rooms and tennis courts, and a swimming complex with a major competition pool, a practice pool, a diving pool and splashing pool, and three outdoor pools. In the mornings, the park is full of people (mostly older folks) practicing Tai Chi.

If you are ever stuck in Kowloon, seek refuge in Kowloon Park. It makes it all worth it!

Lantau Island Trail (and a little Buddhism)

Still wanting to do a bit of hiking, we headed off for Lantau Island. There is a well developed 70 km (50 mile) loop from the ferry terminal over the two major peaks (about 3000 feet elevation), across to the other side, and then back near the seashore. We didn't want to take the time for the whole thing, so we caught a bus up to a youth hostel a few miles from the peak, and then hiked the peak the next morning. Unfortunately, we picked a day that was overcast, so the view was just gray. It was still a good hike though. The trail doesn't really have much path; instead it is mostly stairs. Relentless, upward stairs. We must be getting in pretty good shape because we mostly just climbed stairs non-stop for about an hour.

Near the hostel is another attraction, the world's biggest outdoor, sitting, bronze Buddha. That is a lot of qualifiers to become #1, but they make a big deal about it here. It was impressive, placed on the top of a bluff visible from many parts of the island. There was also a Buddhist monastery there, so we visited it. We had studied Buddhism some at a monastery in Thailand, and in further readings, but still don't claim to understand it very well. It seems like a very self-focused religion, with the principle aim to be development of your mind for concentration. That is all well and good, but it seems like the part of religions that teach service to others is missing. At this monastery there were several English language books written for skeptics. Apparently our reaction to Buddhism is not uncommon because several of the topics attempt to describe Buddhism as more than just a mind experiment, and instead an ethical way of life in service of others. We will read these books over the next few weeks to see if we can understand a bit better.

Buddhism in Thailand is Theravada Buddhism, but the Chinese follow a different school with more emphasis on serving others --the key difference is that no one can achieve nirvana alone, but that once you have perfected your life and are ready to attain nirvana you have to wait until everyone else is also ready. That helps to force the followers to help each other. However, since Buddhism is more concerned with the religious development than the worldly situation (which Buddhism considers just an illusion), there is still little helping others other than religious instruction. The only assistance they provide to others is an opportunity for them to come to the monastery and learn to practice Buddhism.

Another difference is that in Thailand, being a monk is a noble choice. It brings honor to a family to have a son become a monk. Every male, even the King, spends a period of their life as a monk. Other people will go out of their way to help a monk, such as free groceries, cooking and cleaning, inexpensive travel tickets, etc. They believe this earns them merit, which helps their overall Karma. In China, the population at large has much less interest in the monks. The monks can be seen on street corners with their begging bowls. And since the monks really didn't seem to be doing any service to others, in the end they do seem just like street beggars on their own personal quest. I guess the Cultural Revolution was successful in stamping out beliefs in most religions. There is now a great revival going on as China again embraces religions, with considerable reconstruction of Buddhist temples, Christian churches, and Muslim mosques. But unfortunately, thirty years of suppression has caused a whole generation to have little religious education, so it will take a long time for China to regain its past.

Anyway, this was about the Lantau Island Trail. The second day we again cheated, and caught a bus down to the camp at the beach. From there we hiked several hours out to the point for an incredible view. We only saw a couple of other people, and had a glorious sunny day with a perfect view. We could even look up and see the peak we hiked yesterday. Ah, what a difference a day makes!

The campground at the beach was interesting. It had maybe 40 camp sites, and was well developed and maintained. It was adjacent to a public beach with a large swimming area, kayaks for rent, and even a small restaurant. There was new construction going on in the campground (shower house?). But the few visitors were far outnumbered by the park workers. I'm not sure how it makes sense economically, since the campground was free, but maybe we were just very early in the season.

The swimming area had two large ropes with buoys around it. The inner area marked the swimming boundary. The outer buoys supported the shark net. Signs on the shore cautioned that sharks are a concern whenever the temperature is 24 degrees C or higher, and then noted that today's water temperature was 24 degrees.

But the sharks weren't really the problem. This area of the sea is quite warm and fertile, and algae are prolific. The high tide left a bright green mat of algae several inches thick on the beach. To our amazement, a dozen workers showed up to rake it all up, bag it, load it onto trucks and haul it away. They spent many hours cleaning the beach. They do this every day! The result is a wonderful beach, but at such a cost!

