Smog blots out the sun. Factories dot the shores. And the construction of a giant dam has flooded the Three Gorges, the famed river passage through towering limestone and sandstone cliffs.
And yet, one afternoon last spring, a friend and I were staring in quiet wonder from a cruise ship sailing up the Yangtze. We were in a world of green, gliding past cliffs covered in rain-slicked trees and bamboo bushes. Slender waterfalls churned into the jade-colored river.
"It is really beautiful. I can only imagine what it would be like on a clear, blue-sky day," said my friend, Maria Ines. "But even like this, it's magical."
Since 2003, the massive Three Gorges Dam near Yichang has plugged China's largest river. That created a reservoir expected to gradually fill over six years, driving up water levels more than 350 feet. Many people fear the ruin of one of China's iconic landscapes.
By the time we arrived at the Yangtze, about three-quarters of the flooding had occurred. More than 1,000 towns and hamlets had been submerged.
And yet, the Three Gorges were still stunning.
"Of course it's disappointing" that so many villages are gone, said Raynor Shaw, a geologist and author of Three Gorges of the Yangtze River. But, with the mountains soaring more than 3,000 feet, "it's still a gorgeous place."
The Yangtze is no typical cruise experience. The river offers a panorama of beauty and ugliness, old China and new. We'd float through bucolic terraced farmlands, only to round a bend and confront 30-story office towers wrapped in gauzy haze.
Even choosing a cruise line was an adventure. Wary of the creaky, rat-infested tubs that some tourists have encountered, we selected the Orient Royal line. The Chinese-run line was a little pricey, at nearly $800 per person for the four-night cruise upstream from Yichang to Chongqing. But the firm boasted of a roster of rich American clients.
"Why not choose what Bill Gates chose," its Web site asked.
Arriving at our ship, we wondered what had gotten into the world's richest man. The East King's decor was an exuberance of gold and red, all swirling carpets and flocked wallpaper, with the well-worn feel of an old Holiday Inn.
Still, the ship was spotless. And the cruise turned out to be a relaxing way to see a country fast-forwarding out of Maoist isolation.
Entering the first of the gorges, we looked out on misty mountains dotted with small, pink farmhouses. In the soft gray of morning, everything felt dreamy.
"What color is the river? It's green like jade," said the Chinese guide, in her singsong English. That was no hyperbole. Spring is perhaps the best time to visit the Yangtze, before the rainy season's mud has stained the river.
For 40 minutes, our ship zigzagged past rock walls folded and fluted like curtains. Some rippled with mineral stripes of tan, gray and black; others were carpeted with thick green scrub, banana trees, and ramrod-straight pines. Rocks jutted out in all kinds of formations: fingers, knobs, bulges.
At times, the mountains soared majestically. Then the passages would narrow, and we'd feel a sense of intimacy with nature.
And then it was over.
Suddenly, we were back in the modern world, with chunky white apartment buildings springing from the shore like a giant Lego project. A bridge buzzed with traffic. Workers plinked away at a shipyard.
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