Mount Hua

Put your hand on the rock beside you. It is cool, coarse and pale grey, with tiny glinting crystals in the grain. This is granite, and the whole mountain is made of it. Around you, the air smells of pine resin and damp stone. Somewhere above, a chain rattles against a post as another climber pulls past. Wind moves through the gaps between the peaks with a low, steady sound. Welcome to Mount Hua, which people in China call Huashan.

You are in Shaanxi Province, east of the old capital Xi'an, near the small city of Huayin. The mountain rises suddenly out of the flat land along the Wei River. There are no gentle foothills here. The cliffs go almost straight up from the plain. That sudden rise is part of why this place has held such a strong grip on the Chinese imagination for so many centuries.

Huashan is one of the Five Great Mountains of China. These five sacred peaks are linked to the four directions and the centre, and Huashan is the Western Mountain. For a very long time, emperors honoured these mountains with official rites and offerings. At the foot of this one, in Huayin, stands the Western Peak Temple. It was the place for those state ceremonies, and it is worth a visit if you have time on your way back down.

The mountain is usually described as having five main peaks. The North Peak is often called Cloud Terrace. The East Peak faces the sunrise. The West Peak carries the name Lotus Flower. The Central Peak is linked to a Jade Maiden. And the South Peak is the highest of all, rising to a little over two thousand one hundred metres. From the plain, together, they look a bit like the petals of a flower, and the old name Hua is often connected with that idea.

There is a famous Chinese saying about this place. It translates roughly as: since ancient times, there has been only one road up Huashan. For centuries, that was nearly true. The traditional route climbed through narrow gorges and up steps cut directly into the rock. Today there are more paths and cable cars, but the saying is still used across China. It means that sometimes there is only one way forward, and you simply have to take it.

If you climbed on foot, you may have passed some of the old route's hardest sections. One is known as the Thousand-Foot Precipice. It is a narrow stairway cut into a crack in the cliff, so steep that the steps feel almost like a ladder. Another is the Hundred-Foot Gorge, a tight passage between rock walls. Higher up runs Black Dragon Ridge, a thin spine of stone with steep drops on both sides. Iron chains run beside the steps, and climbers hold them tightly.

Those chains carry thousands of small padlocks. Look closely and you will see red ribbons tied beside many of them. Couples and families lock them here and often throw the key away, as a wish for love or good fortune that lasts. Over the years the locks have built up into heavy clusters of brass and steel. In some spots the chains are so thick with locks that you can barely see the metal underneath.

This mountain is also a sacred place for Taoism, the Chinese spiritual tradition that seeks harmony with nature and long life. For centuries, Taoist hermits lived in caves and small temples high on these cliffs. At the base of the trail stands the Jade Spring Temple, a Taoist complex with courtyards, old trees and quiet halls. As you climb, you will pass more shrines and small temple buildings perched on ledges. Many still have incense burning, and the smoke drifts slowly across the rock.

The temple at the base is linked to Chen Tuan, a Taoist sage of the tenth century. Many stories gathered around him. According to one popular tale, he played a game of chess with Zhao Kuangyin, the man who later founded the Song dynasty. The stakes were the mountain itself, and Chen Tuan won. On the East Peak there is a small Chess Pavilion connected with this story. Remember, it is a legend, not recorded history. But it is a very good one.

The West Peak has its own story. Near the top is a great rock split cleanly down the middle, with a long axe resting beside it. Legend has it that a young man named Chenxiang split the mountain open to free his mother, a goddess who had been trapped underneath as punishment for marrying a mortal. This tale is famous in Chinese opera and folk storytelling. Many visitors stop here simply to see the axe that, according to the story, opened the stone.

Then there is the plank walk near the South Peak. Wooden boards are fixed to the bare cliff face, with a long drop below. Visitors wear a safety harness and clip on to a steel cable as they edge along. It is a short walk, but most people remember it for the rest of their lives. There is often a queue, and you will hear nervous laughter, slow breathing, and a staff member calling out instructions over the wind.

One quieter tradition is the night climb. Many Chinese visitors start walking in the dark, with headlamps and torches, so they reach the East Peak before dawn. On a clear morning they wait in heavy coats as the sky over the plain turns from grey to orange. When the sun finally appears, a cheer often rises from the crowd. If you came up by day, it is still worth knowing that the light on this granite changes from hour to hour.

Now take a moment wherever you are standing. Look at the shapes of the stone around you, rounded by weather and cut by deep cracks. Notice the pines that grow straight out of the rock, their roots gripping tiny gaps. Listen to the chains, the footsteps, the wind. People have climbed here for prayer, for adventure and for love for well over a thousand years. As you move on, keep one hand on the chain, and take one more look back.