The tradition of watching the Qiantang River tidal bores can be traced back to as early as in the Han dynasty (202 BC-220 AD). During the Tang (618-907) and Song (960-1279) dynasties, it became even more popular, when poets like Li Bai (701-762), Liu Yuxi (772-842), Meng Haoran (689-740), Su Shi (1037-1101), among others, penned memorable poems on tide-watching.

According to legend, the 18th day of the eighth lunar month is the birthday of the God of Tides, when the tidal bores reach their peak. The government of the Southern Song dynasty (1127-1279), therefore, stipulated that a parade of its naval forces held on this day on the banks of the Qiantang River. Over time, it somehow developed into a tide-watching festival. Around the Mid-Autumn Day, people from all over the country and from abroad would flock to the Qiantang River, and witness the wonders of the tidal bores.

“In the 37th year [of his reign], on the day of Kuichou [November 1] of the tenth lunar month, Shi Huang went on a trip…he passed Danyang and arrived at Qiantang, to the Zhe River, where the tides were so ferocious…” described the Records of the Grand Historian on Qin Shi Huang’s (259-210 BC) passing the Qiantang River during his southern tour to offer sacrifices to, dittingly, Yu the Great, tamer of the ancient deluge. After Qin Shi Huang saw the vicious tides and the ravages wrought on local people of that area, it is said he decided to exempt their taxes.

Indeed, while most of the times, people along the Qiantang River chose to pray to gods for “peaceful” tides out of sheer fear, they also had to “fight” the tides to survive. “Born to a life on the river, riding waves young in the water,” Yang Wanli (1127-1206), a Southern Song poet, wrote of the local fishermen in a poem. “Rice is unknown as crabs are eaten, silk is unneeded for coarse cloth is better.” In another poem, Xin Qiji (1140-1207) claimed, “…the Wu sons are not afraid of the wrath of the flood dragon, walking the waves as if on flat ground.”

Although these brave folks had been “riding the waves” from very early on, they were by no means doing it for fun. Records show that over 200 major disasters were caused by the Qiangtang River tidal bores in the period from the start of the Song dynasty to the establishment of the People’s Republic of China. “Tens of thousands of households along the sea, have been washed away and none alive,” a Ming (1368-1644) poet once lamented.

Praying and fighting. These were perhaps the earliest practices of “tide-riding”. They were driven by the strong will of the people along the Qiantang River to live together with the tides which, to them, were simply too powerful to overcome.

Still, “tide-riding” heroes have tried to tame the Qiangtang River tides throughout history. In the Eastern Han (25-220) period, a local official named Hua Xin was believed to be the first to organize local residents to build an embankment on a large scale, which incidentally helped lay the foundation for the renowned West Lake to take shape.

Qian Liu (852-932), king of the Wuyue Kingdom (907-908), mobilized a total of 200,000 workers and built a “Qian’s Seawall”, stacking bamboo baskets loaded with stones. It not only solidified Hangzhou’s geological foundation, but enabled its southeastern expansion. More notably, perhaps, was the story of King Qian Liu shooting the tides. On the 18th day of the eighth month of the lunar calendar in the year 910, when the Qiantang River tidal bore was at its most ferocious, King Qian Liu ordered 500 of his bravest soldiers to shoot 3,000 arrows into the tides.

In Xiaoshan (present-day Xiaoshan district in Hangzhou city), located on the south bank of the Qiantang River, a certain Zhang Xia, a Song dynasty official, has long been worshipped as a local hero. He was the first to replace mud with bamboo baskets loaded with stones, which were usually reserved for more important locations, as the material for embankment. Today, there are still 18 temples standing that were established by local people in Zhang’s honor. Near the former official residence of Zhang Xia, there is also another majestic stone dike, measuring about three meters high and 690 meters long, which was built under the auspices of Liu Lianggui, a prefect of Shaoxing during the Southern Song period.

In an age when science and technology were far from developed, the construction of breakwaters, dikes, embankments and seawalls in the Qiantang River amounted to no less than a general mobilization of the entire local society. Laborers were called in, money was expended, and even lives were lost. Underlying all is the willpower to “ride the tide”, making the most out of the waves while keeping their damages to a minimum, as well as the moral strength symbolized by the breakwaters, dikes, embankments and seawalls, i.e. the protection of innocent lives against the elements.  

It is no wonder that Hangzhou, and Zhejiang province as well as its neighboring areas for that matter, has long been among the most prosperous since the Tang and Song times. “The tide riders surf the currents; the flags they hold up never get wet,” President Xi Jinping quoted an ancient Chinese poem as saying in his keynote speech during the B20 summit in Hangzhou on September 3, 2016, looking forward to “a G20 that will ride the tides in the world economy.”

From fearing the tides, praying to the tides to riding the tides, “the sons of Wu” have gradually grown into “tide riders”, and the spirit of tide-riding has spread across the Chinese nation. Qiantang, for this reason, will forever be remembered as the spiritual home of tide-riding.