Ascent

We made the ascent frequently when I was young, my father, my brother, and I. We would march up on hot summer days. This one was cold and wet, and I was alone -a partial reunion anyhow. It's named 鼓山 (Gu Shan), or The Drum Mountain. Called so because there's a stone at the top, which has been known to resound powerfully against heavy wind and rain. A temple was erected there, which is still visited today.

I rode the bus for an hour or so to get out there. It was already drizzling by the time I got to the base, where a few lethargic locals lingered . I didn't think I would meet many people on a day so muggy, but I spied familiar strangers every so often: alone, together, weary, unwound, there on the pilgrim's stair. There are a few different ways to reach the top of the mountain, and I found myself weaving in-out and between them. The capillary paths paved by wandering soles brought me off the stones, out and away from the shared stream of voices. I do not know how those dewy leaves so well muffled the sounds of the universe.
I climbed for a few hours. Occasionally I paused to check my progress by the city sinking below me. There are a great many graves on the mountainside, of unknown age. I would find them intermittently, stone carved beds in the side of the mountain -a half circle of rough stone with an altar for offerings (my Grandfather was buried the same way). The few I encountered on my way up were all indistinguishable. Either the stone was too worn, or the tomb had been overgrown by vegetation. Many had become resting places of a different kind, littered with the plastic bi-products of refreshment, persisting relics of the modern pilgrim. I did not linger long at any of these.

The end of the trail has a few shops selling overpriced food and bottled water -one could also purchase tickets to visit the Temple, which was another three hundred meters to ascend. I was tired, and decided not to complete the trek. Although I would later find myself at a temple nonetheless, I remember not believing that there could possibly be anyone at the summit. I imagined cold stone echoing the supple voices of rain. I saw sticks of damp incense before the darkened alter. I wondered if the arrival of a guest have woken a denizen.