The Lishui Engraved in Memory
In my childhood impression, the Lishui, one of the four major rivers in Hunan, was a very beautiful large river with a pristine ecology. At that time, along both banks of the river, trees were dense everywhere, thick shade blocked the sun, the river water was clear and emerald green, and fish could be seen swimming beneath the surface. In the deep pools, wild ducks occasionally flew up. Where the rapids rushed down, the spray flew high, and the sound of the water roared like thunder. The scene was truly spectacular. Even more wonderful was that in such a river with a fully pristine ecology...
In my childhood impression, the Lishui River, one of the four major rivers in Hunan, was a large river of exceptionally beautiful pristine ecology. At that time, both banks along the river were densely wooded everywhere, with thick shade blocking out the sun, and the river water was clear and emerald green, with fish visible swimming beneath the surface. In the deep pools, wild ducks would occasionally take flight. Where the rapids plunged straight down, the spray flew high, and the sound of the water roared like thunder—the scene was truly spectacular beyond words.
Even more wonderful was that in this thoroughly pristine river environment, riding a single black-awning boat, or an even more primitive large wooden raft, drifting downstream from the source of the Lishui River, passing through Sangzhi, entering Dayong, passing through Cili, entering Jinshi, and heading to Dongting—along the way there were no dams, no power stations, and the navigation route was unobstructed. That feeling of drifting was truly exhilarating beyond measure.
My father's generation had many experiences of long-distance boat travel on the Lishui River like this. As for my childhood travels, I only had multiple records of taking boats or wooden rafts on the section from Chenjiahe to Sangzhi City in the middle source of the Lishui River.
The most memorable time for me was on a busy spring farming day in the late 1950s, when the school gave us a farming break, and my older sister, who was a teacher, took me back to our hometown over a hundred li away. That time we had intended to find a boat from the Lishui River to take us to the county town, but unexpectedly all the boats by the river pool outside Chenjiahe Street had already left, and nearby there were only three wooden rafts about to set off. We had no choice but to negotiate the price, pay a little over one yuan, and board one of the wooden rafts. This raft was narrow at the front and wide at the back, with a raised section in the middle about a foot above the water, over ten feet wide, and on top there was a bamboo shelter with straw mats laid inside—sitting on it felt quite solid and comfortable. At the front end of the raft extended a long oar, operated by the helmsman to steer the direction; another person used a bamboo pole in the middle or rear to constantly correct the raft's deviation and speed.
The three rafts set off one after another in close succession, and ours was the last one. The river was very full that day because several spring rains had fallen in a row, raising the water level several feet higher than usual. After the raft drifted slowly in the river for a while, it soon entered the first sharp bend with turbulent rapids. The helmsman, Old Wang, wielded the oar rudder without haste, aligning the raft's front with the central channel and letting it drift downstream. In the middle of the rapids, we heard a series of bumping and knocking sounds as the raft rocked violently, and the flying spray soaked the entire raft. Sitting in the bamboo shelter in the middle, we saw water had already seeped up to beneath the mats. My sister and I couldn't help but stand up. The soles of our shoes were quickly soaked as well. Only after the rapids passed and we entered a section of deep pool river did the raft return to its normal height above the water, and the drifting speed became slower and steadier. At this point, looking at the riverbanks on both sides, they were all steep rock cliffs, with peaks towering into the clouds above the rocks. The river channel wound through this kind of canyon and deep pool for several li, then followed several more bends and consecutive rapids, before reaching the Lianghekou area. On the shore here, one could see the ruins of the old Sangzhi Tusi city, with many old city buildings featuring whitewashed walls, black tiles, and upturned eaves. Those houses were nestled among ancient towering green trees, and the scenery was extremely beautiful. From Lianghekou downward, the river channel entered another section of precipitous canyon. In that canyon, the forest was dense, with birds singing and monkeys leaping on the branches from time to time, and strange peaks and cliffs—it was truly magnificent. Among them was a place called Huluke, with extremely dangerous terrain. In the past, traveling here required a long detour. Later, a virtuous elderly man carved a small path on the cliff face of Huluke, and only then could this riverside route be barely passable directly.
The river channel at the lower end of Huluke was very wide. When our raft passed through a section of waterway, it suddenly got stuck beside a reef, with several logs caught on the rocks, and the entire raft turned sideways and nearly fell apart. Old Wang and another raftsman jumped into the water, using their shoulders to carry and hands to push, and after a while they finally freed the stuck raft to drift downstream. At this time, sitting on the raft, although dangers arose repeatedly and our clothes and pants were all soaked, that thrill of riding the raft through the waves felt quite satisfying and exhilarating. After the danger was resolved, the raft continued forward. After passing Xiaobutou, we went down into Nancha, and further on the river channel gradually widened. By evening, the raft finally arrived smoothly outside Sangzhi City.
After my sister and I went ashore, we finally felt a sense of relief. By then, we were both like drowned rats, but after all, we had drifted through safely, and had also seen many pristine beautiful sights on both banks of the river, for which we both felt extremely lucky.
After this drifting experience, my understanding and experience of the Lishui River was stored deep in my memory. Now, decades later, the Lishui River is still flowing continuously, but its current appearance, in my view, has long become unrecognizable. With the development of road transportation and the construction of power stations everywhere, the upper reaches of the Lishui River have long been cut off from boat navigation, and raft drifting has almost disappeared. What is especially heartbreaking is that pollution from cities along the river has made the water quality of this waterway far less clean than before. The carrying out of sand mining and other operations in the river has turned many river channels into a mass of holes, and most of the natural vegetation on both banks has been destroyed and disappeared. The many wonderful pristine ecological landscapes of the past are gone forever. For this reason, I want to loudly appeal: people living on both banks of the Lishui River, please have a bit more awareness of protecting our living environment. Please stop dumping garbage into the river and discharging sewage, stop polluting this golden waterway, and do not over-develop this golden river. We should let our mother river retain as much of its pristine ecology as possible—this is the rational behavior we as humans ought to have.