Pashan

A Sunday Stroll in Maokong (貓空)

2009-11-05T19:47:00.000-08:00

Here's something easy to test the blog waters again. A hike in the hills of Maokong, the tea growing region I am looking out at from my study window even as I type this:

A bit of background:

"Maokong in fact has quite a sweeping history. Originally it was a hunting ground for members of the Atayal indigenous tribe, Chiu said. When the Han Chinese began populating and developing the area, they brought with them a variety of industries. Development of the Maokong area dates back to the Qing Dynasty. The area was known for many different things over the years, including camphor, leeks, rice, Paochung tea, and especially Anhsi tea. After a port was opened in northern Taiwan and trading establishments were created, the area became best known for its tea leaves and its camphor.

During the period of Japanese occupation of the island, the Japanese changed the key industries in Maokong in order to meet the needs of Japan. For example, a tea production and sales organization was set up. In addition, the area became a center for indigo dye and also camphor. The Japanese also began mining the area for coal. After the outbreak of World War II, the Japanese called for the end to planting tea in the area and instead ordered the growing of rice. This had an enormous impact on the industrial make-up of Maokong. Chang Na-miao, an individual in the private sector, decided on his own to import Iron Guanyin tea, which over the years was what Maokong became associated with.

Chiu Yung-chun said that after Retrocession, the tea industry once again gradually took hold on Maokong. In 1987, when former President Lee Teng-hui was still in his position as the mayor of Taipei, he promoted the establishment of tourist tea plantations in Mucha."

Despite the couple hundred years of development it's mostly a jungle up there, and a remarkably dense one just at the doorstep of Taipei. One Sunday in August we rode up to Sanxuan Temple at the end of the gondola line (not running at the moment). A set of stairs beside the temple leads to a wonderful network of trails, much of it running along a ridgeline that extends to the coast.

We started up the stairs but then quickly took a right side path through the tea fields. In the dense forest above us we heard dozens of Muller's Barbet chattering away (pic from wikipedia).

A number of massive old tombs looked out over the city.

Not far along we found a couple wax apple trees overloaded with overripe fruit and snagged some for lunch. On the other side of a gully we picked up a main trail and followed it to an obvious junction on the backside of the ridgeline I mentioned above (it was at its lowest point here). It's a pretty area of terraced tea fields and open views. We headed down a dirt path and swung round the contours of the slopes passing a small farmhouse with a lotus pond.

I can't believe I forgot to take a pic of the farmhouse. Not only does it have a great rustic charm, but more importantly it's where I have always planned to hide out when the Chinese invade. Next time.

The section of trail past the farmhouse has been a favorite for years. I find it pretty, peaceful and full of simple charms.

After reaching a pass, the trail dropped into a narrow valley through which flows a small clean stream. The stream has a classic feel to it, but is a bit odd in this region as there are no eroded stones in the bed. I'll let my friend Richard Saunders explain this:

"Ever wondered where Maokong, that ever-popular hillside on the southern edge of Taipei where everyone goes to drink tea, got its name? Despite having the character for 'cat' in the name, it has nothing whatsoever to do with our feline friends.

Instead it's a transliteration of the Taiwanese name, 'Niaokeng,' ('teapot hole'), an allusion to the many potholes eroded into the rock of the riverbed in the valley below. For many years this fascinating sight was visited by few visitors to the area other than local geologists, but now the potholes are easy to get to, thanks to a new, well signposted path that begins not far from the upper station of the Maokong Gondola (forecast to reopen for Chinese New Year 2010).

Potholes (otherwise known as kettle holes or giant's kettles) occur when small stones or gravel, spun in a circular motion by eddies in the water, gradually erode smooth-sided, circular depressions in a stream or riverbed. These examples at Muzha might not look especially big or impressive, but they're of great interest to geologists, as they're quite uncommon."

Here's a pic of a large section of teapot holes on the Keelung River near Shifen.

In any case, as Richard says, one of the best streams for viewing the teapot holes in Maokong is close to the gondola. It's worth a look when you are in the area.

At the end of a long series of wood steps we reached a grassy field at the bottom of the valley. A number of colorful swallowtail butterflies fluttered up and circled overtop. Maokong doesn't have big colonies of butterflies but it does have a nice variety of species and they are comfortable with people.

We crossed the stream on a small wooden bridge and then headed down. The trail ran close to the water for half a kilometre and then made a sweep to the left as it hugged a rather precipitous cliff wall. The steps were now cut into the stone and rather slippery on this humid day. We held on to the metal railing and inched our way down slowly. Katanya picked up Xian Cao (her three-legged dog) and carried him down.

Most of the group had now idea what to expect at the bottom so it was fun to watch their reaction when this popped up:

It's a small branch temple of the larger and more well known Zhinan Temple that overlooks Muzha (and is the penultimate stop on the gondola). I discovered it quite by accident about 10 years ago and have been coming ever since once or twice a year.

The temple is carved into the cave behind a 30m waterfall and you can walk into it, and get behind the falls, on the weekends and explore.

There's not so much to see inside though one wall has some interesting faded Buddhist script, and the caretakers are usually around offering tea to visitors. Sure enough that afternoon we were plied with cup after cup of Baozhong, a locally grown oolong. I had always thought Tieguanyin (Iron Guanyin) was grown in Maokong but the caretaker informed me that both are grown: Tieguanyin is planted on the other side of the ridge, closer to Taipei, while Baozhong is grown in the region closer toward Pinglin.

