Beyond the Shore: Bamboo, Springs and Tea

The bamboo closes overhead, leaving a narrow ribbon of sky. Below Wuyun Hill, Yunqi follows a valley of old trees, spring water and small pavilions; even the place called the Washing-Heart Pavilion seems to belong to the slow rhythm of footsteps.

The flowers are tiny; their fragrance fills the valley. In autumn, osmanthus falls like a fine golden rain around Manjuelong, a village south of the lake whose name preserves the memory of an old temple.

Two stone tigers seem ready to wake beside the spring. In the local legend, a monk dreams of tigers opening the earth for water; at Daci Hill, the name keeps that dream beside a spring long associated with a cup of Longjing tea.

A well, a village and a tea all answer to the name Longjing. Around the old spring, stories of a dragon meet the memory of imperial visits and eighteen celebrated tea trees; on the surrounding hills, each spring begins again with fresh leaves and skilled hands.

The stream keeps disappearing beneath a bridge, a branch, a turn in the path. In the valleys between tea hills, many small waterways meet on their way towards the Qiantang River; the name Nine Streams lets their wandering courses remain pleasantly uncounted.

The city comes close to the foot of the hill, then opens into roofs, lake and distant river. Wushan rises above old streets, with weathered rocks and Chenghuang Pavilion along the way; its name catches the wind moving freely between town and sky.

From the water, the little island looks like a handful of trees set gently on the lake. It was made from dredged material during Ruan Yuan’s work in 1800, and became the smallest of West Lake’s three principal artificial islands.

Water slips from a dragon’s mouth into the pool below the cliff. At the northern side of Qixia Ridge, Yellow Dragon Cave gathers bamboo, rock and garden paths into a small enclosure of shade; carved windows let another piece of green appear at every turn.

Clouds pass close enough to seem caught on the roofs. Between West Lake and the Qiantang River, the 239-metre Jade Emperor Hill carries a long religious history, with the Taoist Fuxing Temple near its summit and a broad landscape opening below.

Warm light brings a reddish glow out of the hill’s rocks. Above the northern shore, the slender Baochu Pagoda gives the skyline its fine vertical stroke; morning and evening make the stone beneath it look briefly lit from within.