In Luoyang I was faced with a major decision of whether to continue with the Dahon folding bike into the next stage of the trip heading north into Inner Mongolia. Heading upriver I would soon have to make a 90 degree turn at a place called Sanmenxia (三门峡) and follow the Yellow River into hillier territory along a canyon that marked the Shanxi/Shaanxi border for almost 1000 kilometres.
Given the problems with the spokes and the limited range of the battery, it was clear that I would have to switch to a larger and more robust bike. I decided to look for something in Xi’an, then pick up where I left off on the Yellow River. I’d never visited Xi’an and it was on my ‘to do’ list. A detour to Xi’an, some 100 kilometres beyond the northward turn of the river, would also allow me to go to nearby Huashan, yet another one of China’s sacred mountains.
West of Luoyang the Yellow River flowed through an area of low mountains and the river had been dammed to create the massive 100 kilometre long Xiaolangdi (小浪底) reservoir .
Built in 2001, the Xiaolangdi dam was the biggest on the Yellow River and had allowed hydro-engineers to regulate the flow of the river downstream to prevent both floods and also drought periods when sections of the river all but dried up.
I set off early in the morning from Luoyang to cycle the 45 kilometres north to the dam and hopefully get to see the dramatic torrents of water gushing down its release chutes. Unfortunately my efforts were in vain, because I learned that the scheduled water releases from the Xiaolangdi dam only occur for a few days in June and July each year as part of a pre-emptive flood prevention and silt purging process. After a quick look around the dam’s museum and exhibit area, I pedalled back to Luoyang.
The flooding of valleys by the Xiaolangdi reservoir had created several cliff-bound bays and long inlets that had confusingly been dubbed ‘the Yellow River Three Gorges Scenic Area’. Not to be mistaken for the Three Gorges of the Yangtze, the Yellow River gorges were accessible by cruise boat, and even by cable car from a nearby town called Jiyuan (济源), on the north side of the river.
However, the mountainous terrain with its many gorges meant there was no road running alongside the Yellow River from the Xiaolangdi dam area for more than 100 kilometres. The only option was to bypass the Xiaolangdi reservoir area and take the highway to the next major town, Sanmenxia, where the river turns.
The road was through hilly rural country and passed through a series of small towns that were remarkable only for the ugliness of their power stations, oil refineries and concrete factories. The roadsides were also a depressing parade of tyre repair and truck mechanic workshops.
I didn’t make it as far as Sanmenxia on my first day out of Luoyang, but stopped at a small town called Mianchi (渑池) to check out a nearby Neolithic site called Yangshao (仰韶). Unearthed by a Swedish geologist Johan Gunnar Andersson in the 1920s, the Yangshao site provided evidence of a thriving community that once existed along the Yellow River from 5000 to 3000 BC.
The road north to the Yangshao museum from Mianchi was a pleasant interlude after the eyesores of the main highway. Passing through fertile green farmland, the rosebush-lined road was adorned with monuments to the ‘Yangshao culture’ with motifs depicting the unique red-brown artwork found on the pottery dug up by Andersson.
The museum display showed how the Yangshao people had developed hunting and farming communities living in villages of wooden houses along the nearby river. These farming communities, existing millenia before the ancient Egyptian pharaohs, would become the source of Sino-Tibetan culture, the display stated. On a more relatable note to me, the museum also described how the bowls and pots at Yangshao people had contained traces of alcohol. The locals had been among the first in the history of mankind to ferment a form of ale from the corn and yams they harvested. Craft beer was becoming a recurring theme on this trip.
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| Route map: Luoyang to Mianchi (click to enlarge) |
The following day took me 60 kilometres further along the river to Sanmenxia, with further frustrations due to continuous hills and a failed attempt to take a short cut along a better road that turned out to be a ‘no bikes allowed’ motorway. I had to cycle five kilometres before I found an exit, pedalling in a panic off the highway past toll booths where officials yelled at me (too late) and my illegal incursion on to the forbidden territory.
Sanmenxia was the location of another major dam on the Yellow River, and also the place where the river makes a sharp right-angle turn from the north to start flowing eastwards on its final 1000 kilometre stretch to the sea.
