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My first impression of mountain torrents is the freshness in panic.
Before dawn, the small river, which is usually trickling, rolling gently and full of water, left us countless rivers that are happy to catch fish and swim. Suddenly turned against people and became fierce. There are bamboo, roof trusses, wooden barrels, bedsteads, and fat pigs. These floating objects with a certain length, such as wood and bamboo, often cross the sharp stone pier supporting the wooden bridge next to my kitchen at the village entrance, struggling and roaring painfully, splashing bundles of water columns, and the wooden bridge shaking and tearing in * * ... I began to suspect that the educated youth who were put down in our team shouted "training their hearts in the flood peak and waves" all day. We gathered around the adults and watched the rain and water. At this time, our hearts are stable and there is not much fear, because there are adults in a village who believe that "man can conquer nature" and control water monsters and mountain torrents. However, when the mountain torrents receded, the wooden bridge on the sharp knife-shaped stone pier disappeared, leaving only the stone pier standing alone in the middle of the river. After losing his temper, the river gathered together and kept shaking its pale green body, roaring down along both sides of the stone pier. Nearly half of the four-mile scooter road leading to the team site and school has turned into a white rocky beach. The captain and the adults look ugly. We are very excited. The retreating river is green in the clear water, and the beach surface is bright and clean. The newly accumulated river stones are white, green, round, smooth and dotted. We often find ballpoint pens, pencil boxes, enamel pots, sandals and the like when we shuttle through the river, or round up red-bellied fish in the shallow water at the corner of the river, or rummage in the beach water after the river ebbs. ...
Dashan people call this flash flood "6.2 1" flood. Later, I dug up the local chronicles and recorded them as follows: June 2 1, 65438,0973, a catastrophic flood occurred, and some agricultural acres were destroyed.
What really changed from novelty to panic was the "July 3" and "July 5" floods in the early 1990s. In the morning, I was still dormant in my Huizhou-style house with civil structure, weaving the stories I wrote in the warm atmosphere created by the sudden drop of summer rain. Near noon, the general trend was not good, and the flood almost flooded the old kitchen under the main room. My small village, Biandanpu, is located in the mountains at the junction of Taiping and Yixian Highway in southern Anhui. Two rivers, one big and one small, meet in front of the village. The big river originates from Yangzhanling, Yixian County in the west of the village, and the small river originates from Huangshan Jiulong Peak in the east of the village. My home is in the Dachuan department, and the back is talking, and the mountain torrents are raging, and my home bears the brunt. At this time, I was really scared. I took off my pajamas and put on my long rain boots. When I opened the back door, I only heard the roaring flood, which was deafening and rushed down the door. The water was yellow and black, constantly hitting the river stone and the stone wall opposite the mountain, splashing rows of flying waves, like thousands of wild horses flying manes, screaming and rushing. The instinct of survival made me quickly calm my panic and rush to act! There is more than a foot of water in the old kitchen. I jumped into the water and moved out more than 20 barrels of Chinese fir in less than a quarter of an hour. I can't believe the speed and strength now. Hardly had I moved Shanshan into the classroom when I heard a muffled sound. My old wooden kitchen, which has left us vivid memories of the past for half a century, was swallowed up, and a pair of old stone mills (round, flat and rock-solid) weighing two or three hundred kilograms behind the old kitchen were swept away by mountain torrents. The kitchens of the two families above my house are also by the river, and my old kitchen disappeared in the blink of an eye when it was swallowed up. Only a few side pillars of the kitchen struggled for a while on the sharp knife-shaped stone pier below, and then plunged into the rapids.
Only then did I really understand that water is a mysterious and magical god, especially the mountain stream. Usually, villagers often put clothes or vegetables that need to be rinsed in a big basin or basket and soak them in the crystal cold river. Just press a few pebbles on it and have a safe night. The river gurgled and flowed slowly. Once a river changes its face, turns yellow, especially black, it is earth-shattering, houses can collapse, bridges can be destroyed, mountains can be broken, and the ground can sink. This is the power of water, and it is also the most difficult force for human beings to control and grasp. It is up and down, capricious, can carry a boat, can also overturn a boat, can create a miracle of the flood seven armies, can also write tragic and heartbreaking.
The seventh five-year plan was a tragic day. I think my fellow villagers in Huangshan and I will never forget this day. The flood from the pole shop in my village really turned into a beast with a big mouth after the lion elephant running 7 kilometers away closed the door. In the Shixiangmen section and the lower Guocun section, 54 villagers who had no time to leave the river were trapped on two sandbars by floods. Due to the elevation of the riverbed in recent years, the "July 3" flood a day ago concentrated on the low river near the village, causing some towering ancient berm trees to be washed away by flash floods. In order to eliminate the huge hidden dangers in the village, the village decided to build a drainage raft and forcibly divert water. At this time, the mountain torrents with big trees and boulders are still roaring, impacting the road dam opposite the sandbar, setting off waves more than ten feet high, and various rescue methods cannot be implemented because of the great water potential. An elderly villager who tried to break through was swept away by the flood, and then a poor and difficult native of Xixiang, Huangshan, whose ancestors suffered from the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom War. Because of too many hardships, he seldom cried in front of everyone, but today he began to cry, but people just can't tell which is rain and which is tears. The lion and elephant were surrounded by three brothers. Their mother knelt on the thunderous and choppy river bank and cried to her three sons: You can leave safely, I am old, don't worry about me. ...
I was trapped in my home in the mountains that day because of the heavy rain and didn't go to work in my hometown. Otherwise, I am also one of the "cadres" trapped on the sandbar by the flood.
