A Comprehensive Collection of Chinese Travel Essays and Prose: Hunan Volume

Author: / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2002-08-01
Features: ⑩ Numbers after this will be represented in parentheses because of the absence of the Nanyue Mountain Traveling and Poetic Exchange Preface ① Song · Zhang Shi Someone traveled to Huxiang for over two decades ②, dreaming of the beauty of Hengshan, and once stayed in the mountains, but had never experienced the joy of climbing to the summit. In the autumn of Qiandao Dinghai ③, Zhu Xi Yuanhui ④ from Xin'an visited me by the Xiang River, staying for another two months before planning to return to the southern mountains. This is when we began this journey together, and Lin Yongzhong (Zhezhi) ⑥ from Sanshan Mountain also joined us. On the eleventh month, Gengwu ⑦, we crossed the Xiang River from Tanzhou ⑧. On the tenth day, passing Shit, we first saw the peak of Hengshan. Suddenly, dark clouds gathered from all sides, and heavy snow fell, reaching a depth of over a foot in no time. The three of us had a meal in a thatched cottage by the roadside, each drinking a large cup of wine. We then mounted our horses and rode for over thirty miles, arriving at Caoyi Rock for the night. The scenery of mountains, rivers, forests, and gorges at that moment already seemed incredibly beautiful. On the eleventh day, we reached the foot of Hengshan. On the twelfth day, we took a brief rest. It rained heavily, and by evening it had not stopped. The attendants with us all showed signs of fatigue. Biao Juzheng (Dezheng) ⑩ from Xiangtan came to meet us, also believing that I would not be able to climb the mountain this time. I decided with Zhu Xi to climb the mountain the next day, despite the wind and snow. However, the rain stopped by midnight, and when we woke up, the stars were brilliantly shining in the sky. By dawn, the sun had already risen in the east. Biao Juzheng, afraid of the cold, returned. The three of us rode across Xingle River, and the mist had completely dissipated, revealing the peaks of Hengshan standing like jade. The sight was truly delightful. After a meal, we switched to bamboo sedan chairs and began the ascent from Maji Bridge. At first, the view was of wild, untamed mountains, but after some distance, we entered dense forests and gorges, with snow occasionally visible on the cliffs. The experience was wonderful, and the stream, crashing against the rocks, echoed with a melodious sound. As the sun set, we reached Fangguang ⑥, where the atmosphere was deep and mysterious, with eight peaks surrounding it, known as Lotus Peak. From the pavilion, we looked around and saw the snow and moon shining brilliantly. The temples were all made of wooden boards. We asked an elderly monk why, and he said, "Using tiles often cracks in the ice and snow. The same is true for Gaotai and Shangfeng ⑧." On the fourteenth day, we set off at dawn, passing through a winding path to Gaotai Temple. Outside the temple, thousands of green bamboos stood tall and dense, some broken by the wind and snow, creating a refreshing and lovely scene. In the temple, the monks Zhuxian and Laoxin, known for their poetic talents, said, "On a fine night with the moon shining, we can still hear the clear and mournful cries of monkeys from the windows." After leaving the temple, we walked through ancient trees and vines, with snow thick on the shaded cliffs, nearly several feet deep. Looking at Shigui Peak, it resembled a white brocade screen. Sunlight filtered through the trees, and ice dripped from the branches with a clinking sound. Suddenly, dark clouds rose, and ice pellets fell, but they stopped shortly after. After passing Xilin, we crossed Tianzhu Peak and descended to Fuyan Temple, overlooking NanTai, passing Mazu An, and climbing from the back of Fuyan Temple. The path was not too narrow, and there were steps to climb at dangerous points. We traveled over twenty miles, passing Daming Temple, where a few sparse snowflakes drifted from the east. Although we could see Shangfeng Temple, it was still a winding path of several miles. The plants on the high mountain were tough and thin, and the cold-resistant pine trees outside the temple were twisted and swollen, with drooping branches covered in ice, like a dragon and a white phoenix. The temple buildings were all covered with wooden boards; otherwise, the clouds and mist would fill the space, sometimes making it impossible to see people. In Shangfeng Temple, there is a Qionglin Pavilion with a plaque inscribed by Hu Quan, a former minister, taken from the phrase "Cloud walls are deep, and secluded forests rise" by Han Yu. Just as my two companions and I took a rest, we saw the peak of Zhuofeng and decided to climb it immediately, lifting our robes to ascend. The peak had enough space for dozens of people to sit. At that moment, the mist was not yet completely clear, but the surrounding peaks stood tall and imposing, each with its own unique shape. However, when looking outward, the view was boundless, as if surrounded by a vast ocean, a truly spectacular sight. The Xiang River flowed like a belt around the mountain, winding five times before heading north. The temple monks pointed to the vast