After my disappointing experience with the dam at Xiaolangdi I opted to skip a visit to the one near Sanmenxia. It sounded like bad news anyway. Built in the 1950s with assistance from the Soviet Union, the Sanmenxia dam was a huge mistake. It soon began to be blocked up by accumulation of silt - the very thing that the Yellow River is known for. The dam was rebuilt in the 1960s, but has continued to be problematic. As recently as 2010 Chinese journalists and writers were being detained and jailed for writing about the environmental problems caused by the dam and also the tragic human stories of the thousands of local people displaced by the building of the dam.
After a late lunch in the centre of Sanmenxia, I got back on my bike and headed west, once again following the Yellow River, for the last few kilometres before it changed direction. Later in the day, feeling tired after pedalling seemingly uphill for most of the afternoon I was desperate to find somewhere to stop. My Gaode app suggested a town called Lingbao (灵宝) as my best hope for a hotel, but it was still a few hours cycling away. Closer to hand, there was a hotel marked at a place called Hangu Pass (函谷关). According to the blurb, this was the site of a historic fort that had controlled the ancient road between China’s capital at Xi’an and the important cities on the eastern plains.
When I eventually found it down an obscure side road from the highway, the Hangu hotel complex proved to be an unsettling example of China’s ‘build it and they’ll come’ overcapacity in tourism facilities. From a distance, the Hangu Pass tourism service complex appeared to be a newly-built and modern styled collection of accommodation blocks, restaurants, shops and landscaped parklands. But up close, after cycling through the unmanned main gate, I passed block after block of deserted and neglected buildings in search of life. The car park was all but empty and I began to panic that I had opted for an abandoned hotel, when I eventually came across a woman who had arrived in a car. She directed me towards the very last building at the end of the drive, which to my relief appeared to be open and to have somebody in residence.
Through an unmarked door I found myself in the hotel reception, where the female manager was as surprised to see me as I was to see her. As she checked me in and showed me up to my room, she explained that the hotel complex development had stalled after being built just before the Covid-19 pandemic and was still awaiting the final opening of some key visitor centre buildings and other tourist attractions. I appeared to be the only guest.
There was a shop next door to the hotel that was locked up, but the manager called up someone to come and open it for me so I could buy some yoghurt and snacks. Similarly she pointed me towards a dining hall building, where a couple of young guys emerged to take my order and cook me up a couple of dishes.
The next morning I was grateful to have the electric pedal assist to power me up the hill out of Hangu Pass. From the hill above town I could see the hotel complex site bordered what looked like a construction site, presumably the rest of the tourism ‘theme park’. There didn't seem to be much construction going on.
I couldn’t seem to find the Hangu Pass itself, which previous visitors had described as a road through a narrow defile, so narrow that only one vehicle could fit through at a time. Perhaps it lay at the bottom of the deep gully that I was now cycling alongside as I crested a hill on which several wind turbines were turning their massive blades.
According to legend, this was the place where the philosopher Lao Tzu (老子) had penned his famous treatise the Tao Te Ching. Like me, he had been travelling along the road in the direction of Xi’an when he was challenged by one of the guardians at the gateway of Hangu Pass. When asked what the reason for his journey was, the old sage had responded by picking up his ink brush and writing out 81 verses that became the foundational creed of Taoism.
Now the Hangu Pass has a high speed rail line running through it, and the walls of the small village beneath the wind turbines are covered in murals depicting ecological themes.
The slogan was a bit of Xi Jinping Thought: “Keep the mountains green, let clear water flow and the air remain clean” (“让青山常在绿水长流空气常新”).
From the top of the hill looking west I could see the last few kilometres of the Yellow River before it turned to the north. I would be going that way, but first there was the matter of Xi’an and the bike swap.
That afternoon I crossed from Henan into Shaanxi province and pedalled into a headwind towards the former capital city of ancient China.
