The Ice Sculptures & Siberian Tigers of Harbin.

The Ice Sculptures & Siberian Tigers of Harbin.

Last week I published my article Exploring the Chinese City of Harbin. While it wasn’t the city itself that had initially drawn me, I found myself enjoying the charms of Zhongyang Street, with its historic cobblestones and lively atmosphere. I also soaked up Harbin’s curious Russian influences, most notably at Saint Sophia Cathedral, and experienced atmospheric Buddhist compound with a visit to Jile Temple.

In this article, I’ll focus on the two main reasons I’d made the flight over from Beijing. First and foremost was Harbin’s legendary Ice and Snow Festival, often described as the most spectacular ice sculpture event on the planet. To make the most of it, I timed my visit for late afternoon so I could see the festival light up at dusk. From Flood Control Square, I bundled up, braced against the cold, and set off across the frozen Songhua River on foot.

The hotel receptionist had assured me it was perfectly safe. Even so, the moment I set out doubts crept in—though I took comfort each time a jeep rumbled past across the ice. Before long the crowds thinned, and I found myself alone in a silent, crystalline world. And so crossing the Songhua became its own kind of festival, a magical interlude in a winter wonderland that seemed to belong only to me.

The Ice Sculptures & Siberian Tigers of Harbin.

It took around half an hour to make the crossing onto Harbin’s Sun Island. On the far bank, I paused to catch my breath and glance back at the city centre from which I’d come.

After getting my bearings, I allowed myself an imaginary tinkle on a whimsical sculpture known as the Big Piano before pressing on towards the festival. Installed in 2005, the piece commemorates a remarkable world record set in Harbin in 2005, when no fewer than one thousand pianos rang out in unison during the Harbin Summer Music Concert.

From the sculpture it was another half-hour’s walk to the festival gates. By now the sun had slipped away, and light was draining fast as late afternoon dissolved into early evening. Following the signs to Ice and Snow World, I was treated to a magical moment when, quite suddenly, the red lanterns lining the road flickered to life, glowing as though they had been lit just to guide me on my way.

Excitement coursing through my veins, I arrived at the festival gates, glowing in a brazen wash of pink. After months of planning, I was finally here at Harbin’s iconic ice festival. Digging into some online history, I read how the festival’s roots came from its long brutal winters and the tradition of carving lanterns out of blocks of river ice.

The Ice Sculptures & Siberian Tigers of Harbin.

Local fishermen were the first to fashion these frozen creations, hollowing them out to hold candles that lit the icy nights. Over time, the practice grew into a community event, and in 1963 Harbin hosted its first official ice lantern exhibition. From those modest beginnings, it has evolved into today’s sprawling festival of ice castles, palaces, and sculptures that draw visitors from across the globe.

Using blocks of crystal ice from the frozen Songhua, local artists built towers, slides, and illuminated palaces. Each winter the spectacle grew bolder, soon drawing international sculptors and the corporate backing to match. Entering the park that evening in temperatures 0f minus 25 and falling, I felt somewhat impervious to the cold as I let out an involuntary gasp at the scene before me.

I wandered through what can only be described as a dreamlike city of ice: towering castles, glittering pagodas, even whole streets sculpted from shifting shades of neon blue, pink, and green.

Around me families skated and kids hurtled down ice slides, as the occasional couple trotted by on ponies. Instinctively, I ducked into a giant ice maze and got suitably lost before eventually finding my way out again.

From there I headed up a gigantic staircase hewn entirely from ice. The pale blue steps beneath my feet crunched and sparkled as I ascended, one of my hands holding onto the slick, glistening handrail for support. At the top was a large multi-tiered palace from which fine views stretched across the park.

A Winter Wonderland.

The snow sculptures were every bit as impressive. Accompanying info boards left me in no doubt as to the spectacular levels of craftsmanship. They explained how sculptors use artificial snow machines to ensure consistency and volume. They then pack their loads into enormous wooden or metal molds, before stomping or pressing them into dense blocks.

