At the bottom or the mountain, beside an arched entrance, two comic-fierce, winged lion statues, white claws grasping large red balls, guard the area, keeping away evil spirits. Most of the temples also have lion guards at their doorways.
Looking up Shih Tou Shan from its base, one cannot see a lion's head shape. This is only possible from a distance, and then with a little imagination.
A path, alternating with hundreds or shallow, stone steps, winds through the forest to the summit or the mountain, then down the other side, linking temples and pagodas directly, or via little sidepaths, with the world at large. There are altogether nine temples on the mountain, some pure Buddhist, others favoring both Buddhist images and Taoist gods-like Kuan Yin, Goddess of Mercy, and Matsu, Taiwan's patron Goddess of the Sea. One of the facilities has set its Buddhist images in a natural rock cave.
The forest is indescribably lush. Bright, tropical ferns and other lighter-leaved plants sparkle amid darker green vegetation. Among mango trees and forests of giant bamboo, birds call to one another over the sound of running water. A small subterranean stream exits from the mountain at one spot.
A hike up the pathway and its steps to the top of the mountain requires two to three hours, and down the other side, about the same time. A number of little shops along the way sell refreshments, walking sticks, and other paraphernalia. They also offer picture-maps of the mountain pathways with descriptions of the sights in Mandarin characters. There are a few resting spots on the path, usually open-air pavilions with traditionally elaborate roofs. One, near the summit, is described on the picture-map as being a good place to watch the moon.
On Sundays, hundreds or pilgrims climb the mountain to visit the temples and take in the magnificent scenery and fresh mountain air. Inside the temples, incense hangs heavy in the air, and gold leaf flutters about. Large, red candles burn beside incense sticks, and on little tables in front of the Buddhist images and, perhaps, Taoist gods, gleaming from behind glass panels, there are flowers and fruit. Throngs of worshippers pray at the temples and manipulate two little, red crescent-shaped oracle blocks to seek answers to their supplications. Outside in the courtyards, carefree children shout and play.
Climbing the steps, it starts to rain big drops of water, and we can see why the forest is so green. We take shelter in a little temple under the gaze of Kuan Kung, the red-faced warrior deity. A faint smell of incense mingles with the wet and earthy odor from outside. A grey-robed monk offers us Chinese herb tea.
Soon the rain stops, and we continue climbing, dark stone steps meandering up the mountain. Little drops of water sparkle on myriad leaves as the sun makes a brief appearance. In the distance, across the valley, mists hang over the rolling hills and mountains, softening the landscape. A pagoda peeks out of the forest below, a traditional Chinese landscape painting.
The hike takes you past monks, worshippers, and vendors; a steady stream of pilgrims ascends the mountain, enjoying its scenery—the gift of God to man, and of man to God
Around a bend in the path, the large series of roofs of Nan Ya Temple is visible below us, an amazing sight. The straw-colored tiled roofs, accentuated ridges upturned at the edges, are alive with sculpted dragons and cocks, men and deities, miniature pagodas, and others-multi-colored with paints and bits of mosaic. The spiky dragons, a main feature of the roofs, symbolize strength and wisdom.
At 5 p.m., temple bells call the monks and nuns to prayer, and we are lured inside by the hypnotic music and the chanting of a sutra. One monk provides a steady rhythm on the drum, to concentrate the mind for prayer. At intermittent intervals, a large copper bowl or chi is struck, emitting a strong, bell-like sound. Gongs and cymbals are also used. Near the end of the proceedings, brown-robed monks and nuns, several times,' solemnly circle the temple in single file. The sutras are also chanted every morning at 4:30.
We stayed that night at a nunnery attached to Yuan Kwang Temple near the summit of the holy mountain. The nuns and monks at most of the temples welcome visitors to spend the night and share their simple vegetarian meals; in return, a small contribution is expected. Little vegetable and tea gardens around the temples provide much of their food. Another popular place to spend the night is Shui Lien Tung, a Buddhist nunnery, with a nearby natural rock cave serving as a temple for its images.
Early the next day, while the mountainside was still shrouded in morning mists, I spoke with Pu Shian, ninth Abbot of Yuan Kwang Temple. He told me that about ninety years ago, Pu Chieh, a layman living in the area, was climbing Lion's Head Mountain and came across a cave; he entered it, heard a bell ringing, and became enlightened. The first temple was built near this cave, and Pu Chieh became its first abbot. Soon the mountain became known as a holy place, and many Buddhist monks and nuns came to live there, building other temples as well. In those days, much of the building materials had to be carried laboriously up the mountain through the thick plant growth. Later, the path and stone steps were built.
Getting to Shih Tou Shan involves no more than a three hour car or bus ride from Taipei, through the town of Hsinchu. As the crow flies, Lion's Head Mountain lies only 35 km southwest of Taipei. But with it's special atmosphere, the mountain seems much further from the bustling metropolis in both space and time.