Yang Zi Jie On Yang Zi Jiang (Or, Neil's Trip Up The Yangtze)

Part 3: Ghost Town

On the final day of our cruise, we docked ship and stepped onto the misty shores to ascend the hill to Fengdu, the city of ghosts. *Cue spooky laughter and ominous "Thriller" music* To no one's surprise, this was not what you'd expect from a haunted hilltop. Rather, it was a series of small temples, curious structures and other traditional Chinese architecture that were dedicated to life, death and the gods that judge us. No ghouls to be seen, no demons lurking, nothing very spooky to warrant the adult diaper that I had strapped on, just in case. Yet I was not disappointed; it was good to be on solid ground.

From the base of the hill, we peered through the morning fog, brightly painted temples poking through the vapor. It was still early morning, so a relative degree of calm still permeated the air. Hiking up the steep steps to be judged by the Prince of Hell (or, more accurately but not as dramatic, "the Underworld"), the only ominous feelings creeping over my skin was the profusion of sweat seeping from my pores. Days on a luxury liner left me a little tubby along the edges and this sudden burst of exercise was a bold reminder that I was indeed a land mammal with functioning legs.

At the top, we approached the first checkpoint on the path to the Prince of the Underworld: the Three Bridges of Life, Love and Wealth. Crossing in precisely 9 steps is supposed to bless you with whatever you have chosen. Couples were advised to do Love, hand-in-hand, just to make things certain. That left us single sad sacks with a choice of Life or Wealth. You know which way I went: money doesn't matter much if you're dead.

1st Checkpoint: The Three Bridges

Descending Into Hell?

As the other foreigners were slack-jawed in awe and frantically snapping away on their digital SLRs, my elation had significantly deflated. I had anticipated this stop perhaps a wee bit much. Looking around, there was nary a novel sight around. For all sakes and purposes, it was just a bunch of temples. Nicely preserved, but more of the same same. Originally, there were 72 structures, but after the Cultural Revolution, only 15 buildings remained. The main temple, over 1600 years old (the Prince of the Underworld's "palace"), was spared during the revolution by some quick-thinking monks who told the Red Guards that they would invoke the wrath of the Prince if they dared to touch his home. Centuries of superstition trumped Mao's madness in this instance, saving a beautiful structure from a demise that countless other less fortunate relics in China fell victim to.

At Fengdu, there is a mix of Taoist and Buddhist imagery, like a big melting pot of traditional religious superstitions. The Buddhist temple entrances had three doors, which had to be used correctly, lest you feel the wrath of the big guy. For common folk, the left door is the exit, the right door is the entrance. For monks or nuns, the large central door is your entry point. I made sure to go the proper route, fearing magical Buddhist castration if I dared use the middle. If you've lived in Asia for any significant span of time, you are already familiar with the phenomenon of being "templed out." I, dear friends, have been templed out since 2006. Nevertheless, to be fair, Fengdu is one of the more interesting temple complexes in China. Why? It's depictions of Hell, of course.

Further up the hill, you will come to the second checkpoint, an unassuming doorway in the classical Chinese style. Atop the lintel, there will be a small painted sign that says "Di Yu Zhi Men," which roughly translates as "Gate to Hell" (or again, less dramatically, "Gate to the Underworld"). I admit I got a little excited at the prospects. The last hell-temple I visited in 2007 was a Taoist beauty in Beijing, filled with the most gory and grotesque dioramas of demonic torture of sinful souls I'd ever seen outside of Dante's Inferno. This was nowhere near as intense, but had its own qualities. Here, men need to enter the gate left-foot first, lest you get your nads gnawed off by hungry horse-head demons. Or something equally as grim, I'm not certain.


Flanking the pathway to the Prince of the Underworld's living quarters, life-sized stone statues of various demons and hellspawn greet you on the way to judgment. My favorite was 酒鬼 ("Jiu Gui") or, the Liquor Demon, because his name is a literal translation of the term for "alcoholic." Indeed. A couple siren demonesses tickled my own personal netherworld with their toplessness and lasciviously curled tongues, a clear indicator of how easy males can be lured to their untimely demise by a pair of sexy...eyes.

Good Ol' Jiu Gui!

Come To Papa!

