I

[SPRING AND SUMMER 1638]

On 10 May 1638, Xu Xiake entered Qian, or modern Guizhou, from Nandan County on the southeastern border of Guangxi. Over the next forty-one days, he visited several sites in the mountainous backwater of southwestern Guizhou, leaving for Yunnan on 20 June. Although Guizhou became a province of China in 1413, in the late Ming, it was still an isolated border region populated by aboriginal tribal people. The following diary entry describes the breathtaking, mountainous terrain in and around White Cloud Mountain [Baiyun Shan], south of the provincial capital in Guiyang.

Sixteenth day [of the fourth month] [29 May]: I heard wind and rain throughout the night. At daybreak, the early morning rain fell heavy and hard, so I got up late. After breakfast, I sat by a small window and waited for the skies to clear. I wanted to search for Dragon Pool, but the drizzle never stopped. As it turned out, I proceeded after lunch. Following the same route, I passed over the ridge north of Submerged Dragon Belvedere [Qianlong Ge] and reached Southern Capital Well [Nanjing Jing]. By way of the forking path to the northeast, I passed into a deep bamboo grove, where towering bamboo trees along layered cliffs, secluded and sheltered above and below, push through cliffs and pierce through the deep blue void, making it seem as if I was no longer in the mortal world. It was like this for altogether five li, to where the peak summit on the western cliff descends into a recess, plummeting deep down to form a gorge. Water accumulates inside it, a bottomless abyss of deep blue. Rocks have fallen to the foot of the gorge, neither too few nor too many. Indeed, this is an abyss hidden by countless antiquities, shut away in a canyon among a thousand peaks. From south to north, the gorge measures about five rods; from east to west, it measures about one and a half rods.¹ At the base of the cliff to the east, where it sinks, measures about three rods; where the cliff to the west towers and then falls, it measures ten-some rods. The depth of the water cannot be fathomed, and to the south, it penetrates through an opening that goes even deeper, presumably passing through the mountain and piercing its belly. The interior of the peak is immersed in water, and directly to the southwest, it makes its way to form Southern Capital Well; in the southeast, it makes its way to form Ladle Water While Kneeling Spring [Guishao Quan].² On top of the cliff are tall trees with thickset branches, flooding the void and shrouding it in lush green. Next I clambered up a cliff to the northeast, then crossed a gulch to the southeast, secluded and sheltered to the extreme. East of the gulch, an abandoned thatched cottage serves as a sanctuary. Crossed a plank bridge and went into the sanctuary. Two years ago, this served as a meditation place for a monk from Mount Lu, but it is now deserted, and the monk is gone. Just as I was about to cross the plank bridge and depart, a mountain rain poured down. So I backtracked, following my earlier footpath. Amid the deep mist, a profusion of emerald leaves plunged on me. My clothes and sandals were soaked through. Passed Southern Capital Well a second time and went into the monk’s sanctuary to the north. The monk had locked the door when he left for White Cloud Retreat. Only the rain-drenched warblers remained, singing tender melodies to me.

The empty mountain seemed charming and alluring, just as if I had come upon the entrance to Peach Blossom Cavern [Taohua Dong].³ On my return, I passed through Submerged Dragon Belvedere. The monk Naturally Thus (Ziran) had already arrived there and was waiting for me by the side of the belvedere. I then descended to the retreat, where tea was served, and I dried my clothes. The rain let up after dinner. Naturally Thus once again had his disciple serve as my guide. From east of the retreat, I climbed to the corner of a ridge. Following it, I proceeded north for one li and came out to a nook in the east. All the nearby mountains crouched below the ridge. The mountains in the distance that approach from Green Cliff [Qingya] are spurs that come down from Dragon Village [Longli]. Slightly to the north, I descended to a deep forest, crossed a rocky chasm, and entered a meditation chamber with three open, spacious rooms facing east. A terrace adorned with wildflowers has formed in front, where the rooms are close to mountain rocks and adorned with wildflowers. The rooms are clean and bright and quite charming. The chamber stands loftily suspended above countless trees and looks down upon thick folds of plentiful and profuse bamboo groves that look like plots of chives. Separated by overhanging cliffs and delineated by empty ditches, one can gaze at them from a distance, but they cannot be scaled. Thus, one must take the winding trail from White Cloud Retreat. Presumably, the trails from the meditation chamber on level land behind and north of Submerged Dragon Belvedere are all like this. There are no alternate footpaths to climb the mountain. This meditation chamber is spacious and not messy, secluded but not closed off, and steep but not constraining. Here, one’s breath reaches the stars, and somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, you are cut off from the human realm.⁴ Indeed, this is a surpassing place to take refuge and cultivate one’s true nature. The meditation master uses the nickname Expound the Fundamentals (Qiben). He is a native of Yunnan who dwells together with a disciple. In the flat area to the north, there is only a single elderly monk. Behind White Cloud Retreat there are altogether ten meditation cottages. Each monk left the mountain because of the chaos during An’s Rebellion.⁵ Only in these two cottages are there monks still dwelling, numbering twelve. Next to the cottages are pits with springs where water can be drawn. So I know the summit of this mountain is concave and retains water, which remains in place, not flowing anywhere. This is yet another scenic wonder. In the evening, I backtracked to White Cloud Retreat. At sunset, it began to rain again. The monk Naturally Thus provided me with tea on the side of the retreat. I turned up the wick on the lamp for a nighttime chat. Quite a while passed before I finally laid down to sleep.

