Huangshan taught China how to paint. For centuries the granite spires, wind-bent pines and cloud-drowned valleys of this range in southern Anhui were the model for shan shui ink landscapes, and painters still climb it for the same reason. The massif is granite, pushed up from beneath an ancient sea about 100 million years ago and later carved by glaciers and running water into 72 sharp, separate peaks. The tallest, Lotus Peak, reaches 1,864 metres. Huangshan is known for four sights: pines that root in bare cracks and grow bent over centuries, strangely shaped boulders, warm springs, and the sea of clouds. That last one, the yúnhǎi, floods the valleys on more than two hundred days a year. Its name has nothing to do with the colour yellow.
The magic lies in how light and mist rebuild the view minute by minute. Climb one of the viewing terraces in the dark — Bright Summit, say, or the Refreshing Terrace — and wait. At first light the peaks turn violet, then copper-gold, while a white sea rises out of the valleys until only the highest summits break through it like islands. The cloud is likeliest on a morning that clears after rain, and it can shift and part within minutes. Walk the stairways cut straight into the rock, more than sixty thousand stone steps in all, and the resin smell of the pines and the cloud drifting under your feet set you down inside a landscape painting. Reaching the ridge is no longer the ordeal it was: three cableways lift visitors up the slopes, and porters still carry supplies up the same steps. Close to five million people come each year, most of them squeezed into the crowded October and May holiday weeks.