Our visit proceeded the popular summer season for the beaches. So the swimming area had several lifeguards on duty, a dozen workers cleaning the beach, and other park workers busily engaged on other tasks. Taking advantage of this were just a few visitors, so that most of the time the beach and swimming area were in fact empty except the workers!

Health in Asia

So how have we fared? Well, before we came, we got $350 worth of shots, stocked up on a massive first aid kit, and also accepted that we would have our share of digestive discomfort. We took pills to ward off malaria, and were cautious in what we ate. Also, we knew that the odds of serious illness are quite low, and the danger of injury in a bus, train or car is far higher. So how did we come out?

Pretty well, we think. We both dropped off a bunch of weight and feel strong. We still do yoga some mornings, and walk many hours every day. Spirits are good.

The actual list? Well, once compiled it seems a bit longer than we expected. Fran has had dysentery in Japan, Thailand and China. She had a minor sprained ankle from a tumble during a trek in Doi Inthanon National Park, Thailand. She had a burn from the motorbike exhaust pipe that took two months to heal. She had serious sunburn in Thailand. She has had a few bouts with headaches, and one respiratory infection in China that lasted three weeks. She re-injured her separated shoulder in a tumble on the Great Wall trek, and is still nursing that along. All in all, she reports that she has felt pretty healthy. Rod's list is just one bad digestive day in China, and then catching the respiratory thing from Fran for a few weeks.

I guess health is partly a state of mind, since Fran continues to insist that she has been quite healthy... I guess if you added up every ache and pain over six months even when we were in the states we would have a similar list...

We're feeling good. Really we are, Mom.

Victoria Peak

Our first attempt at climbing Victoria's Peak, the tall mountain reaching right out of the city, was not entirely successful. Well, it wasn't even partially successful. We started the hike by rejoicing that for the first time in our travels we were able to get excellent topographic maps with great detail, so that we could hike independently. In Thailand, there just aren't any such maps. So, we traced out the path from Mt. Davis to Victoria's Peak and set out in the morning. This would be a bit ambitious, since we descend a couple thousand feet and then climb back up again in a very short distance. But the problem wasn't the elevation. It turns out that not very many people hike in Hong Kong. At least, not enough hike this trail to keep it maintained. It was completely overgrown. After spending quite a while blazing trail through dense forest, finding short segments of the trail only to then have to search cross country again, we finally turned back. There just wasn't enough trail still in place to make it through.

Later, on another afternoon, we caught the bus up to Victoria's Peak. We hiked around the top for a couple of hours on well traveled road and trail, and then watched the sunset from the top. The view is impressive. Hong Kong is a beautiful place. The harbor is filled with all manner of ships, ferries, barges and boats, many at anchor and many engaged in a dance as they jockey around. The high-speed ferries (hydroplanes) fly right past the others.

There is a very expensive housing project near the top of the Peak with beautiful views of the harbor. Ah, that wouldn't be a bad life.

Shenzhen

The Mai Po Reserve is on the boundary between the New Territories (part of Hong Kong) and Guangdong province of the mainland. In fact, the patrol road and barrier wall with electric fence and barbed wire cut through the reserve. Due, I suppose, to the Berlin wall, we think of such boundaries as erected by the communists to keep people in. In this case, it was erected by the British to keep the mainland Chinese out, and today the Hong Kong government still patrols the boundary to prevent migration of Chinese into Hong Kong, even though it is now part of China.

It was quite surprising to peek over the boundary into the border town of Shenzhen. Defying the definitions of "developed" and "developing" worlds, the Hong Kong side is quite undeveloped near the reserve. There are some residences, but they are shoddy structures, just shacks really, and fields. On the other hand, Shenzhen (the "developing" world) is solid skyscrapers. Mile after mile along the boundary, the skyline is a continuous line of new towering buildings. About a third of the skyscrapers have a crane on top of them, meaning they are still being erected. That gives you an idea of the pace of economic growth in China!

Shenzhen was designated a special economic zone about twenty years ago. At that time it was just a rural area. Now it is home to several million people and thriving businesses. When the Chinese government switched from a planned economy to a free market economy, they also made major infrastructure investments in this area. Two huge airports were built, along with rail lines, highways, and other infrastructure. Foreign investment built the buildings, much of the money coming from Taiwan, Hong Kong and Chinese nationals living abroad.

Later in our travels we talked with a couple that just completed six months teaching English in Shenzhen. They described it as a rather ugly place, development gone rampant with little thought to public places, parks, or clean air. It is too much development, too fast, with too little planning. In fact, Shenzhen has attempted to create a couple of tourist attractions, but they seem to be outstanding in their tackiness. They have built a "Wonders of China" theme park, which mimics the major sights of China (such as the Great Wall), but this park has drawn uniform scorn from all reviewers so we didn't bother going. Heh, we get to go see the real sights themselves!