After lunch and tea we started back. At the bridge we continued upstream rather than crossing the bridge and returning the way we came. This is another favorite section of trail. Though Taipei sits just on the other side of the ridge, there is a palpable feeling that you have gotten away from it all. Or perhaps gotten back in time. The stream flows through a narrow but steep ravine. Some sections have manmade stone retaining walls and near the end an old rotted-out bridge crosses the junction of two small streams.

I love this spot though Xian Cao took some time to appreciate it.

At the confluence (if it can be called that), we headed up the left stream and then began a fast ascent to the ridgeline. It's a 30-minute climb through a lush forest that very few hikers take. Lots of beautiful old bamboo stands left over.

The stream is tiny here and flows through any even tinier canyon. It's perfect river tracing terrain for toddlers (Peter are you listening?).

At the ridge, there is a wide clearing and a junction of trails. Straight down takes you to the Maoking gondola station and Sanxuan Temple where we began. To the right is a splendid 2.5 hour walk to Ergeshan, the highest mountain in the southern foothills that ring Taipei.

We went left. At first we strolled along the ridgetop through open fields. Taipei spread below us and on a clear day like this looks pretty attractive (in general I think the city looks best from the south). In one clearing we could look east to Ergeshan, the last of the rolling summits in this pic:

And then it was down the ridge along a narrow trail, hemmed in by ferns and a forest of machilus and acacia.

In one dense section of woodland, a pair of black bulbuls (an endemic sub-species) in the trees above warned us away with their terrible squawks. Beautiful if rather territorial creatures. From the birding in Taiwan website:

Later, Chris found this wonderful but deadly mushroom. Notice the slug speeding up the side?

The trail eventually led us back to the lowest point of the ridgeline where we had stood a few hours earlier. We skipped back down to the road and on the way to the car (only 1km at this point) stopped in at Xiao Mu Wu (Little Wood House) one of our favorite restaurant-teahouses in Maokong.

We ate dinner and watched the sunset over Taipei.

Practicalities:
When the gondola reopens, as it should by the end of 2009, this hike will once again be a natural for anyone looking to get out of the city for a few hours. Just get off the gondola at the last stop (Maokong) and cross the road. Look for a set of stairs kitty corner and follow them up, turning right about 150m along.

This is a hike for all seasons and weather conditions. I particularly love the area on a misty day.

As this is just a hop from my house, the Dutch can get a lift with me by car anytime they visit. Which I hope is soon.

For more on the name Maokong see this article from Tailingua.

Here's the name card for the restaurant.

Practicalities:

Flora and Fauna of Taiwan

2009-11-04T08:58:00.000-08:00

I'm starting this post to gather in one location good books, DVDs and online materials on Taiwan's astonishingly diverse flora and fauna. Taiwan is said to hold 2.5% of the world's species and to have one of the highest concentrations of endemic species. Get out and learn some of them.

Flora of Taiwan: the six volume collection of books on Taiwanese flora (in English) is available for a free download from National Taiwan University. The first volume's introduction is one of the best overviews of Taiwan's natural environment (including geology and geography) I have seen.

Birds of East Asia, by Mark Brazil. Highly recommended as it contains all the species one can find in Taiwan (including migratory) in one book, in English. I'm waiting for Eslite to get their next shipment in as they've already sold out (as has Amazon.com).

This website by the Taiwan International Birding Association is fantastic. Birds are categorized as endemic species/sub-endemic and more. Lovely clear pics and summaries.

Various national park visitor centres are great sources for books and DVDs on local flora and fauna. Much of it is in Chinese but at least the latin names are there. Just do a Google search for the common English name.

I'll add more sources as I find them.

The Holy Ridge (雪山聖稜線): Days 1-2

2009-10-24T21:53:00.000-07:00

Behold this Holy Ridge!" wrote Japanese climber Numai Tetsutaro in 1928. "Who can fully accomplish this climb from Dabajianshan to Syue Mountain? Who can be crowned with the laurel of victory and be the first to tell of the truth and beauty of the journey?

Well, not me obviously (the first recorded climb was 1931), but perhaps I can be the first to tell a wider English speaking audience of the truth and beauty of the journey.

The Holy Ridge stretches, as Tetsutaro wrote, from Syueshan (Snow Mountain; Mt Shei on the map) to the stately rock summit of Dabajianshan, a distance of 15km. The entire route is above 3000m, and literally runs over a very rough, craggy, thin and precipitous ridgeline. The scenery is world class but this is not a hike for the faint-hearted.

The simple map below shows the basic route we took in August 2008. You'll notice we didn't reach Dabajianshan (Mt Tapa on the map) but followed instead the circular route known as the O-xing (O 型). This is a five day journey, with the better part of three days on the Holy Ridge proper. Dabajianshan was closed at the time we did this, but it has since reopened.

Day One:

We drove from Taipei out to Ilan County via the 18km Hsueshan Tunnel and then hooked up with the No 7 Highway. The 7 runs up the Lanyang Plain which divides the Snow and Central Mountain ranges. I am told the plain holds the largest cabbage patch in Taiwan.

The roads were washed out in places, as is all too common in Taiwan. We had a number of delays waiting for sections to reopen.

