There were three things that stood out for me during this extended bike ride along the Yellow River: how ‘green’ China was, the scale of the infrastructure changes, and the rise of ‘middle class’ China.
As I have mentioned many times in my account of this trip, I saw a huge amount of ‘green’ development in China: solar panels everywhere, wind turbines on so many hills, and a general sense of improvement in the state of the environment compared to the trips I made ten years ago. That’s not to say that China has become the new Switzerland - there were still plenty of instances of pollution and garbage. But I was pleasantly surprised by how things such as river water quality seem to have improved in recent years. I expected to be plagued by air pollution and industrial smog during my trip across the North China Plain, but was fortunate to enjoy weeks of clear blue skies and never felt the need to wear a mask. Perhaps the widespread adoption of electric vehicles and scooters has eliminated much of the exhaust pollution.
In terms of infrastructure, I was already well aware of the amazing network of high-speed trains, which I made full use of on this trip. As well as witnessing the frequent services running on the high-speed rail lines that I rode past on this journey, I also, of course, saw the construction of new lines in remote areas along the course of the Long March.
I also saw other massive infrastructure projects such as highways, hydro dams, and tunnels. As a tourist, I saw the huge investment being put into tourism infrastructure such as the ‘holiday villages’ and visitor centres in the most remote areas. New infrastructure was also noticeable at a local level, with small towns and even remote Tibetan grassland villages having undergone upgrades in landscaping, parks, and amenities such as playgrounds and picnic areas.
This brings me on to the third point, which I have already discussed in some detail: the development of a ‘middle class’ China. What I mean by this is the rise of an affluent class of individuals who have disposable income and also time to pursue leisure and lifestyle interests. Until about ten years ago, most people in China seemed to be just getting by, with just a small minority of ‘nouveau riche’ in the big cities showing off their wealth with Western designer brands. Now the affluence has trickled down to people in provincial backwaters such as Xixian in Shanxi, where locals enjoy eating at outdoor ‘street restaurants’ with a selection of craft beers. And of course, the levels of the Chinese domestic tourism market have boomed, meaning that China no longer seems interested in pandering to foreign tourists. I saw few on my trip except in the world-famous sites such as the terracotta warriors in Xi’an.
One thing that did puzzle me about China was the sheer level of ‘overcapacity’ - for want of a better word - across many aspects of the tourism sector. There seemed to be a widespread build-it-and-they’ll-come policy, like the empty hotel complex at Hanggu Guan in Henan or the 700-kilometre ‘Yellow River Number One Tourism Highway’ on which I seemed to be the only user. On the Qinghai grasslands, I cycled past scores of local tourist fun park enterprises that all offered the same things: cabin and tent accommodation, horse riding, ATV rides, and local cuisine. Hardly any of them had any customers. How do they stay in business, let alone make any return on the investment? I thought the same thing when I saw local people selling fruit and vegetables by the roadside. How do people survive when they are selling commodities such as cherries, honey or watermelons when they seem to have no customers? I’m not an economist or social scientist, and I have no answers.
This trip to China challenged some of my expectations about the country. Before setting out, I had a few worries, such as whether I would be able to find hotels to accept me in off-the-beaten-track areas. That did not prove to be much of a problem. I was turned away by a couple of hotels but was easily able to find alternative options. Similarly, I was worried about encounters with police— being banned or expelled from certain areas or, worse, being arrested as a spy. The official advice from the Australian government travel website was that I should exercise a high degree of caution because I could be detained on the grounds of 'endangering national security'. It said: “Australians may be at risk of arbitrary detention or harsh enforcement of local laws, including broadly defined National Security Laws.”
In reality, I had no problems with police or any other form of authority during my stay in China, except for the obvious one of being turned back by traffic cops on the highway to the new dam construction site. I had no interactions with police: no knocks on the door of my hotel room to check my details, no police checkpoints on the road, and no instances of being stopped and questioned. Of course, China is a surveillance state— security cameras were everywhere, but this was something I learned to take for granted. The other side of this was that I had no security worries about personal safety or crime during the trip. People were generally friendly, helpful, and honest— I never felt threatened or experienced harassment. I took common sense precautions against theft: locking my bike up and keeping my valuables safe in a money belt. The only scare was when I lost my phone, and it was returned to me by the road construction gang who found it.