Yes!

JUMP! Fengdu Demon Lane

A final noteworthy demon: one seemingly hell bent on corporal punishment of naughty children. The statue itself said it all: a bare-butt brat slung over the knees of a ferocious demon whose arm was locked in position to strike that soft, shiny asscheek. As I positioned myself to take a picture of this hilarious scene, a real-life human brat jumped into my shot, giving me the stink eye as if to say "this is MY shot, suckah." Stifling a sneer, I waited until she scampered off to her useless parents and made a quick prayer to the demon to exact some sweet revenge for me later on. I hope that kid had the most terrifying, pee-inducing nightmares that evening. That'll teach her to ruin my shot.

Curse You, Demon Brat With Dead Chinese Eyes!

At the gate to the Prince of the Underworld's temple, we faced the third and final checkpoint: the sinister stone circle. Bwa-ha-ha-ha... In a small stone box before the gate, there was a smoothly polished rock, worn down from years of tourist mayhem. Round and slick as a tiny bowling ball, the trick was to balance on one foot for some arbitrary amount of time, thus gaining favor from the Prince and entrance to his realm. It was not that difficult, though the locals seemed to have a rough time with the concept. I passed with flying colors, then made my way inside.

It was quite simply a dark, shadowy, cavernous affair. Nothing too special, save for the miniature demon-torture dioramas that I saw in superior form in Beijing. Though it wasn't what I expected, I felt a little relieved that I didn't have to rush around in the allotted time to take pictures of every single thing in sight. I just hung back and observed the other faces, gasping at the violent models and making silent prayers for their own sinful souls.

Pagoda at Fengdu

Random Graffiti of Poop?

Back aboard the ship, the final, bittersweet hours of the cruise began. We were treated to a quick visit to the captain's quarters, which was not as exciting as it sounds. In the pilothouse, three silent individuals stood stiff as stone before the controls, no sound, no movement. A radar screen blipped off to the side. Sonar measured the depth of the Yangtze, denoting the shallow areas we needed to avoid. Muffled garble seeped from the communications speakers. I was falling asleep from all the white noise. Aware that the pilots had to pay attention to steering the ship, we asked very quick questions. My suspicions were confirmed very quickly: this is a boring job.

Zzzzzzzz.......

Crank It To 11!

Each pilot takes a 4 hour shift, then an 8 hour rest, then a 4 hour shift, then...you get the idea. Expressionless and without a hint of excitement, they remained still as statues. The most exciting point of the tour came when a small little dinghy crossed our ship's path. Grabbing the intercom, he announced that the boat better get out of the way, lest they "wanted to die." Even on the water, Chinese drivers are fierce and reckless.

I Found This Taped To The Door To The Upper Deck On The Final Day. I Was Flattered.

Before dinner, I spent a good amount of time giving my free travel guide services away to the Aussies and Americans who would be visiting the Shanghai area after disembarking from the cruise. In a weird way, I was sad to part with these people who I had just met a few days prior. Though they would become just another group of blips on my own life's radar, they had made my already luxurious cruise even more comfortable. I carefully packed up my room and organized my rations for the remaining days of my trip of solitude in Chongqing. Looking out from my cabin balcony, I was reluctant to part with all of the nature. From sweeping riverscapes to soaring mountains, the ubiquitous sound of lapping waves and the silence of the gorges, I was a little unsure whether I wanted to return to the city. Just the night before, I had experienced one of the most religiously moving instances of my life: a pitch black sky littered with so many bright, white stars it made my eyes dizzy with awe. So far away from modern civilization, I understood the attraction to solo travel and adventures to desolate places. Despite the man-made destruction and drama that has cast a dark shroud over the area, it still remains absolutely gorgeous.

Building Bridges on the Yangtze:

At dinner, the captain made an appearance to thank us and wish us well. The banquet spread was even more impressive than previous nights, and everyone was in jovial spirits. They even surprised us with birthday cakes to celebrate those who were lucky enough to be born on the dates we were cruising down the Yangtze. Then quite suddenly, from the giant windows of the banquet hall, glaring neon lights appeared. After 4 days of isolation along the lonely Yangtze, we had finally arrived at Chongqing, the wartime capital of the former Nationalist government and river hub of central Chinese transport and industry. Taking pause to consider it all, I confess that - nature-loving thoughts be damned - it was actually pretty nice to be back in a big city.