As I looked at mile after mile of skyline being built all at the same time, I had to wonder if this was the beginning of a major economic miracle (as the Chinese would say), or if it is a temporary and perhaps overzealous craze, much like Thailand was before the bubble burst in 1997. To China's credit, they are the one country in the world that has withstood both the 1997 Asian crisis and the 2001 global recession. At both times, economists around the world pegged their predictions for Asia's future on China. The key question was whether China would devalue the Yuan. The thinking was that if they devalued, then all bets were off and the economies of both Asia and the world would plunge deeper. The Chinese held steady, adjusting both monetary and fiscal policies to keep their economy humming. This is not without some cost --the national debt rose considerably. But basically they implemented the same fiscal policy (accelerated government spending) and monetary policy (reduced interest rates) much more quickly that the US did, and managed to avoid much of the 2001 recession. This has helped the rest of Asia to reduce the depth of recession that was predicted, so that the rest of Asia is still healthy enough to recover as the US economy regains steam. China's current GDP is growing at about 7.5%, one of the highest in the world, although below the 13% levels of a few years ago.

Mai Po Reserve

While up at the hostel on Mt. Davis, we met a woman who had just visited the Mai Po Reserve. What is that you ask? It turns out that one of the major flyways for migratory birds in Asia goes through Hong Kong, and the World Wildlife Fund has worked with the government to protect it. We had never heard of it, but I happened to have my old WWF T-shirt with me, so I pulled it out and we went to visit the reserve. (Their website is http://www.wwf.org.hk/eng/maipo/)

The area is a wetland bordering the bay, a great marshland of mangroves and sand flats. It is set up to handle tens of thousands of visitors each year, with the people confined to specific walkways and boardwalks. Then, to watch the birds, you enter into one of several blinds -- camouflaged sheds with little windows --stationed throughout the reserve.

Mai Po draws three types of visitors: very serious international birdwatchers, tour groups, and school children on field trips. The serious birdwatchers had a small fortune invested in very sophisticated cameras and sat silently in the blinds, while the groups mostly walked through the reserve. Due to the size of the reserve, it takes about an hour to cross just one side, so the full loop is several hours long plus whatever time you spend in the blinds.

Supposedly this is a peak time for bird migration, but we didn't see any big flocks. On the other hand, the Greater Egret and Lesser Egret were present. They are magnificent, all white birds with their beaks and legs colored either yellow or black. We also saw a large number of herons roosting in a tree, which was quite spectacular. The main attraction on the day we visited was the tidal flat, since the tide was reasonably high. Unfortunately, we figured that out after we had strolled through most of the reserve for a few hours, so caught just the tail end of the high tide. But all-in-all, we had a nice relaxing day.

Hong Kong

We expected Hong Kong to be dense, and only somewhat pleasant. Boy, were we surprised! This place is great!

Hong Kong consists of Hong Kong Island, 230 little islands, the Kowloon peninsula, and the New Territories, which borders mainland China.

Hong Kong is a very vertical place. The islands rise abruptly from the sea, with just a little sea edge for buildings before towering into tall peaks, as much as 3000 feet high. Virtually all of the people are clustered densely into Hong Kong Island and Kowloon, leaving 40% of the space wooded forest and park. It is really quite startling to see the sharp transition from the dense living with crammed office and residential buildings (30-80 stories) to the woodland --they abut with no real transition zone, such as suburbs and homes. Everything is either a skyscraper or woods. This makes it quite a remarkable place! I don’t know whether it was great land use planning, or just dictated by nature, but the result is that Hong Kong is very livable even for outdoorsy people.

We stayed at a hostel up at the top of Mt. Davis (thanks for the tip, Rob!). It was a great place --we were able to meet fellow travelers and swap stories. We also did yoga on the roof, overlooking the view of the harbor. Very beautiful! We saved a little money cooking our own meals. The only downside is that the hostel is a ways away from town, so it takes some time getting back and forth.

We expected Hong Kong to be a very urban city. It was, but we also did a couple of things we did not expect: we visited a World Wildlife Fund bird reserve, and went backpacking up a mountain! Not normal urban activities!

First the tourist things: the flower market, bird market, and fish market. Each of these is a district in Kowloon a few blocks long with shop after shop.