A key feature of the trip was the use of apps such as WeChat for almost every day-to-day activity, from cashless payments to booking hotels and buying train tickets. The navigation app Gaode also enabled me to find hotels as well as supermarkets, craft beer outlets, and museums. These apps and other social media sites such as XiaoHongShu also helped me to get information and reviews about the places I was visiting, and even to make contacts with some local people.
What of the river itself? Seeing it in reverse, so to speak, made me appreciate what a major river it is, from the sea outlet right up to the headwaters at almost 4000 metres in altitude. I was puzzled by how the river is not consistently ‘yellow’ or silty, with some sections of its middle reaches in Gansu (Kanbula) and Shanxi (Hukou Falls) being unusually clear or green water. I was also surprised by how few boats there were on the river. Unlike the Yangtze - or even the Mekong - the Yellow River has been too shallow to be navigable for all but the most shallow draught of vessels.
The Yellow River was a source of food for many locals. I don’t know how much pollution there is in the river, but whatever the level, this did not seem to stop people catching and eating the famous carp and sometimes the fake salmon. Its waters provide irrigation for large sections of Inner Mongolia, where, like the Nile in Egypt, the river is a ribbon of green through the desert.
As an amateur ornithologist, I was impressed by the large number of birds - and wide variety of species - that I saw along the river. I’m no naturalist, so I can’t speak for the animal and plant life along the way, but I never expected to see marmots and camels on my journey.
For me, the most notable thing about my river trip was the variety of people I met along the way. The friendly and noble Shandong natives, the larger-than-life characters of Inner Mongolia, the Hui and Salar Muslims of Ningxia and Gansu, and of course, the Tibetans of Qinghai. Almost everyone I met was friendly and helpful— and all too willing to chat. With few foreign tourists visiting the Yellow River, the locals were pleased to see me and eager to tell me about the local places of interest. And of course, with a wide variety of people and cultures comes a wide variety of food. Travelling the Yellow River would be a foodie’s delight— from the seafood of Shandong to the Hui dapanji. And a big change from usual south China dishes I was so accustomed to.
Travelling the Yellow River challenged a lot of my perceptions about China. Like many Westerners, my impressions of the country had been formed based on experiences of regions of southern China such as Guangdong, Yunnan and Sichuan. Most of our news about China seems to relate to areas south of the Yangtze, whether it be Shanghai, Fujian, Guangzhou or Chongqing. For me, China was a country of rice-growing Han Chinese living in subtropical areas: traders who had links (and migration) to south-east Asia and the rest of the world via ports such as Hong Kong and Xiamen.
Travelling the Yellow River made me realise there is another China that is almost a mirror image of the south: fields of wheat instead of rice, sheep and horses instead of pigs and oxen. While south China saw an outward flow of Chinese moving to other parts of Southeast Asia and beyond, the Yellow River had the opposite. With its connections to Central Asia and the Middle East via the Silk Road, the Yellow River regions experienced an inflow of migrants who formed diverse communities along the river, such as the Hui Muslims of Ningxia, and the Christian and Jewish communities of Xi’an and Kaifeng. The Yellow River’s Mongolian links also brought in ‘Bannermen’ and even Salar Muslims descended from Genghis Khan’s soldiers.
The Silk Road was the route by which Buddhism entered China, to be established at monasteries along the Yellow River in places such as Luoyang and Shaolin.
With its source in the Amdo Tibetan region of Qinghai, the Yellow River also has strong links to Tibetan Buddhism. The present Dalai Lama was born in the village of Takster, some 50 kilometres north of the Kanbula forest park that I cycled through. When the infant Lhamo Thondup was selected as the reincarnation of the Dalai Lama in 1936, the boy was held to ransom by the Muslim Warlord Ma Bufang, whose troops, as I wrote about earlier, were at the time fighting and annihilating the Communist Long Marchers passing through his territory. The Tibetans were only allowed to take the soon-to-be Dalai Lama to Lhasa when a huge ransom of 330,000 silver dollars was paid on their behalf by Muslim traders, who brought the young lad with them into Tibet on their caravan en route to Mecca.