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| Mianchi to Hangu Guan (click on image to enlarge) |
第8章 启发《道德经》的古道
在洛阳，我面临重大抉择：是否要继续骑着大行折叠车北上内蒙古。沿着黄河上行，很快就要在三门峡急转向东，进入晋陕峡谷——这条标志两省分界的河道将蜿蜒近千公里。考虑到辐条问题和电池续航局限，显然必须换辆更结实的大车。我决定先绕道西安购置新车，再折返继续黄河之旅。西安本就在我的愿望清单上，况且还能顺道造访华山圣境。
洛阳以西的黄河穿行于低山地带，小浪底大坝在此拦截出百余公里长的水库。这座2001年建成的黄河流域最大水利工程，让工程师得以调控下游水量，既防洪又防枯。我清晨从洛阳出发北行45公里，期望看到泄洪道飞瀑奔涌的壮观景象，可惜徒劳无功——原来小浪底每年仅在六七月进行数日调水排沙。匆匆参观完水利展览馆后，我悻悻折返。
小浪底水库形成的峡湾景区被冠以"黄河三峡"之名（切勿与长江三峡混淆），可从北岸济源市乘缆车或游船探访。但库区周边百余公里没有沿河公路，只能取道三门峡绕行。这条穿行丘陵的多镇公路乏善可陈，沿途尽是丑陋的发电厂、炼油厂和水泥厂，路边连绵不断的轮胎修理铺更添压抑。
首日未抵三门峡，我在渑池停留探访仰韶遗址。1920年代瑞典地质学家安特生在此发掘出新石器时代聚落遗迹，证明公元前5000至3000年黄河流域就存在繁荣社群。通往仰韶博物馆的乡道是主干道视觉污染后的慰藉——穿过玫瑰夹道的肥沃农田，陶器纹饰雕塑点缀其间。展陈显示仰韶人已形成农耕聚落，比埃及法老时代还早数千年，据称是汉藏文化源头。最令我共鸣的展品是留有酒精痕迹的陶器，证明这些先民可能是人类最早用谷物薯类酿酒的族群——精酿啤酒竟成了贯穿此行的暗线。
次日继续沿河骑行60公里前往三门峡，持续爬坡和误闯禁行高速的插曲令人沮丧。在被收费员呵斥着慌不择路逃下高速前，我已在禁行路段骑了五公里。这座因大坝而生的城市，也是黄河由北急转东流奔海千里的转折点。
在小浪底大坝的失望经历之后，我决定放弃参观三门峡附近的大坝。这听起来像是个坏消息。三门峡大坝建于20世纪50年代，由苏联援助建造，是一个巨大的错误。它很快就被淤泥堵塞——而淤泥正是黄河的标志性特征。大坝于20世纪60年代重建，但问题依然存在。就在2010年，中国记者和作家还因报道大坝造成的环境问题以及成千上万当地居民因大坝建设而流离失所的悲惨遭遇而遭到拘留和监禁
在三门峡市中心用过迟来的午餐后，我再度骑上车西行，沿着黄河最后几公里顺流段追寻它的转向点。整个下午似乎都在爬坡骑行，疲惫不堪的我迫切想找个落脚处。高德地图显示灵宝市是最有希望的住宿点，但还需骑行数小时。更近处有个标注为"函谷关"的地方显示有酒店——据资料介绍，这座历史要塞曾控制着古都长安与东部平原重镇之间的要道。
当最终从公路岔道找到函谷关酒店时，它成了中国旅游设施"建好等人来"过剩产能的典型例证。远看函谷关旅游服务区是片新建的现代化建筑群，包含住宿楼、餐厅、商店和景观公园。但骑过无人值守的大门后，眼前是一栋栋荒废的建筑。停车场空空荡荡，正当我担心选了家废弃酒店时，偶遇一位驾车而来的女士，她指引我前往车道尽头那栋唯一亮灯的建筑。
穿过无标识的大门，酒店前台女经理与我同样惊讶。办理入住时她解释，这个综合体在疫情前建成后便陷入停滞，仍在等待游客中心等关键设施开放。我似乎是唯一住客。隔壁锁着的商店经她打电话才来人开门，让我买到酸奶零食；餐厅也是临时叫来两个年轻人现炒了两个菜。
次日清晨，电动助力助我爬出函谷关山坡。从高处俯瞰，酒店区旁像是未完工的主题乐园工地，但不见施工迹象。我始终没找到旅行者描述的那条"窄得仅容单车通过"的古道，或许它就在我骑行经过的深谷底部——山脊上数台风机正转动着巨型叶片。
传说这里正是老子写下《道德经》的圣地。如同我的旅程，这位哲人西行至函谷关时被守关吏拦下询问。面对"所为何来"的诘问，老者提笔写下八十一章，奠定了道家思想根基。如今高铁穿谷而过，风机下的小村外墙绘满生态主题壁画。
这句口号多少有点习近平思想的味道：“让青山常在绿水长流空气常新”。
站在山顶向西望去，我能看到黄河最后几公里，然后它就转向北流了。我本来打算去那里，但首先要处理西安和自行车交换的问题。
那天下午，我从河南进入陕西省，迎着风骑车前往这座中国古代的都城。
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