We went to the flower market first. Transportation is pretty simple, so we just hopped on a bus and were there. The area is full of flower vendors. One street is for cut flowers, and another for potted plants. The cut flowers are first-rate. There were gorgeous roses, orchids, mums, bird-of-paradise, or whatever you want. But the very first stall was the one that stopped us dead in our tracks. I had never seen such perfect roses. Within the most elegant bouquets, each rose was exactly the same color, the same size, and at the perfect stage of just starting to open. Each rose was more perfect than you can usually find anywhere, and then the whole set were matched to be identical! The rest of the booths were great, but we kept comparing them back to the very first one, and nothing could measure up. It was a real treat for us to see.

Next were the potted plants. Nothing very exciting here, just the usual houseplants plus the types of exotics you expect here. That is, nothing much, except for the single best bonsai specimen we could ever hope to see in a single lifetime. It was crated up (sold) so we couldn't get any good pictures. Let me describe it, but please realize there is no way I can do it justice.

The bonsai was a pine tree, probably hundreds of years old. The trunk was incredibly striking --it was bleached white, perhaps three inches thick. Only by looking around the backside could you find the narrow strip of living bark that nurtured the tree. Likewise, the largest branches were also jagged and white. Whole sections of tree had grown and been removed over the years, leaving a gnarled and aged framework, including split and torn dead wood. The tree above filled a canopy perhaps four feet high and on each side. Each branch was perfectly trimmed, in balance with the rest. I don't really know how to describe it. I sat and looked at it, knowing that I couldn't get pictures through the crate, and tried to craft the words to describe it so that I could write it down and remember. Then I tried to just memorize the picture of the tree itself. But it defied such attempts to simplify it. There was just too much detail, too many twists and turns, too many perfectly trimmed twigs. This really isn't a plant; it is a heritage, even a treasure. Very few people could have the talent to dare to trim it --but the high price (US $30,000) will certainly ensure that the new owner will hire the best caretakers available. There is no way that any plant could be worth such a sum, but this one was worth every penny. You could spend hours just staring into it, with peace and wonder washing over you.

The next market is the bird market. This is either really cool, or a bit tragic depending on your point of view. Every imaginable bird was there, from parrots to lovebirds to finches, and scores of birds that we didn't recognize. Many were cared for in excellent cages and looked healthy and happy, ready for sale. But other booths were definitely going for the low price, and just crammed a zillion birds together. We saw some shoe box size cages with birds pretty much just stacked up like cord wood inside. We are probably a bit more twitchy about this than most people, since it really seems like all of the birds would be much happier to be free, and aren't so sure that keeping birds captive is a good idea at all. We left having enjoyed the opportunity to see such a diversity of birds, but a bit put off for the poor birds.

Lastly, we visited the fish market. This is both a tropical fish market for aquarists, and a fish market for food. That makes an interesting mix! Most of the shops were pretty mundane. They had the basic fish, but there was nothing particularly special about them. There was the full range of quality. Some shops had extensive aquaria systems, with elaborate support for coral reef flora and fauna. Others shops consisted of just a few sheets of pegboard with fish, one to plastic bag, hung all over them. Clearly the later was suitable just for quick turnover of high-demand fish, since there was no means for feeding or cleaning, or even for oxygen other than the shopkeeper opening and re-closing each bag.

As with the flower market, there were some excellent standouts. At one shop, I saw the best, healthiest collection of freshwater aquarium plants I have ever seen (and I kept aquaria for over thirty years). It wasn't just the selection, but the health that blew me away. It is notoriously difficult to keep some plants thriving (more difficult than freshwater fish), and these were flourishing. We also saw some great coral reef tanks (gee Jim, how's that salt water tank doing?), and one shop that specializes in arowanas, one of my favorites. (An arowana grows to several feet long and is basically a huge, powerful silver slab with a giant mouth that opens like a trap door --they become a bit of a pet.)

China

Follow along to read about our adventures in China. Also, here's a link to some beautiful photos of the most famous landscapes: http://www.cnto.org/landscape.htm

China is a huge country with many different regions. There is an old Chinese saying "China, long divided must be united and China, long united must be divided". The vast majority of the people are Han, with the heart of China in Yellow and Yangtze River valleys. The outer regions (further south, west and north) are very different geographically and culturally. Let me paint a little picture...