—Translated by James M. Hargett

By the eighteenth day of the fourth month of the wuyin year [31 May 1638], Xu Xiake had been in Guizhou for three weeks. As he prepared to set off westward from White Cloud Mountain, southwest of Guiyang, the provincial capital, the monk Naturally Thus, his host for the previous two days, counseled against taking the most direct westerly route because on that road there was a danger of being ambushed by Miao aborigines. Instead, he recommended a detour to the northwest: “Though the distance is longer by some forty li, that area is out of the way, and the Miao there are docile, so you should be able to avoid trouble.”⁶ Xu Xiake followed this advice. Near the end of that day, he reached the village of Dog Bastion Yard [Goubao Chang], populated by Miao, who worked on land owned by a prominent Han Chinese family.⁷ Despite his appeals, however, none of the residents were willing to let him stay overnight, and he had no choice but to press on.

Eighteenth day [of the fourth month] [31 May]:⁸… Proceeding west, we followed the level fields to a hill on the north side. After about one more li, a stone peak rose from the col, its sheer rock face cleaving the sky—another example of a steep and perilous mountain. After following the gorge to the north and going west for one-half li, we reached another village. When we went in and inquired, people slammed their doors and fled. Heading west again, we reached a homestead and forced our way inside. It was a shabby thatched hut, and the sleeping area was as filthy as a pigsty. In this area, the people may be civilized Miao, but though they are tenant farmers, their lifestyle is very coarse—it makes me think back fondly to the bamboo stilt houses I used to encounter farther south.⁹

Nineteenth day [1 June]:¹⁰ I urged the Miao host to get up and cook at the crack of dawn. Suddenly, the porter also called him, and I thought this strange: “In the past, he’s always been lazy, unwilling to get up in the morning—today why does he join me in calling out?”

The man’s name was Wang Gui, a native of Sun Mesa [Taiyang Ping] in Jingzhou.¹¹ Two months earlier, when I arrived in Indigo Stream [Lanjian] from Sanli, he and several others had caught up with me from behind, saying, “We want to go to Qingyuan, but that road is blocked, and the roundabout route is too far. Hearing that the regional commander has organized a military escort for you, we come specially to ask if we can join your party.” Feeling sorry for them, I agreed, and en route shared with them the supplies I was given.¹² When we got to Qingyuan, they went off by themselves, but I ran into them again when visiting South Mountain, and after that, Wang waited on me day after day, expressing a wish to accompany me to Yunnan.¹³ My thinking was this: from Qingyuan to Nandan, I would have porters to accompany me, but once I entered Guizhou, I would likely have nobody to carry things, so I wanted to recruit one of these men. I arranged with Wang Gui, “Here, I do not have a job for you to do, but since you are with me, I will give you one-hundredth of an ounce of silver each day. If you need to carry luggage, I will raise the daily pay to three and a half hundredths.”

He wanted me to hire both himself and a second man. Later, when staying in the caves at Southern Mountain, I heard that his companion had stuffed a cowherd’s mouth with cotton, and my suspicions were aroused. But Wang Gui came and told me that his companion was staying in Qingyuan at the time this happened—according to him, it was someone else who had lured the cowherd.¹⁴

After that, Wang Gui asked to come alone, and later, by the time we reached Maha Subprefecture, he had grown so cocky that one day he injured my foot with a stool.¹⁵ Now that we were in Guizhou and he saw that I planned to hire another porter, he put on a show of repenting his errors. Since he seemed so pathetic, I employed him once more.

This morning, after rising early, he suddenly took off. When I checked the travel money I had laid away, it was all gone. Once I began to travel through aboriginal areas, I concealed several taels in the salt canisters, not realizing that he would spy out this hiding place with time. So I ended up losing the money not in a place of baleful miasmas and vicious plots but on a day when I was traveling on level ground and sticking to the road. This put me in a very dark mood.

