Picture a river that has catfish the size of bears. With a giant freshwater stingray that could blanket a king-size bed and weighs as much as a buffalo.
Imagine a river that carries so much water during the annual flood that one of its major tributaries would hit this wall of water, stop, and then be pushed backwards, flowing upstream for several months each year into an enormous rainy-season lake that becomes such a factory of fish production that an entire country depends on it for their protein. When the great river’s flow finally ebbs, the people hold a celebration for what the flood had left behind: tons of fish and fresh sediment and nutrients for their rice fields.
That river, the Mekong, existed 1,000 years ago, when the first stones were laid for Angkor Wat, the largest Hindu complex in the world. Angkor Wat lies just to the north of that floodplain lake, Tonle Sap, and its splendors include bas-reliefs depicting the bountiful fish harvests from the river and its floodplain.
But this picture isn’t just ancient history; the river still exists today. Last month, the tributary reversed its course and the Tonle Sap began to drain and the people of Phnom Penh held their three-day Bon Om Touk water festival, with boat races and fireworks, to celebrate the Mekong’s fish, which still provide nearly 80 percent of Cambodia’s protein. Giant catfish will leave the lake and seek the 150-foot deep pools of the main-stem channel, joining freshwater dolphins in this dry-season refuge.
But will that river exist 20 years from now?
Starting next week, I plan to explore that river and its uncertain future. I’ll take a 1,500-mile journey down the river with my family. Along the way, I’ll be sharing my experiences here on the Green blog.