If you hike in Taiwan you have to get used to washouts, delays, changes of plans, and even cancellations. As landslide expert Dave Peltey wrote in his excellent blog:

For landslide scientists Taiwan has an almost mythical status, effectively being the nearest thing to a landslide laboratory...the combination of high rates of tectonic uplift, weak rocks, steep slopes, frequent earthquakes and extreme rainfall events renders the landscape highly susceptible to landslides and debris flows. Indeed, Taiwan has almost every type of landslide, although as an aside the number of known ancient rock avalanches remains surprisingly low given the prevailing conditions.

Of course the reason why Taiwan is of interest to landslide scientists is also the reason why it can be a challenging place in which to live. When the World Bank reported in 2005 on its "Disaster Hotspots" study it noted that "Taiwan may be the place on Earth most vulnerable to natural hazards, with 73 percent of its land and population exposed to three or more hazards.

Yikes!

Day Two:

We set out from Wuling Villa (a rough hostel run by the national park; note it's marked Wuling Hostel on the map) around 7.30am. It was dry and cool, an ideal 15 degrees. Our starting altitude was around 1800m: we would climb to 3300m by evening.

Richard and I were in fine spirits as we began along the first stretch of trail, a tarmac covered path to Taoshan Waterfall. About 1.5 hours up, the trail branched at a clear sign and we left the pavement for the path proper.

From the turnoff the trail began an uphill climb through a forest of thin fir and pine. There were no open views at first. Around the 2km mark the trail became fringed with Yushan cane, a type of tough yellow bamboo that seemed to hold moisture like a sponge. When the trail narrowed it was like walking past the brushers at a car wash. We emerged clean but soaked to the skin.

Also at the 2km mark the rounded mustard colored peak of Taoshan became visible across a pretty open meadow. Hikers should note that Taoshan (桃山; 3325m) is a great alternative to the (often busy) climb up Snow Mountain as it can be reached in a day, and offers some splendid views of the Holy Ridge from a cabin in a large clearing. The cabin (way in the distance):

The view:

We met some hikers who had overnighted in Taoshan and completed what are known as the Wuling-Quadruple (武陵四秀), four peaks above 3000m in the northern section of Shei-Pa National Park. The peaks are: Taoshan (桃山; 3325m), Pintianshan (品田山; 3524m), Chryou Shan (池有山; 3303m), and Kaleyah Shan (喀拉業山; 3113m). The group was full of praise for the hike, but didn't talk for very long as they were in a hurry to get back to Wuling and dry clothes.

It started to rain lightly on us as we neared the fork in the trail at Sancha Campground (三叉營地). But we were already sopping wet from brushing against the cane so there was not much do do but make note of the change of weather. After a long lunch in section of flat camp, we pushed on around 3pm to the ridge. Here, we turned west and for the next few days would never drop below 3000m nor leave the ridgeline.

We soon climbed over Chryou Shan and a rough stretch of black crags and barefaced cliffs on a trail that was more root and rock than ground. We entered a hemlock forest shrouded in fog and for the world it was like walking in a southern Soong landscape.

Another 2 hours and we reached Sinda cabin (新達山屋) sitting in a high alpine meadow dotted with grassy ponds. The pond water can serve as drinking water in an emergency, however the cabin's tanks are usually full. To preserve the pond water quality the cabin has an eco-toilet in the back.

I was a little chilled when we arrived, and my fingers and toes were wrinkled like I had been in a bath for too long. Inside was warm and dry, and we found we had to share the space with only three other hikers.

And a weasel.

Click here for Days 3-4.

The Holy Ridge (雪山聖稜線): Days 3-4

2009-10-24T21:48:00.000-07:00

Day Three:

The weasel was an unwelcome bedfellow, but as such fellows are, tough to toss out. He had gnawed holes in the lower walls and could come and go as he pleased. Oddly he seemed to prefer Richard to me and had a real liking for the Irishman's nose and wooly cap.

We were up at 5.30am to watch the sunrise. Another clear, crisp morning that would soon fog in. But we enjoyed it while we could.

We left the cabin at 7.30am. As always the first length of trail was straight up as we began to the climb to Pintianshan at 3524m. Cane overgrew the path but the hikers we had shared the cabin with had gone first and shaken the dew off.

The views as we climbed higher were stupendous. That's Chiyoushan in the background.

As we reached top of the meadow the fog was already rolling in. For the next few hours we hiked through a marshy landscape of yellow cane and dark Taiwan firs with blue-grey cones hanging plump on the branches.

The cane soaked us once more and my feet got very wet trudging around Pintian Pond.

As we approached Pintianshan we got our first taste of the dangers that would lie ahead. Can you see the hiker on the other side of this pic?

The top of Pintianshan is surprisingly flat considering it looks like a massive frenchman's cap from the distance. The amazing folds are known as "box folds" in geology.

The back side drops violently in a broken face of shale and sandstone wedges. Getting off the peak was one nerve-racking climb after another. Like descending a series of giant loose steps.

But then the descents and climbs continued as we had to pass over Bushoulan Mountain (布秀蘭山; 3438m) and then the massive stone upthrust that is Sumida (素密達山; 3517m).

The crossroads: east to Pintianshan, south to Snow, north to Dabajianshan:

After the hairiest descent (several hours later) we entered a beautiful fir forest with a deep green carpeting of grass.

