Four Topics on Zhangjiajie
Four Topics on Zhangjiajie by Guo Feng Thunder Shower On June 18, at four in the afternoon, the car departed from Sangzhi County seat. About an hour later, we passed the outskirts of Dayong County seat but did not enter the city. Dayong County has the beauty of Tianmen Mountain. In the area of its outskirts, as the car moved, looking at the mountain from the car window, I felt that its main peak was like a light blue ancient city wall, and another peak stood straight, facing the main peak. Looking from afar, I felt that there seemed to be a light blue city gate there. I heard there are ancient temples on the mountain, and there are…
Four Sketches of Zhangjiajie
by Guo Feng
Thunder Shower
On June 18, at four in the afternoon, the car set out from the county town of Sangzhi. About an hour later, we passed the outskirts of Dayong County but did not enter the town. Dayong County boasts the scenic splendor of Tianmen Mountain. As the car drove through the outskirts, gazing at the mountain from the car window, I felt its main peak resembled a pale blue ancient city wall, while another peak stood straight and upright, facing the main peak. From afar, it seemed as if there was a pale blue city gate there. I heard that on the mountain there are ancient temples, painted Bodhisattva statues, and stone carvings made inside karst caves and other cultural relics, and my heart yearned for it, but I could not visit. From the outskirts of Dayong, the car traveled another 35 kilometers and arrived at Zhangjiajie. By then it was nearly dusk, and we lodged at Golden Whip Stream Hotel.
Golden Whip Stream Hotel was originally the site of the Zhangjiajie Forestry Farm headquarters. Zhangjiajie lies deep in remote mountains and wilderness, unknown to the outside world since ancient times. After the forestry farm was established, its beauty gradually spread among the forest workers, and outsiders began to visit. After dinner, standing on the hotel balcony, I had an initial feeling that although the hotel's surroundings were merely the gateway to this palace of natural beauty, they already inspired a sense of grandeur. I felt that to appreciate the unique aesthetic qualities of the scenery here was no easy task. Looking east from the balcony, through the misty dusk, I saw one strange peak and rock after another, scattered and arranged in multiple layers into the depths. The farther I looked, the deeper it seemed, and those stone peaks seemed to converge and transform in my mind into clusters of mysterious forests hidden in the hazy mist...
The stone peaks south of Golden Whip Stream press close before the eyes, their tops lush with trees; I heard travelers say that macaques are often seen climbing trees and rocks, picking wild fruits. To the west, a stone peak shaped like a giant crown, with green bamboo rippling beneath the cliff. I suddenly noticed wave after wave of clouds and mist drifting unpredictably past the stone peaks and trees to the north and west. At first, I regarded these clouds and mist as ordinary dusk cloudscapes and fog scenes. However, I noticed that the cumulus clouds in the sky were dark ink-colored, suggesting rain. Before coming, I had heard friends say that Zhangjiajie not only has bizarre and varied peak shapes and ever-changing scenery, but its weather also often changes dramatically, with much fog in the mountains and frequent unexpected showers. Just as I was thinking this, a flash of light suddenly appeared in the sky, followed by faint thunder from between the western stone peaks. Almost simultaneously, rain fell softly. But the rain seemed invisible; the raindrops seemed to dissolve into the smoke and the dark green of the dreamlike forest.
At night, the rain continued. Before going to bed, standing on the balcony, in an instant I saw a flash of light appear in the sky. I suddenly had a hallucination, feeling that the forest of stone peaks to the east instantly seemed to transform into a troop of ancient warriors in battle robes, arrayed among the dark woods. At midnight, in a hazy drowsiness, I heard the sound of rain outside the window. And in that hazy drowsiness, I heard what seemed like animal cries amid the rain, perhaps the howling of apes.
Husband and Wife Rock
On July 19, at 4 p.m., I visited Husband and Wife Rock. The sky was overcast with light rain, and Zhangjiajie presented a somber beauty, like certain poems of Du Fu. Husband and Wife Rock is less than 7 li from Golden Whip Stream Hotel, which in the mountains is but a stone's throw away. From the hotel, turning south then east onto the mountain path, stone peaks line up and press forward like a wall, too many to take in at once. As we approached Golden Whip Stream, the sound of a stream faintly reached us, and the path suddenly turned onto a well-maintained stone road in front of a hillside. This is a stone road shaded by ancient trees, with rare and beautiful grasses beside it, and the sound of cicadas in the woods never ceasing. Stone steps occasionally appear on the path, which slowly extends upward, so that unknowingly I climbed onto a cliff. A wooden platform was built in front of the cliff, and some travelers stood on it, all facing south and craning their necks, pointing and searching for a pair of rock husband and wife standing among the many stone peaks.
I found it strange that my mood at this moment was so solemn. It seemed I had been influenced by certain ethical concepts since childhood, believing in a certain Eastern moral standard. I thought of the poem "The Wife Says the Cock Crows" from the "Zheng Feng" section of the Book of Songs:
Shoot the birds and bring them here; with you I shall prepare them.
Prepare them and we shall drink, and together grow old.
With lute and zither played, all is peaceful and good.
I thought that a family and married life of mutual respect and affection, and a life of harmony like lute and zither, growing old together, embodied a virtue and happiness.
