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One local tourist brochure described my destination like this: I would feel my body floating above the clouds, and the moment I entered I'd forget to return. I would be refreshed, relaxed and happy, with "the moon as bright and clear as bathing water". Sounded like the People’s Republic of Prozackia. The blurb became more graphic: "The region also abounds with crude drugs...." Was this some obscure oriental Glastonbury, a Shangri-la of spliffs? And would they sell extra-large rizlas?

Well, no, the drugs in question were medicinal mushrooms and ginseng, while the scenery was way beyond anything in southern England. Our bus swerved along a winding and treacherous road while several passengers were puking out the window. The clouds were low and drizzle misted the air. This, I thought contemplating another few cramped and whiffy hours, had better be worth it.

It was. Wutai Shan, or 'Five Terrace Mountain', is one of the four holiest Buddhist mountains in China. Here in Shanxi Province, about 300km southwest of Beijing, pilgrims have been coming for around two thousand years. In its heyday more than two hundred monasteries and temples dotted Wutai's lush hills. Today around fifty survive, a few little more than caves or grottoes. I spent a couple of days wandering through some of their courtyards, pavilions and halls. Above all else, Wutai Shan's gorgeous setting provides almost unlimited opportunities for rambling in the encircling hills.

Most people stay in the one-street town of Taihuai, and just getting here is part of the allure. Whether coming from Datong in the north or Taiyuan to the south, you're in for a slow 8- or 9-hour bus trip. But the scenery is majestic, especially on the road from Datong which skirts Yedou (or Cloud and Fog) Peak. At 3058m, it's not only the highest of Wutai's five mountains but the loftiest part of northern China.

Numerous temples are clustered around the centre of town. Others lie in the nearby hills while a handful of massive complexes are up to 50km distant. For the casual non-pilgrim visitor, their relaxed atmosphere makes them extremely accessible. There are hardly any foreigners coming here; Chinese tourists dominate the scene. Far from displaying any great religious fervour most of them cruise from sight to sight in the mood of a long and cheerful picnic.

We took the chairlift up to Dailuo Hill where crowds gathered round one of the smaller temple courtyards. The air was thick with incense smoke from joss sticks and everyone was eating. People practically clambered over each other not so much to get inside but to have their names engraved on cheap badges and medallions. Men with ponies touted for customers to ride them back down into town.

In taking a footpath which contoured along the ridge in and out of forests, we had some of the best views across Taihuai. One building in particular stands out - and quite literally above - the rest: the Great White Pagoda of Tayuan Temple. This is Wutai's landmark and its bulbous outline appears on everthing from tickets to restaurant menus. As a kind of spiritual heart even the most casual visitors drop by for a dose of good karma.

Before we could even think of doing the same there was the minor problem of getting off the hillside without backtracking. The most promising paths seemed to end abruptly and no doubt we'd taken a wrong fork. Finally we scrambled down through the trees and emerged covered in leaves and twigs at the bottom - to some very strange looks from the locals.

Wutai boasts several bottle-shaped pagodas but the Great White is the largest and one of the oldest. At 56 metres tall, its gilded top is hung with 252 copper bells that chime in the slightest breeze. The interior is said to contain ancient statues of Buddha brought over from India. Wutai's temples contain a couple of real oddities and one of them can be found here. In the 'Hall of Scriptures' stands a two-storey, hexagonal library (book shelf doesn't really do it justice). With thirtythree decorative tiers, and wider at the top than the bottom, there's room for 20,000 texts. Best of all, the whole thing once turned much like a giant prayer wheel. Monks can't do this now because the mechanism has seized up.

After dropping by a tiny restaurant to fill up on dumplings and beer, we headed for another oddity in the nearby Louhou Temple. Entering a hall, one monk beckoned us over to an elaborate altar. He climbed down steps, unlatched a door and began cranking a rickety wheel. As we watched in amazement, the altar's large wooden lotus opened its eight petals to reveal yet more statues. This was the famous 'Buddha in Blossom', said to have been built by a pair of Tibetan lamas in the 1790s. The tranquil atmosphere was broken by a rush of tourists anxious to see the famed lotus close. One day soon hawkers will be selling miniature plastic replicas outside.

The low hill rising in the centre of town is called 'Spirit Vulture' peak and with a name like that who can resist climbing it. Pusading Temple is perched on the top, its yellow-tiled roof gleaming in the sun like a sort of beacon. Like many of Wutai's temples and monasteries, 108 steps lead the way. A local guide explained we all have 108 kinds of worries; for each step counted and climbed, one worry is cast off. It was worrying to hear I might have so many unknown worries stacked away inside.

On the other hand I felt pretty good at the top. The glinting roofs of halls and pavilions cascaded down the hillside, while the Great Pagoda shone a brilliant white. Pusading is said to have 430 rooms and I was ready to believe it. Less credible are some of the stories and legends associated with Wutai. Many of these feature blinding flashes, holy men turning into poor old women and golden porridge-eating lions. Pusading's ornamental arch has a pair of stone lions and the stone wall facing them was apparently built to block their vision.

Back in town we heard some extraordinary screeching, gongs and cymbals. The cynic in me thought it might be a ritualistic destruction of musical instruments. In fact it was an operatic performance in the Wangfo Hall which, disappointingly, excluded the ringing of its huge 3500kg bronze bell. The audience seemed composed mostly of villagers rather than tourists and many sheltered from the sun by squatting under umbrellas.

There's a long tradition of opera here, usually in August. The performers were extremely friendly and made us enter their improvised dressing room. Costumes spilled out of crates and both men and women wore masks of make-up. I found their preparation more interesting than the opera itself.

Irregular minibuses head out to or near some of Wutai's five flat-topped mountains. Each boasts small lonely shrines or temples but only the most devoted pilgrims attempt them all. Central Peak (at 2890m it's the second highest) is accessible by road and on the way back we alighted after several kilometres. To general disbelief I gestured we'd walk back down to Taihuai on a steep winding trail. China never looked so pristine and inviting.

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