China TR

Just walked in the door from a week-long trip to Yunnan province, China that
culminated in a trek into the foothills of the Himalayas and a morning
fishing in a stupendous mountain stream in the shadows of Tibet.

Left last week on a school-sponsored trip, taking 18 great kids up into
Yunnan. Our first stop was the town of Lijiang; a traditional Naxi village
that got flattened by a mag. 7 earthquake in 1997, and was saved from
rampant development by UNESCO, who declared it a World Heritage Site and
oversaw its reconstruction back to its traditional form. Unfortunately, the
cheap trinket vendors got a foothold, and it looks more like a theme park
for junk than a real working village, but the buildings and street musicians
are genuine, and the feel is pretty cool.

Then we had a 6 hour busride higher into the mountains (Lijiang is about
3000 meters above sea level), and made a quick stop to see Tiger Leaping
Gorge. Knowing some members of the 1980's Expedition that attempted to run
it for the first time, I was duly impressed at their bravery. It is one
seriously daunting bit of whitewater.

We made our way further uphill to the town of Zhongdian, also known as
Shangri-la (or in Chinese: Xianggelila---pronounced "Zanga LEE la").
Beautiful town, but there is the everpresent paranoia bred from the Chinese
conquest of this region from Tibet, coupled with their brutal intolerance of
any mention of freeing Tibet or of Tibetan culture, something that thrives
in Xianggelila. We had a local tour guide, and when I asked how he felt
about having Tibetan roots and a Chinese passport, he pulled me aside and
said, in a whisper, "It is very dangerous to discuss this. Of course, I feel
very badly that I cannot have a true homeland, and the treatment of my
countrymen under Chinese rule has been assisted by many Tibetans who support
Chinese rule. They are to be feared, and they are everywhere. I cannot say
more." Spooky; considering that China occupied Tibet back in 1935, and our
guide was born in the late 60s.

Anyway, on our second morning, we loaded up all the kids into a fleet of 4x4
jeeps, and set out on a 100km drive on a dirt road across the mountains
framing the valley. It was classic Himalaya travelling: vertical cliffs on
one side, vertical fall-off on the other to a nameless death; rockslides and
washouts everwhere. The road passed few towns, hundreds of yaks, and made
its way slowly and sinuously up to a 14000 foot pass with jagged granite
peaks all around. Just riding in the car, I felt short of breath and dizzy
from the altitude. At the summit, the kids all piled out and had a brief
snowball fight (most of them got winded just making a snowball), and we all
made our way back down into the valley below. At the end of the road, there
was a family of nomads with four donkeys waiting. We loaded our gear,
grabbed a few bottles of water each, and started hiking up the river gorge.
The gorge is named "Birong Gorge" so I assume the river is called the Birong
River, although it had a Chinese/Tibetan name. It was a stupendous gorge:
the trail was carved into the side of a vertical cliff a dozen feet above
the clear stream, while the canyon walls stretched vertically for hundreds
of feet above. The river was small-volume, no more than 500 cfs, but tumbled
and twisted through the most beautiful pocket water imaginable. It felt like
a slice of the canadian rockies, except for the nomads, the language, and
the fact that I was probably the only person in recorded history to have
packed a fly rod in. :-)

We had a nice evening camping under the stars a few miles into the canyon,
being entertained by the nomads with traditional Tibetian dances; something
that is probably illegal anywhere public, as it contains songs that sing of
the liberation of Tibet. The next morning, I awoke just after dawn, shook
the frost off my boots, and headed back down the canyon to see if there were
any fish in the river. Using pigeon Chinese and lots of sign-language, I was
informed by the guide that there were 'Eyuh' (Chinese for 'fish': pronounced
like the 'Eu--' in 'Europe') downstream between the first and second bridge.
I drew a picture of a fish, and drew lots of dots on the upper half, and the
guide nodded ferociously: possibly brown trout? I was hopeful.