wilderness, saying, "Dongting Lake is there." In the evening, staying on the pavilion, we watched the rosy clouds stretching across a thousand miles. That night, we stayed in the meditation hall, the moonlight casting a cold glow on the snow-covered buildings, and the sound of the stream was cool and clear through the window. All night long, we were unaware that we were perched atop a thousand peaks. On the sixteenth day, Hu Shi Guangzhong ⑩ from Wuyi and Fan Yande Bochong ⑩ joined us. Together, we visited Xianren Bridge, a path carved into the rock, narrow enough to walk on the sides. The cliff ahead jutted out, with a thousand-foot abyss below, making it chillingly unsafe to linger. We climbed to the summit again, where the wind was fierce. We could see distant peaks gradually appearing, a much more enjoyable view than the day before. The cold was biting, and even after several drinks, we could not bear it without wrapping ourselves in furs. Shortly after, the mist rose from the cliffs, surging like steam, and as we passed the southern ridge, the wind carried us away, the scene becoming hazy and indistinct in moments. That night, the wind blew fiercely. On the seventeenth day, before dawn, snowflapped against the window with a sound, waking me. As we prepared to descend, the temple monks warned that the stone steps were frozen, making them impassable. We quickly descended from the front ridge, but the path was slippery, and some of us stumbled. Looking down, the white clouds swirled and filled the valleys, creating a truly heart-stirring scene. We wanted to visit Li Jiehou's study, but the forest was too deep, and the path was blocked, making it impossible to go. After traveling about thirty miles, we reached the mountain town and stayed at Shengye Temple's Jingjie Hall. From the tenth day to the seventeenth day, we spent seven days, traveling hundreds of miles up and down, with scenes too beautiful to describe. We also composed poems and exchanged them, collecting a total of one hundred forty-nine pieces. Although these were works of the moment and not all masterpieces, they still reflect what we saw and experienced, and may serve as a record for future reference. On the night of the sixteenth day, in the middle of the night, it was freezing, and we sat by the dying fire, reflecting on how the three of us had become quite poetic in these few days. In general, whether things are big or small, good or bad, if they flow without returning, they can dampen one's spirit. Thus, we decided to stop the next day. From then on, even if there were things worth singing about, they would no longer appear in our poems. Alas! Those who read this collection should also take warning from the three of us! Translated from "Nanxuan Ji"【Translation】I have traveled between Hubei and Hunan for over twenty-four years, yet the beauty of Hengshan's scenery has never left my dreams; I have also stayed in the mountains, but have never experienced the joy of climbing to the summit. In the autumn of Qiandao Dinghai, Zhu Xi, styled Yuanhui, from Xin'an visited me by the Xiang River, staying for another two months before planning to return to the southern mountains after visiting Hengshan. This is when we began our journey together, and Lin Yongzhong (styled Zhezhi) from Sanshan Mountain also joined us. On the sixth day of the eleventh month, Gengwu, we crossed the Xiang River from Tanzhou. On the tenth day, passing Shit, we first saw the peak of Hengshan. Suddenly, dark clouds gathered from all sides, and heavy snow fell, reaching a depth of over a foot in no time. The three of us had a meal in a thatched cottage by the roadside, each drinking a large cup of wine. We then mounted our horses and rode for over thirty miles, arriving at Caoyi Rock for the night. The scenery of mountains, rivers, forests, and gorges at that moment already seemed incredibly beautiful. On the eleventh day, we reached the foot of Hengshan. On the twelfth day, we took a brief rest. It rained heavily, and by evening it had not stopped. The attendants with us all showed signs of fatigue. Biao Juzheng (styled Dezheng) from Xiangtan came to meet us, also believing that I would not be able to climb the mountain this time. I decided with Zhu Xi to climb the mountain the next day, despite the wind and snow. However, the rain stopped by midnight, and when we woke up, the stars were brilliantly shining in the sky. By dawn, the sun had already risen in the east. Biao Juzheng, afraid of the cold, returned. The three of us rode across Xingle River, and the mist had completely dissipated, revealing the peaks of Hengshan standing like jade. The sight was truly delightful. After a meal, we switched to bamboo sedan chairs and began the ascent from Maji Bridge. At first, the view was of wild, untamed mountains, but after some distance, we entered dense forests and gorges, with snow occasionally visible on the cliffs. The experience was wonderful, and the stream, crashing against the rocks, echoed with a melodious sound. As the sun set, we reached Fangguang ⑥, where the atmosphere was deep and mysterious, with eight peaks surrounding it, known as Lotus Peak. From the pavilion, we looked around and saw the snow and moon shining brilliantly. The temples were