I lost count of the steps after 30 minutes. The part of my brain that switches off when I do anything strenuous signaled shut down and my feet moved metronomically. I kept telling myself I was following in the footsteps of 72 emperors, Confucius and even Chairman Mao himself. Suddenly the phrase 'one step at a time' took on a whole new meaning.

China's most sacred mountain has many stories to tell. Jutting out of the flat plains between the cities of Tai’an, Jinan and Zibo in Shandong Province, most Chinese have it down as a 'must climb' during their lifetime, irrespective of religious beliefs. Tai Shan’s fame grew from the fact that in the past an emperor's first action after ascending to the throne was to make the arduous trek up to the summit and perform rituals and make sacrifices to heaven and earth.

Today the common folk that brave the almost 7000 step climb come to make their own blessings for fertility, long life, health or good fortune. Tai Shan has deep Taoist connections, with temples built into the mountain at all levels, where climbers burn incense and place metal locks in the hope of securing their future. Being included in the UNESCO world heritage list in 1987 has only added to the numbers of the many who make the pilgrimage.

Pausing for breath near a holy cave surrounded by stone inscriptions, I heard the familiar "hello, hello" greeting given to foreigners and turned to see what looked like a mountain man emerging from the shadowed entrance. His green army trench coat hung on an emaciated frame, long gray hair framing a face set off by eyes that looked clean through me. He beckoned me in and, never being short on curiosity, I followed.

The entrance eventually opened out into a smallish cave deep in the mountain, clouded with incense smoke and desperately cold. In the light of four fat red candles he motioned me to sit on a stone seat and proceeded to tell me my fortune. I sat, nodded appreciatively and left 20 minutes later, senses in a daze. I tried to press 50 yuan into his calloused hand, but he waved me off, refusing payment.

The blue sky looked bluer now and I turned back to wave at my soothsayer, but he had slunk back into the mountain. How did he know those things, I wondered? A bell echoed across the mountain, its deep sound seeming to come from the summit. I lifted my feet again.

Head in the clouds

The sense of where you are takes a while to sink in on Tai Shan. Having heard the stories about how poets, writers and artists headed for the mountain whenever they were in need of inspiration, and seeing the evidence all around me in the form of thousands of inscribed stone tablets and cliff sculptures, the concentration of energy is palpable. It’s the same feeling I had at Machu Picchu, the sacred Inca City in Peru.

A famous Chinese saying says, "Scaling Tai Shan makes one feel superior to the whole world," as it creates a feeling of regal dignity and imperial majesty. I think it makes you feel more connected to the ordinary things around you. Pausing at scenic spots with names like Azure Cloud Temple, Peak for Viewing the Sun and Mid-heaven Gate is a reminder that anyone can connect with nature and its power, irrespective of your station in life.

"When you are at your weakest, it’s the best time to sell anything"

The last 2000 steps are almost vertical and continuous like a long chiseled granite ribbon. Small stalls selling trinkets, cucumber and tomatoes are dotted in the recesses. Stop to suck in crisp air and platoons of touts accost you to take photos, be carried up or just buy exorbitantly priced bottles of water. It’s as if they have psychologically figured out that when you are at your weakest, it’s the best time to sell anything. It works, and I watched people succumbing purely to be left in peace afterwards.

When the last waterfalls and oddly shaped pines and cypresses have given way and you look up, exhausted, at the red gate on the summit, it’s a good feeling. A small village has been built on the flat section at the top where climbers can stop for tea, have a meal or spend the night in the hopes of catching the famed sunrise.

I went in search of the bell and found it on the 1st floor of a rickety tower jutting out from the west cliffs. The bell warden urged me to ring it. I held the ropes and closed my eyes to make a wish. As I was about to swing the wooden pole he stopped me. "10 yuan, 10 yuan," he said. I put my wish on hold, paid up and struck, shattering the sound of silence.

Outside on Jade Emperor Peak, the Temple of the God lay a calf-cramping nine-kilometers away, at the foot of the mountain. If, as the Chinese say, the climb up symbolises your life, then the blank stele erected here made sense I thought. After all, when we overcome challenges we earn the privilege to write our own story.