Later, there was such a record in local chronicles: 199 1 On July 5, 2008, a once-in-a-century flood occurred in Guocun Township, and Wang Xiaoshui, a villager from Yansi Village, and Lin, a villager from Guocun Village, died in the line of duty in fighting floods.
The mountain torrents receded and flowed for many days. At that time, in the sky, underground, in the mountains, outside the mountains, in the village and at home, everyone's heart was so wet that handfuls of salty water could be wrung out. All the families along the river in my village moved their belongings to the high-lying highway (the traffic was interrupted for a long time), one by one, covered with plastic sheets, separated by boxes and cabinets, lit kerosene lamps at night, and slept in the middle. The flame of kerosene lamp is constantly swaying in the mountain wind, tearing such a fragile life, as if it is difficult to tell the desolation after the flood in the mountain. I want to move, in addition to the necessary daily necessities, there are hundreds of books and magazines and several drawers of manuscripts. These have been with me for more than ten years. In my heart, they are much more important than my old kitchen that was swept away by the mountain torrents. I felt a lot in those days. I found that only at this specific time did people show the truest, kindest, purest and most beautiful things in their souls. In the same village, sharing a river, there will inevitably be bumps and bumps between neighbors, and there will inevitably be grievances and contradictions. However, when the flood strikes and the disaster comes, all these will go up in smoke. My neighbor, Uncle Tsinghua, is a good man and a "poor and dishonorable" person. My family builds houses and foundations. He just enclosed decent stones in the river beach to keep my brother from moving. He almost quarreled with his neighbors. In that flash flood, half of his house was swept away by the flash flood, but there were still two cubic meters of wood upstairs, and Uncle Tsinghua, who was extremely frightened, stood shivering in the rain. At this time, it was the villagers who risked the collapse of their houses. In the storm, they grabbed the wood on the first floor of his house and moved it to the road. At the front, it's my brother, whose hair is dripping with rain. At noon and at night, several families still threatened by floods by the river crowded into Uncle Chang's house for dinner. After the flood, there is a shortage of grain, oil and vegetables, and the eldest sister-in-law always tries her best to cook more meals for everyone to eat well. None of us will pay a penny, because we know that my sister-in-law will not accept it for a long time. At this juncture, all the people in the mountains, whether they are family at ordinary times or have holidays, or even turn against each other, will not accept a penny. That night, I stood at the window of her kitchen, with a thick rain curtain, carrying the delicious food cooked by my sister-in-law for many years, thinking about the messy village and the people in the village for many years, and the hot air began to surge around my eyes. ...
1July 1993, I left my hometown to work in Huangshan, nearly 200 miles away, and I was getting farther and farther away from home. After that, I couldn't go back every year because of the flood. Every time there is a flood, old and sick parents can't sleep at night. Since I was sensible, my parents have moved many times because of flash floods, and every move is a tragic song. 1998 during the flood, they lit oil lamps and moved forward trembling ... every time they think about it, they feel bitter. They have gone through hardships and are still suffering from mountain torrents when they are old. I have a lot to say, but I swallowed it. Fortunately, with the care of neighbors, hundreds of kilograms of rice at home have been moved away by everyone. This made me feel guilty, and then I felt a little relieved.
My father is not a local, but my grandfather picked it from western Jiangxi with two baskets. My father has a skill in logs, and he is quite famous at the junction of Xixiang, Huangshan and Tai Hao. Most of the people's lives are ebb and flow. When the tide rises, the man of the hour stands at the head of the tide, making a loud noise, leading history and creating achievements. At low tide, it is cloth or cloth containing grandchildren. My father is an ordinary mountaineer, but his life has been ebbing and flowing. When a rising tide lifts all boats, his Cooper's shop is crowded, and the products are in short supply, so that the owner often fights because he can't get the goods or the goods are taken away by others. In his later years, his father licked his mouth gently and said with nostalgia that all he ate at that time were mandarin fish; At low tide, most of his life is "low tide", and he has become an old overspent in the team. When I was a child, I was awakened by his hoarse cry in the middle of the night. It was a sad, plaintive and trembling voice, and I still have a lingering fear. Later, he fished up his bleak dusk in a cup of bitter wine and a bowl of pickled peppers.
Today, my parents have passed away for many years and are buried in a tea farm called Fenling in the east of the village. Although the terrain here is not high, there is a clear river in front, but no matter how big the flood peak, it will always be a safe and peaceful static soil, and they are no longer afraid of mountain torrents. The old house that has been threatened by flash floods many times is still there. This is an old house, but it is not old. It was made in the early 1980s. It's just that no one has lived in it for years. It looks old because it has been locked for many years. It is empty and has a faint musty smell. There is a small piece of land at the back door of the river, which was leveled when my parents were alive. Plant a little pepper, eggplant and towel gourd every year, which grows well. This small vegetable plot is the foundation of my old kitchen, or the former site, which was washed away by flash floods more than 20 years ago. Now, this vegetable field and the small stone steps leading to the river are overgrown with weeds.
Walking down the small stone steps with only four or five steps, it is still the river of that year. The angular stone bridge still spans below, but the bridge has been covered with a layer of cement. It's just that the river bed has increased. In the past, the riverbed was three or four meters high from the bridge, but now it is only over two meters high. It's just that the floodplain has become primitive, with lush vegetation on both sides, and sometimes red and green dragonflies flying between vegetation and waves; It's just that the flow of the river is less than before, but it flows softly and becomes much quieter, just like I left my hometown for 28 years, much quieter than when I was young. I think, quietness is a kind of life accomplishment, and it is a kind of life truth after the ebb and flow of the tide. The only thing that hasn't changed about this river is that it still rises and falls, and the flood peak still falls at high tide, like a horse neighing; At low tide, it is still like a mirror, and the water is gurgling, clear, clear and pure. ...