Buildings on either side of the river are devastated.

Victims escape the disaster area.

Two huge boulders tumbled down from the mountain in the quake.

Quake-hit Beichuan.

My experience as a journalist covering the aftermath of the Wenchuan earthquake remains with me like a lingering and potent dream – now distant and past, but locked into my mind and within my spirit.
At 3:42 a.m., May 14, our flight touched down at the Shuangliu Airport, Chengdu City. It was raining, cold, and, seemingly with foreboding, the atmosphere was stifling. Chengdu was the first stop on our route into the quake-stricken areas. What would be the next? Which roads were still passable? The night in the city was tranquil, but our group of journalists was anything but relaxed.
According to reports relayed by the backup editors, Beichuan County and Mianzhu City were the worst hit areas. In order to go deeper into to the disaster regions, we split into two smaller groups, one heading for the cities of Mianzhu and Shifang, and the other for Beichuan. I was in the latter.
Back in 2004 I passed Beichuan on board a train, taking note of the peaceful county surrounded by mountains. Now, imagining how much damage the earthquake may have inflicted on this tranquil place, I was filled with dread.
On May 16 we started out from Chengdu heading for Beichuan. Passing through Mianyang and Anxian Counties, we reached a place 15 kilometers away from Beichuan, where we came to a checkpoint. The police explained that too many vehicles in the county would hinder the movement of emergency supplies and the extrication of victims. Excepting ambulances and for logistical aid operations, in general, other vehicles were prohibited from moving through the hard hit areas.
We left our cars and walked on. Along the way we could see that the quake caused massive landslides in many places. Green vegetation slid down the mountainsides, leaving yellow scars behind. We came across many huge boulders in our path, shaken from the mountain tops like leaves from a tree. Although it was the fourth day after the earthquake, we still could sense what a calamitous scene was wrought by the trembling earth.
The heat and mental tension had us exhausted by the time we finally reached Renjiaping Village, the entrance to Beichuan County. I was stunned by what I saw. It was like a war zone. The scene of buildings in ruins, rescue vehicles and workers in green, blue, white and orange was almost too much for my senses. I became dizzy, not able to recognize from where sounds came, nor how many people passed.
Time seemed to freeze for a long moment, and my senses returned. Grief washed over me, but I took up my camera to record the reality, so that others in the world might better grasp the scale of the destruction and human suffering. Focusing was made more difficult by the tears in my eyes.
The victims lost their families and homeland in the blink of an eye. Humans are so fragile and helpless before a natural disaster. But what impressed me most was the pure love among people: A family hand in hand, an adult cradling an infant, a young man aiding a senior. None were abandoned. When I met Wu Deyou, who with his mother was evacuated from Xuanping Township, they had walked for more than 10 hours, exhausted and sad, but supporting each other in their determined steps. Theirs was one of the most moving images captured by my camera.
In a disaster of this scale, it was the soldiers of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) who carried out most of the rescue work, while symbolizing hope and security. Risking their own lives during aftershocks, they kept asking “Are there any trapped?” To me, at that moment, “great” seemed too bland a term to describe their bravery. I often saw tears in those soldiers’ eyes when a survivor was pulled from the rubble.
Leaving Beichuan I rode on a tractor with a few of the now homeless victims. Yang Debiao, who lost his wife and home in the quake, told me, “My child and I survived. For the sake of my child, I must carry on. In honor of the dead, we survivors must cherish our lives … be strong.” He offered me a cigarette, I accepted it with care, and he continued, “I could not now afford to buy this cigarette … My friend’s father died in the quake. I helped him with the funeral. In gratitude, he gave me this carton.” He lowered his head, smiled sadly, and we moved on.