Some twenty minutes later we reached Sumida cabin. It was 5pm and we were exhausted from the physical exertion of hiking all day in challenging conditions and the adrenalin of climbing down multiple sheer rock faces with bulky packs.

My feet again looked like they have been in water too long.

Day Four:

My favorite day. Steep cliffs, hairy climbs, hours trudging over crag and col, exposed on both sides to precipitous drops. For eye-candy there was the awesome Dragon's spine, the sublime North Face, epic panorama's, a textbook perfect glacial cirque, and an A-frame cabin nestled in a centuries old Juniper forest.

We left Sumida cabin around 11.20am. We had woken much earlier but Richard was suffering from malaise, and needed to rest for a while. We had to skip a climb up nearby Mutelebu Mountain. According to Richard, who climbed it on another hike last year, it is well worth it. The views are wide and inspiring.

As always it was a straight climb away from cabin followed by several long rope climbs and a long, long scramble down a deep ravine.

All in all it was about one hour of rough climbs up and down with fixed ropes.

After the last rope descent it was another four hours humping over the contours of ridgeline. We averaged about 3300m in altitude, and when the fog cleared we could see the entire sweeping broken outline of the Holy Ridge: from Dabajianshan south to Snow Mountain (including the little yellow mound of the east peak) and east to Taoshan.

The trail at times was no more than a foot wide, with a small barrier of rhodendron shrubs and low alpine junipers guarding the drop 1000m meters to the Qijiawan Valley to our east. The west side was often more crumbling cliff face than slope.

I probably shouldn't have stood so close to the edge here:

Nor should Richard:

The final crossing before the side path up to the North Peak is called the Dragon's Spine. It's a suitably awesome name for a rather frighteningly exposed and thin causeway. There isn't much between you and oblivion, and every gust of wind is met with a twinge of anxiety.

After crossing the spine, we clamored up to the North Peak (3703m). It was 4.30pm.

We rested at the top for some time, taking in the views of every major peak in the region, and admiring the way the fog, sweeping up from the west, could blanket us one moment, and then disperse as quickly. It was truly one of the most enjoyable alpine experiences I have ever had.

A surreal Buddha's Halo, or Broken Spectre, greeted us on the way down the North Peak. As I have written elsewhere, a Brocken Spectre is light phenomenon which enables you to see your shadow in a wall of fog in the distance with a rainbow or colored aura around it.

The Brocken, also called Blocksberg, is the highest peak (3,747ft, 1,142m) in the Harz mountains. This range is eight miles southwest of Wernigerode, Germany.

The Brocken Spectre, also called the Brocken Bow or Glory Ring, is produced by a low sun, casting silhouettes on the fog surrounding the mountain peak. Often these shadows have rings of light surrounding them (due to moisture in the air) which are similar to auras. This phenomena has given the Brocken a mystical significance in German folklore.

Due to magic connotations and stories surrounding the Brocken, witches began to celebrate the sabbath (April 30/ May 1st) midnight rituals there. The mountain even has a witches’ altar and devil's pulpit.

Descendants of the Brocken are known to have a sixth sense. They also possess the ability to feel poltergeists and perceive emotions in others. Equally sensitive to their powers, most are quiet about these abilities.

Goethe also made a trek to the Brocken in 1777 and the trail he took is now a tourist attraction. There is also a scene in Faust that occurs on the Brocken.

By 5.30pm we were making our descent to the north peak cabin, tucked into a sheltered juniper forest on a fairly wide and flat shelf on the east side of the ridge. It's only about 20 minutes from the peak to the cabin so it's also possible to just push on and then return to the North Peak later without your pack.

We had the cabin to ourselves again that night.

Click here for Days 5-6.

The Holy Ridge (雪山聖稜線): Days 5-6

2009-10-24T21:40:00.000-07:00

Day Five:

Just south of the cabin is a narrow col stretching north-south. You can watch the sunset at nigh and the sunrise in the morning. We did both and after the sunrise viewing went back to sleep.

It was 11am before we finally hit the trail again. The terrain was similar to the day before: rough, rocky, challenging and dangerous. We were fogged in most of the time and it rained hard on us several times during the day. There were many pretty sections with old juniper forests, low here, and gnarled and twisted. Pale grey rhododendron bushes sprouted up from any patch of rock or soil they could take root in.

This is what it would look like on a clear day:

Just past Mount Kailantekun (凱蘭特崑山; 3730m) the trail split, with the left trail descending down the slopes to 369 cabin (used by hikers tackling the main route up Snow Mountain). We continued along the ridge until a downpour made us stop and shelter under a plastic tarp I had carried along. We were at 3700m and getting wet and chilled. The rain flowed down the natural fissures and channels in the rocks and soaked our backs. There wasn't much to do but eat and tell bad jokes. Eventually we got bored and decided to push on. There would be a cabin at the end of the day where we could dry out.

It was tricky hiking in the slick whited-out conditions. I remember inching down a long fissure where one giant rock slopes was being thrust over another and then discovering that we had to traverse a ridge wall that seemed to extend into the abyss. Not over or down but straight across the face which offered very few solid foot or handholds. Insane, and after a few attempts we realized that the ropes had been tossed onto the wall by accident. We were supposed to go down into the ravine and with great relief we did.

Just below the main peak of Snow Mountain the trail split again. We dropped to the right and followed a long scree slope to a sheltered meadow with another gorgeous juniper forest.