Campbell, Our Trusty River Guide

Coming up, the final chapter: Chungking In 2 Days...

Yang Zi Jie On Yang Zi Jiang (Or, Neil's Trip Up The Yangtze)

Part 1: Floating Upstream

The thought of being alone in central China for eight days had me nervous before the excursion even started. I was convinced it would be lonely, though the romantic ideals associated with solo travel enticed me. A solitary man on an adventure into the wilds of China with nothing but a backpack, his own wits, and a Ziploc bag full of digestive biscuits. If I had a whip and a gun, it would have been the total package. I figured I'd also get a little bored without any company, so I brought my journal and books and lots of snacks that might come in handy if I found myself in a situation where I needed to barter for my life with mountain tribes people.

On the day of departure, I had a flight scheduled from Shanghai to Wuhan. At 10 PM. Earlier that morning, there was some confusion with CTrip, my preferred ticket booking agency: they said my original flight was delayed to 11:30PM, which was already bad enough, and then they called a second time to say that they flight was canceled altogether, so they would switch me to another airline. Suspicious but with no other option, I agreed to this unconventional set up. I knew something like this would happen. It's China!

That evening before I left my apartment, I had a nagging feeling that I should go to the airport early. Thank you, Mr. Gut. When I got there, the new airline told me that they had no record of my ticket and that switching airlines wasn't even possible. Great. I asked when the next flight to Wuhan was. With an expression that was clearly designed to challenge my resolve, she told me that the last flight of the night was departing in 30 minutes and I had a mere 10 minutes to go through security. So I quickly bought a new ticket, ran to the gate in a cold sweat and hopped on the flight. For all that drama, I arrived in Wuhan an hour earlier than expected.

Driving through the city at night, it was apparent that the people in that part of China don't know how to drive. Even worse than Shanghai drivers. Why? They don't use lanes. There were about 3 or 4 cars trying to drive side-by-side on a two lane street, like Mario Kart battle mode, but without all the fun turtle shells or Princess Toadstool. And lots of dogs running across the road. And people. One lady was just standing in the middle of the street. It would have been so satisfying to run her over, thus teaching her a lasting lesson in traffic safety. As my taxi slammed on the breaks, barely inches from her brittle, breakable legs, she just gazed through us as if we had interrupted her midnight stroll. I tell you, it just gets better and better in this country.

The next day, I woke up early and caught a taxi to the bus station. I had a sufficient amount of rest, having politely declined the well-priced whores that my taxi driver offered me the night before. In the daylight, Wuhan wasn't much to look at. There are some famous sites (it's also the home of Mulan!) but nothing I haven't seen before, just like every other mid-level city in China. The people were very friendly, I have to say: as soon as my taxi stopped at the bus station, there were about three or four homeless beggars that crowded against the car window just to greet me with outstretched hands. From whatever else I could gather in the short time I was present, they were not as harsh as Northerners, not as snide as the people along the coast. But aside from that, not much. Put it this way: the city was so much fun, I didn't even have time to take pictures.

I had to get to the port city of Yichang before 5pm, and the bus ride was supposedly 5-6 hours. So I bought my ticket, grabbed lunch, then hopped on the next bus out of town. On the way, I shit you not, we encountered not one, but TWO cars who were driving against traffic. On the highway! It was like all of a sudden, here's a car driving straight towards us, our bus frantically swerving to get out of the way in time. Who knows what these country rednecks were thinking.

Luckily, we got to Yichang safely (early again!) at 3pm, but I still had to get to the ship port. The area was deserted, in anticipation for Chinese New Year, no doubt. I had to wander around for a while, waiting for a taxi to save me from this seemingly abandoned burg. I thought the port was within walking distance, but as it turned out, it was about 30 minutes away. By car. Yikes. Fortunately I found a taxi without wasting too much time meandering around aimlessly. The driver wanted to charge a higher rate than what I had found in my research, but I didn't care. Can't be picky in times as desperate as these. Plus, his breath was so bad that I didn't want him to open his mouth to talk too much, otherwise I would have suffocated before we got to the ship.