This mixing of different ethnicities along the Yellow River was still notable in Qinghai, where I saw Hui Muslim and Tibetan women sitting side by side on tractors as they went to work out on the fields.
With hindsight, I wish I’d done more research into the history of the Yellow River before embarking on the ride. I wish I’d known in advance about the lost civilisations of the Tanguts before visiting Yinchuan, and about the more recent history of the Long Marchers along parts of the Yellow River. Visiting the museums in places such as Kaifeng and Luoyang made me realise that the river gave birth to major cities and infrastructure projects in ancient times - the Great Wall, of course, and the complex irrigation and flood defence systems. The river was also the place where powerful armies fought - the charioteers and archers of Qin Shihuang, the cavalry of the Tanguts, and the merciless hordes of Genghis Khan.
The scenery along the Yellow River was impressive, but I must say I found the desert and loess landscapes rather intimidating. Of course, my main regret was not being able to complete the last few hundred kilometres across the grassland plateau beyond the ’First Bend’ of the river to get to the source near Maduo in Qinghai. Maybe in a few years, there will be roads and hotels in that area so I can return to complete the journey. Similarly, the inaccessible gorge of the Yellow River above Lajjia remains to be explored.
In the meantime, I seem to be one of a lucky few outsiders who have travelled along much of the Yellow River. I’m surprised more people haven’t done the journey - it is, after all, one of the world’s greatest rivers. And unlike some of the others, such as the Amazon or the Nile, it is mostly accessible, affordable, and safe for travel. I look forward to reading the reports of others who go the same way.
后记
这次黄河沿岸的漫长骑行中，有三点令我印象深刻：中国的"绿色化"程度、基础设施变革的规模，以及"中产阶级中国"的崛起。
正如我在游记中多次提及的，中国出现了大量"绿色"发展：无处不在的太阳能板，遍布山丘的风力发电机，整体环境状况比我十年前旅行时明显改善。这并非说中国已变成新瑞士——污染和垃圾仍随处可见。但近年来河水质量提升确实让我惊喜。原以为穿越华北平原会遭遇雾霾围困，却幸运地享受了数周蓝天，从未需戴口罩。或许电动车普及大幅减少了尾气污染。
