Eric's Beijing Diary

It's hard to describe the scene last night as we docked at Badong just after the sun had slipped behind the mountains. Rich green vegetation along one side of the river. The city of Badong built into the hillside on the far bank. A large cable-stayed suspension bridge spanning the gorge. Pale blue mountain peaks waiting around the bend and a wispy, communion wafer moon pasted on a perfectly cloudless sky. Reading again from John Wesley Powell after Captain Howland had decided to leave the party. He first tried to persuade Powell to abandon the mission. Powell spent the entire night pacing back and forth, but decided he must go on: "The last thing before leaving, I write a letter to my wife, and give it to Howland. Sumner gives him his watch, directing that it be sent to his sister, should he not be heard from again. The records of the expedition have been kept in duplicate. One set of these is given to Howland, and now we are ready. For the last time, they entreat us not to go on, and tell us that it is madness to set out in this place; that we can never get safely through it; and further, that the river turns again to the south into the granite, and a few miles of such rapids and falls will exhaust our entire stock of rations, and then it will be too late to climb out. Some tears are shed; it is rather a solemn parting; each party thinks the other is taking the dangerous course." What can you say about those who do not share your vision? Perhaps they have a different destiny. Perhaps? Obviously. At first glance, we might be inclined to say that Captain Howland had lost his vision. But the truth is that he never really had a vision for this mission. He was living on borrowed vision. While the challenges appeared manageable, he was able to keep going. But when it really started to look dangerous, and there was not a clear picture of how things were going to turn out, he lost heart. Perhaps Powell himself was partly to blame. A big part of leadership is the ability to encourage those who have consented to follow you, not because of their vision, or their confidence in their own ability, but because of their confidence in you as a leader. Perhaps Powell had let his own doubts show a little too much. I don't know. It's hard to say. In the end, it doesn't matter, I suppose, because no vision or purpose or goal that is of any value can ever be reached unless and until you are ready to pursue it alone if need be. Captain Howland's decision to leave the party was significant. But Powell's decision to go on without him was far more significant, and history is much the better for it. We got off the ship this morning and headed up a tributary of the Yangtze. I really cannot do justice to the grandeur of this gorge, and the beautiful scenery along the tributary. One of the most interesting sights along this tributary was the presence of several hanging coffins high on the cliff above the water. These coffins are positioned on small platforms, or planks in small indentations in the cliff. It is mind boggling to contemplate how in the world they could have been placed there without the aid of a helicopter. The only thing I can figure is that they were lowered by ropes from above. One wonders how many people lost their lives trying to give another person a burial a little closer to heaven. I don't have a telephoto lens on my little pocket camera, so I didn't bother taking a picture. You will just have to take the cruise yourself and have a look. It's really weird. Nothing impressed me more than the futility of trying to improve a person's chances of going to heaven by taking such extraordinary risks. After moving up the tributary on a ferry, we boarded some sampans and were towed up a small stream by some Tujia trackers. There was a guide for each sampan. Fortunately, Katie, the guide who was assigned to my sampan, was a native of one of the communities along the bank. As we headed upstream, she pointed out the community where she was born, and the house she grew up in, and where her parents still live. We were pulled upstream for awhile, then turned around and shot the rapids down the stream, got back on the ferry, and headed down the tributary, past the hanging coffins and monkeys scampering along the bank, toward the mighty Yangtze, where our ship was waiting.

Labels: Summer 2004, Vision