Earning Merit by Climbing an Endless Stairway in China

Taishan is the ancient sacred mountain in Shangdong Province. Ancient Chinese believed that mountains had spiritual significance, like Sinai and Mount Olympus in the West. Taishan is the most important of the sacred Chinese mountains.

My wife and I were the first American teachers brought in to work in the People’s Republic of China in 1983. We served a very small community of English speaking families at the International School of Beijing. Linda was the third-grade teacher, I taught math and science to the middle school students. I only had eight students in the 7th and 8th grade. At that time, it was a very small K through 8 school of only 120 students.

ISB Enrollment: At the beginning of 2022–2023, enrollment was 1,710 -State Department Fact Sheet

We Were on Our Way to Climb Mount Taishan

“Do not forget flashlights! It is very dark at the top.”

One of the mothers wanted to impart her wisdom to me. She and her husband had made the climb themselves, but not their 8th-grade son. It was during a parent-teacher conference that started with “You can not understand our family. We are intellectuals.” Not a great conversation starter. But in her way, she just wanted to be helpful.

It was useful advice. We were all finding our way around China in 1983 with and without a flashlight. As it turned out, her son really needed one.

Mountains are deities in China. They are considered to be naturalistic powers which act like living beings, and can therefore be won by sacrifices or moved by prayers. — from Le T”ai chan by Edouard Chavannes

Over two thousand years ago, Qin Shi Quangdi conquered the last of the warring states and became the first emperor of a united China. He climbed the ancient 6660 steps of Mount Taishan. It is a physical labor of sacrifice for anyone to climb the steps. At the top, he informed the gods of the sky and Earth of his deeds.

My class of seventh and eighth graders would follow in his steps. All 6660 of them. Maybe, letting the gods of the sky and Earth know we were in China.

We were part of a school community that was amazing. They firmly believed the school director when he said, “We have an American curriculum, but don’t let that stop you from learning about China.” Some of the parents had literally jumped out of helicopters as journalists or jumped into helicopters as diplomats in Vietnam. They were on board with their children learning about China.

An open China was so new that many of the parents had recently been university academics, researching China from afar before taking jobs as diplomats, bankers, and journalists.

We took an early morning train to Jinan. Nowadays there are bullet trains between Beijing and Jinan. Back then it was more like the train from Harry Potter, without the magic, but with lots of black smoke.

My friend Beverly was the school’s newly minted “Chinese Studies Coordinator.” Once we arrived in Jinan, Beverly found a van to take us to Mount Taishan.

A quick lunch of jiaozi, garlic shoots, and rice. Then we were on the way.

Over 6000 steps may seem like an exaggeration. I don’t think it is. The elevation of the nearby city of Tai’an is 548 feet. The top of Taishan is 5,029 feet. The path to the top is not gentle switchbacks. It is steps, carved into the mountain. It seems like an endless stairway.

Now there is a cable car that will get you to the top. But this is one of those cases where the journey is the trip, not the destination. The journey will earn you merit.

But the mountain is not only the place where gods and immortals appear; it is itself a deity. — from Le T’ai chan by Edouard Chavannes

Climbing the steps was hard work. We made frequent stops along the way. For the first half, we followed a small stream cascading beside the steps. In some places, it made a small waterfall.

The water was cool. At one point, one of the students filled his canteen with water, ignoring the warnings from Beverly and me. He said the water tasted great. A hundred steps further up, another waterfall spilled into a pond filled with pigs.

The student turned grey-green with the knowledge of the source of his water. However, the gods of the mountain must have respected the sacrifice. He had no ill effects. He happily accepted a new water bottle.

There were vendors along the way selling water and walking sticks. They sold parasols for shade. They were supplied by a steady stream of porters going up the steps. Capitalism was alive and well on the steps.

The steps were surrounded by almost two thousand monuments and inscriptions to the numerous dignitaries that had climbed the steps. Over the millennia the mountain has been adopted by other spiritual movements.

The path going up starts near a stone marker inscribed with five characters.

Kong zi deng lin chu marks “the spot where Confucius began to climb the mountain” — Nagel’s Encylopedia-Guide to China

Another inscription nearby appropriately said “staircase of the sky.”

During the Song Dynasty, Taishan was popular as the home of the Princess of the Colored Clouds. She is an important Taoist deity. She had the power to determine the gender of your unborn child.

She “…rapidly attracted large numbers of worshippers; the shrine dedicated to her grew larger and larger; it is now the most magnificent of all the temples on T’ai chan.” — from Le T’ai chan by Edouard Chavannes

On the steps were other pilgrims, students, and our minders, aka the people making sure we were not up to any mischief. There were also porters carrying tonight’s dinner and beverages balanced on bamboo poles across their shoulders. Even more impressive were the larger groups of men carrying construction equipment and supplies, also balanced on bamboo poles. They smiled at us as they passed.

We traveled light. We had water, snacks, and FLASHLIGHTS in our small backpacks. We did not even bring a change of clothes.

Seven hours later we were at the top. The sun was low on the horizon. Beverly found us beds in the large guesthouse. Dorm-like rooms with cots, blankets, and hard pillows. No complaints from the kids. They were great adventurers. They were also exhausted.

We had a meal that some poor porter had carried up the mountain. Heated by fuel, also carried up the mountain. Somewhere a generator hummed and lights flickered to life. Each dorm room had thermos bottles of hot water to drink.

We did a quick orientation walk around the guesthouse. Everyone knew where everyone was sleeping and how to find the toilets. The toilets were holes in the floor that were expected to be squatted over.

The plan was to get up before sunrise. Part of the devotional practice to the Princess of the Colored Clouds was to greet the sun as it rose in the East.

We had just found our cots when the generator stopped. The lights went off and silence fell like a giant curtain over the mountaintop. Sleep came quickly.

I awoke with a start as Beverly was shaking me. One of our students had fallen. We were on a mountaintop, so my mind jumped to the worse case. “Where?” I asked.

“In the toilet!” she yelled.

Sure enough, the student had gone to the toilet without his flashlight. He had fallen into the hole.

It was his mother who said “Do not forget flashlights! It is very dark at the top!”

Between the Chinese staff and ourselves, we tried to get him cleaned up. He was not injured, but his dignity took a big hit.

We still managed to get up early in the morning and see the eastern sky brighten, and the sun rise.

Going down was just as hard as going up. The pounding on the knees turned our legs into rubber.

We made it to the base of Taishan. However, the van that was to return us to Jinan was late. When we got to Jinan, the train had already left. Beverly left us in front of the train station as she went looking for alternative transportation.

That’s how you traveled in China in 1983. You had little control over your journey and your accommodations.

A large group of curious Chinese surrounded us in front of the station. For many of them, it may have been the first time they saw people with blonde or red hair. I made it clear to the crowd that they could not touch the kids. We played Duck Duck Goose and the crowd moved back.

Just as the crowd was getting closer, Beverly showed up with our ride home. An old military-style truck that looked like it could have been in service during World War II. The back was not covered, but it had a single bench running down each side. Three of us pressed into the cab with the driver.

For eight hours we drove along country roads, north to Beijing.

We made it home in the late afternoon. A journey full of merit. Were we closer to the gods of Old China? Perhaps. We were blessed with a life-long memory of a China that no longer exists.

As for the child who fell in the toilet? He thrived. As an adult, he became the father of two. He fought forest fires. He was a police officer for the National Park Service. As a lawyer, he assisted asylum seekers around the world. He sadly died too young at age 44.