There is a small pond here, Jade Pond (Cui Chi, Ts'ui Pond on the map), which is well regarded in Taiwanese hiking circles. What can I say? Some things have to be seen to be appreciated, and some things are better appreciated simply by being heard about. Jade Pond, revered for being the highest alpine pond in the country, falls into the later category.

We arrived at the cabin completely soaked. But we were not alone. Three groups of medical students had converged here in preparation for a grand meeting with even more student groups on the summit of Snow Mountain the next morning. It was a tight squeeze but the students were cooperative and very meticulous about leaving the cabin spotlessly clean the next morning.

Day Six:

We headed out for the final leg of our hike around 7.30am and for once enjoyed a leisurely flat stretch to the start the day. But then it was back up the very steep and slippery scree slopes to the ridgeline.

From there it was a quick final push to the top of Snow Mountain (3886m).

Look familiar? Yep, Pashan's avatar is of me on this day slogging it up the slopes to Snow. The rugged peak of Beilengjiao (北角峰; 3880m) is in the distance.

Worth noting is that the north slope of Beilengjiao features a textbook perfect glacial cirque and terminal moraine (essentially a big amphitheater-like slope with a mound below formed by the debris left behind by retreating glaciers). We missed it because of the fog but if you do this hike keep an eye out for it.

We hit the summit of Snow at 9.11am.

Shortly the student groups arrived and began to prepare for their group photos. It was a nice exercise in organization. Four teams, all approaching the summit from different directions had arranged to meet that morning for a celebratory photo. The cute young woman in the front even carried a red apple with her for 3 days just so she could pose in that hao ke-ai (how cute) way they do here.

We started down after a break. Up there at the summit the only plants are rhododendron, mosses, and alpine juniper. At the bottom of the massive cirque the Black Forest begins. We were quite surprised to see a troop of rock monkeys at the transition zone.

A few hours later we reached 369 cabin. I felt sore and out of sorts, probably from a lack of water. Jade Lake cabin does not have a water source except for the pond. I hate using pond water and so rationed what I had carried from the North Peak cabin. It was not enough and I went for a few hours at this rather high altitude without much to drink. It was a bad move and I was suffering for it now. (Note that I have since learned the pond is fed by a continuous flow of water and so should be fine for drinking.)

Fortunately, I felt better after downing a litre and eating some food. We left after an hour and made it back to the trailhead without any further troubles.

One thing worth mentioning is the abundance of wildflowers we encountered on the trip. I made a composite of some pics to give readers an idea. This is also late summer by the way, far past the rhodondendron blooming season.

Also worth mentioning, for this hike and pretty much all hikes in the high mountains, is the wonderful variety of bio-geographical zones you encounter in Taiwan. From the alpine conditions at the top of Snow Mountain, we would descend into a pure fir forest, then a more varied forest of oak, ash, hemlock, pine and fir, and finally a mixed wood of red pine, camphor and other laurels. Further down would be sub-tropical forests of camphor, fig and laurel. The zones are usually pretty clearly defined and relate more to altitude than other conditions. It's possible to make a reasonably good guess at your altitude based on the trees around you. I'll write more about this when I blog on the Southern Section Two and Yushan.

When we finally got back to the cabin at Wuling we found that the road back to Taipei was washed out and we would have to make a big detour down to Lishan and then across Highway 14 back to Taichung. It's a scenic route for the most part, especially around Hehuanshan where the highway system in Taiwan reaches its highest point (around 3200m).

Practicalities:

The Holy Ridge lies in the North-East corner of Shei-Pa National Park. Wuling Farm is a small recreation area within the park where you can find lodging and food and the trailhead.

Guoguang Bus Company runs from Yilan city to Wuling Farm. Call the 24-hour tourist hotline to get the latest schedule: 0800 011 765. It's a 6 kilometer walk to the Wuling Villa (really a rough hostel) at the trailhead but you might be able to catch a shuttle bus. Ask at the visitor centre right where the bus drops you off. Note that the trailhead is not the same as the one for Snow Mountain, unless you are going to do the Holy Ridge in the opposite direction I did (which is of course possible). You want the lodging at the beginning of the trail to Taoshan Waterfall.

As always, you need permits to hike the Holy Ridge or any mountain in the park. Barking Deer has now put everything you need online, including free samples of national park and mountain permit applications.

There is a good system of cabins well spaced so you can finish at one each night. Water is available at all the cabins though none in between. We went in August but it was still cool on the ridge, especially in the fog. Waterproof gear is a necessity and some warm clothing no matter what time of year.

I don't recommend people doing this without a guide unless very experienced. The Dutch of course will have me to lead them.

The entire set of pics for this hike, and a few from a later one with clearer weather, can be seen here.

The Yellow Butterfly Valley 黃蝶翠谷

2009-05-23T10:43:00.000-07:00

Last Monday, I drove down to Meinong, a small rural township in Kaohsiung County known for its Hakka and butterflies. The Hakka are a Han minority, with a distinct language and somewhat distinct culture, and comprise about 90% of the township's population. Hakka settled the area about 200 years ago and until recently thrived as tobacco growers. The area is still a rich farming district, and many old traditional three-sided dwellings dot the fields.

As for the butterflies, well, they actually have a more recent history. At least in part.