As the cab pulled up to the concrete dock, the ship was already abuzz with workers preparing for the cruise. Steam was billowing from below the deck, chefs were carrying crates of food into the kitchen, workers were banging and buffing the ship to (hopefully) ensure safety. I tumbled onto the dock, trying not to fall over as I climbed the stairs to board. After checking-in, I went to go see my cabin.

The Lone Explorer

The ship was gorgeous. On the outside, nothing special. But the conditions in my room were better than a hotel. Super clean bed linen, dark hardwood walls, a flatscreen TV with CNN, central heating, an all-white bathroom (so clean you could take a bath, a rarity in China!), and a private balcony to sit outside and watch the passing scenery. The dining area looked like a grand banquet hall. We even had a library, lounge and a huge bar on the top deck. I was really impressed. As long as I wasn't paired with a stranger who would share the room, it would be perfect. Looking out my window, the slopes of the valley were covered in green vegetation and yellow stone and dirt. The water had a greenish-blue tint (the Chinese color "qing") and mist covered everything. I lamented that this would have been amazing to be able to share with someone close to me.

My Cabin (L-R): My bed, TV and dresser; both beds; bathroom

In truth, it was the loneliest Chinese New Year I've ever had, my first away from home in 27 years. Ironically, it was also the most un-Chinese Chinese New Year I've ever experienced, and I was in China! To make matters worse, on this biggest feast day of the Chinese year, dinner wasn't even included that night and I had to pay out of pocket for some overpriced crap: a bowl of noodles. The gods were somehow playing a cruel joke on me. Some Australians at the table next to me were seated close to each other and enjoying a round of boisterous laughs. Sitting alone at my big table, I felt like a chump, a total failure of extroversion, envious that these complete foreigners were having the good time that I should have been sharing with my own family.

At the other table beside me sat three British people, the complete opposites of the Aussies. One fat bird and a young-ish looking couple who were newly engaged. All seated one chair apart from the other, looking ever so cold and uppity in typically repressed English fashion. The large single woman addressed the younger lass as "Rose," which caused me to nearly choke on my noodle. Fearing the worst, I closed my eyes and waited to hear the bloke's name. Alaister. Phew, it would have been over for me if he was named Jack.

Luckily, the ship was not completely devoid of the good stuff. I sucked down a satisfying Illy coffee at the bar, my first hit of the day. Then, without much else to do, returned to my cabin and fell asleep to Obama on CNN. That handsome bugger.

In the middle of the night, I was awoken to the sounds of warfare. The crew were lighting fireworks on dry land, which was right near my window. I imagine this is what Iraq is like, but without all the death and danger. I didn't really sleep at all, but at least no one had arrived to take the other bed. Happy New Year!

Day 3 was the first actual day of real travel on my trip. At breakfast (great spread...they even had real bacon!), I met the table group with whom I would share my meals with for the entire trip. I was lucky. Of the foreigners on the boat, there was a Singaporean tour group, a Hong Kong group, 3 stuffy Brits, 2 Frenchies, a fat white dude with a young Shanghainese lady, 4 Aussies and 3 Americans (including me). There were about 30 local Chinese, but they kept their distance, thank God. Of the entire foreigner group, I was seated with the Aussie family and the 2 Americans. The Aussies were from Sydney: a son and his fiancee who live in Guangzhou, and his parents in China for a visit. The Americans were from Kansas City, but living and teaching at university in Xi'an. They were a great group. The Aussies had a son named Neil who couldn't make it on the trip, so they said they'd adopt me. Not a bad arrangement, as it would turn out. They ended up being my company and travel companions for the duration of the cruise.

Table #2: The Americans and Aussies

Our first stop was the Three Gorges Dam. Now, before I ever had any idea of modern China or even knew what the Three Gorges were, I heard about this dam. I think it was high school. All the environmentalists in the US were going crazy about it because it was supposed to be entirely evil and wrong. The effects on the environment, the shift in nature's flow, the displacement of villagers, the destruction of history. Lots of stuff to consider. So seeing the actual thing was a bit of a let down. It didn't look like a huge, evil man-made horror. In fact, it was one of the most boring and ugly "monuments" I've ever seen. Just a plain 2km long dam. Covered in the normal polluted haze and the foggy humidity, it was a bland and tasteless sight. Like most "modern" things in China, it's just a big ugly hunk of cement and shortsighted designing. The Hoover Dam is far prettier.