I hiked the mile down to the second bridge, and noticing the lack of insects
in the morning chill, strung up a PT to drag through some of the pockets. I
fished every potential pool for about a mile without a strike, so I tied on
an EHC with a GRHE dropper, and tried dead-drifting all the pools as I made
my way back upstream. No luck. Just as I was packing up my gear to get back
to my job as trip leader, the sun reached the bottom of the canyona and I
noticed a few mayflies rising. Within a few moments, a full-on hatch was
underway with birds swoooping overhead feasting on the bugs. But the lack of
any rises on the water told me that there was, in all probability, no fish
in this stretch of water after all. Bummer.

Ahh well, maybe the guide was telling me what I want to hear. Or maybe the
recent spring floods had scoured the river. Or maybe the altitude (12000
feet) was inhospitable for fish. Or maybe I just suck. But in any case, it
was a world-class morning, fishing the most beautiful and remote stretch of
river I had ever seen, and I don't really mind not getting any fish. I'll
post some pictures in a bit, once I get unpacked and organized.

--riverman

riverman wrote:
Just walked in the door from a week-long trip to Yunnan province, China that
culminated in a trek into the foothills of the Himalayas and a morning
fishing in a stupendous mountain stream in the shadows of Tibet.

Left last week on a school-sponsored trip, taking 18 great kids up into
Yunnan. Our first stop was the town of Lijiang; a traditional Naxi village
that got flattened by a mag. 7 earthquake in 1997, and was saved from
rampant development by UNESCO, who declared it a World Heritage Site and
oversaw its reconstruction back to its traditional form. Unfortunately, the
cheap trinket vendors got a foothold, and it looks more like a theme park
for junk than a real working village, but the buildings and street musicians
are genuine, and the feel is pretty cool.

Then we had a 6 hour busride higher into the mountains (Lijiang is about
3000 meters above sea level), and made a quick stop to see Tiger Leaping
Gorge. Knowing some members of the 1980's Expedition that attempted to run
it for the first time, I was duly impressed at their bravery. It is one
seriously daunting bit of whitewater.

We made our way further uphill to the town of Zhongdian, also known as
Shangri-la (or in Chinese: Xianggelila---pronounced "Zanga LEE la").
Beautiful town, but there is the everpresent paranoia bred from the Chinese
conquest of this region from Tibet, coupled with their brutal intolerance of
any mention of freeing Tibet or of Tibetan culture, something that thrives
in Xianggelila. We had a local tour guide, and when I asked how he felt
about having Tibetan roots and a Chinese passport, he pulled me aside and
said, in a whisper, "It is very dangerous to discuss this. Of course, I feel
very badly that I cannot have a true homeland, and the treatment of my
countrymen under Chinese rule has been assisted by many Tibetans who support
Chinese rule. They are to be feared, and they are everywhere. I cannot say
more." Spooky; considering that China occupied Tibet back in 1935, and our
guide was born in the late 60s.

Anyway, on our second morning, we loaded up all the kids into a fleet of 4x4
jeeps, and set out on a 100km drive on a dirt road across the mountains
framing the valley. It was classic Himalaya travelling: vertical cliffs on
one side, vertical fall-off on the other to a nameless death; rockslides and
washouts everwhere. The road passed few towns, hundreds of yaks, and made
its way slowly and sinuously up to a 14000 foot pass with jagged granite
peaks all around. Just riding in the car, I felt short of breath and dizzy
from the altitude. At the summit, the kids all piled out and had a brief
snowball fight (most of them got winded just making a snowball), and we all
made our way back down into the valley below. At the end of the road, there
was a family of nomads with four donkeys waiting. We loaded our gear,
grabbed a few bottles of water each, and started hiking up the river gorge.
The gorge is named "Birong Gorge" so I assume the river is called the Birong
River, although it had a Chinese/Tibetan name. It was a stupendous gorge:
the trail was carved into the side of a vertical cliff a dozen feet above
the clear stream, while the canyon walls stretched vertically for hundreds
of feet above. The river was small-volume, no more than 500 cfs, but tumbled
and twisted through the most beautiful pocket water imaginable. It felt like
a slice of the canadian rockies, except for the nomads, the language, and
the fact that I was probably the only person in recorded history to have
packed a fly rod in. :-)

