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Detours: Putuoshan

Visited by mists, infused with legend and supposedly guarded by a deity, the tranquil island of Putuoshan appeals to the hermit in us all.

Putuoshan ('Putuo' meaning beautiful white flower and 'shan' meaning mountain) is one of China's four sacred Buddhist mountains. Located off China's east coast, northeast of Ningbo and accessible by ferry from Shanghai and Ningbo, it's also got plenty of affinity for children.

At its port, a Buddhist nun smiles a greeting and wanders over to my two offspring for a mutual cooing session. Buddhism is well known for its compassion, and a visit to the island home of Guanyin (Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara) - also known as Kwun Yum, or the Goddess of Mercy - is the place to feel it.

Many legends relate to Kwun Yum appearing to faithful travellers in times of need. A 9th-century story tells of a Japanese monk who, carrying a statue of the goddess, gets caught in a storm. The goddess appears, tells him to leave the statue and guides him to the safety of Putuoshan, where he erects a temple in her honour.

Putuoshan certainly feels like a sanctuary, especially to those escaping the hustle and bustle of China's east coast.

Mystical temples, sweeping beaches, scattered traditional architecture and forest-clad mountains combine to create an enchanting atmosphere.

The island is only 12.5 square kilometres in area, and some visitors explore it on foot, although a more popular option is the regular minibuses plying the few roads.

Around the unspoiled hills, visitors can spy the odd house or temple peeking out from greenery, a coastline of rugged natural elevations and glittering seascapes.

Monks and nuns move sedately and stop to nod at the children. We eat at quiet cafes and play on old stone bridges.

The peak of Putuoshan is reached partly by cable car, then 1,060 steps. I walk to the top and gaze at the impressive views of land and sea, just before an angry voice barks from above. I look up to see an armed guard standing on a small building right on top of the peak. He waves me away. I shrug and leave; the island's mysticism is working on me for I feel uncharacteristic compassion for the man, thinking that he is only doing his job.

The island has three main temples, and visiting one of them, the Puji, is a strange and exhilarating experience. Built in 1080, it offers visitors a look into a few of its nine halls, 12 pavilions and 16 chambers.

Puffs of incense rise from burners in the courtyards and dim doorways hint of mystery within.

In one of the prayer halls, statues sit in the centre and along the walls. Orange-robed monks pace the room. I feel like a voyeur, uncomfortable sightseeing in such a holy place. However, I'm fascinated and keep out of the way of the monks as I explore the statues and alcoves. While the incense swirls, the monks' chants reverberate off the walls.

Outside, I sit in a courtyard and close my eyes. It's relaxing just being on the island and in this ancient temple where people have meditated and prayed for centuries.

Ending the day sitting quietly on a beach of golden sand while the children build castles, I look along the coast, where sea spray creates a fine mist over sand, land and water. A giant statue of Guanyin stands on a promontory and gazes over her island. I smile gently ... like the nuns. Compassion feels so relaxing.

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