What Caused the Record Rainfall in Beijing and Northern China?

This photo taken on August 2, 2023 shows a flooded street after heavy rains in Zhuozhou, in northern China's Hebei province. (AFP)
This photo taken on August 2, 2023 shows a flooded street after heavy rains in Zhuozhou, in northern China's Hebei province. (AFP)
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What Caused the Record Rainfall in Beijing and Northern China?

This photo taken on August 2, 2023 shows a flooded street after heavy rains in Zhuozhou, in northern China's Hebei province. (AFP)
This photo taken on August 2, 2023 shows a flooded street after heavy rains in Zhuozhou, in northern China's Hebei province. (AFP)

Record-breaking rainfall with an unusually long duration triggered by the arrival of Typhoon Doksuri in late July has battered northern China for a week, causing massive flooding and disrupting the lives of millions.

After pelting the Chinese capital Beijing in the worst storms in 140 years and lashing nearby cities in a region the size of Britain, the rain finally shifted to China's northeast near its border with Russia and North Korea where their power, though weakened, remained potent.

How severe was the rainfall?

The amount of rainfall since Saturday broke many local records in Beijing and northern China, with the vast Haihe river basin experiencing the worst flooding caused by storms since 1963.

A reservoir in Beijing's Changping district logged 744.8mm (29.3 inches) of precipitation between Saturday and Wednesday, the most in the city in over 140 years.

In the populous province of Hebei, one weather station recorded 1,003mm of rain from Saturday to Monday, an amount normally seen over a year and a half.

What caused the extreme and prolonged rainfall?

As Doksuri's rain clouds headed north, a subtropical and continental high pressure system in the atmosphere blocked their passage, leading to the continuing convergence of water vapor that acted like a dam storing the water, the meteorologists say.

As large amounts of vapor gathered in northern China, it was then lifted up by a low-altitude wind, shifting precipitation east of the Taihang mountain range, where the worst-hit areas - including Beijing's Fangshan and Mentougou districts - are located.

Meanwhile, Typhoon Khanun was gathering strength in the Western Pacific and as it approached China's coast, a large amount of moisture was fed into Doksuri's weakened circulation.

The interaction of the two typhoons sustained the circulation while increasing the amount of precipitation, leading to an extended and intensified impact from the storms, Chinese meteorologists told media.

How damaging was the rain?

In urban parts of Beijing, hundreds of roads were flooded. Hundreds of flights were either delayed or cancelled.

The impact was more pronounced in the city's western suburbs. In Mentougou and Fangshan districts, raging water coursed down roads, sweeping away cars. Villages in mountainous areas were cut off, prompting authorities to deploy helicopters to drop off food, water and emergency supplies.

Hebei's Zhuozhou, a city with more than 600,000 people to the southwest of Beijing, was half-submerged, with about 134,000 residents affected and one-sixth of the city's population evacuated.

Have similar weather events happened in the past?

Rain with such intensity and duration following typhoons is unusual in northern and northeastern China. The Chinese capital has observed just 12 incidences of significant rain brought by typhoons since authorities started keeping records, according to state media.

In 2017 and 2018, Typhoon Haitang and Ampil both dumped over 100mm of rain on Beijing. Typhoon Wanda in 1956 unleashed more than 400mm of precipitation on the densely populated city.

For China's northeast, the impact of typhoons is also rare. Most typhoons would move way west or northwest after making landfall in China, experts say.



Watching the Sun Rise over a New Damascus

Damascus is seen at sunrise from Mount Qasyun, which for years was off limits to regular people. (AFP)
Damascus is seen at sunrise from Mount Qasyun, which for years was off limits to regular people. (AFP)
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Watching the Sun Rise over a New Damascus

Damascus is seen at sunrise from Mount Qasyun, which for years was off limits to regular people. (AFP)
Damascus is seen at sunrise from Mount Qasyun, which for years was off limits to regular people. (AFP)

After the fall of Bashar al-Assad, Afaf Mohammed did what she could not for more than a decade: she climbed Mount Qasyun to admire a sleeping Damascus "from the sky" and watch the sun rise.

Through the long years of Syria's civil war, which began in 2011 with a government crackdown on pro-democracy protesters, people were not allowed access to the mountain.

But now they can return to look down again on their capital, with its high-rise hotels and poor suburbs exhausted by war.

When night falls, long queues of vehicles slowly make their way up a twisting road to a brightly lit corniche at the summit.

Once there, they can relax, listen to music, eat and, inevitably, take selfies.

On some evenings there have even been firework displays.

Afaf Mohammed told AFP that "during the war we weren't allowed up to Mount Qasyun. There were few public places that were truly accessible."

At her feet, the panorama of Syria's capital stretched far and wide. It was the second time in weeks that the dentist in her thirties had come to the mountaintop.

A man sells tea on Mount Qasyun, from which government artillery used to pound opposition-held areas under Assad's rule. (AFP)

- Ideal for snipers -

Her first was just after a coalition of opposition fighters entered the city, ousting Assad on December 8.

On that occasion she came at dawn.

"I can't describe how I felt after we had gone through 13 years of hardship," she said, wrapped close in an abaya to ward off the chilly breeze.

Qasyun was off limits to the people of Damascus because it was an ideal location for snipers -- the great view includes elegant presidential palaces and other government buildings.

It was also from this mountain that artillery units for years pounded opposition-held areas at the gates of the capital.

Mohammed believes the revolution brought "a phenomenal freedom" that includes the right to visit previously forbidden places.

"No one can stop us now or block our way. No one will harm us," she said.

Patrols from the security forces of Syria's new rulers are in evidence, however.

They look on as a boy plays a tabla drum and young people on folding chairs puff from water pipes as others dance and sing, clapping their hands.

Everything is good-natured, reflecting the atmosphere of freedom that now bathes Syria since the end of Assad rule.

Gone are the stifling restrictions that once ruled the people's lives, and soldiers no longer throng the city streets.

Visitors to Mount Qasyun can now relax, listen to music, eat and snap selfies. (AFP)

- Hot drinks and snacks -

Mohammad Yehia, in his forties, said he once brought his son Rabih up to Mount Qasyun when he was small.

"But he doesn't remember having been here," he said.

After Assad fell, his son "asked if we would be allowed to go up there, and I said, 'Of course'," Yehia added.

So they came the next day.

Yehia knows the place well -- he used to work here, serving hot drinks and snacks from the back of a van to onlookers who came to admire the view.

He prides himself on being one of the first to come back again, more than a decade later.

The closure of Mount Qasyun to the people of Damascus robbed him of his livelihood at a time when the country was in economic freefall under Western sanctions. The war placed a yoke of poverty on 90 percent of the population.

"We were at the suffocation point," Yehia told AFP.

"Even if you worked all day, you still couldn't make ends meet.

"This is the only place where the people of Damascus can come and breathe a little. It's a spectacular view... it can make us forget the worries of the past."

Malak Mohammed, who came up the mountain with her sister Afaf, said that on returning "for the first time since childhood" she felt "immense joy".

"It's as if we were getting our whole country back," Malak said. Before, "we were deprived of everything".