Severe rainstorms have once again struck Beijing. This time, the flooding swept through the northern mountainous regions. The inflow to the Miyun Reservoir reached 6,550 cubic metres per second—the highest level since the reservoir was constructed in 1959. What does this figure actually mean? Multiple villages and towns upstream were submerged, and waterlogging was severe. Currently, 30 deaths have been reported in Miyun and Yanqing.
What is truly worrying about this flood is not just the destructive power of the torrential rain, but that such extreme disasters have exceeded the capacity of early warning systems. Moreover, as climate change intensifies, such disasters are set to increase in the future.
Take the Qingshui River as an example. It originates from the Wuling Mountains in Xinglong County, Hebei Province, flows through Beizhuang and Taishitun towns in Miyun District, and eventually merges into the Miyun Reservoir. Miyun experienced two rounds of extreme rainfall; the second round actually fell primarily in Xinglong County. However, because the mountain terrain is steep and complex, flood peaks often form rapidly and are difficult to monitor in time. From the night of the 27th to the early hours of the 28th, mountain floods from upstream rushed into the Qingshui River. In the early hours of Monday, while people were still fast asleep, the waters swept through Beizhuang and Taishitun towns in downstream Miyun.
Sohu Farm, located by the Qingshui River in Beizhuang Town, saw all 450 mu of its land swallowed by the floods. Below is the personal account of the farm owner, Zhen Rui.
I. A Narrow Escape
The water reached the farm at four o’clock on the morning of the 28th. Everyone was still asleep. Within half an hour, the water had risen to one metre. Another half hour later, it reached two metres. We had received no evacuation notices, and two colleagues were trapped at the farm.
No one had taken it seriously before because, just the previous afternoon, another staff member had seen the river on their way home and it seemed fine. Although the current was fierce and fast, the water was still 30 or 40 centimetres from the bank; they didn’t think it could possibly overflow. Even around three o’clock on the 28th, the owner of a guesthouse across the river had come out to look, and the water was still within its banks.
At four o’clock, a colleague heard the sound of glass shattering. A nearby glasshouse had been destroyed. He got up to look and found that the water inside the room was 20 to 30 centimetres deep, while outside it was 50 to 60 centimetres. Beyond the glasshouse, it was a vast ocean of water.
He quickly called another colleague who was sleeping by the entrance. By the time the call was received, communication was already failing; he could see the call coming through, but he couldn’t hear any sound.
The colleague at the entrance sensed something was wrong. Looking out, he saw that the flood had already breached the bridge and was rushing toward the farm. The two of them tried to run, but by then they could hardly move. The water on the farm was 70 to 80 centimetres deep, reaching their waists. He ran toward higher ground by instinct. As he ran, his feet left the ground, and he was swept 300 to 400 metres away by the flood, all the way to the southwest corner of the garden. There was a relatively high slope there, which was also far from the river. He grabbed hold of a tree and climbed up the slope, which allowed him to walk along the ridge to the southernmost side of the garden, kick open the perimeter fence, and reach the main road. The entire process took less than half an hour.
◉ The final moment of the farm, captured on a mobile phone by a colleague after their narrow escape in the early hours of the 28th.
They escaped around five o’clock in the morning and called me, urging me to notify the town immediately, as they feared the local authorities might not know the extent of the flooding. I called the duty mayor and other local friends, but as I spoke, the signal vanished and all communications were cut. I had been away last week and hadn’t returned; I was preparing to head back to Beijing that morning, and I spent the entire morning trying to make calls.
The two of them made it to a local colleague’s house (on relatively safe high ground). I couldn’t sleep for two days; I just wanted to get them out as quickly as possible—it was far too dangerous. But the national highway had been completely destroyed; there was no water, electricity, or internet—nothing. Moreover, the forecast predicted more rain in Miyun on Monday night.
It did rain, but fortunately, it remained a light drizzle, and the river did not rise further. On Tuesday morning, the motorway reopened, and I picked them up and brought them back to the city. They had some scratches, and the colleague swept away by the flood had swallowed some water, but fortunately, their lives were not in danger.
They were shaken and needed to return to their hometowns to recover for a while. The shock was immense; it is hard to imagine a flood rushing in so quickly and flattening the entire farm. To say they had a narrow escape is no exaggeration.
The motorway is open now, and those locals who could be evacuated have been. For the villagers still remaining, the government is providing relief, such as dropping supply packs by helicopter. But the destruction throughout the township is severe; I estimate there will be many casualties. The water arrived at 4 am—such a massive volume, and so suddenly. Many people were still asleep in their homes and received no evacuation notices.
◉ The flood has almost erased all traces of the farm, leaving only collapsed roadbeds, mud soaked in water, and a small amount of construction debris.
II. Thirty Million Swept Away by the Flood
The farm spanned 450 mu, and after the torrential rains, it was completely levelled. We had a large area and a diverse range of businesses; every year, over 100 members would rent plots for their own small family vegetable gardens, with the farm providing fixed delivery services for them. We also grew large areas of vegetables, fruit trees, and grains, with our mainstay being fresh sweet corn. Each year, we would plant a dozen different staggered crops to ensure a long supply window; from late June to mid-October, we would be out plucking corn every morning to be dispatched the same day, so that customers in Beijing could receive it that very day. When some customers didn’t receive their corn for a few days, they began asking in the group chat what was happening. They were the first to know that something had gone wrong. Additionally, there were fifty or sixty mu of camping grounds and catering facilities. Now, all of it is gone.
