Qiandao Lake

May at Qiandao, a poem on the emerald waves In May, Qiandao Lake looks like a watercolor painting still wet. The morning mist has not yet cleared when we stand at the central lake area pier. Sunlight pierces through the clouds, scattering tiny golden flakes on the shimmering water surface. Islands in the distance dot the scene like green snails, evoking the ancient poetic imagery of “the water’s sparkling light is best on a clear day.” The tour boat cuts through the jade-like lake, the wind carrying the moist scent of grass and trees. On Longshan Island, the flying eaves of the Hai Rui Temple peek through the greenery. Climbing Zhonggu Peak, the guide’s narration blends with the chirping of mountain sparrows: “Back then, to build the Xin’an River Reservoir, 300,000 migrants left their homes…” Looking down, the lake water covers the former villages, with only the inscription “Sacrifice family for country” on the archway still clear. Those streets and alleys submerged underwater have now become eternal memories in the emerald waves of the thousand islands. The cable car on Meifeng Island slowly ascends, flanked by varying shades of green. When the viewing platform suddenly appears, everyone holds their breath—over 300 islands scattered like chess pieces on a jade plate, large islands floating like green snails on the water, small islands like ink dots. The lake surface is divided into waterways of different widths, and the white trails left by boats resemble brushstrokes casually swept by a painter. A visitor holding a camera exclaims, “This isn’t a lake at all, it’s clearly the Jade Pool in the sky!” The afternoon sun softens as we rent kayaks and paddle into Red Leaf Bay. The paulownia flowers on both banks are in full bloom, their pure white petals falling into the water like a May snowfall. Paddling to a quiet spot, we lay down the oars and let the boat drift. The water is so clear you can see fish swimming ten meters deep. The distant dark green mountains and blue sky with white clouds reflect in the water, blurring the line between reality and illusion. Occasionally, wild ducks startled from the reeds flap their wings over the water, waking the sleeping lake light. On the return trip, Tianyu Mountain in the distance is dyed orange by the sunset glow. Looking back at the lake, fishing lights gradually come on, like stars scattered across the earth. May at Qiandao Lake writes a poem with its clear waters and green mountains, every wave a rhyme, every island an image, making one unable to stop looking back even after leaving. May 14, 2011