◆By Tricia Carswell

　　Yunnan, a province of Southwest China borders on Vietnam, Laos, and Myanmar, but shares much of the same topography of plains and mountains. Our destination was in the far west, into the eastern reaches of the Tibetan Plateau, to the town of Lijiang, rapidly becoming a popular tourist destination because of a recently constructed airport. Always known for the clean, fresh air and magnificent scenery, it previously required tedious bus travel on slow roads to reach. Long-term, knowledgeable adventurers made the trip, then usually followed up with a 3 day hike to Leaping Tiger Gorge. Lately, careful, controlled development of attractions and hotels there have increased tourist numbers and local income, but has taken away some of the quiet, natural features that made it popular in the first place. This would be a most pleasant detour away from noisy cities.

　　Our time was limited, so we skipped the sightseeing of Kunming (Stone Forest and Horticultural Gardens) and Dali, in favour of the peace of Lijiang. The hotel we chose from the web, Adanje, was 4 star and kept to its rating except for an overnight chill from inadequate heating sources. On a crisp, autumn morning, wandering to Old Town on foot, we encountered the faces of 15 Chinese minority groups who inhabit the region. The home, primarily, of the Naxi, many women wore domestic traditional blue dress and back harness, and it was the women who were doing all the physical work. At first, the narrow alleys and cobbled streets were hushed and deserted.

　　A private entrepreneur had managed to obtain governmental approval and find a niche near a sparkling fish-filled pool to build a museum from relocated sheds and homes. An English-speaking guide described the old items on display, a sheepskin carry bag, an arrow quiver topped with a bear claw, yak butter implements, various furnishings and field equipment. We were treated to a tea ceremony over a platter of hot coals, heat-controlled by an attendant blowing gently through a bamboo straw. The tea, infused with herbs to aid digestion, was bland but harmless. Outside, a young mother washed her clothes. She was kneeling over the third pond of clean, clear water: the first pool was for drinking, the second for washing vegetables and the third for laundry. Fed from a mountain spring, the water flowed onwards in its aquaduct as clear and clean as when it first shimmeredsintosthe circular cement-lined pools. Overhead, a tangle of utility wires hung over the ancient tiled roofs which contribute to the picturesque features of the town. Inhabitants continue their daily lives: youngsters skipping off to school with bookpacks, market-goers with woven baskets mounted on backs, workmen refurbishing old buildings, stall owners selling souvenirs.

　　We driftedsintosthe best outdoor market we're ever seen. Acres of fruit, vegetables, fish, meat, chickens, clothing added to the sights, sounds, and smells. We stopped for some street food for lunch - a tasty vegetable-filled noodle broth and a plate of spicy flat pasta, flavoured with peppers. A bakery booth yielded some almond and sesame cookies. Bananas rounded out the meal. Youngsters accompanied their parents. A multitude of women were occupied knitting when not tending to purchases.

　　As the afternoon wore on, we circulated through the lanes, crossed arched stone bridges, observed that we were the only westerners in town this day, and entered the busy part of this historical venue where more menus and merchandise flanked the walkways. An artist was busy painting a sunlit bridge, interrupted by the passing pedestrians. It was a beautiful December day, and as it faded, we paused for a view from an internet cafe on the hillside and finally reached the main entrance to Old Town, marked by a moss-covered waterwheel, the proud Monument identifying this as a World Cultural Heritage Sight, and calligraphy by Chairman Jiang Zemin written for the town.

　　We could not leave without the required walk in Tiger Leaping Gorge. Over a road that I would call the Hairpin Way, it took two hours to cover 88 kilometres around the base of the Jade Dragon (Yulong) Snow Mountain, a snow-capped destination and gondola ride in itself, the site last summer of a washed-out music festival (to be repeated). En route, by taxi, at a reasonable cost of 200 yuan for the day, we drove under yellow leafy archways, past plantations of pines, symbols of longevity, encountering valley and hilly views of forest, agricultural terraces, and small communities at every turn. Women bore the burden of gathering winter fuel, loaded up with a rake and dried twigs and needles on their backs.

　　Farmers were cultivating the land with animals and wooden ploughs. The agrarian economy operates in slow motion, at levels we attribute to pre-Industrial Revolution. We reached the banks of the Jinsha, a tributary of the Yangtze. At a water junction, gravel was harvested from the riverbed, just east of the entry to the Gorge. To make the canyon more accessible, a paved stone walkway with wood and chain fencing for protection clings to the Cliffside about 30 metres above waterlevel. A stone post announces a depression of 390 metres. The water seems to be running low. It takes one leisurely hour to arrive at the narrowest point where a stuffed tiger is poised for a leap across a rock-blocked set of white rapids. The surrounding scenery is magnificent, in front and behind, above and below. It would be fun to see a kayaker float through the gorge.

　　Further upstream, the Jinsha is marked by a scenic spot at the First Bend in the Yangtze, where the low water level seemed to imply that this was tidal - hardly likely since we were miles from the Yangtze mouth at Shanghai. In fact, the source is on the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, 6621 metres above sea level, spilling down as the ice towers of Jiang Gu Di Ru Clacier zone with wolves appearing melt into the first drops of the Changjiang (Yangtze). At the first bend, onlookers are warned to not try to swim across the river, lest they accept responsibility for the consequences. The afternoon waned, the chill set in, so we heeded the sign and returned to Lijiang to watch the sun set over Tibet.