It was now daylight, and there was no way of intercepting the thief and recovering the money. So I asked our Miao host to serve as a porter and see us as far as Pingba. It was less than 30 li away, but he demanded an exorbitant fee, and then he ran off and refused to come out. It seems that the Miao are not in the habit of escorting visitors.

When I approached another Miao, he said, “The man was kind enough to put you up for the night—how can you think of burdening him with your luggage? You need to carry it yourself. In two or three li, you will reach Nine Families Bastion [Jiujia Bao] and find a porter there.” I asked everyone I could find, and they said the same thing. Since I had no choice, I secured the load after breakfast, and Servant Gu and I carried the luggage.… After one-half li, a creek flowed strongly from south to north.… There used to be a stone bridge spanning the creek, but it has collapsed; from the east side we waded through the water, arriving on the west bank in Nine Families Bastion, inhabited by civilized Miao. It was close to noon, and I could finally hire a porter. With him now taking my place, we proceeded northwest up a hillock.

—Translated by Allan H. Barr

The following diary entry describes one of the highest waterfalls in China. Located outside of modern Anshun Shi in north-central Guizhou, in the late Ming, it was called the White Water River Waterfall [Baishui He Pubu]. Because of a sudden drop in the elevation of the riverbed, the waterfall plummets through nine separate stages. The largest of these stages is called Yellow Fruit Tree Waterfall [Huangguo Shu Pubu], which falls about 200 ft/60 m.

Twenty-third day [5 June]:¹⁶ After hiring a short-distance porter, I proceeded south along the main road. After two li, I gazed east at the western cliff of Double Bright Cavern [Shuangming Dong] from the top of a lofty knoll. Below the cliff, bright light still pierces through the cavern toward the east.¹⁷ The water inside the cavern flows out to the west and into a gulch. Then, from below the main road, it goes down to the mountain’s base. Twice, it seeps out, and twice, it goes back in. In all, it passes through to the belly of the mountain three times. After that, it pours into a great stream. Presumably, inside is a low-lying hollow enveloped by mountains on four sides, so water must tunnel through the cavern. Next, I proceeded south, passing over an earthen mound, ascending and descending four times, covering four li. I then came to a walled county on a mountain ridge to the south. The trail turns from north of the ridge and descends to the west. After another two li came to a modest shop along the road. On the left side of the road, there is a thatched canteen.

Next, I descended to the west, climbing and scaling a ridged canyon. After altogether seven li, I came to a settlement in a col called White Water Hamlet [Baishui Pu]. But now it is a lunchtime canteen.¹⁸ Next, I proceeded west for two li, where from a distance, I heard a thunderous boom of rushing water. From a crevice along the lofty knoll, I gazed north. Suddenly, in the mountains to the northeast, water poured down in torrents from a cliff in a gorge, pounding into layers of deep pools. But I could only see the upper half of its foamy, white current, which measured several rods across. It seemed as if surging snow was tumbling through the sky, but I could only see its lower part because the cliff largely blocked my view in front. Next, I passed over an earthen mound and descended for one-half li, then looked down at the lower reaches of the waterfall. Following its rushing and roaring current, I headed west. Gazing back at the flying torrent in the northeast, I regretted that I could not reach its base. The porter said, “This is the White Water River. Up ahead, there is a spot where the water plummets down from the sky from an even higher place.” I regretted that I could not view that scene just once in person. I felt displeased and dissatisfied. I followed the current for one-half li to where a massive stone bridge had been built over the river. This is White Nimbus Bridge [Baihong Qiao]. The bridge stretches from south to north. Below it, there are three arches. The water flowing through them is quite voluminous; each arch measures several rods across. Without fail, the rushing water shoots snow-white waves from the bottom of the stream that flutter over the cliffs, flooding the stream like a flock of white egrets in flight. The name White Water is indeed not a misnomer!

Next, I followed the stream, proceeding west for one-half li. Suddenly, I was lost in a bamboo grove on a lofty knoll. Then, once again, I heard the roar of thunder. I thought to myself: I have reached yet another extraordinary scenic site! Through a crevice on the lofty knoll, I turned around to look south where on the left side of the trail, a stream pounded down from midair like countless strands of white silk soaring in the sky. As they descended, like leaves, they covered rocks in the stream. Three openings in the center of the rocks seem to have been gouged out with a knife. Above the “leaves,” water floods the summit, descends like countless sheers of delicate muslin, and then spreads crosswise beyond the openings. The distance the waterfall plummets cannot be counted in rods. Like shattered pearls and fragments of jade, they are flying foam inverts and surges, like mist and fog rising into the sky. Its force is bold and formidable. Even the couplet “The beaded curtain’s hook is never fastened; / Bolts of white silk dangle down on distant peaks” is insufficient to capture the waterfall’s magnificence.¹⁹ By and large, of the waterfalls we have seen, while some are several times higher and steeper than this one, none have been so vast and huge. You cannot avoid feeling frightened when you are above the waterfall and lean to one side to look down. The porter remarked, “In the past, there was a Gazing at the Water Pavilion [Wangshui Ting]. Sightseers could rest there.” I looked for the pavilion in the distance. It survives on the cliff in front of us. From the side of the waterfall, I descended to the southwest, then again crossed the gorge and ascended to the south. After altogether one-some li, I mounted to the apex of the western cliff. The pavilion there is made of thatch. This is probably the former site of the Gazing at the Water Pavilion. Since the surveillance commissioner (ancha shi) will pass by here, he will likely gaze at distant sights from the pavilion, so local officials have used some thatch to erect a pavilion.²⁰

