Among the countless tea mountains in Yunnan, Zhenyuan County’s Lao Haitang is like an emerald, deeply hidden in the heart of Ailao Mountain, guarded for generations by the tea farmers of the Yi and Hani ethnic groups. There are no bustling tourists, nor traces of over-commercialization here. The endless ancient tea gardens and centuries-old trees still preserve their "wild, natural flavor." The untamed wilderness of the primordial forest has become an irreplaceable "hidden treasure" in the hearts of seasoned tea connoisseurs.
Zhenyuan Lao Haitang, one of the Eight Famous Mountains of Pu’er, is known locally as "Pang Hai," meaning "crab sea," as it was once abundant with crabs. Tea cultivation was already on a large scale during the Ming Dynasty’s Yongle period, and by the Qing Dynasty’s Yongzheng period, Haitang tea had become a renowned local tea. The Yongzheng Emperor once praised it, saying: "Tea from Haitang, yellow in color, sweet in taste, with a softness hidden in its wildness—it's the best tea."
As a member of the Yi ethnic group, uncovering the wild flavor of these ancient tea trees feels like a memory etched in my genes. This secret world where clouds and ancient trees intertwine is a place most tea drinkers can’t reach but yearn for. Lao Haitang sits at an elevation of about 1,800 meters, with an average annual temperature of 16°C. The soil here is mainly red soil, rich in minerals, providing the most precious nutrients for these century-old trees. The concentration of negative oxygen ions reaches 190,000–200,000 per cubic meter, making it a true natural oxygen bar. Our locals often say: "The tea trees of Lao Haitang drink the water of the Lancang River, breathe the mist, and grow with a 'wild temper.'" But this "wild temper" is loved by tea lovers, as the unique ecological environment gives the tea a signature "wild, honeyed fragrance," with high levels of amino acids and tea polyphenols.
Lao Haitang tea is primarily raw tea. The leaves are tightly curled, with one bud and two or three leaves, covered in fine hairs. The tea leaves have a strong structure and vitality. One of my father’s old friends, a local tea master, often says: "Lao Haitang has a wild character. You need to adjust the blending ratios according to the characteristics of the tea that year, and then press it into tea cakes weighing over a hundred pounds with graphite."
I’ve always loved the "wild taste" in tea soup, which is why I was both surprised and delighted with this 2008 Lao Haitang tea. After years of quality storage, you can still taste a faint wildflower scent and aged fragrance. As you add water, the aroma becomes even more prominent. At first, it smells like mountain wildflowers, and upon further sipping, you get the woody scent of a post-rain forest, with a light smoky note encircling the sweetness of honey. The color of the first infusion is incredibly vibrant, and I didn’t let it sit for long before immediately pouring it out. The golden-orange soup excited me instantly. As I brewed it, I thought to myself, "If I could enjoy this tea with spring mountain water from Yunnan, it would be another level of experience."
The second infusion retained both the color and fragrance. I couldn't resist tasting it. The initial sip had a slight bitterness, but it quickly transformed into a sweet, spring-like taste. The middle notes gradually revealed a blend of wildflower fragrance and fruity notes, while the aftertaste was long-lasting, with a subtle smoky flavor that left me deeply satisfied, much like a walk through the mountains. "Balance between strength and smoothness, wildness with a touch of delicate smoothness"—this was the first thought that came to my mind, a friend of mine joked that this tea style resembled that of Xiguan tea.
While tasting this tea, I immediately poured out the first three infusions, but when it came to the fourth and fifth infusions, I waited a bit, just like we often say, "sit and wait for the cup." The tea soup was fully activated, revealing the unique aroma of the ancient tea trees. The captivating fragrance was unforgettable. I only stopped tasting at the fifteenth infusion. By the end, the flavor had become very faint, but I still enjoyed that subtle lingering tea essence.
- Yu