A Late October Memory of Pingtan: A Gentle Farewell from the Wind and Sea

While packing, the salty sea breeze mixed with the aroma of oyster pancakes still lingered at my nose tip, and the casuarina trees outside the window swayed gently in the breeze—turns out the three-day, two-night trip to Pingtan had already etched the marks of mountains and sea into everyday life. In late October, the island sheds the hustle and bustle of peak season, leaving us with the most comfortable wind and the clearest sea. The scenery along the northern route was the most stunning gift of this trip. The windmill fields at Changjiang’ao stretched out especially beautifully in autumn, with white windmills slowly turning against the wind. At sunset, golden sunlight stretched the shadows of the beach and windmills long, and every snapshot looked like a cinematic scene with a built-in filter. Walking along the boardwalk of the northern ecological corridor, the 270° view was filled with blue sea, white waves, and windmills. Occasionally, seabirds flew by, their wings cutting through the sky with striking clarity. The biggest surprise was Jingsha Beach, where black reefs contrasted with the deep blue sea, resembling Iceland’s cold secret realm. After the tide receded, you could find small seashells with a hint of ocean flavor in the crevices of the rocks, enjoying this tranquility without the crowds. The 68 Nautical Miles Scenic Area holds warmth that crosses the strait. Standing on the “Strait’s Eye” viewing platform on Houyan Island, looking at the sign marking “the closest point from mainland China to Taiwan Island,” the sea breeze swept over the jagged rocky coast, as if telling the story of the bond between the two shores. When tired, sit down at the geometric camp on Xianshan Island, order a cup of coffee, and watch the 68 navigation beacon tower standing tall in the wind in the distance—time seems to slow down. Missing the season of the blue tears is okay too; at the Blue Tears Experience Hall in the Taiwanese town, flowing blue light shadows wind through the darkness, as if quietly storing the sea’s secrets in this space, making up for a small regret. The island’s lively atmosphere is all hidden in the flavors on the tongue. At the market in Lantai Alley, freshly made oyster pancakes are golden and crispy; biting into them, the fresh sweetness of oysters mixed with the aroma of dried shrimp, and for just 4 yuan, you can taste the most genuine satisfaction. The locals recommend trying “Shilai Yun Zhuan” (Lucky Turn), where chewy sweet potato skins wrap seafood filling; after steaming, dip it in vinegar, and the salty and fragrant juice bursts in your mouth. For the farewell dinner, we chose a seafood stall by the river. The freshly caught yellow croaker steamed was incredibly fresh, and the owner said that seafood is at its plumpest after the October fishing season opens. This bite of freshness truly engraved the taste of Pingtan in my memory. Now sitting on the return bus, recalling these days of wandering, late October in Pingtan lacks the summer’s liveliness but offers a leisurely comfort: the wind brushing past your ears while cycling, undisturbed sunrises on the beach, steaming hot snacks at the market, and those gentle stories hidden between the mountains and sea. The wind will remember the beaches we walked on, and the sea will keep the sunsets we watched. Pingtan, next time I’ll come back in autumn to keep this mountain and sea appointment.