—Translated by James M. Hargett

____________________

1. Source: “Qianyou riji yi” (YJJZ, 2:764–65; YJ, 1:636–37).

2. 1  The dimensions of this landform, described here and below by Xu Xiake, do not come anywhere near what is usually understood as a “gorge” in English. Although Xu uses the word xia 峽, which almost always indicates a deep-cut river gorge, I suspect that in this case, he is describing a ravine-like landform.

3. 2  Earlier, in his diary entry for 28 May (YJJZ, 2:763; YJ, 1:635), Xu Xiake explains that this spring ran under a pillar in front of the belvedere. So to fetch water, one would need to kneel and draw it with a ladle. Hence, the name Ladle Water While Kneeling Spring.

4. 3  That is to say, the entrance to the utopia described by Tao Yuanming in his account of the “Peach Blossom Spring,” for which see part 1, note 6, pages 78–79.

5. 4  “Reaches to the stars” is a loose translation of the Chinese astronomical term “Emperor’s Throne” (Dizuo 帝座). Usually, this term refers to the Cassiopeia constellation in the northern sky. It is difficult, however, to determine if Xu Xiake has in mind a particular star in that constellation. If so, he might be thinking of Schedar, its alpha (or brightest) star.

6. 5  An’s Rebellion (Anshi luan), also known as the She-An Rebellion (She-An luan), began in Guizhou and Sichuan in late 1621. Because of taxes imposed by the Ming government on the people living there, the aboriginal chieftains She Chongming (d. 1629) and An Bangyan (d. 1628) led a revolt that lasted almost eight years. It was eventually suppressed in the summer of 1629.

7. 6  YJJZ, 2:767; YJ, 1:639.

8. 7  Xu Xiake identifies the landowner as a certain Tang who held a post in the Ministry of Personnel. This appears to reference Tang Jingming, a Guiyang native and jinshi of 1616.

9. 8  YJJZ, 2:770; YJ, 1:643–44.

10. 9  “Civilized” is a rendering of the word shu 熟, which means “cooked.” From at least the twelfth century on, in their encounters with Miao and other non-Han peoples inhabiting the peripheries of the empire, the Chinese commonly made a distinction between those who were sheng 生 (“raw,” i.e., unassimilated, wild) and those who were “cooked” (assimilated, tame).

11. 10  YJJZ, 2:770–71; YJ, 1:643.

12. 11  Jingzhou corresponds to what is now the Jingzhou Miao and Dong Autonomous County (Jingshou Miaozu Dongzu Zizhi Xian) in Hunan.

13. 12  Xu first encountered Wang Gui among a group of five men near Blue Stream on the fourteenth day of the second lunar month, when they sought to join Xu for the safety that his escorts provided.

14. 13  They met again on the seventeenth day of the lunar second month: see YJJZ, 1:680; YJ, 1:564.

15. 14  On the twenty-second day of the second month, Xu had heard from villagers that one of the group had made advances on a young cowherd and tried to abduct him. See YJJZ, 1:686; YJ, 1:565.

16. 15  Maha (modern-day Majiang Xian), which they had passed through two weeks earlier, is southeast of Guiyang.

17. 16  YJJZ, 2:783–84; YJ, 1:651–53.

18. 17  Double Bright Cavern is so-called because it has two entrances, one to the east and another to the west. Judging from his description, Xu Xiake could see through the entire length of the well-lit cavern from a distance.

19. 18  What is translated as “canteen” literally reads “a place on the road where one can stop at midday (zhong 中) for a hot meal (huo 火).”

20. 19  As far as I can tell, Xu Xiake composed this couplet of verse during his visit to the waterfall. The complete text of the poem, however, has not survived.

21. 20  During the Ming, a province’s surveillance commissioners were responsible for judicial and surveillance activities. Earlier in his Guizhou diary (YJJZ, 2.781; YJ, 1.648), Xu Xiake identified the surveillance commissioner as Feng Shijin and said he was a native of Sichuan.