Our farm sat right against the Qingshui River, on the riverbed flats. The only reason the farm could exist there was because, decades ago, the local community followed the “Learn from Dazhai” agricultural movement, layering on thirty to forty centimetres of soil. Everyone worked together to create these fields, carving out the conditions necessary for farming. However, when we first took over, the planting conditions were still very poor; the soil was highly sandy and lacked cohesion. To grow vegetables, we put a tremendous amount of effort into improving the soil, which included doubling our use of cow manure.
◉ The farm’s operations were diverse, encompassing self-run organic produce as well as small contracted family gardens, camping, and catering services.
Over the years, we had more or less improved the plots that were regularly cultivated. But the flood swept away the entire top thirty to forty centimetres of soil across the 450 mu of land. Now, nothing but sand and stone are exposed, and that is the most fatal blow. How can it be recovered? By layering another few dozen centimetres of soil on top?
For a farm, what does it mean when the soil is gone? Then there are the cold frames, the cold storage, the warehouses, the forklifts, the rotary tillers, the tractors… over a decade of accumulation, vanished.
Furthermore, the farm’s infrastructure and foundations have been completely destroyed. The river embankment road was washed away entirely, and the farm has merged with the riverbed; this land is now simply part of the river flats. There is no point in considering the possibility of rebuilding. Adapting to the new conditions and doing something else is the only solution.
◉ Just twenty days ago, Zhen Rui was happily promoting this year’s fresh sweet corn on his video account: “A familiar taste, the taste of ten years.”
If our farm had been in a designated flood detention area, we might have received some economic compensation to recover some of the losses, but I am not very familiar with that. We took out accident insurance for the farm staff, but we didn’t buy property insurance. How could we have imagined that a flood would suddenly wipe out the entire place? Who could have imagined that Beijing would experience the kind of flooding seen in the south? Local villagers had heard from their elders that there was a major flood here in 1958—fifty or sixty years ago. When a flood of this scale hits, no one can withstand it.
We also asked about the floods in Fangshan the year before last. Many friends I know whose parks were affected ended up receiving not a single penny in compensation. Whether we will receive government compensation in the end? I don’t know.
For the past few days, I have felt a deep heartache. My mood has been very low, and I simply cannot accept this. The farm operated for over a decade; excluding other hidden investments, the clearly calculable investment on the books was nearly thirty million. Wiped out overnight. Yesterday, when I went to pick up a colleague, I didn’t even go to the site to look, because there is nothing left to look at. Built up bit by bit over ten years, and in one night, everything is gone. I don’t even know how to handle the aftermath.
◉ On the afternoon of the flood, Zhen Rui mourned the loss of the farm on his WeChat Moments.Over the last few days, while chatting with friends, everyone has been talking about “cycles”. Before “Learning from Dazhai”, this land probably looked exactly like this; through this disaster, it has returned to how it was fifty or sixty years ago. But we now need to reflect: is the idea that “man can conquer nature” flawed? Was our approach of forcibly modifying nature wrong?
The North is becoming generally warmer and wetter, and the rain belts are shifting northward. The future climate trend will be more rain in the North and more drought in the South; this will become the norm. It will directly affect the site selection for farms and guesthouses in the North. This incident is a lesson for us all.
In fact, from 23 July, Miyun had already been surrounded by rain for a week. According to The Paper, as of 11:00 on the 29th, rain had fallen continuously in Beijing for 147 hours. And during this round of precipitation in the North, Beijing was just one of the disaster areas. In the short week since the 23rd, extraordinary torrential rains hit many places, including Inner Mongolia and northern Hebei. A total of 13 national meteorological stations in the North broke historical rainfall records; in Yi County, it was said that “a year’s worth of rain for Hebei fell in a single day”.
Meanwhile, in several villages in Xinglong County, Chengde, Hebei—upstream of the Qingshui River—villagers remain missing. Some villages began evacuating in the early hours of the 28th; some younger villagers walked to the border between Hebei and Beijing, while the elderly waited in their villages for rescue. In Luanping County, Chengde, at least eight people died due to landslides.
◉ Distribution map of heavy rainfall across China from 26-27 July. The disaster centre was in northern Hebei, Beijing, and Inner Mongolia. Image source: Central Meteorological Observatory.
Man may not necessarily “conquer” nature, but we have certainly “modified” it. Climate change caused by greenhouse gas emissions has both driven the long-term trend of warming and humidification in the North and brought about more frequent and intense extreme precipitation.
A disaster risk expert, in an interview with Caixin, pointed out that since late June this year, precipitation in the North has been severely above average. During three periods—late June, early July, and late July—rainfall in the North was significantly higher than the historical average for the same periods. Chen Tao, chief forecaster at the Central Meteorological Observatory, also found that the rainy season in North China usually lasts one month, starting on 18 July and ending on 17 August. This year, however, the rainy season began on 5 July, the earliest since 1961, representing an abnormally early start.
When the North, where flood prevention has traditionally been weaker, begins to encounter more and more extreme rainstorms and floods, what should we do?
Unless otherwise noted, images provided by Zhen Rui
