Cruising Down the Yangtze from Chongqing to Wuhan
Almost the River of No Return
We were ready for the best! Way back when, we had asked Henry Huang, our Zibo travel agent, to give us a first class cabin to enjoy our three-and-a-half day cruise down the fabled Yangtze River. The river, China 's greatest, is better known as the Chang Jiang, we quickly learned. At 6300 kilometers long, it is China's longest and the third longest in the world.
Between the towns of Fengjie in Sichuan and Yichang in Hubei, lie the Three Gorges, one of the greatest scenic attractions in China-and the world. People are flocking to see them because by the year 2009 the fabled three great gorges will have been completely submerged in water and an estimated ten million people (the official Chinese estimate is only about one million) will have been dislocated (forcibly removed some say) from their homes that lie in the path of the great waters.
When the Three Gorges dam is completed, it will be the world's largest water storage reservoir. The mammoth project involves construction of a two kilometer, 185 meter-high dam wall above the Yangtze and is suppose to improve navigation of the river and prevent flooding-if all goes according to schedule. The dam is supposed to create a 550- kilometer long lake stretching deep into the province. (There is considerable worldwide controversy over the plan, with environmentalists agitating and other protests centering on the significant destruction of China's cultural and historical artifacts, not to mention the annihilation of the magnificent three gorges cliffs and the possibility that the dam is not a viable project to begin with.)
We were truly anticipating sitting on a luxurious deck, enjoying drinks and chatting while taking in the peace and tranquility of this unique cruise that would take us from Chongqing to Wuhan in almost four days.
As Nancy would say, "Ha!" Little did we know what we faced.
Arriving in Chongqing by bus four hours after departing Chengdu, we were dropped at the dock. It was crowded with multitudes of Chinese pushing their way along the cement to a gangway far below. This didn't look auspicious, we muttered. It was very hot in the afternoon sun and high humidity made breathing almost unbearable. We dragged our suitcases through the crowds, trying to keep up with the driver who had met us at the bus. He scurried along too fast, probably eager to be done with us! Finally, he pointed down the sandy slope at the edge of the dirty dock to a boat on the river. Our boat, we surmised! No wonder he was in a hurry!!!
We were aghast at what we saw. There down the sandy embankment that we would have to negotiate with our luggage, was a broken down, ancient Chinese rustbucket, circa 1900-or probably older, called the Han Hoa. The aging vessel must have fought and gone down in the Boxer rebellion at the turn of the century and been resurrected from the deep. It looked as though it had been submerged
and rusted out for eons before being scraped down and recalled, unpainted, as a Yangtze River cruise ship.
Worst of all, immediately, we had to figure out how to get our luggage down onto the old decrepit steamer. This meant bargaining to hire two old men-- the traditional Chinese coolies. Perching two sticks over their shoulders in the traditional Chinese way, they slung our heavy suitcases between them and slid down the sandy bank onto an old rickety wooden gangplank. We slid down behind them, not takingour eyes off our suitcases. In the pandemonium, we were the only Caucasians (as usual) and confusion reigned.
When we climbed aboard the rusted out ship, we crept along among other passengers, all Chinese, on the fourth class deck. Looking into the dark interior of the fourth class rooms, we couldn't believe the incredibly bad conditions-the rooms were what looked like Chinese slave quarters, 16 or more people, old men, women and children to a crowded room, with people huddled on bunks everywhere. They perched in the 16 interior bunks, and in the heat amid the slop and the trash and food on the bunks, a dense smoke from their ubiquitous cigarettes filled the rooms with a dense haze.
The scene intensified as we walked along the slippery decks-8 per room in third class and four in second class-but no bathrooms , only a public toilet at each end of each deck. Silently, we still hoped for the best as we were led to our own "first class" stateroom on the top deck.
Wrong! The coolies dropped our bags and departed. We sat in our stateoom, stunned. I'll only describe it as a tiny hole in the wall, but it was air-conditioned and had two narrow beds and there were big windows providing a good view of the river and shore. I won't even try to describe the bathroom (which is why we wanted first class) except to say the open shower took up the entire small enclosure and filled the rug floor an inch deep with water when we took our one shower-and the water was turned off and on at unpredictable intervals---with off being the prevailing mode, always during a frequent stop or for whatever other ungodly reason they desired. And even with water on, never mind the condition!
We never saw any crew or captain aboard the ship, only one so-called steward who did nothing anyhow. Then there was the issue of FOOD. There was a "foreigners dining room," carefully labeled on that deck. IT WAS CLOSED. I guessed they didn't want to serve the "ferenjis." There was no food on board the ship, except for a tiny food stall where we could buy our precious bottled water and dried noodles in a box to stir up with the enclosed plastic bag of hot spices and sauce. So, whenever we reached a dock, we ran off and bought our daily supply of water and dried noodles or crackers-noodles works even for breakfast if you are hungry enough. We used our beds for sleeping, sightseeing out the window, eating with chopsticks, and entertaining the several other "ferenji" we soon scouted out.
They were the saving graces-across the hall were three other delightful Americans who had been teaching English at Guilin University. We also were joined by two lovely Danish girls we befriended from third class and let use our bathroom-along with an English girl from second class. Then we met up with four English engineers-and all of us suffered together. Especially when the Chinese tour guides took over the lounge in a sit in and locked us out. It seems they were sleeping on the lounge floor and didn't want us in there disturbing them. The warfare that ensued between us, the ferenji who had paid for the public lounge and wanted to eat watermelon from the dock together and the guides who wanted peace and quiet to sleep, was almost---but not quite-comical. It went from polite negotiations to open warfare when they locked the door and wouldn't let us through to the one outside small deck. We finally negotiated a peace treaty.
But nevermind! Though the conditions left something to be desired (?), the trip down the Yangtze was memorable. We went through the remarkable Three Gorges on a beautiful day; we saw the great dam under construction with our English friends explaining what we were viewing. We enjoyed the ability to travel slowly along, viewing the interesting sights of the brown rocky cliffs and tiny villages, and noticed the many fishing boats and large steamers that passed by on the brownish waters. We watched for the infamous Victoria ship---but never saw it pass by. Perhaps that was best. We might have abandoned our ship and yelled to come aboard that pristine vessel.
We were awakened at dawn by pounding on the door...a wake up call and a strident voice in Chinese shouting something unintelligible as usual. It was the first gorge we were about to go through--steep high cliffs reaching to the sky, pale brown rock, striped to rust and mauve and grey, with stunted growths of trees and shrubs growing out of the rocks and mountainside. Caves and inlets in the rock appeared at the muddy water level or halfway up the cliffs. Tiny stone houses perch in the rocks and occasional small terraces of corn are dug out of the hillside. We see a variety of boats on the water--barges carrying buses, burlap bags, oil drums, tires or produce, grey bags piled high on greying rusting barges. Sometimes we come across a huge settlements of high rise apartment buildings in cities that rise into the sky--the old dwellings families have lived in for generations are being razed and the people moved into these apartments, they say. And so our leisurely, but hardly luxurious, trip down the Yangtze ended at 2:30 a.m. in the dark of night when we docked in Wuhan. Typical, we said, by now inured to the hardships of travel with the Chinese. We stumbled in the pitch black darkness along the dock dragging our luggage and searching for a sign that said, "Nancy Wats." Remarkably, as usual, Henry had not let us down. Somebody picked us up and put us on a packed Chinese bus. In our hotel room, we took wonderful showers and collapsed in bed.
We were off at 8 a.m. the next morning to the Wuhan airport for our flight to Beijing. Another day. Another disaster averted. So far, so good, we agreed. Next stop the Great Wall!
[Go to China Part Six]