During Japanese times, the valley northeast of Meinong was planted with Hophornbeam tree. The wood of this tree is exceptionally hard and makes for durable
railway ties and gun buttstocks. But the leaves of the tree also happens to be a favorite food of the larvae of Catopsilia pomona, the Lemon Emigrant butterfly. The butterflies soon began to fill the valley with their pretty soft greenish-yellow wings in numbers that cannot be counted. (Not my pic below, alas.)

Despite its name, the yellows do not migrate in Taiwan, though they do elsewhere in Asia (it's a common butterfly in the region). I had thought that the reason for the lack of migration was the perennial good weather and food supply in Meinong but researchers at National Taiwan University have told me that this sub-species just isn't migratory. Oh well.

It was a little early in the season on Monday, but when we parked out car and started walking down the narrow pitch, we began to see butterflies flitting about the dry streambeds and in the dense jungle cover.

During the 90s the valley was slated to be flooded as part of a dam project. The DPP government put a halt to that in 2000 but did little to preserve the area. As a result illegal farming and other activities destroyed much of the butterfly's habitat. Their numbers started to drop.

When I say drop, I mean in the millions. Taiwan is known as the Kingdom of Butterflies and over 400 species call the island home. During the 60s and 70s tens of millions were caught every year and exported. If you are of a certain age, most of the butterfly kits you would have had as a kid came from Taiwan.

They even made paintings out of butterfly wings:

Miraculously, only a few species went extinct. Conservation efforts are quite strong now and all around the country local efforts are being made to restore areas to make them attractive to butterflies.

As for the yellow butterfly valley, about 3 years ago the government started enforcing their claim to the land. Of course, in that ridiculous way in which early shortsightedness always costs more, they ended up having to compensate squatters for the loss of their farms. Locals told us of people demanding money for a single papaya tree that had to be abandoned.

In any case, the area looks very cleared out now, and you can see most of the bamboo has been cut and the stalks cauterized. Lots of low scrubby grass now covers what was likely cleared land. Still a lot of fruit trees in the area and I imagine anyone is allowed to go and pick from these.

Eventually the valley will be turned into a proper reserve. And few places deserve that as much as this little rich little area. From the moment we started walking we were blessed with the songs of hundreds of birds: swallows, bronzed drongos, pheasants, shrikes, eagles and more.

I guess the small birds come for all the insect life that is around (attracted by the free meals of butterfly eggs and larvae) and the eagles for the smaller birds. Every time we looked into the bushes rising up the slopes we saw a dozen things with wings flitter or flash across our line of site.

The eco-system looked very healthy overall. There was a rich abundance of plant species, birds, butterflies, lizards, and the small streams even had crabs in them.

We only had time to stay for 2 hours and so just walked to the end of the dirt road and back. There are many trails in the area however and the streams themselves would be easy to walk up as well. They were pretty much dry the other day but I imagine would be higher in summer.

We spotted at least 10 different butterfly species (the valley is said to hold over 100), but I didn't get many good pics of them. They move a little too fast.

Some interesting ones of the eggs though. At one point I said that there must be a lot of eggs in the trees if this valley is going to boom in a month. And sure enough as soon as we started looking they were everywhere:

Some odd flowers were about too. Apparently this is the flower for the passionfruit tree:

The leaves of this plant folds in on itself when touched. Its name escapes me at the moment:

The Asian Longhorn Beetle, known in Chinese as the Sky Cow.

Practicalities:

You can reach Meinong by bus from Kaohsiung in 1.5 hours (a little longer from Holland). There are many bike rental shops in town and the local B&Bs usually offer them free for guests. You can ride out to the valley in an hour. It's a very pleasant trip on its own, through banana, coconut and betelnut plantations.

July is said to be the best time to see an abundance of butterflies. I'll be back this year for sure.

The following directions are from my friend Steve Crook's article in the China Post:

There are bilingual signs to the valley from downtown Meinong. Follow them until you come to a large, modern temple. Turn right here; go past the Shuangsi Tropical Viviparous Forest. When you come to a fork in the road, stay close to the river. Keep going to the where a small bridge crosses a side stream; the surfaced road continues no more than another 50 meters, but rough farmers’ tracks go on up the hillside.

You know you are on the right track when you see this temple:

Santiaoling Waterfall Trail (三貂嶺)

2009-05-15T22:13:00.000-07:00

The pic above says it all: fun. This trail that runs along the upper valley of the Keelung River, the main river flowing through Taipei, is as fun-in-the-sun as a day at a waterpark - and with its half dozen falls, not that dissimilar.

The trail used to be a favorite in the early days of the hiking club but we hadn't been back for years. It was only the fact that I didn't have the car on Sunday that the idea to go here popped into my head. Need to give my head a good shake for forgetting a place like this.

Today's trail begins at Santiaoling Station, the point where the Pingxi branch line breaks off from the main east coast trunk line, but once it was part of the old Tanlan Trail, an important system connecting Yilan (the east coast) with Taipei. Most of the route we were following today runs along the Wufenliao-Hsinliao River fault line.

We had a good sized group with us, eight when we stepped off the train. Within a few minutes another train dropped off our old friend Trail-hacker. He hadn't told anyone he would join us but we were all thrilled to have him along.

With this big group of old friends, and some new ones, we set off happily down the path alongside the railway line. We crossed under the main line and headed right, along the Pingxi Branch.

