Danny found himself enjoying the scenery that unfolded as the bus to Mount Qingcheng, the Blue Mountain, meandered along through the farm fields on the vast plain. Zhao had given Danny detailed directions for traveling the seventy kilometers between Chengdu, capital of Sichuan, and Mount Qingcheng, but hadn’t given him a sense of the intense beauty of the place. From the bus stop at Guanxian onward, the landscape rolled straight out of an ancient Chinese painting: water buffaloes wandering along well-worn paths in lush fields, ragged boys perched casually on their back, sage-looking elders beside village ponds contemplating the smoke from their long pipes.

Danny felt the air, filled with the joyful energy of early summer, kissing his skin through the open window, and he knew that he had made the right decision to delay his trip home. By noon, he had arrived at the foot of the mountain. There was a major tourist center with many hotels and restaurants, and Danny decided to follow Zhao’s recommendation to stay overnight there before going up the mountain. He considered a side trip to the ancient Du Jiang Yan irrigation system, which was built over a thousand years ago, at the foot of the mountain, but his heart just wasn’t in it. Instead, he wandered through the town, trying to get a sense of what life was like beyond the tourist activities that dominated the main street.

Blue Mountain’s major attraction nowadays seemed to be its scenic beauty, the focus of most of the tourist brochures he saw in town. The marketing and tourist materials didn’t say much about its deep religious history, as one of the ten most sacred places in Taoist tradition. Zhao had told him it was also called Fifth Heavenly Cave. According to legend, two thousand years ago, during the Eastern Han dynasty, the Heavenly Master Zhang Daoling built a temple and preached on the mountain, founding the Taoist religion. Even though the temples, pavilions and halls scattered around the mountain were now tourist attractions, Zhao had told him that many Taoist monks still lived and practiced on the mountain. Danny was much more interested in the Taoists than the scenery, but wondered how he would go about meeting them; apparently, the most serious ones were living as hermits.

Early in the morning, Danny set out with a bag over his shoulder. Not far from the town, he followed a bridge over a clear mountain stream; on the other side, he saw three big golden Chinese characters that read —Qing Cheng Shan—on the top of a gateway. The classical style of the black wooden gate gave a solemn quality to the beginning of this path. He knew he had formally entered the Blue Mountain. Shortly after, he came upon another decorated archway whereupon five Chinese characters on its top declared, “Qing Cheng is the quietest place in the world.” The picturesque trail began with a gentle climb, flanked by ancient pines that moved with the cool morning breeze. Danny enjoyed the impression of being within an ancient painting.

Soon the climb became more challenging. Worn stones faithfully recorded the passage of hundreds of thousands of feet over many past centuries. The wayside pavilions along the trail gave a place to rest and view the scenery; these wooden structures blended quietly into their natural surroundings. The entrance of each bore an ornamental plaque carved with some poetic name, such as Jade Light Pavilion, Sleeping Cloud Pavilion, and Pine Breeze Pavilion. Each was sited to frame an exquisite view. With the tender sunshine and cool mountain breeze, and the air filled with soothing birdsong, the experience could not have been more relaxing and enjoyable. Mountain ranges in the distance, faintly visible in the mists and clouds, looked, as always, like mysterious dragons flexing and writhing, brimming with vitality. Danny remembered Liang’s remark: the earth is an active, living entity.