Ziyun, Guizhou: China's Last Cave Dwellers
đźš´ China still has a cave-dwelling tribe. They dislike the new houses built by the government and instead live happily in a large cave, embodying the legacy of a secluded paradise.
About 80 kilometers south of Anshun lies Ziyun Miao and Buyei Autonomous County. Traveling another 30 kilometers southwest brings you to the Getu River. "Getu" is a Miao term meaning "land of flower dances." The river originates in northern Changshun County and merges with the Lianjiang River, which flows from Huaxi in Guiyang, forming the Mengjiang River in Luodian. The Mengjiang flows into the Hongshui River at the Guizhou-Guangxi border. The Hongshui River is another name for the upper reaches of the Xijiang River, the main tributary of the Pearl River and the mother river of southern China.
The Getu River winds through ancient karst peaks, sometimes turbulent, sometimes calm, carving out caves and colorful lakes. Towering cliffs, misty clouds, and mysterious sites like the Swallow King’s Palace, spider-men, and hanging coffins make it an unforgettable destination.
Leaving Dahe Miao Village, I headed to Zhongdong Miao Village, known as China’s "last cave-dwelling tribe." The driver recommended by the scenic area, Mr. Wang, handed me a business card for "Spider-Man Restaurant." I realized he was the famed "spider-man." Earlier, I’d watched a spider-man perform unprotected free climbing at Swallow King’s Palace—a middle-aged man in a red vest scaling a 100-meter cliff in minutes, even letting go mid-climb, thrilling and terrifying spectators. Mr. Wang boasted, "We’ve beaten professional climbers in competitions."
đźš´ At Getu River, spider-men dream atop cliffs.
I asked Mr. Wang how he mastered this skill. "Living by the mountain, you rely on it," he said. "We used to climb for bird’s nests in Swallow King’s Palace. Practice made it natural." Of his five fellow spider-men, he lamented, "Young people won’t learn this—pay’s too low. They’d rather work elsewhere." At 50, he grumbled about fixed wages under park management, though he refused to consider quitting.
Mr. Wang, a Miao ethnic, is warm and largely assimilated into Han culture. He speaks Miao, but his children don’t. "No one wants to inherit this skill now," he sighed.
đźš´ Getu River, red dots mark free-climbing spider-men.
Downriver, the road was decent. After 30 minutes, Mr. Wang pointed to a stone path leading to Zhongdong. The winding trail wasn’t hard, and 20 minutes later, I reached a pass surrounded by emerald peaks. A distant cave, like a watchful eye, was Zhongdong. Crossing the pass and navigating narrow paths brought me to the cave.
Near the cave, white new houses stood mostly empty. Women washing clothes smiled as tourists passed—proof this was no longer a secluded haven. If this was a modern Peach Blossom Spring, we visitors were its intruding fishermen.
đźš´ New houses built by the government nearby.
Rounding a bend, the vast cave entrance appeared. A smaller "moonrise" cave pierced a neighboring peak, forming a natural bridge. Once, reaching Zhongdong meant scaling the gorge—no easy feat.
Up the path, a stone "screen" marked "Zhongdong" with tables where elders smoked pipes, content.
Past the screen, the cave opened—50m high, 115m wide, 230m deep—its walls pocked with primal bubbles. Homes inside were roofless, separated by bamboo walls, hung with corn. A basketball court bore a banner supporting China’s sovereignty. A host invited me to his guesthouse, now catering to tourists.
The 15-hectare cave housed 20 families, mostly elderly Miao of Wu, Wang, Luo, and Liang clans. Their bamboo-and-wood homes needed no roofs; the cave sheltered all. Commerce had arrived: flags of outdoor clubs fluttered, and a microfilm crew’s banner pledged loyalty to China.
Goats clattered past as a grandmother herded them. She invited me in, past a defunct school and a扶贫 (poverty-alleviation) water tank. Her two-story home had a TV, firepit, and photos of a grandson in Shenzhen. Most youth had left; only two families stayed in the new houses below, struggling with water access.
đźš´ Zhongdong Miao Village, a grandmother.
Hunched and plain-dressed, she explained: the brick building was their old school, relocated in 2010 after a Guangdong donor built a new one. Media coverage once drew volunteers, but now a cable car ferried tourists. Though less isolated, life remained simple—"living in caves, cooking in pits." Since 2003, an American donor had funded electricity and annual Christmas gifts of livestock to improve livelihoods.
The limestone land barely held soil—1cm took 2,500 years to form. Farming was backbreaking, done by hand between rocks. Guizhou, perennially grain-scarce, made survival here a marvel.
Here, earth and time conspired against plenty, yet the cave held fast to its people.
đźš´ The abandoned classroom of Zhongdong Miao Village
I asked the old lady, "When did you start living in the cave?" She replied, "We used to live in Xiaochuandong and moved here after liberation." I wanted to dig deeper into the earlier history, but the old lady shook her head like a rattle drum: "We were too young back then and don’t remember much." The cave dwellers are all Miao people, and the elders can still speak the Miao language—perhaps the only remaining marker of their ethnicity. Their clothing and daily life are largely Han-influenced, even simpler. The Spring Festival, which Han Chinese hold in high regard, is a rather subdued affair here—no couplets, no firecrackers, just a few yellow fruits hung above the doorframes. The residents generally claim that the cave is warm in winter and cool in summer, making it comfortable to live in, and they have no desire to move into the new houses built by the government.
đźš´ Zhongdong Miao Village, with its simple housing structures
Bidding farewell to the old lady, I walked into the vacant classroom and saw faded slogans written on red paper still clinging to the walls. Looking back at the cave entrance, it resembled a gaping mouth, as if ready to swallow the jagged peaks in the distance. Remembering that Driver Wang was still waiting, I dared not linger too long and stepped out of the cave to begin my return journey. Yet, another group of tourists arrived, standing at the cave entrance, clicking away with their cameras.
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