The Monkey King was well worn, rusty, smelly, in need of paint and had a noticeable list to starboard. She was a jiangyu boat, the slow passenger ferry that would carry us upstream on the mighty Yangtze River.

Her decks were grimy and littered. In our first- class compartment, the ship's steering cables clanked and banged against the metal bulkhead. The carpets were stained, and there was a heavy grate over the squat toilet to fend off rats. The Monkey King was a common man's ferry. She would not dock at the crowded tourist stops, and that was exactly what we wanted. With a blast of her horn, she pushed off and floated out into the heart of the river.

The Yangtze, China's longest river, rises on the Tibetan Plateau and flows through world-renowned scenery on its 4,000-mile journey to the sea. Its water supports 400 million people and floats 80 percent of China's river traffic.[0x0b]

The highly controversial Three Gorges Dam was completed in 2006. By the end of 2009, the water will have risen to 580 feet above sea level and displaced two million people. Many outspoken engineers and environmentalists believe this massive dam — the largest in the world — could ultimately prove to be unsafe. In 1987, however, the Chinese government silenced the critics and banned further debate on the issue saying, "We cannot give up eating for the fear of choking."

LIFE ON THE FERRY

My partner Aisha Allen and I chose the Monkey King because we wanted to experience life on the river as the average Chinese person does. In the noisy forward salon, beer was flowing and money was riding on games of mahjong and dominos. Loud conversation and laughter floated down from gatherings in the upper-deck cabins. The crowded third-class rooms on the lower deck had a quieter lived-in feel. Freight, luggage and animal crates were piled high, and the air was thick with smoke from cooking fires.

On the observation deck, a crowd of children watched intently as I wrote in my journal. As the only waiguo-ren (foreigners) on the boat, we were surprise stars and spent much of our afternoon posing for photographs.

We shared the river with container ships, luxury liners and the ubiquitous coal freighters. Along the shore, steep crop terraces were carved into the rugged green hills. Mud-walled peasant homes dotted the landscape. Small sampans and bamboo rafts fished along the banks as children splashed in the shallows. Classic river towns with steep stairs, tiled roofs and belching smokestacks came and went. Low-lying factories and hamlets stood in forlorn silence, abandoned victims of the rising water. The occasional pagoda-topped mountain slipped past as the hills slowly gave way to vertical cliffs.

From the foredeck, I watched as we gained ground on a powerful-sounding freighter. Propelled by two huge, ancient- looking diesels, the Monkey King was making good time. In her cavernous engine room, the roar was deafening.

A gang of greasy, sweaty mechanics wiped, oiled and tightened the machinery. Another team pumped a constant stream of raw river water into the thirsty radiators. Serious-looking engineers with clipboards monitored large banks of instruments. Back on deck, I watched as the powerful freighter fell behind.

We steamed onward toward a setting sun. A parade of shrouded ridges soared and then abruptly descended on the river. The sky glowed a reddish orange as the bright red ball of the sun sent rays dancing through ripples on our bow. Steepening cliffs squeezed in on the Yangtze, and the whole scene took on the ethereal aura of a classic Chinese landscape painting.

ARRIVING AT FENGJIE

As twilight darkened, the crowd faded. A gentle breeze blew off the water, and the nighttime river turned quiet. A rough, unshaven man in a dirty T-shirt sat silently, smoking a cigarette. By his side, his well-dressed wife gazed quietly at the stars. Along the shore, smaller boats had moored for the evening.

A luxury liner glided past like a floating island of light. The only sounds now were the purring of a passing diesel and the gentle sound of the river slapping against the hull. We moved easily through the cool night, our searchlight sweeping si-lently from one shore to the other.

It was midnight when the attendant banged on our cabin door and yelled "Fengjie," our stop. We rose to the sound of hurried footsteps and busy talk. The lower deck was already crowded, murmuring with anticipation. The lights of Fengjie, an ancient port, flickered across the water from high atop the steep north bank. The Monkey King moved slowly toward the shore, her horn booming. She drew north until out of the main current, until the great force of the Yangtze was left behind, and then she docked.

The gangplank dropped and the murmur built into a roar, and a frenetic scene of pushing and jostling. I made brief eye contact with a stickman standing on the crowded dock. As we lurched forward, I could feel the man shadowing me. At the end of the gangplank he quickly approached and motioned to carry our bags.

He asked for 30 yuan ($4). I knew we were facing an arduous climb, but I was determined to go it alone. I moved forward, but he followed and grabbed my arm. Spinning around, I offered him 20 yuan. He yelled "no" and pointed vigorously toward the steep stairs. I waved him off and moved forward. Again he grabbed my arm. I was tired, and his refusal to bargain angered me, but I could not avoid the need in his eyes.

I looked closely at this lean and muscular man in his 60s. His hair was gray and short-cropped, his skin dark and pockmarked. He wore rubber sandals that were mostly worn away. His dirty pants were rolled above his knees, and he wore no shirt. Both his shoulders were badly scarred from the many years he'd spent under the stick. Again our eyes met, but my will to bargain had faded. Relenting, I gave him the OK nod.

In a heartbeat, he threw our bags in the dirt, tied his knots and hoisted the load. Together, the three of us assaulted the nearly 1,000 steep stairs, our helper breathing heavily and sweating profusely. At the top he thanked us, shook hands and then quickly disappeared back down the stairs. He had earned his wage.

"Zaijian (goodbye), we wish you well."

Aisha and I hailed a cab, and a new chapter in our adventure began. Fengjie would not disappoint ...