Into the temple of the written word

A brook runs by the library's exterior[Photo by Zou Hong/China Daily]

Early on it became clear to this bibliophile that just as some of the best books are no easy read, the first part of this outing－even if rich rewards awaited us at its end－was going to have to be endured. It was Saturday just after 8:30 am and we would be heading from downtown Beijing northwards, out past the last of the six ring roads that encircle it, leaving the sprawling suburbs in our wake, and eventually wending our way through rugged green mountains before reaching our prized destination.

But first there was the traffic to contend with. Anyone familiar with Beijing knows that traffic jams are among its most resistible charms and that particularly on a busy weekend or during public holidays, even negotiating the 80 kilometers or so to get to the Great Wall can be counted in hours rather than minutes. And so it was to be this day.

As long lines of bumper-to-bumper traffic stretched out in every direction further than the eye could see and the searing July sun beat down, car air-conditioning units hummed, dispensing their cooling solace. Perhaps it was that droning, rocking sound that finally overcame me, for I was eventually delivered from this urban torture, falling into blessed sleep.

When I awoke, gone was the humdrum of the city and the slightest suggestion of bad air. We were now passing through the mountainous area of Huairou county, the driver in deep concentration as he threaded the car through the twisting mountain pass.

For me, the fresh air－and for Chinese big-city dwellers who have to cope with pollution, the "fresh" in that expression has a deeper resonance than it does for most other people－was invigorating and the green scenery a tonic for the eyes. We passed by squat rural homes one after another, and along the way a few tourists riding horses led by young guides.

After driving almost three hours, we finally arrived at a village called Jiaojiehe, where there was a sign on a wall that pointed the way to Liyuan Shuwu. We were almost there.

No big tourist attraction in China would be complete without its sprawling car parks with swathes set aside for great fleets of tour buses. However, the car park we drove into this day was much more modest, even if the numbers of cars there told us that today we were by no means alone in making this pilgrimage.

The car duly parked, we headed along a cobbled road, at one point making a turn and passing by several thick chestnut trees. Suddenly, before my eyes was the celebrated Liyuan Library.