They are blazing all kinds of new trails. Traditionally, the Chinese have never considered sleeping in a tent and lugging around a heavy pack a holiday. But among China’s young, urban, white-collar workers, adventure travel is increasingly chic. These youth have grown up during China’s most prosperous times and–unlike their parents and grandparents–have no memory of the hardships wrought by Mao Zedong; for them the countryside is a place for leisure, not labor. When Liao Guogang, 33, decided to quit his job as a doctor to travel in Yunnan and Tibet, he had a hard time telling his parents. “They don’t understand why I’d give up my job, because they lived through the Cultural Revolution, when they made $4 a month,” he says.
China’s backpackers–flush with cash, vacation time and a sense of their rising stature in the world–are re-discovering their vast country. While SARS has forced many Chinese to rethink their vacation plans, these intrepid youth are striking out for ever more exotic locations. Many head for the high plateaus of Tibet, the Buddhist monasteries in Gansu and Yunnan’s hidden lakes. Tian Yongqi, the owner of Tina’s Guesthouse, a trekkers’ cabin in Yunnan’s Tiger Leaping Gorge, says that over the past four years the number of domestic backpackers has increased from 10 to 50 percent of her customers.
Hiking clubs and Web sites for backpackers have made it easier for the adventure-minded to connect, research obscure destinations and seek advice. New guidebooks are also facilitating independent travel. A series called “Tibetan Antelope,” which gives directions and recommendations for cheap guesthouses, has sold 150,000 copies across China. This summer its publisher, Guangdong Travel and Tourism Press, plans to launch a series for more rugged, remote travel called “Cool Donkeys” (Chinese slang for backpackers).
Like backpackers everywhere, those in China are seek-ing mainly to escape the frenetic bustle of their lives. During a recent 15-day trek in Tiger Leaping Gorge, Philip Chen, a 26-year-old Shanghainese who works at an international consulting firm, hiked for 11 hours straight while ignoring half a dozen calls from his boss on his cell phone. “Then we slipped out of range, so he couldn’t call at all,” he says. Li opened Packer’s Cafe in January because he felt “suffocated” working as an Internet developer in the boomtown of Shenzhen. “I like it here because you do whatever you like,” he says. “There’s no need to conform.”
It’s not clear that camping will catch on. For one thing, it’s not cheap; Western backpackers tend to be poor students and recent graduates living on $5 a day, but their Chinese peers generally spend thousands of dollars a year on equipment. Nevertheless, as the country grows richer, the ranks of those eager to rough it, Chinese style, are sure to expand.