II

[SUMMER 1638]

China has a long history of suspension bridge construction, extending back to at least the fourth century CE. In this next entry, Xu Xiake describes, in detail, a suspension bridge using iron chains (tiesuo) for cables that spanned the Pan River [Panjiang]. The Pan River, also known as the North Pan River [Bei Panjiang], originates in Yunnan and courses through the southwestern part of Guizhou. This area marks the entranceway to Yunnan. The deep valley and swift current made crossing the Pan River by boat a great challenge to travelers.

Twenty-fifth day [7 June]: … Following the east bank of the Pan River, I proceeded south. After one-half li, reached Pan River Bridge [Panjiang Qiao]. Iron cables support the bridge. The east and west ends of the bridge connect to the tops of cliffs and serve as its lengthwise framework, while planks are laid out across the iron cables and serve as its crosswise framework. The distance between the two cliffs from east to west is no more than fifteen rods, but the bridge stands about thirty rods above the river. Water rushes and dashes below it. The depth of the river cannot be fathomed. Before the bridge was built, people were ferried across by boat, but there were numerous mishaps when people died. So they tried to build a bridge by piling rocks but could not complete it. In the fourth year of the Chongzhen reign (1631), Zhu, the current provincial administration commissioner—his given name is Jiamin, and he is a native of Yunnan—was then provincial surveillance commissioner (lianxian), ordered the brigade commander (youji) of the Pu’an Frontier Guard [Pu’an Wei], Li Fangxian, a native of Sichuan, to take huge iron chains and connect them to tops of the cliffs on both sides of the river. The iron chains comprised several dozen lengths. Two layers of planks were laid across them, barely eight inches thick and measuring eight-some feet across. Gazing at the bridge from a distance, it seems to float and flutter in the air. But when you tread over it, it remains steadfast, never moving. Vast numbers of oxen and horses cross it daily, all bearing heavy loads as they rush to their destinations. On each side of the bridge, elevated iron chains are also connected to serve as railings, while thinner chains run lengthwise and crosswise, forming a patterned design.

The cliffs at the two ends of the bridge each have a pair of stone lions, three or four feet tall. The chains that serve as railings emerge from the mouths of the lions. At each end, in the east and west, a huge commemorative archway spans over the road. The one to the east end has an inscription: “Moat of Heaven, Ship of Clouds” (Tianqian yunhang). The archway was installed by Master Zhu, Director of the General Bureau (Dubu). The one at the west end has an inscription that reads, 囗囗囗囗.²¹ This was installed by Fu Zonglong (d. 1641) when he served as army-inspecting censor (jianjun yushi).²² Fu also erected an arched stele. Its inscription reads, “Little Ge’s Bridge” (Xiao Ge Qiao). The inscription tells of Zhuge Liang (181–234), the Martial Marquis (Wuhou), who, it says, used iron to construct the Mekong River Bridge [Lancang Qiao], and that only now, after several thousands of years, it again exists here, or so the inscription claims.²³ Note: the reference to building a bridge across the Mekong River (Lancang Jiang) is a tale from the time of the Martial Emperor of the Han dynasty. Moreover, no iron-cable bridge over the Mekong River exists.²⁴ The former site of the iron bridge is in Lijiang, and Zhuge Liang did not build it.²⁵ Stele inscriptions, shrines, and temples at each end of the bridge here are vast. But it was sunset and raining heavily, so there was no time to scrutinize them. After crossing to the right side of the bridge, we had already passed through the new city gate.…

Twenty-seventh day [of the fourth month] [9 June]:²⁶ I had a meal after the pack horses departed, then made inquiries and found out that five li east of the city, where you head north from a tea stand, is Majestic Mountain [Weishan].²⁷ It has caverns that pass through from east to west. It also has water caverns, in which the collected water is very deep. In front, it provides a direct, bird’s-eye view of the garrison city.²⁸ When you point at that place in the distance, although located on the apex of a mountain, it seems close. Together with Servant Gu, I followed the trail I had taken yesterday. Proceeded five li east and reached a tea stand, then proceeded toward the mountain on a forking path to the north. After one li reached a depression on the mountain’s left side, where Majestic Mountain’s spurs suddenly turned from north to south. Those spurs to the south tower aloft, while those to the north crouch low; those to the south are sheer, while those to the north dip down. Mountain cliffs spanning east and west, slant and lift, then ascend to the south. Another small peak rises in the same way from the southern foothills. I proceeded another one li into a gorge to the east, directly reached the back of the mountain, and passed the crest connecting with the eastern peak. Then descended north from the crest, deep into the mountain along a trail overgrown with weeds. From the crest, I turned west, following the midpoint of the mountain’s northern peak. The trail is overgrown with weeds, but the stone steps remain. Following the steps, I proceeded. Haze from inside the north basin began to rise in an endless expanse over the north peak. The peak was nearby, but I could not see it. But on the north side of Majestic Mountain in the south, the only bright place was where the trail continued onward. The apex of the mountain also gradually became shrouded in haze. I proceeded west for one-half li to where the stone steps ascended to the south. Step by step, I climbed for one-half li to where the peak’s north side was now wholly shrouded in haze. Then I turned east and ascended to the north, taking me above where the eastern cliff slants and rises. Its rocky crest is quite narrow. From the northeast, I ascended southwest, where I slithered upward like a dragon tail.

