Pioneering New Paths in China: Dali Torch Festival - Emerging Adventurers

      07/19/2025 - 07/19/2025

      View Asia 2025 on zzlangerhans's travel map. Mei Ling and I weren’t entirely aligned on the importance of Butterfly Spring. My sources indicated that the park was a must-see, and I wanted to experience something different from the numerous reconstructed "ancient" towns, while Mei Ling worried it would be a tourist trap. Having accommodated nearly all of Mei Ling's plans, she agreed to have our driver stop there on our return to Dali from Shuanglang. The spring has long been recognized as a gathering place for butterflies, but the park itself only became a tourist destination in the 1980s. It's situated in a charming rural area close to the main road encircling Erhai Lake.

      Upon entering, we had quite a lengthy walk along a bumpy cobblestone path to reach the spring. We passed through groves of tall Chinese cedar trees, some converted into Zen-inspired gardens. At the path's end, there was an outdoor pavilion where performers dressed in traditional Bai costumes were engaged in some type of dance or ceremony, which didn't feel particularly authentic. From the pavilion, we could see a pond that had turned a deep green due to a heavy algae bloom. An observation deck at the pond's edge featured an unusual sculpture representing the legend of two forbidden lovers. When a jealous chieftain tried to force the woman to marry him, the couple plunged into the spring and transformed into butterflies. The two tree trunks represent the lovers, with the butterflies—one still emerging from its cocoon—perched atop them. A vibrant blue rowboat was tethered to a short dock, serving as a perch for a group of scruffy cormorants. We were on a tight schedule with our driver, so we made only a quick stop at the butterfly conservatory, which was amusing for the kids as the butterflies freely landed on their hands and clothes. It was a much smaller enclosure than those we had seen in Costa Rica and the U.S., and I noticed a few dead butterflies on the ground, hoping they had met a natural end.

      Mei Ling had proven correct about Butterfly Spring, though we only spent a little over an hour there. Our driver persuaded us to stop in his hometown of Zhouchengcun, just south of the park, claiming they had a better torch festival than Dali and a market as well. Zhouchengcun was smaller than the previous towns we had visited, with the old area consisting of just one street marked by a dilapidated wooden pailou. The market in Zhouchengcun was quite quiet, likely due to the late hour. The town seemed prepared for some kind of celebration later, with bundles of torches scattered about and a tall pyre in the main square, but no one could tell us when the festivities would actually begin. Most locals were going about their business, aside from a few young boys tossing little bang snaps at each other. We debated waiting until dark, but ultimately chose to head back to Dali in hopes that something would already be happening by the time we arrived.

      While researching Yunnan, I discovered the Dali torch festival, which I knew could be the highlight of our summer, especially for the kids. Most sources indicated the festival was celebrated on the twenty-fifth day of the sixth lunar month each year, which corresponded to June twentieth in 2025. I had structured our entire Yunnan itinerary to be in Dali on that date, but conflicting information made me uneasy. Our driver dropped us off outside the Cheng’en Gate on the south side of Dali's old town, where we were greeted by huge crowds gathered outside the pailou marking the entrance to one of the busiest commercial streets.

      It quickly became clear we were in the right place at the right time. A dense flow of people was headed up the street toward the mountains, with vendors selling torches made of tree bark bundles. Mei Ling purchased two, although I was unsure what we would do with them. Initially, I thought the torch festival would feature trained performers, with us and other spectators watching, but it seemed everyone had a chance to participate. Surprisingly, there were more women than men among the torchbearers, along with many older individuals and children.

      The street inclined gently, eventually becoming steep, allowing us to look back down at the growing crowd behind us. At the street's end was a plaza filled with food carts, leading to a larger hilltop square packed with people. Over their heads, we spotted a tall pyre already ablaze, though only the upper section burned. Drones buzzed above constantly. At this point, we realized we had lost Cleo near the stairs, and we were wedged in from behind by the crowd that had followed us. While this made me uneasy, I knew Cleo could manage on her own for the moment

Other articles