Scene Six
Into the Valley of Buddhist Sound
The 梵音谷, Buddhist Sound Valley is a respite from the road that winds almost to the top of Longevity Mountain. I have long decided that the proper way to attune oneself to the long and gradual climb up the southern mountain is to make it even longer and more gradual—to wander through four kilometers of water, diverse trees, and rich vegetation. The entrance to the valley path is as quiet as the valley itself, but the map and introduction promise an even more memorable journey. It appears in Chinese and a peculiarly resonant form of English.
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| [b] Fairyland RL |
Welcome to the Buddhist Sound Valley to explore its exotica, watch its waterfall and listen to the gurgling spring and crisp wind. Buddhist Sound Valley is a newly-opened ecotourism attraction, extending 4.2 kilometers from Buddhist Sound Lake to Loyal Martyr Temple. Forest of mountain summits populate the banks of the lake, running spring and flying waterfall make a Buddhist sound, precipitous cliffs and exotic stones are sculpture-like, crystal-clear brook zigzags its way, sending out melodious strains. Along the brook are scattered over ten scenic spots, such as Buddhist Pavilion, Huayan Lake, Peach Bloom Valley, Sanwan Waterfall, Zhimu Pool, Money Chest, and more. Strolling along the brook refreshes and gladdens your heart, affords you a feeling of enjoying a beautiful painting, and you suddenly feel as if you were in fairyland.
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| [c] Road RL |
It is a kind of fairyland to be whisked away from the road to the pavilions, bridges, trees, and waters of the valley. The first steps down the path into the valley allow me to leave the frenzy of buses, cars, and consternation. I remember on my first few climbs of the mountain feeling fundamentally disoriented by the road climb—and it is not just a few steps. It is mostly road, interspersed with a few climbing path shortcuts, and very disappointing for the climber who wants to “feel” the mountain. It was not for almost two kilometers that the opportunity to return to forest and stone steps presented itself. There was still a great deal of climbing left, but it was not lost on me on those early climbs that, of the five marchmounts, the southern mountain has the worst opening stretch, with honking, blinking, and annoying speeds.
And now, the best. The Buddhist Sound Valley is rivaled but unmatched by the other peaks. The very name of the valley has me attuned, and I listen to the flow of water over rocks, chirping birds, bamboo rustling in the wind,…and music. All of the trees along the path surrounding the artificial lake have bark, leaves, and branches. Some are covered with layers of thick, green moss. A few have sound systems that emit Buddhist melodies. Sound valley, indeed. It does not take a particularly acute sense of hearing to register one other distinctive sound in the Buddhistic quiet of the valley. Honking horns. The road remains a presence I try to forget, even while mulling the changing course of my perspective.
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| [d] Bridge RL |
I cross a stone bridge and continue on the gently weaving path, dipping far into the belly of the underbrush on the quietest part of the lake. I pass a couple playing cards on a stone table overlooking the calm water; they must have come at dawn, when I began my hike. They will be the only people I see on the path for the next two hours. We exchange greetings, and I add that the valley is very peaceful. The young woman studies me, and then readies a reply. I expect some kind of insight into the quiet of the lake or a story about why they chose this particular location to spend their morning. “You’re alone?” “Yes,” I reply. “I am hiking alone.” She shakes her head a little. We say “goodbye,” and I am again alone on the stone path.
The path is flat, all around the lake, and I enjoy the canopies of cedar, willow, and bamboo. I notice the familiar pattern of stone steps that leave the path and lead to destinations on the hillside. After exploring several hidden locations on other Chinese mountains, I am determined to learn as much as I can about where seldom trodden paths might lead. They have already taken me down fascinating little byways over the years, and I can feel the anticipation building. Something is off here, though; these steps are new. Sparkling. The cultural markers are not necessary, and I need not ponder the route too deeply. I look up, and left. 洗手间, Toilet.
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| [e] Lake RL |
The lake is artificial, to be sure, but it seems almost artificially still. It is green, algal, and looks almost like a wide fairway surrounded by rough and trees as I look into the distance. As I round the corner toward the back of the lake, the path begins again to climb, and I enter the valley and see the healthy flow of a rushing stream—the most powerful flow on any of the sacred mountains at any time of year.
Moss covers the rocks at the side of the path, and a view of the mountain appears for the first time on the hike. The Zhurong Peak is only 1,291 meters above sea level—the lowest of all the marchmounts—but it takes longer to climb the path (even without a side trip through the valley) than any of the other mountains. The peak is not so much high as it is far. The horizontal journey is as much a part of the Longevity Mountain experience as the vertical, and enjoyment of the forest is one of the things that makes the southern mountain special.
The valley opens with the stream, and only the occasional outdated telephone wire interrupts the relative solitude. I walk through small openings in the rock that are not quite caves, but offer a drop of several degrees from the “outside” temperatures. After a few steps, I cross a stone bridge across the rushing stream and stop at a pool at the foot of a small three-tier waterfall. I let my cap dry in the sun and breeze while I clean off in the cool water.
请勿嬉水
No Swimming
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| [f] High and far RL |
No one is around, but culture is here (culture and regulation). It can even be found on the sign, for which the English is a grammatical but poor substitute for the Chinese. The figure has the international symbol for "no swimming”—three curving lines to represent water, a stick-figure head with arms in front crawl position, and a red circle with a diagonal line through it. The English says “No Swimming.” The Chinese says something more like “(Please) No Horsing Around in the Water.” Culture.
I decide to follow an obviously older route up this part of the valley (there is a more “civilized” trail around the ridge). The steps are soaked with moisture rising off of the falls and too thick to be suspended in air; they are worn smooth and very slick, the moss making alternately for greater traction and even more slipperiness. Reaching the top, I realize that the only way back to the continuing trail is across a series of flat, slick rocks. The summer heat has not lowered the water level, and my shoes will be wet, even in the best of circumstances. I weigh the worst case; if I slip it will hurt, but I won’t be in any great danger. I cross; the footing is secure. Aside from Western Mt. Hua, this is close to the limit of danger on the marchmounts.
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| [g] Empty RL |
I climb into the Upper Fanyin Valley, and I again begin to see the mountain as a whole; high and far. Here the stone path ends, and it is a matter of linking with the main road before regaining the “normal” mountain path that most travelers take. In order to do that, I must leave the valley and walk on a path that has been here a good deal longer than the stone steps of the Fanyin Valley. Following a dirt trail used by mountain farmers, I start up the crumbling red clay indents that serve as steps, curve through tight corners amid dense greenery, pass a farmhouse, and soon reach a storefront to nowhere—the same white tile façade and large structure of buildings up and down the mountain, but with no visitors to support it. I stop and talk with the only person about, a man in his forties who tells me that it is a place used by people who work on the mountain and might become an attraction for hikers who just might (“like you, today”) begin this new climbing route through the valley.
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| [h] Backpath RL |
Longevity Mountain 1 Longevity Mountain 2 Longevity Mountain 3 Longevity Mountain 4
Longevity Mountain 5 Longevity Mountain 6 Longevity Mountain 7 Longevity Mountain 8
Longevity Mountain 9 Longevity Mountain 10 Longevity Mountain 11 Longevity Mountain 12
NEXT
Regaining the Ancient Path
Back down to the Martyr's Shrine, I climb up toward mid-mountain—but not before stopping for a beancurd snack and a conversation with a pathside seller.
