Tiger Leaping Gorge Spring Guesthouse

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TEL: 0887 8806829 /15894367846
FAX: 0887 8806829
Mobile: 015894367846 / 15894367846

Sean is the first person to open up shop ;  to open a guesthouse; (English-speaking person/person to learn English) ; person to marry a beautiful foreigner ; person to do business with foreigners. He combines this with a special philosophical ability to communicate with people from all walks of life. if you happy to see Sea's profile: speeddate.com or http://toplop.com/pedit.php, couchsurfing.org,

Sean's family has been living in Tiger Leaping Gorge for five generations.

Sean is the most experienced guide in Tiger Leaping Gorge.

Sean is the 1986 Tiger Leaping Gorge white water rafting guide.

Stay with Sean & you will have a safe journey in this area.

Sean has been a guide more than a thousand times to people trekking the Tiger Leaping Gorge high trail.

Sean opened up the high trail by the 1st of October, 1996. He is the gorge’s trailblazer.

Sean is the only person in Tiger Leaping Gorge to mention the protection of nature and campaign against the gorge dam.

Sean is a local man of Tibetan origin. He opened his home and his heart to the first rare Western travelers to venture this way in the 1983s. Talking with visitors and studying, when and wherever he could, he taught himself English, now Sean is the only person to fluently speak English locally. if you want to know how is our Food, Just link Food MENU. then you will see !

Recommended by cctv3 in 2004 and cctv2 in 2006, Le Guide du Routard  

Why you need guide with join the private tour ? at first for western peoples, you have better

life Quality and job, have guide , you have shared life with local poor people. second have guide fore sure you will feel safe and of course is security for all your trip, you travel to other country, you don't know the culture, you don't know the local area, specially China was change too fast, the mountain path for some reason put up wall, the city street is for develop some thing changed, of course in the village must be changed by plant project, so local guide will know it the area more then travelers, you don't get loosed. third you have guide you will safe time, you pay little money, guide will Organize for you for trip , all the ticket, you don't have to wait to buy this half day and wait for that half day, you don't have to be miserable, private tour will take you to see where you happy to go and easy catch up the time! have guide you will know more about the local history and culture !

 Guide Sean    


 I spent the evening next to the wood-burning stove in the café at the Long life Hotel, listening to Karen Carpenter sing that song about her favorite song, wondering if had fallen into twilight zone. Perhaps my plane had crashed over the pacific and I was dead. Or  perhaps I was just fucking up in a major way here. Either way, the herukas on the wall seemed ready to pounce.

Then, as if on cue, a Tibetan man, about thirty-five, walked into the café and sat down next to me. He was short, with long hair that hadn’t been washed in a while and a face that broke into thirty pieces when he smiled. It was the smile of a man who’d spent a long time in the mountains. He was wearing a large wind-beaker, but his left sleeve was pulled up, and I could see that his arm was shrunken, his hand mangled and upside down..

   “Where do you come from?” he asked me in good English.

   “Utah, in America.”


   “Yes,” I said, “Exactly.”

   “I saw photos. Very beautiful.”

His name was Xia Shan Quan. But he went by Sean. he was a guide and owned a guesthouse in Tiger Leaping gorge. He’d come to Zhongdian for a meeting about tourism but was going back home in the morning. I told him I was trying to get to Haba, and he said I could go with him to his house in the gorge, which was only a day’s walk from Haba.

  “Are there fish near Haba?” I asked him.

  “There are fish in the Yangtze. People catch them with dyna-mite,” he said, laughing so hard he almost fell over in his chair.

  “But how about up on the mountain, in the lake called the Black sea?”

  “I think ,maybe there are snow fish in the lake. People catch them with insects,”


  “I will show you . I don’t know the name in English.”

  I couldn’t believe my good fortune.

  Tiger leaping gorge had the shape of a very narrow and deep v. At the top of the v were two peaks, haba show mountain (sixteen thousand feet) and Jade Dragon Snow Mountain (eighteen thousand feet),and at the bottom was the Yangtze River (eight thousand feet), which seemed to go out of its way. Turning almost180 degrees, to run between the mountain. The name tiger leaping gorge came from the canyon being so narrow that tiger was said to have once leapt across it.

Sean’s guesthouse was twenty-two kilometers into the gorge along road that had been cut into the wall of the canyon. We rode there in a toy like pickup truck, Sean sitting up front in the cap with the driver and four other men. I sat in the bed with bags of rice and corn, five – gallon cans of gasoline, and five other people. The road was muddy, as there had been there straight days of rain, and the truck’s little engine struggled mightily, the rear wheels spinning and fishtailing. Sometimes we all got our to push and pull with a rope, sometimes we moved boulders that had fallen in the road, and sometimes we stood and watched while the driver crept between spaces just inches wider than the four-foot wheelbase of the truck.

  The road had been slowly gaining elevation above he river, so looking down at it produced an instant rush of vertigo. The river was monstrous. Exploding through canyon walls that were only twenty-five yards apart. I’d never seen anything so powerful, and it yanked hard on my heart. I could hear a stream of water running under the truck , and there was no road that I could see. If the truck were to slide over the edge, the fall line would start as a series of tumbles and pirouettes-a flinging of would pound everyone and everything into miscellaneous bits of unrecognizable pulp and flattened metal.