I was fortunate to quickly see among the stone peaks the stone image of a loving couple, intimately leaning on each other. The woman appeared to be over 60, with a smiling face, simple affection, and a sense of trust in everything in the world. Many travelers found it hard to discover the man, but I was fortunate to quickly find him among the peaks. He reminded me of Rodin's sculpture of Balzac: Balzac writing all night, wrapped in a bathrobe over his tired body, the dawn shining on his wise forehead... I felt that the man seemed like a philosopher, wrapped in a large windbreaker, as if forever contemplating some life question facing the eternal dawn in the mountains.
Goethe said: "The highest task of every art is to create through illusion a semblance of a higher reality." I think the image of Husband and Wife Rock seems to express some artistic principle.
Golden Whip Stream
Golden Whip Stream may be named after a Golden Whip Rock on its bank. Zhangjiajie has nearly 300 stone peaks, scattered among the ancient forests on both banks of Huangshizhai, Yaozi Village, and Golden Whip Stream. The mountains of Zhangjiajie are said to be about 1,000 meters high, and Golden Whip Rock is heard to be the tallest among the stone peaks. It stands piercing the clouds, and even looking up, it is hard to see its summit. I think these rock peaks gathered on both banks of Golden Whip Stream—their forms and appearances—people can, from different angles, positions, and moods at the time, and also due to different life experiences, cultivation, and aesthetic sensibilities, make various associations and produce different feelings. Standing before Golden Whip Rock, I did not feel it looked like a golden whip, but I deeply believed that I should respect the naming by the wise person who first discovered this rock. Passing Golden Whip Rock and following the stream about five or six hundred steps, a group of stone rocks and peaks appears on the bank. Among them is a rock shaped like a giant lamp, called the Precious Lotus Lamp from "Cleaving the Mountain to Save the Mother." Among the surrounding stone peaks and rocks, it is said there are ones shaped like a "divine axe" and like a "Howling Celestial Dog." I observed repeatedly but could not find them, so I let it be. I came to tour the wonders of Golden Whip Stream on the morning of July 20. For some reason, on this day my own associations and even hallucinations were quite active. Perhaps because I usually like to collect pictures of famous scenic spots and historical sites around the world, mainly ancient architecture, and leaf through them at leisure, so when I saw the strange peaks and rocks standing on both banks of Golden Whip Stream, I associated them with the tower groups of Angkor in Cambodia, or the stupa group of the Shwedagon Pagoda in Yangon, Myanmar, or the ancient astronomical observatory of stone walls in Mexico, or a ruined section of the Great Wall. I don't know when I developed this habit of free association, but I understand that it has a great advantage: the scenes that enter my eyes during travel become more beautiful and leave a deeper impression.
Golden Whip Stream winds for over 40 li between the layered peaks and rocks on both banks. Along the way there are shallow shoals where clear springs gurgle among scattered pebbles; there are rapids, which can be seen at any time, like waterfalls rushing over giant rocks in the stream bed or pouring down; there are deep pools. Ah, here I want to briefly record a feeling about Zicao Pool. About 7 li upstream to the north, the grasses on both banks grow deeper, the trees more ancient, the peaks more bizarre. Passing a narrow path by the stream, the bank suddenly opens up. A deep pool quietly appears in the stream. A stone bridge spans the pool. Standing on this stone bridge, I saw the water was extremely clear and seemed extremely cold; I also saw small fish in the pool, seemingly countable, swimming leisurely back and forth, seemingly very happy. This scene gave me a feeling: the landscape of Zhangjiajie, amid its grandeur, depth, and seclusion, harbors a kind of elegant beauty.
Parting Thoughts
On July 21, I rose at 6 a.m. After washing, I wrote an inscription for the calligraphy and painting album of Golden Whip Stream Hotel, writing my impressions of Zhangjiajie. I had originally thought of a phrase—intending to summarize my still-unclarified impressions and feelings as: "This may be called beauty." When writing, I felt that although it was praise, it revealed a tone of an old scholar grading papers, and I couldn't help laughing to myself. So I changed it to "This can be called beautiful," still feeling it had a pedantic tone. Writing inscriptions and messages, if one lacks skill, feels tricky.
There was no time to go to Huangshizhai, Yaozi Village, and other places. Because of urgent personal matters in Fujian, I needed to return early. At 7 a.m., the car left Zhangjiajie, and I felt reluctant to part. Outside the car window, rain fell thick and fast, and all scenery was shrouded in mist. I couldn't help thinking over and over that the beauty of Zhangjiajie is majestic, elegant, deep, precipitous, mighty, charming... but it also seems to have a touch of wild arrogance; some stone peaks, as if someone stands bare-chested facing the wind, disdaining certain worldly ways, like Ji Kang, like Ruan Ji. I think that as long as it is not affected, the landscape in someone's eyes taking on a wild and arrogant posture can sometimes also become a kind of beauty.
When I arrived in Changsha, a friend discussed with me the beauty of Zhangjiajie, saying its beauty lies in "wildness" and "primitiveness." This is reasonable. For Zhangjiajie still preserves a kind of primitive, even prehistoric natural beauty. My friend's statement may be the most profound summary of the beauty of Zhangjiajie. At night, I stayed at Hunan Hotel, and in my dream it seemed a friend was again discussing Zhangjiajie with me, but all the various points were forgotten upon waking.