The Three Gorges Dam: Underwhelming, Eh?

The Model Is More Impressive

The statistics, nevertheless, are impressive. Enough to make a civil engineer cream themselves, but to an ordinary guy like me, it was just a dam. The idea was actually concocted in 1919 by Sun Yatsen and received subsequent support from Mao. In 1992, the project was officially started. Ground was broken in '94 and, almost ten years later in 2003, the first phase was completed with the creation of a massive reservoir. The dam itself was finished in 2006 at a 25 billion USD price tag. And it was below budget. This year, the complete filling of the reservoir was a clear sign of just how much the dam has affected the landscape. The water all along the river has risen an additional 100m (about 330 feet), making the current level of most areas about 175m deep. To get an idea of how deep that is, the Great Pyramid and the dome at St. Peters are only 140 m high.

It is proudly the largest hydro-electric power station in the world, pumping clean energy all over the country. The government touts it as a godsend for safety and protection against flooding, which the river is notoriously guilty of doing. The statistic is that, over 100 years, about 1 million people have been killed by flooding. So, according to the comrades, this dam is protecting about 15 million residents who make home downstream below the dam. What they fail to mention is that, should the dam ever break, the town of Yichang will be completely destroyed by the rushing river in less than 1 hour, killing all inhabitants, including my friendly taxi driver with the halitosis. The total aftermath of a potential dam break would result in about 10 million people drowning in a flood, if no action is taken to rescue them.

JUMP! Three Gorges Dam

The current toll on human life is no less severe. Since the water has risen about 100 meters, all of the villages and settlements had to either be relocated higher up the mountains or its residents simply forced to move to other cities. Villages that had been around for centuries - relics, temples, family tombs - everything either moved or drowned in the rising water. The total statistic is 1.3 million people had to move. That's equal to the ENTIRE state population of Maine, New Hampshire or Hawaii, OR the entire city population of San Antonio, San Diego or Dallas. Take your pick. But wait, there's more fun in store: with projected water erosion that will put the current villages uphill at risk, many will have to relocate yet again, pushing the total up to a whopping 4 million displaced souls.

Along the route, we'd be reminded of these drastic changes, so I won't continue boring you here. Of the pros and cons regarding this project, it seems like the bad overwhelmingly outweighs the good. Time will tell.

No Suicides Please

Back on the boat, we continued our journey. The first big obstacle would be crossing the dam. From where we were to where we wanted to be, there was a difference of 115 meters. UP. So we had to rely on the gigantic lock system - bigger than the Panama Canal locks - that the dam uses to slowly transport cruise ships and cargo vessels up along the height of the dam. 20 meters per lock, five locks total, 3 hours of life spent climbing the Yangtze. In 2014, a ship elevator will reduce the trip to only 40 minutes, but the ships must weigh less than 3,000 tons. So unfortunately, you'd only be able to transport about 600 adult elephants or 15 blue whales in that lift. Sorry.

Three Gorges Dam Ship Lock

Entering The Lock

Long Way Down

Don't Bump Your Head

80m Tall

Tight Quarters

The lock trek went by quicker than expected. It was quite a marvel that we passed through in the scheduled three hours. With four massive ships precariously squeezed into each segment, the water-stained lock walls bore down on us in a claustrophobic huddle. As each lock filled and the ships rose to match the water level of the next lock, the groaning and bellowing of the ships were disturbingly eerie and disconcerting, like some long-dormant beast emerging from its murky lair. Or, for those without overactive imaginations, the simple result of creaking metal and changing water pressure. Those of us on the outdoor deck quietly waited, opting for silence in the presence of such deep trembling.

JUMP! Three Gorges Dam Ship Lock

Top of the Lock

One by one at a steady pace, until at last the end was in sight. As the sun set over the distant mountains, we emerged from the fifth and final lock, finally headed upstream on the Yangtze River to the famed Three Gorges.

Leaving The 5th Lock

Onto The Three Gorges


Next episode: Into the gorges...