  I was deeply scared, but I was also happy, even overjoyed. It was wild and beautiful, and so it counted. It was what I’d come for.

AFTER TWENTY KILOMETERS, and truck stopped at a guesthouse and everybody got out “My place is two kilometers from here,” Sean said . “but the road is gone up ahead. We need to look at it.” 

  We walked up the road, lifting fallen boulders out of the way. It was getting dark., hard to see, but up ahead there was no road. the side of the mountain had slid away. I wanted to get closer, but Sean stopped me . “You see, it’s still dripping,” he said, pointing to a patch of mud sliding down the slope. “not good. It rains for three days and this is what happens.”

  “What do you want to do?” I asked.

  “We can ran across it, very quickly.”

  “Run?” I said. My pack weighed fifty pounds. It was almost dark. The slope was slippery and steep.

  “Yes,” he said,  “ Unless you what to stay here or ride back to town in the truck.”

  “I’ll go,” I said.

  “Then follow me.” And he took off running. It was a mad dash for three hundred yards, some of which was out on the muddy slope, completely exposed, so that a slip would mean a long slide to some cliffs and then a longer fall to the river. I ran with my hand for balance, following Sean’s step as closely as possible. He ran fast, without stopping, and I thought I heard him laughing. And then I realized / was laughing it seemed impossible to run across that slope in the dark, and yet it also seemed as if all I had to do was keep up with Sean and everything would be all right. It was like skiing right behind a friend. It was follow-ing someone off a cliff. It was much fun as I’ve ever had in my life.

We stopped at a waterfall where the road started again. I was  saying something like “ that –was-unfucking-believable-you’re-completely-out–of–your-mind—I’ve-never-done-anything-“when  a boulder as big as house came crashing down the slope and rolled across where we had just passed, launching itself in to thin air and  disappearing into the darkness before being smashed into a million pieces.

“you like this?” Sean asked.

“I love this” I said, and we both laughed and ran down the road to wards his house.

Sean’s Guesthouse was two stories high, Framed in post and beam, with big windows looking out over the canyon. Standing on the patio out in front, I could see four or five lights from other houses across the hillside. I could see the dark outline of the mountain on the other side of the canyon. I could hear the roar of the river a thousand feet blow.

We ate in the kitchen next to the wood stove .It was there where he told me what happened to his arm. He was born healthy in 1964, but when he was two years old, during the Cultural Revolution, the red army came looking for his father. His father wasn’t home, so they grabbed Sean and Threw  him in the fire, and then grabbed his sister and threw her off a cliff. Sean said it was not just his arm but the entire left side of his body that had been burned.” They called me ‘flower pig’ be cause my skin was like a flower pig- many colors,” he said.

“There was no hospital?”

“There was no road, no bicycle, nothing. They would have had to carry me.” As a kid, he went to grade school, but the communist party wouldn’t allow handicapped kids in middle school or high school. So he educated himself.

When the communists allowed small-scale capitalism in the late eighties, Sean started the first store in 1983 the village, When they opened the area to tourism in , he run the first Guesthouse over ten years. He learned six Language.

“Do you hate the Chinese for what they did to you?” I asked.

“Its not a very good culture,” he said And then he smiled and his face broke up.

That night, be fore I went to sleep, I realized that in order to catch my flight out of kunming in five days, I would have to walk all the way to the black sea lake and back to Sean’s Guesthouse in two days, which seemed like it might be impossible. Walnut Garden, were Sean lived, was on the south side of Haba Mountain. at about nine thousand feet. Haba village was on the east side of the mountain. At about twelve thousand feet. The lake was three thousand feet above the village. I would be able to do it only if I could see well enough to walk at night. I turned off the light in my room and looked out the window and saw nothing but black.

The next morning I told Sean that I was going to try to get to the lake and back in two days, and he said he didn’t think I could do it.” is very far, and there is snow up high, around the lake.”

“Snow is okay,” I said. “A little bit Anyway.” I told him I’d pay him to come as my guide, but he said he had clients who were flying into Zhongdian and he had to go back up there and meet them..

“Today,” he said you can go to Haba. Tomorrow go to the lake. But, I’m thinking, maybe there are no snow fish now. They are very expensive, more than eighty yuan[ten dollars] per pound.”

“You mean the lake has been fished out?”

“They take the film off the skin and sell it as medicine. It is a wild fish, so it is a medicine.”

“All wild fish have medicinal value?”

“Yes, for the Chinese. So maybe there are no snow fish left.”

That was kind of a letdown, but I still wanted to go to the lake. Sean give me some directions to Haba that included a shortcut that would take three hours off the eight-hours walk. I said goodbye and thanks, and I left feeling sad that I’d never see him again.

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Copyright: (3865933, 03-13) Sean's Guesthouse

 Website:  www.tigerleapinggorge.com 

Contact us Email:   tigerleapinggorges@gmail.com   Wechat ID: Realmenhere

 Telephone : (+86)15758456256 , Cell phone: 0086 (0)158 9436 7846

Telephone:86-887-8806829 / 15758456256; Fax:86-887-8806829   
Copyright: Tiger Leaping Gorge Sean's Spring Guesthouse,Address: Tiger Leaping Gorge town, Walnut Garden village Yunnan Shangri-La China