When we drove into the Honghe Hani and Yi Autonomous Prefecture in Yunnan Province, debating whether to join the crowds at the famous Yuanyang Rice Terraces, billboards promoting the Samaba Terraces kept appearing along the road. That's how we learned about this little-known place, hailed as the "World's Best Terraces." Located in Baohua Township, Honghe County, within the Honghe Hani and Yi Autonomous Prefecture, the Samaba Terraces cover a total area of over 16,000 mu (about 1,067 hectares), with elevations ranging from 600 to 1,880 meters, comprising more than 4,300 tiers. These terraces are a masterpiece passed down through generations of the Hani people, with a history of over 1,300 years.
We arrived on a gray spring evening at the end of April. The mountains on both sides of the road still looked desolate and withered. There were few tourists at the scenic area, and the staff told us we were too late—the site was about to close—but that the sea of clouds at six or seven in the morning was worth seeing. After a moment's hesitation, we decided to stay overnight in the nearby town instead of rushing on. After buying tickets, I hurried down the weathered wooden steps, hoping to reach the front line of the terraces before the last rays of sunset faded. The steps were covered with white flowers blown off the acacia trees by the wind. A gust of wind swept through, and the acacia blossoms, as light as snowflakes, fluttered down from the dense forest.
After half an hour of brisk walking on the steps, I finally reached the highest ridge of the terraces. In the distance, a covered walkway stretched into the terraces on the other side of the valley. The last remnants of sunset still lingered on the low fields a few hundred meters away. Beside me, the water in the paddy fields, filled with seedlings, rippled gently. Green rice shoots of varying sizes grew neatly in the shallow water, their tips swaying in the breeze like oars in a boatman's hand. These elements combined to form a vivid oil painting. A Yi woman in a blue ethnic dress was weeding by the field edge. The soft sunset light spread over her bent back, and she never stopped working, as if racing against the setting sun.
The next morning, my husband and I got up at six sharp and rushed to the scenic area to see the sea of clouds the staff had mentioned. Behind the visitor center, there was a glass walkway. Leaning against the railing, we could see the vast mountains below completely covered by thick white clouds. Two other tourists were already waiting for the sunrise. The undulating clouds surged like giant white waves crashing on a shore, and the horizon was bathed in pure morning glow. The orange sky was full of anticipation. Nearby birds shot out from the straight pine forest, their crisp chirps making the mountain mist seem even more lively. The sun slowly peeked out from the northeast corner of the sea of clouds until the entire huge orange sphere was fully visible, easily dispelling the helplessness of the mist. "The wild moisture thins the mist, the sand warms and the sunlight lingers." The gradually warming sunlight pierced through the clouds, shining onto the vast mountains and plains. The villages on the slopes began to step into a vibrant day.