We had a nice evening camping under the stars a few miles into the canyon,
being entertained by the nomads with traditional Tibetian dances; something
that is probably illegal anywhere public, as it contains songs that sing of
the liberation of Tibet. The next morning, I awoke just after dawn, shook
the frost off my boots, and headed back down the canyon to see if there were
any fish in the river. Using pigeon Chinese and lots of sign-language, I was
informed by the guide that there were 'Eyuh' (Chinese for 'fish': pronounced
like the 'Eu--' in 'Europe') downstream between the first and second bridge.
I drew a picture of a fish, and drew lots of dots on the upper half, and the
guide nodded ferociously: possibly brown trout? I was hopeful.

I hiked the mile down to the second bridge, and noticing the lack of insects
in the morning chill, strung up a PT to drag through some of the pockets. I
fished every potential pool for about a mile without a strike, so I tied on
an EHC with a GRHE dropper, and tried dead-drifting all the pools as I made
my way back upstream. No luck. Just as I was packing up my gear to get back
to my job as trip leader, the sun reached the bottom of the canyona and I
noticed a few mayflies rising. Within a few moments, a full-on hatch was
underway with birds swoooping overhead feasting on the bugs. But the lack of
any rises on the water told me that there was, in all probability, no fish
in this stretch of water after all. Bummer.

Ahh well, maybe the guide was telling me what I want to hear. Or maybe the
recent spring floods had scoured the river. Or maybe the altitude (12000
feet) was inhospitable for fish. Or maybe I just suck. But in any case, it
was a world-class morning, fishing the most beautiful and remote stretch of
river I had ever seen, and I don't really mind not getting any fish. I'll
post some pictures in a bit, once I get unpacked and organized.

--riverman


Too good to snip

Myron, one of the reasons I keep hanging around this place is because
once in awhile I get to read great stuff like this. Thanks fork taking
me along.

Russell

"riverman" wrote in message ...
Just walked in the door from a week-long trip to Yunnan province, China
that culminated in a trek into the foothills of the Himalayas and a
morning fishing in a stupendous mountain stream in the shadows of Tibet.


(snip)

great stuff, myron.

yfitons
wayno

riverman wrote:

Cool!!!

Another chapter in the saga, keep 'em coming.

Willi

It's been said here before, but I'll say it again. You have a
fantastic book in you. Just the fishing stories on roff would be
enough. If you throw in your travels and your students it the story of
a life most of us can only dream of.
I'm in for a half dozen copies. Start with a chapter a week.
riverman wrote:
Just walked in the door from a week-long trip to Yunnan province, China that
culminated in a trek into the foothills of the Himalayas and a morning
fishing in a stupendous mountain stream in the shadows of Tibet.

Left last week on a school-sponsored trip, taking 18 great kids up into
Yunnan. Our first stop was the town of Lijiang; a traditional Naxi village
that got flattened by a mag. 7 earthquake in 1997, and was saved from
rampant development by UNESCO, who declared it a World Heritage Site and
oversaw its reconstruction back to its traditional form. Unfortunately, the
cheap trinket vendors got a foothold, and it looks more like a theme park
for junk than a real working village, but the buildings and street musicians
are genuine, and the feel is pretty cool.

Then we had a 6 hour busride higher into the mountains (Lijiang is about
3000 meters above sea level), and made a quick stop to see Tiger Leaping
Gorge. Knowing some members of the 1980's Expedition that attempted to run
it for the first time, I was duly impressed at their bravery. It is one
seriously daunting bit of whitewater.