基础设施方面，高铁网络早已令我叹服，本次旅程也充分体验。除了目睹疾驰而过的高铁列车，我还看到了长征沿线偏远地区的新线建设。其他巨型工程如高速公路、水坝和隧道同样令人震撼。作为游客，我注意到最偏远地区也投入巨资建设"度假村"和游客中心。小城镇甚至藏区牧村也焕然一新，增添了景观公园、游乐场等设施。
这引出了第三点观察：正如前文详述的，"中产阶级中国"正在形成。我指的是拥有可支配收入和闲暇追求生活品质的人群崛起。约十年前，多数中国人似乎刚够温饱，只有大城市少数"暴发户"炫耀西方奢侈品。如今富裕已渗透到山西息县等偏远地区——当地人在户外"街边餐厅"享用精酿啤酒。国内旅游市场爆发式增长，意味着中国不再刻意迎合外国游客。除西安兵马俑等世界级景点，我沿途几乎未见外国游客。
但中国旅游业存在的"过剩"现象令我困惑。随处可见"建好就会有人来"的案例：河南函谷关空置的酒店群、700公里"黄河一号旅游公路"上形单影只的我。青海草原数十家雷同的游乐园都提供木屋住宿、骑马、沙滩车和本地美食，却门可罗雀。它们如何维持经营？路边贩卖樱桃、蜂蜜或西瓜的小贩没有顾客又如何生存？作为非经济学者，我无法解答。
此行颠覆了我对中国的许多预设。出发前曾担心偏远地区能否找到接纳外国人的酒店，实际仅被少数酒店拒绝，替代选择很多。也忧虑遭遇警方盘查——被禁入某些区域，甚至被当作间谍逮捕。澳大利亚政府旅行建议网站警告"可能因'危害国家安全'被任意拘留"。但现实中除交警在新建大坝路段劝返外，我与公权力零接触：没有酒店查房、路上检查站或拦截盘问。当然，监控摄像头无处不在，但另一方面，全程未遭遇安全威胁或犯罪。人们普遍友善热心——丢失的手机被筑路工人拾金不昧。
微信等APP成为日常关键工具：无现金支付、订酒店、买火车票。高德地图帮我找到超市、精酿酒吧和博物馆。小红书等平台提供目的地信息和点评，甚至助我结识当地朋友。
黄河本身呢？逆流而上让我认识到这条大河的全貌——从入海口到海拔近4000米的源头。令我困惑的是河水并非全程浑浊，甘肃坎布拉和山西壶口等中游河段竟呈现异常清澈的绿色。通航船只之少也出人意料——与长江甚至湄公河不同，黄河多数河段仅容浅吃水船舶通行。
对业余观鸟者而言，沿岸丰富的鸟类令我惊喜。早獭和骆驼的出现也超出预期。但最珍贵的收获是沿途遇见的人们：山东豪爽的汉子、蒙古草原的彪悍牧民、宁甘的回族与撒拉族穆斯林、青海的藏胞。由于外国游客稀少，当地人总是热情介绍风物。多元文化自然也孕育了多元美食——从山东海鲜到临夏大盘鸡，与我熟悉的华南风味截然不同。
黄河之旅重塑了我的中国认知。与多数西方人类似，我此前对中国的印象基于广东、云南和四川等南方地区。国际新闻也聚焦长江以南——上海、福建、广州或重庆。在我眼中，中国曾是种植水稻的汉人国度，通过香港、厦门等港口与东南亚及世界联通。而黄河展现了一个镜像般的北方中国：麦田替代稻田，羊马替代猪牛。当华南人下南洋时，黄河流域却通过丝绸之路吸纳中亚与中东移民，形成宁夏回民、开封犹太社群等多元社区。蒙古帝国更带来了"旗人"和撒拉尔等成吉思汗士兵后裔。佛教也沿此路传入，在洛阳、少林等黄河沿岸扎根。
黄河发源于青海省安多藏区，与藏传佛教也有着密切的联系。现任达赖喇嘛出生于塔克斯特村，距离我骑车经过的坎布拉森林公园以北约 50 公里。1936 年，当婴儿拉姆顿珠被选定为达赖喇嘛的转世灵童时，这个男孩被穆斯林军阀马步芳扣为赎金，正如我之前所写，马步芳的军队当时正在与经过他领土的共产党长征队伍作战并被歼灭。直到穆斯林商人代为支付了 33 万银元的巨额赎金后，藏人才被允许将未来的达赖喇嘛带到拉萨，这些商人将这个年轻的男孩随他们的商队带入西藏，前往麦加。
这种民族融合在青海依然可见——回族与藏族妇女并肩坐在拖拉机上劳作。回想起来，我后悔行前未深入研究黄河历史。若早知道西夏文明，参观银川时会更有感触；若更了解长征故事，途经相关河段时将别具意义。开封、洛阳的博物馆让我意识到，这条河孕育了古代大城市与伟大工程——长城、复杂灌溉与防洪系统。它也是秦弩、西夏铁骑、蒙古军团征战的舞台。
黄河风光固然壮美，但沙漠与黄土高原的苍茫令人敬畏。最大遗憾是未能完成"第一湾"后几百公里至青海玛多源头的旅程。或许数年后道路宾馆完善时，我能补全这段空白。同样期待未来探索喇家遗址上方的黄河峡谷。
目前看来，我是少数有幸遍历黄河大部的外来者之一。惊讶于竟少有人尝试——这毕竟是世界级大河，且不像亚马逊或尼罗河，它安全、经济、交通便利。期待读到更多后来者的游记。
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