Cranes and chainsaws aid them in cutting away large chunks from which to define the basic form of the sculpture. Next, there is fine detail work with a variety of hand tools such as chisels, shovels, ice picks, saws, brushes and even tablespoons. They smooth over surfaces with water, which refreezes into a harder crust.

After hours of exploring the park, the cold finally caught up with me. Thus I retreated into a cafe tent for a beer and a steaming bowl of noodles, the warmth reviving me enough for another forty-five minutes of near-constant photography before calling it a night.

As dazzling as the ice-festival experience was, all that walking in the biting cold had worn me out. I slept in the next morning, not stirring until after 10 a.m. Eventually, I drifted to Bomelei 1913 for coffee and pastries, then caught a taxi to Harbin Siberian Tiger Park—arguably the city’s second-most popular tourist attraction.

The Ice Sculptures & Siberian Tigers of Harbin.

Situated on the north bank of the Songhua River near Sun Island, the park houses one of the world’s largest collections of Siberian Tigers, as well as a host of other big cats.

For the most part the species is native to the Russian Far East, although sightings and confirmed breeding pairs have been documented across China’s Heilongjiang Province thanks to cross-border conservation efforts. With overhunting and habitat destruction having drastically reduced their numbers throughout the 20th century, experts reckon there are now less than one thousand Siberian tigers living in the wild.

Harbin Siberian Tiger Park, which opened in 1996, houses somewhere between 700 and 1,200 tigers, depending on the source. Having never seen a Siberian tiger in the flesh, I was eager to visit. And in one sense, it was extraordinary to stand so close to such magnificent animals. But that thrill was quickly dimmed by the park itself—many of the cages were small, bare, and depressingly cheerless.

Many of the tigers I saw that day seemed restless, pacing the chain-link fences with low, throaty growls. More than once I caught what felt like a murderous glint in the eyes that tracked me as I made my way around the exhibits.

Harbin Siberian Tiger Park.

There was at least a larger more open part of the grounds where, at specified times of the day, tigers could roam a bit more freely in groups. It is through here that visitors can take a short bus tour.

It’s common for tigers to dash over when a bus rolls by—sometimes to lick the frosty windows, other times to deliver a playful thud against the side. The latter happened on my ride, sending the hairs on my neck bristling. “It’s fun for them,” our guide insisted with an awkward grin, while a Chinese family shrieked theatrically behind me.

Back on foot among the main exhibits, I came across one of two White Bengals. Undeniably beautiful, it carried itself with more energy than many of its orange-and-black neighbours.

Nearby, a handful of weary-looking leopards dozed—though one I stumbled upon was mid-grooming. When nature calls, you answer, even if you’re on display.

I’ll never forget discovering the park’s controversial feeding menus. Visitors could buy anything from a fresh fish or strips of raw pork to, more disturbingly, a live chicken pushed through a flap—or even a cow lowered into an enclosure, Jurassic Park–style. Such spectacles once drew excitable crowds, an activity that was tolerated in 2009.

The Ice Sculptures & Siberian Tigers of Harbin.

No wonder I left Harbin Siberian Tiger Park with an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. The visit stayed with me so strongly that I began checking up on the place from time to time. What I found were mounting reports of tiger neglect, avoidable deaths linked to malnutrition, and even secret burials carried out to conceal the losses.

As recently as 2023, visitors were still reporting live animal feedings in front of families with young children. But to my relief, I have recently read several online posts that claim the practice has now largely been discontinued. I hope that’s true.

On my final evening in Harbin, Zhongyang Dajie—the city’s central boulevard—was eerily deserted. It was the last day of the Chinese New Year holiday, so nearly everyone was at home feasting with family in front of the TV.

I drifted back to my hotel with ice sculptures and tigers still swirling in my mind. Later, from my hotel window, fireworks lit up the sky, bringing a smile to my face. In terms of its main attractions Harbin had been a mixed bag, but undeniably one of the most memorable chapters of my travels around China.

Like this? Harbin also features in my short story Sub Zero Adventures.

Why not also take a look at my zillion reports from all around China.

Or my short story collection Challenged In China.

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