all made of wooden boards. We asked an elderly monk why, and he said, "Using tiles often cracks in the ice and snow. The same is true for Gaotai and Shangfeng ⑧." On the fourteenth day, we set off at dawn, passing through a winding path to Gaotai Temple. Outside the temple, thousands of green bamboos stood tall and dense, some broken by the wind and snow, creating a refreshing and lovely scene. In the temple, the monks Zhuxian and Laoxin, known for their poetic talents, said, "On a fine night with the moon shining, we can still hear the clear and mournful cries of monkeys from the windows." After leaving the temple, we walked through ancient trees and vines, with snow thick on the shaded cliffs, nearly several feet deep. Looking at Shigui Peak, it resembled a white brocade screen. Sunlight filtered through the trees, and ice dripped from the branches with a clinking sound. Suddenly, dark clouds rose, and ice pellets fell, but they stopped shortly after. After passing Xilin, we crossed Tianzhu Peak and descended to Fuyan Temple, overlooking NanTai, passing Mazu An, and climbing from the back of Fuyan Temple. The path was not too narrow, and there were steps to climb at dangerous points. We traveled over twenty miles, passing Daming Temple, where a few sparse snowflakes drifted from the east. Although we could see Shangfeng Temple, it was still a winding path of several miles. The plants on the high mountain were tough and thin, and the cold-resistant pine trees outside the temple were twisted and swollen, with drooping branches covered in ice, like a dragon and a white phoenix. The temple buildings were all covered with wooden boards; otherwise, the clouds and mist would fill the space, sometimes making it impossible to see people. In Shangfeng Temple, there is a Qionglin Pavilion with a plaque inscribed by Hu Quan, a former minister, taken from the phrase "Cloud walls are deep, and secluded forests rise" by Han Yu. Just as my two companions and I took a rest, we saw the peak of Zhuofeng and decided to climb it immediately, lifting our robes to ascend. The peak had enough space for dozens of people to sit. At that moment, the mist was not yet completely clear, but the surrounding peaks stood tall and imposing, each with its own unique shape. However, when looking outward, the view was boundless, as if surrounded by a vast ocean, a truly spectacular sight. The Xiang River flowed like a belt around the mountain, winding five times before heading north. The temple monks pointed to the vast wilderness, saying, "Dongting Lake is there." In the evening, staying on the pavilion, we watched the rosy clouds stretching across a thousand miles. That night, we stayed in the meditation hall, the moonlight casting a cold glow on the snow-covered buildings, and the sound of the stream was cool and clear through the window. All night long, we were unaware that we were perched atop a thousand peaks. On the sixteenth day, Hu Shi Guangzhong ⑩ from Wuyi and Fan Yande Bochong ⑩ joined us. Together, we visited Xianren Bridge, a path carved into the rock, narrow enough to walk on the sides. The cliff ahead jutted out, with a thousand-foot abyss below, making it chillingly unsafe to linger. We climbed to the summit again, where the wind was fierce. We could see distant peaks gradually appearing, a much more enjoyable view than the day before. The cold was biting, and even after several drinks, we could not bear it without wrapping ourselves in furs. Shortly after, the mist rose from the cliffs, surging like steam, and as we passed the southern ridge, the wind carried us away, the scene becoming hazy and indistinct in moments. That night, the wind blew fiercely. On the seventeenth day, before dawn, snowflapped against the window with a sound, waking me. As we prepared to descend, the temple monks warned that the stone steps were frozen, making them impassable. We quickly descended from the front ridge, but the path was slippery, and some of us stumbled. Looking down, the white clouds swirled and filled the valleys, creating a truly heart-stirring scene. We wanted to visit Li Jiehou's study, but the forest was too deep, and the path was blocked, making it impossible to go. After traveling about thirty miles, we reached the mountain town and stayed at Shengye Temple's Jingjie Hall. From the tenth day to the seventeenth day, we spent seven days, traveling hundreds of miles up and down, with scenes too beautiful to describe. We also composed poems and exchanged them, collecting a total of one hundred forty-nine pieces. Although these were works of the moment and not all masterpieces, they still reflect what we saw and experienced, and may serve as a record for future reference. On the night of the sixteenth day, in the middle of the night, it was freezing, and we sat by the dying fire, reflecting on how the three of us had become quite poetic in these few days. In general, whether things are big or small, good or bad, if they flow without returning, they can dampen one's spirit. Thus, we decided to stop the next day. From then on, even if there were things worth singing about, they would no longer appear in our poems. Alas! Those who read this collection should also take warning from the three of us!