The taxi passed a dripping Mao looking out over the damp Chengdu park and proceeded down a puddled street lined on both sides with cell-phone outlets.

　　The sun hardly ever shines in this Sichuan city,swheresumbrellas are a fashion accessory. A visit to an antique store had yielded a sheaf of ad posters from the late '20s, which, according to a Hong Kong magazine are the new hot Chinese collectible. There was no rush to catch the mini-bus for the 5-hour express to Chongqing (107 yuan ) as the bus left when it was full.

　　Today's destination was the Yangtze River pier for a German-built cruise boat,swhereswe would embark for sightseeing through the Three Gorges, arriving 4 days later in Wuhan.

　　After a rush of local touts selling boat tickets descended on us at the bus depot, we broke through to get a drive to the harbour. Accompanied by a live, all-girl brass band playing 'Valerie, Valera," we boarded the 5 star luxury ship: Princess Jeannie. Our tickets read Royal Princess, but there was a cabin for us.

　　The stern name was Xian Ni and lifeboats and rings were printed with San Tong. A boat with four names -never mind, the captain knewswheresto go.

　　The anchor was pulled next morning, cruising out on the brown Changjiang (Yangtze), swollen with extra water and mud from heavy rains, just like the mighty Mississippi. On board were German, Taiwanese, Chinese American, and Puerto Rican tour groups. There was an American family and 2 travellers from England, with whom we paired for dinner.

　　Two interns from Brigham Young were doing a placement as part of their requirements for degrees in Chinese. They were on-deck narrators for points of interest, thankfully speaking English.We awoke each morning to the melodic Butterfly Lovers and could watch in-cabin cultural videos and movies, such as The Last Emperor or the Joy Luck Club. Some housekeeping staff doubled as entertainers, performing ethnic folk song and dance routines after chefs proved themselves at buffet dinners.

　　Artisans created kites, traditional paintings, and miniature dough sculptures. The ship's doctor and masseur explained herbal medicine, acupuncture and fire-cupping, selecting a sore-necked male for demonstrative treatment. Cynics and believers relaxed as we proceeded downstream.

　　We put in at Fengdu,swheresthe main activity for locals was gathering with children at the foot of the cable car to enviously watch everyone swing by. We took off upwards to Ming Shan mountain, home of Tianzi, the King of the Dead,swheresall lost souls going to Hell congregated. Quiet pavilions, shrines, paths and terraces were surrounded by grotesque, garish, stone sculptures of devilish images. Li, our incoherent guide, started with a dozen, listeners, but finished with none.

　　There were three tests to attain 20 more years of life: traverse a bridge with your partner in nine steps (passed); step onto a rounded cobble in a stone box with the sole of your foot, maintain balance and step out (passed): turn around three times and reach out to touch part of a stone wall. This one, I failed.

　　Further on, we disembarked for a trip in a pea-boat up the Shennong Stream, a tributary canyon used by inland villagers as their only transportation. Our oarsmen came with clothes, breaking a tradition of nude paddlers: butts proudly displayed on the postcards offered by the kids. After 6 km, the brown water was clear.

　　A waterfight and a friendly contest of choral harmony made this outing a bit of a funforall. Chinese is not needed here; music is the universal language. We were told our rare sighting of a bird with a red tail was a good omen. Perhaps that would make up for the mistake at Fengdu.

　　As we approached the gorges, 'Fog,' a poem by Carl Sandberg came to mind:

　　The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbour and city on silent haunches and then moves on.

　　The first of the big three, Qutang, is 20 minutes on 8 kilometres of roiling water in a shaded, narrow, rugged, roiling, majestic canyon, shrouded in fog, coming clearer as the ship passes. Wuxia, the second, is steep and misty, longer and greener and more beautiful, breathtaking peaks or slopes appearing at every hairpin bend. Xiling, the third, is once again narrow, the most dangerous chasm because of rocks, shoals, rapids and bends. It wasn't until 1900 when the gorges became easier to pass. Cornell Plant was the first to complete the hazardous trip without help of trackers who pulled boats along , hundreds of men per vessel, from a narrow, precipitous pathway carved in the limestone rockface.

　　He later created charts and maps making the river more navigable and the interior accessible. In the 1950s, a sustained effort to blow out the natural obstructions made the trip safer. We compared the 800 miles we saw of the Yangtze to some back home in Canada, but didn't fancy doing this one in a canoe. Written words cannot do justice to the wondrous panorama. You have to be there.

　　Finally, out of the fog loomed a man-made photo opportunity. It was the construction sight of the eighth wonder of the modern world - the big one, the Sandouping Dam.