Next, beyond peaks to the southeast, I spied transparent skies and dazzling sunshine. The distant mountains seemed like they were bathed in indigo. The area northwest of my trail was inundated with fog and looked like an ocean. Everywhere above and below the peaks was a muddled mass as if the mountain’s crest here served as a dividing line. The wind presumably approached from southeast of the crest, so the early morning haze cleared and swept away. The northwest side of the crest blocks the wind. Noxious fog can thus nestle and form inside dens and lairs in the mountain basin.²⁹ Early that morning, I had wanted to gaze north into the distance at the source of the Pan River, but each time I tried, the view was blocked by a peak.³⁰ Upon reaching here, just when I climbed to the northern apex, the view was blocked again, this time by fog. As for the profound mysteries of the Fashioner of Change (Zaohua or Zaohuazhe), this is how he denies us from probing and surveying them!³¹

I clambered up one-half li to the crest, where below the summit’s cliff is a cavern. Its entrance faces east; the top resembles joined palms of the hands, slightly concave and descending.³² At the bottom, it measures four or five rods across. Inside is a niche for a statue of the Buddha and a monk’s meditation couch. There was some leftover cooked rice still here, but I had no idea where the monk had gone. On both sides of the cavern are quite a few niches with profuse and plentiful mists lingering in the air around them. At the cavern’s rear, the passageway penetrates straight through, then moves west. After you enter, the cavern gradually narrows and drops down; it also becomes more tapered, like joined palms of the hands. The side passageway west of the entrance goes straight through and comes out at the belly of the mountain. It is about seven-some rods long. The entrances at the front and back of the cavern are visible but cannot be seen when you descend because the cavern is high above. After you leave the rear entrance, everywhere above and below are sheer cliffs and heaps of rocks. The trail follows southwest of the cliff for over ten rods. There is also a cavern facing west, but its entrance is not even one rod in height. But its floor is very flat. Its height and width each measure two rods. But behind the cavern is a continuous stretch of profuse and plentiful rocks, not deep, but fantastic. A Buddha throne has been placed among them, while an empty worship hall has been built in front.³³ It has already collapsed in ruins, and it would be impossible to preserve it. The front of the hall provides a direct, bird’s-eye view of the garrison city, which seemed like it was only a footstep away. Unexpectedly, I was then wholly swallowed up by fog. Suddenly, it was everywhere, and I could not see a thing. I never imagined that mirages like this are also found in mountains and cities.³⁴ But this is merely the scene outside the cavern. When you enter and move east through the opening on the left side of the cavern, the entrance gradually narrows and darkens. I clambered through the threshold of the rocky entrance and ascended. Inside are holes and piles of rocks sloping deep down into hollows, all different. Every hole is full of water, yet none spills to the outside. From the cavern’s ceiling, dribbles and drops of water fall into watery ponds, sounding like assorted tinkling pendants and a generous mix of stringed instruments, clanging and clattering, far and near. The interior gradually turns northeast. The cavern is like a great, deep abyss sinking downward. Since there are watery ponds above and below, there is nowhere to place your foot, while torches will not stay lit long enough. So you can only listen in the dark for sounds in the distance.

I have visited several water caverns, but only this one hangs high on the summit of massed peaks. Moreover, water collects therein and never flows away. Not a single drop drains to the outside. When I gazed at the cavern earlier, I thought it was a solitary boulder high in the sky. Who would have thought that inside it is a basin holding water?

After exiting the cavern, I followed my earlier trail by the cliff and proceeded north. Next, I entered the rear entrance of a brightly lit cavern and reached the cavern in front of it. Left of the monk’s meditation couch is a niche on one side to which one can climb. If you clamber up there, a crevice penetrates through to the west, which is like a window but split into two parts. Behind it, there is another entrance to a cavern facing west. Located on the cliff trail, its entrance is quite spacious. It is just that the twin sides of the window are narrow and cramped where they penetrate through the crevice, providing only a limited view of what is beyond. You cannot simply pass through them and exit the cavern. Earlier, when I entered the cavern in front, I saw the name Thrice Bright Cavern [Sanming Dong] engraved on the cliff wall in the three characters. Looking straight from inside the cavern, you only see the caverns in front and behind. I never thought that by examining to the side, one could behold even more extraordinary sights like this.