Low shooting of railway tracks was the goal for the day.

Five minutes later, at the tiny village of Santiaoling, we crossed the tracks again at the obvious sign for the trail. After a little bit on stairs we soon leveled out on a nice wide dirt path. The sun was warm as it shone through the trees, and we could hear the first fall, called Hegu (合谷瀑布; Joining of the Valleys Falls) not far off.

After viewing the falls from the distance we hiked round to the top. Two small streams come together at this point before dropping 40m to some nice pools that can be reached by river tracing up from where the stream joins the Keelung about .5km downstream.

According to Taipei Day Trips, there is a six-layer waterfall further up the smaller sidestream (the first you cross after viewing the larger fall from the distance). As long habit required, we vowed yet again to one day river trace up to these falls on a hot summer day.

But today we settled for sitting atop the Hegu Falls on the rocks above the drop and enjoying lunch.

Behind us in the thickets were some abandoned stone buildings from the days when the Keelung Valley was a major source of coal mining. There are still some tunnels around nearby that you can walk into if you know where the entrances are.

Here's one:

One day we may get up the nerve to wander deeper into the one above, which we believe crosses to the other side of the mountain a km or so away. But maybe not. These tunnels have been closed for 20 years and there has been a 6.9 degree earthquake along the way.

Somewhere out in cyberspace is a funny picture of Anita, an old hiking partner, in one of the stone buildings behind Hegu Falls. It was pitch black in the structure and a flash had to used to take a picture. Only when we got back and uploaded the file did we see the bats and massive spiders hanging on the walls behind her.

(Update: found the pic:)

The common fern in the pic below is reportedly gifted with the talent of prophecy. Bends in the leaves foretell the number of typhoons in the upcoming season. All the leaves on the plant, and all the others nearby, had one fold on them: let's hope the prophecy comes true.

Anyway, after lunch we continued up the path to the first of the overhang falls called Motian (摩天瀑布; Skyscraping Falls). Our geology professor friend Ulrich explained that the wall was composed of limestone and shale in different layers. Since shale is softer, big chunks of it have broken and fallen out over the years, leaving the giant slash of a cave that swings round behind the falls. It's like a scene from Last of the Mohicans.

Gotta go in:

It's a little cramped at the end:

The Buddha and the falls:

Now to the untrained eye, this looks like yet another pic of the same fall:

But it isn't. It's Pipa Dong Falls (枇杷洞瀑布; Loquat Cave) a near duplicate about 300m upstream. It's a steep climb up the slopes next to Motian to reach it and when you do you can't help but marvel at two 30m falls dropping off high limestone cliffs almost back to back.

The runoff after Pipa Dong flows along flatter ground here and there is a palpable serenity to the place. We stayed for a while snapping pics, wandering over to look down and across the valley from the top of Motian Falls, and just feeling good above being alive in such a place on such a day.

Another steep climb up some wood ladders brought us to a small paved trail. It's been so long that we've done this hike I thought it would soon be over. But in fact we had hours more to go.

The path wended its way through pretty patches of bamboo, daisies, angel trumpets, hibiscus, and Morning Glories, before dropping us off on a road. As it was a clear sunny day we could see rows of mountains rolling back on the horizon. To our right was the ridgeline of the wonderfully scenic Wufenshan Trail, an important side branch of the Tanlan Trail. Wufenshan was the scene of the hiking club's first hike so it's a nostalgic site. (It's also the location of that tunnel above but I'm not going to give any more directions than that.)

We followed the road downhill, veering off on obvious natural paths that straightened the bends. At a small village we turned left after crossing a short bridge and wandered down into Barbarian Valley, an old tourist park chock a block full of waterfalls, that unfortunately has been closed since the big earthquake of 1999. It is the focus of yet another long-term plan: that of river tracing up a side stream into the park for a look around.

We forgot to stop to check out the Lost Souls Falls, visible from one of those fake Chinese pavilions that still mar rural landscapes. Anyway, here's a pic from the old days:

From the parking lot at Barbarian Valley we headed up an obvious trail and after rounding a short pass started our descent to the Keelung River. It's a mostly staired route, but be very careful: even on a dry day it is rare not to slip and fall on your butt.

Lovely scenery all around:

In about 30 minutes we reached a bridge crossing over the Keelung.

On the other side we connected with the railway tracks of the Pingxi Small Rail Line, Taiwan's only private rail during Japanese times. Originally built to haul coal out of the valley, the rail is now purely a tourist vehicle. It's fun and once a month they use old-fashioned steam engines to pull the carriages. I'm not sure how to find out when though. I was just lucky the day I took these pictures to be in the area at the right time.

There's no path alongside the railway so we walked the tracks. Of course it was great. We were in a perfect, deep forested gorge on a hot spring day. We could smell railway ties and wild ginger, hear the crackle of stones under our feet, and the rush of the Keelung River below. We were as happy as kids.

There was even a tunnel to walk through, with the added bonus of getting to ignore a sign:

As we reached the other side we heard the train. These kids just barely got out in time (though the train drivers are used to walkers and would have stopped). Run away! Run away!

Stupidly, I was so consumed getting a pic of them that I didn't pay attention to my position. I felt a brush of wind on my cheeks and looked to see the yellow metal side of the train whizzing by about 6 inches from my face. Note to self: trains are wider than the tracks they are on.

