Bi Shan Yan Temple, Neihu, Taipei for Sign2

 

I have shared photographs of this temple before, and now I have posted a few new ones. It stands not far from where I once lived in Taipei, a familiar presence along the mountainside. This place is woven tightly into my childhood memory. I often climbed the mountain with my father, step by step, until the red roof of the temple came into view. Those walks were quiet lessons in patience and wonder, the air scented with earth, incense, and the faint echo of bells drifting on the wind.

The first sign simply reads Bi Shan Yan — just that. Yet the name carries the weight of centuries.

Bi Shan Yan sits on a high ridge overlooking the basin below, a vantage point that feels both protective and timeless. Its origins stretch back to the early years of settlement, when a small shrine was first erected on the rocky slope. What began as a modest shelter of stone gradually grew into a full temple complex as generations added halls, terraces, and carved adornments. Over the years it has been rebuilt after storms, expanded by devoted hands, and shaped by the quiet resilience of the community around it.

The temple is dedicated to the revered protector known as the Kaizhang Holy King, a guardian spirit brought from the Fujian region by early migrants. His two loyal generals stand at his side, their presence carved into wood and stone with the solemnity of old devotion. These figures have watched over the hills and valleys for centuries, their legends mingling with the land itself.

Approaching the temple, one passes through a long ascent of stone steps, each bordered by greenery that shifts with the seasons — cherry blossoms in spring, thick shade in summer, the clear sharpness of winter air. The architecture is richly layered: sweeping rooflines adorned with dragons and phoenixes, bright ceramic tiles catching the sun, and columns carved with scenes from myth. The incense coils inside burn slowly, releasing a soft haze that turns the light golden.

From the upper terrace, Taipei stretches out like a living map — rivers winding, buildings rising, mountains holding the horizon. At night, the city becomes a tapestry of lights, and the temple feels like a silent guardian set high above the world.

For me, Bi Shan Yan is not merely a historic site but a place where memory settles gently. Each visit recalls those childhood climbs with my father, the warmth of his hand guiding me, the sense of arrival when the temple finally appeared above the trees. It remains a place where history and personal memory meet — steady, enduring, and filled with the quiet beauty of the past living on in the present.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

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