After descending the cavern, I followed our former trail for three li and reached the tea stand. By chance, His Honor, the Surveillance Commissioner Feng Shijun, arrived to conduct an inspection tour.³⁵ In the past, inspections were carried out here, but only within the Barrier Ridge and the Pan River areas. But because Feng’s official position was renewed by special order, he has transited here through the mountain passes. At the time, I saw his banners and flags passing through mountain passes and moving past mountain depressions. Looking at them from a distance, the deserted mountains added brilliance to the scene. The commissioner’s party reached Annan Frontier Guard [Annan Wei], but not without the company of a disorderly group of horseback riders. After a journey of five li, I made it to the guard, where I got a drink of water at the Chen family shop. Then went through the east gate and in the west reached the front of the guard. I then turned south and went out the south gate. To the south, I proceeded through ridges and gorges. Next ascended for altogether two li on flat land to a crest that crossed from northwest to southeast. The area east of where it crosses and is flat serves as farmland. The terrain to the west suddenly plummets down into a chasm that is deep and descending. A small stream murmurs and mumbles as it flows out of the chasm. The trail follows the stream, which moves westward along the north cliff, descends, and plummets down. This is the so-called Cawing Crow Pass [Wuming Guan]. Cawing Crow Pass is near the Annan Frontier Guard. Locals refer to it as Old Crow Pass [Laoya Guan]. We proceeded west, straight down the mountain for one li, to where a tea stand straddles the side of the trail. Flying waterfalls on both sides cast spray onto the trail. As it turns out, when the murmuring and muttering stream that had merely trickled along reaches here, it then races and surges forward. Below the tea stand, where the cliff circles around and the gorge narrows, is terrain inclined and sinking to the extreme.

Next, I turned and twisted down the mountain for one-half li to where a mountain spring brims over and saturates the trail. The arched tablet contains an inscription: “Sweet Springwater and Surpassing Vestiges of the Past” (Ganquan shengji). A pavilion was next to it in former times but is now abandoned. Traces of the past and some choice steles remain. The inscription says that during the Jiajing reign, a monk served tea and meals to everyone who came here and that drawing spring water from below the ridge was extremely difficult. It also says that one day, when the monk was clearing away some earth, he discovered the spring, and these words prove that it was the monk who found the spring. I remember the name Sweetwater mentioned in the old gazetteer. However, the murmuring and muttering stream that trickles and flows along comes from water brimming over the ridge. Perhaps the monk channeled the water and directed it here, which would be a considerable achievement. But to say the origin of this spring is like the legendary tale of a monk’s tin staff controlling the movement of dragons, that is not the case here.³⁶

Next, I descended the stone steps southwest for one li until I reached the entrance to a gorge. Followed the foot of the western cliff, then turned and headed west. To the north, rocky crags aligned in the sky, boldly protruding and pressing down from above. To the south, the crag drops into a canyon, winding as it descends. Small mounds, across and athwart, have been tilled into fields. Although the fields rise and fall many times, they still gently extend to the midpoint of the mountain. Next proceeded west for one-half li to a spring twisting and twining through a crack in the north cliff. Where the trail passes in front of it, a bridge has been built that spans across the spring. The spring drops down on one side of the bridge, and then from below, the bridge pours down into a gorge. I sat on the bridge and looked up to admire the spring. The crack in the cliff is curved and crooked; the spring seemed to tumble out from inside a cloudy mass, sometimes hidden, sometimes visible, which also seemed to transform into something like a waterfall.

Following the cliff, I next headed west, twisting and twining as I ascended on smooth terrain. Twice passed mountain crests that crossed to the south, then gradually turned northwest and proceeded for five li to Cawing Crow Post Station [Wuming Pu]. Next, I descended into a gorge in the northwest for over one li, where there were two small streams. One approaches from the east side of the gorge, while the other approaches from the north side. Each has a rock bridge spanning across it. The streams merge on the left side of the trail, then flow off to the southeast. Crossed both rock bridges and next ascended the ridge to the southwest. After one li, I passed a sentry post as I approached from the top of the ridge. On both sides of the trail are several dozen dwellings. Next, from the top of the ridge, I proceeded west along the northern border of a large mountain to the north. South of there, once again, level land has plummeted down to form a canyon. Fields have formed where the bottom of the canyon twists and crosses, which are quite deep in the mountain. The distant mountains to the south and those along the northern border are arranged in a ring and tower like an unfolding screen. Only one corner in the north rises sharply. The single ridge of earth encircling this canyon and extending eastward is part of the great mountain on the northern border. The precise crest connecting to the north is the spot I passed on the ridge, with sentry posts on both sides. Earlier, when I was proceeding west by way of Sea Horse Barrier [Haima Zhang], I saw peaks in the west curling and coiling from the crack on the ridge far off in the distance, but this peak alone has a square-shaped summit. From a distance, it stands out like a standing screen. I asked the caretaker of the horse, “This peak is Jiangxi Slope [Jiangxi Po], is it not?” He replied, “Jiangxi Slope is still some distance south of here.” I gazed far off at the entrance to the mountain depression, which was to the north.…