We made our way further uphill to the town of Zhongdian, also known as
Shangri-la (or in Chinese: Xianggelila---pronounced "Zanga LEE la").
Beautiful town, but there is the everpresent paranoia bred from the Chinese
conquest of this region from Tibet, coupled with their brutal intolerance of
any mention of freeing Tibet or of Tibetan culture, something that thrives
in Xianggelila. We had a local tour guide, and when I asked how he felt
about having Tibetan roots and a Chinese passport, he pulled me aside and
said, in a whisper, "It is very dangerous to discuss this. Of course, I feel
very badly that I cannot have a true homeland, and the treatment of my
countrymen under Chinese rule has been assisted by many Tibetans who support
Chinese rule. They are to be feared, and they are everywhere. I cannot say
more." Spooky; considering that China occupied Tibet back in 1935, and our
guide was born in the late 60s.

Anyway, on our second morning, we loaded up all the kids into a fleet of 4x4
jeeps, and set out on a 100km drive on a dirt road across the mountains
framing the valley. It was classic Himalaya travelling: vertical cliffs on
one side, vertical fall-off on the other to a nameless death; rockslides and
washouts everwhere. The road passed few towns, hundreds of yaks, and made
its way slowly and sinuously up to a 14000 foot pass with jagged granite
peaks all around. Just riding in the car, I felt short of breath and dizzy
from the altitude. At the summit, the kids all piled out and had a brief
snowball fight (most of them got winded just making a snowball), and we all
made our way back down into the valley below. At the end of the road, there
was a family of nomads with four donkeys waiting. We loaded our gear,
grabbed a few bottles of water each, and started hiking up the river gorge.
The gorge is named "Birong Gorge" so I assume the river is called the Birong
River, although it had a Chinese/Tibetan name. It was a stupendous gorge:
the trail was carved into the side of a vertical cliff a dozen feet above
the clear stream, while the canyon walls stretched vertically for hundreds
of feet above. The river was small-volume, no more than 500 cfs, but tumbled
and twisted through the most beautiful pocket water imaginable. It felt like
a slice of the canadian rockies, except for the nomads, the language, and
the fact that I was probably the only person in recorded history to have
packed a fly rod in. :-)

We had a nice evening camping under the stars a few miles into the canyon,
being entertained by the nomads with traditional Tibetian dances; something
that is probably illegal anywhere public, as it contains songs that sing of
the liberation of Tibet. The next morning, I awoke just after dawn, shook
the frost off my boots, and headed back down the canyon to see if there were
any fish in the river. Using pigeon Chinese and lots of sign-language, I was
informed by the guide that there were 'Eyuh' (Chinese for 'fish': pronounced
like the 'Eu--' in 'Europe') downstream between the first and second bridge.
I drew a picture of a fish, and drew lots of dots on the upper half, and the
guide nodded ferociously: possibly brown trout? I was hopeful.

I hiked the mile down to the second bridge, and noticing the lack of insects
in the morning chill, strung up a PT to drag through some of the pockets. I
fished every potential pool for about a mile without a strike, so I tied on
an EHC with a GRHE dropper, and tried dead-drifting all the pools as I made
my way back upstream. No luck. Just as I was packing up my gear to get back
to my job as trip leader, the sun reached the bottom of the canyona and I
noticed a few mayflies rising. Within a few moments, a full-on hatch was
underway with birds swoooping overhead feasting on the bugs. But the lack of
any rises on the water told me that there was, in all probability, no fish
in this stretch of water after all. Bummer.

Ahh well, maybe the guide was telling me what I want to hear. Or maybe the
recent spring floods had scoured the river. Or maybe the altitude (12000
feet) was inhospitable for fish. Or maybe I just suck. But in any case, it
was a world-class morning, fishing the most beautiful and remote stretch of
river I had ever seen, and I don't really mind not getting any fish. I'll
post some pictures in a bit, once I get unpacked and organized.

--riverman

On Sat, 18 Mar 2006 21:36:01 +0800, "riverman" wrote:

Just walked in the door from a week-long trip to Yunnan province, China that
culminated in a trek into the foothills of the Himalayas and a morning
fishing in a stupendous mountain stream in the shadows of Tibet.

snip

Very nice Myron, thanks.
--
Charlie...
http://www.chocphoto.com