The entire western third of China is organized into two autonomous regions, Tibet to the south and Xinjiang to the north. Tibet is, of course, extremely mountainous and well known in the west as the homeland of the Dali Lama and Tibetan Buddhism. Much of Xinjiang, home of the Silk Road, is very high desert, sparsely populated by nomads. Both regions consider themselves a distinct people more or less occupied by China, although Beijing believes they liberated and are helping develop these hinterlands.

The southern region of China includes well known provinces such as Yunnan and Sichuan. Many of the people of Southeast Asia, including Thailand, trace their cultural roots to this region. Much of our description of northern Thailand applies to southern Yunnan. They have a different language (even a different alphabet) from Beijing. Considered one of the most beautiful areas of China, parts of this region are sub-tropical, while the western portion begins to rise into the Tibetan Himalayas.

Southeastern China includes Hong Kong and Macau, and the recent special economic development zones near them. The seaboard is undergoing rapid change, changing from an undeveloped agricultural area to a developed industrial nearly overnight.

The Yangtze and Yellow river valleys are the heart of China, with fertile soil, warm climate, and large farming populations. Along the seaboard is Shanghai, the target of the most extensive development effort in China. The government wants Shanghai to be a city equivalent to London, Tokyo or New York in economic power, and is literally building an entire new metropolis adjacent to the existing Shanghai.

To the north lies Beijing, the current capital, and more or less in the center of China is Xi'an, a former capital. 

Our travels include Hong Kong, southern China, the Yangtze River valley, Shanghai and Beijing.

Doi Phu Kha

We extended our stay in Thailand a little, to spend more time in the forests and jungle of northern Thailand. We headed to Nan, a good departure spot from which to reach several trekking areas, notably Doi Phu Kha National Park.

We had several days of great hiking in Doi Phu Kha, including scaling two 6,000-foot peaks. We hiked in evergreen jungle, and in pine forest. There are some very bizarre trees, including an ancient palm that looks straight out of Jurassic Park (it dates from the dinosaur era, and occurs only in a few spots in SE Asia.). We also saw a full grow tree of the same type as we had on our porch in Pasadena. After several years in Oregon and one year in Pasadena it had grown to about six feet. The one in the forest had a trunk as big around as me, and was probably fifty feet tall!

One hike was up a new nature trail. It was incredible. We started in a low, creek area with deciduous forest, and then ascended into a pine forest. Above that was an evergreen rain forest, with palms, ferns, vines and bananas. The upper story of the jungle was 150 feet magnolia trees! Eventually, we poked through at the top of the ridge for a view of the whole area.

Doi Phu Kha clearly is a beautiful spot. We hiked down to a wonderful waterfall (Ton Tong). We watched the stars at night. We also enjoyed the tranquility of the outdoors. We started each day with an hour of yoga. We hiked until about 2 pm, and then showered and relaxed for the rest of the day. Good mental health.

Thailand is making major investments in this park. There are new trails being built, new buildings, and new campgrounds. There are scores of park employees and contractors working at headquarters. The workers greatly outnumber the visitors!

But ultimately, we left the National Park earlier than we expected. We just couldn't take the non-stop burning of the forest. The whole of northern Thailand seems to be burned in March, getting ready for planting crops. In the mountains, the forest is cleared and burned to grow sticky rice. So, most of Doi Phu Kha National Park is not protected forest, but is instead agricultural land. For many of the hill tribe people, it is subsistence living and the rice is their mainstay. The hills are very steep, and the soil weak, so the people clear and burn new areas every year.

We couldn't take the burning on two levels. First, our eyes stung and it was hard to breath, especially at night. Second, it is incredibly sad to see such a beautiful area being destroyed so rapidly. Thailand has dropped from having 45% of its jungle intact a decade or two ago to just 25% now. At this pace, Thailand just won't have much forest left in a few years.

The wildlife is greatly affected. In fact, there just isn't much left. After years of hunting animals and destroying the forests, there is little left except just the insects and birds. While it is unusual to see large animals in most forests anywhere, usually if you are observant you can see their signs --scratches on trees, footprints, dung, nests, paths, something. There just aren't any signs of life in Doi Phu Kha, except for the bugs and birds. At least there weren't any that we saw. We talked with some other people about it, and apparently the wildlife really has been decimated to this extent.

So we ready to leave northern Thailand, with very mixed feelings. The government is trying to very rapidly protect the forests, change agricultural practices, relocate villages, and build a tourism economy. Just as at Doi Inthanon, we saw enough to know what the forests in Thailand used to be, but overall we really feel we are witnessing the destruction of one of the world's great ecosystems. It may be that Thailand's efforts to save the forests are too little too late.