—Translated by James M. Hargett

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Source: “Qianyou riji er” (YJJZ, 2:793–94; YJ, 1:657–58).

1. 1  The four-character inscription that belongs here is missing in the original text. The symbol 囗 indicates an absent Chinese character.

2. 2  Fu Zonglong was a native of Kunming, Yunnan, and served in several high-ranking posts in the Ming government bureaucracy. Holders of the office mentioned here—army-inspecting censor—usually accompanied and monitored the activities of military units on a campaign, then would independently report their observation directly to the emperor. Hucker, no. 815.

3. 3  Zhuge Liang was a famous statesman who served the Shu-Han Kingdom during the Three Kingdoms period. He is especially well known as a military strategist. Zhuge was posthumously known as the Loyal and Martial Marquis (Zhongwu Hou) or Martial Marquis.

4. 4  Although the Mekong River is usually associated with Vietnam, it originates on the Qinghai-Tibetan Plateau and flows through Yunnan. It then enters Burma, where it is known as the Salween River. After that, it continues to course through Laos, Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam, emptying into the South China Sea.

5. 5  Xu’s reference here is probably to a Tang dynasty iron suspension bridge that crossed the Gold Dust River in Lijiang Prefecture in Yunnan, along the main road from Yunnan to Tibet.

6. 6  YJJZ, 2:795–98; YJ, 1:659–62.

7. 7  I follow Zhu Huirong’s gloss in YJJZ, 2.805n21, which defines cha’an 茶庵 as a general term referring to stands along mountain trails that provide tea to travelers.

8. 8  The reference is to the Annan Frontier Guard in southwestern Guizhou during the Ming.

9. 9  Noxious fog (duwu) refers to miasmic fumes (zhangqi) caused by mountain mists and watery poisons, along with decomposing animal or vegetable matter, which in premodern China were thought to poison the air, causing miasmic diseases and other dreaded ailments. While diseases such as malaria were usually associated with the tropical and subtropical climates of Guangdong, Guangxi, and Hainan in the late Ming and Qing periods, malaria was not uncommon in Guizhou. Even today, Guizhou is still considered a malaria-endemic area.

10. 10  The Pan River is a major waterway in Guizhou and Yunnan.

11. 11  Following Wang Zhaodan, Xu Xiake youji xuanzhu, 315n9, and reading genzhu 根株 (lit., “root and trunk”) to mean “profound mysteries” (aomi 奧秘). The “Fashioner of Change” is a supernatural entity that is responsible for “fashioning” and “changing” all the “countless things” of the world, both animate (including humans) and inanimate. Cf. “Fashioner of Things,” glossed in part 1, note 8, page 79.

12. 12  When devising similes to describe tapered landforms pointing upward, Xu Xiake sometimes uses the term hezhang 合掌 (joined palms of the hands). This term refers to a hand gesture used by Buddhists when performing a greeting or prayer. It is executed by pressing the palms of the hands together at the chest, with the thumb and fingers pointing upward.

13. 13  “Buddha throne” (Fozuo) probably refers to an image or statue of Buddha sitting cross-legged in the lotus position on a platform of stylized lotus flowers.

14. 14  “Mirage-like scenes” is a loose translation for haishi shenlou 海市蜃樓 (lit., “sea-borne towns and clam-monster towers”), which refers to an optical phenomenon—often described as dream-like atmospheric lights and hazes—that were supposedly glimpsed by Chinese mariners. According to Chinese mythology, these mirages were produced by fabulous creatures called “clam monsters,” whose breath could produce vaporous “towns” and “towers” that floated above the sea.

15. 15  Earlier, the surveillance commissioner’s name was identified as Feng Shijin 馮士晉. Here it is given as Feng Shijun 馮士俊.

16. 16  The practically minded Xu Xiake is debunking a Buddhist legend about an eminent monk who claimed that his dharma power was so miraculous that spring water would gush out with one touch of his walking stick to the ground.