We continued to follow the tracks and passed the old recreation area of Shifen Falls. The curtain shaped falls are known as the Niagara of Taiwan, and once, in an old brochure were mislabeled the Nicaragua of Taiwan (the latter was perhaps not so inappropriate however as the area was once a holdout for communist bandits in the 40s).

You used to have to pay an exorbitant (for Taiwan) NT180 to see the falls, but Taipei County suspended the operations license two years ago and is now is the process of trying to buy up the land. I hope they succeed. It is a beautiful fall, in a beautiful area and deserves to be a visible jewel in the crown of the waterfall trail (at the moment you can only gain a glimpse of it through the sheet metal fence).

I stood outside the gate of the old park and shouted "Free the Falls" but no one but me thought it was funny, alas.

Just past the falls a long suspension bridge stretches over the Keelung. Underneath is the minor Eyeglasses Waterfalls, so named because the shape of the depression behind the falls looks like eyes, with the fall water in the middle as a nose I guess.

The area around the falls is developed in the sense of having sensible footpaths along the river and a nice looking visitor centre. We crossed another suspension bridge over an area called Dahua Potholes. The circles you see in the pic are formed by small pebbles, churned by water currents, carving a hole in the soft limestone. It's a pretty cool site. These kind of potholes are fairly common in the Keelung Valley though this is the largest example I have found.

It's very pretty around the visitor centre.

Note that the ridgeline in the distance comprises in part the Pingxi Crags and Fentou Jian, sites of many previous hikes. The Keelung Valley is one hell of a great hiking destination.

The small village of Shifen, about 10 minutes from the visitor centre, looked on Sunday as if it had had a nice cleaning recently. I commented how it could be really great if they fixed it up like the old street in Sanxia, and Katanya noted that it was already very quaint. She was right and the way the railway runs through the centre of the village brings back feelings of old Taiwan like few other places can.

A massive nine-course feed at one of the local restaurants cost each of us a kingly NT170 each. After dinner we parted ways, with some of use catching the line to Jingtong where we caught the No 16 bus back to Muzha MRT station. The other took the train in the other direction back to Taipei Main Station.

In Jingtong a few of us enjoyed a cup of Mi Day, a traditional sesame paste drink made famous it seems by me:

Practicalities:

This is a linear hike so it is best to start at Santiaoling and end at Shifen though you could simply walk to the last fall and turn back.

You can only conveniently reach Santiaoling by train (after a long flight for the Dutch; see EVA's new schedule for BIG BIG BIG discounts!), but there aren't many a day from Taipei. We always catch the 10.40am which gets us to Santiaoling Station just before noon. Though you could finish the trail in a few hours, it's nice to take your time and arrive in Shifen around dinner.

There are signs from the station to the trailhead. From there on just follow the obvious path. When you get to the small paved path turn left and follow to the road. Then follow the road down into a small village and turn left just after you cross the stream. Head down and on the far side of Barbarian Valley parking lot look for a trail. That trail takes you to the Keelung River bridge. Cross and head up to tracks. Turn right and follow to Shifen. From Shifen you can catch a bus to Muzha MRT (before 5pm) or a train back to Ruifang where you transfer to a train to Taipei.

Richard Saunder's wonderful Taipei Day Trips explains how to get to another two falls close to Santiaoling station. We have explored them on other days but decided not to see them this time.

Full set of pics here.

Snow Mountain (Xueshan, 雪山)

2009-05-06T10:45:00.000-07:00

Back in 2005, exactly 90 years after the first recorded ascent, I climbed Snow Mountain (Xueshan; formerly Mt Silvia; 3886m) with a fellow hiker I'll call Igor (since that's his name). It was my first long trip in the high mountains of Taiwan and I thought I'd share the following report I wrote on Forumosa.com at the time. Snow is a popular hike - it's the second highest peak in Taiwan - and by most standards a more beautiful route than the one to Yushan.

While I have climbed Snow again as part of a longer route (across the glorious Holy Ridge), this is the only time I have done the standard three day hike to the main peak and back.

Day One:

Igor and I left Taipei around 1pm and drove to Shei-Pa National Park, or more specifically Wuling Farm, a recreation area within the national park. It's a beautiful place, as well laid out and scenic as a national park back home in Canada.

"Shei-Pa National Park covers an area of 76,850 hectares on the central Taiwan range, slightly to the north of central Taiwan. This is a region of magnificent mountains: within the park are 51 peaks over 3,000 meters high. It is a mostly wild and undeveloped area with a range of wildlife that includes many rare and endemic species. The park was founded to protect and study this splendid wilderness, maintaining the natural environment and all forms of life it includes. Conservation is therefore the first priority for Shei-Pa National Park, and a large proportion of its land is protected as Conversation Area with limited access for ordinary visitors."

Great campground:

We stayed in the basic Wuling Hostel and after dinner strolled down to Cijiawan Creek. This stream is famous within Taiwan for holding one of the last stocks of the Formosan Landlocked Salmon. This ice age relic spends its entire life cycle in the chilly high mountain waters. In other words, it is a salmon that never lives in the sea.

"Trapped in the streams of the high mountains, the Formosan Landlocked Salmon (Oncorhynchus masou formosanus) have lost the instinct of migration. At present, this type of landlocked salmon can only be found in Japan, Korea, and northeast China. Moreover, Formosan Landlocked Salmon in Taiwan are at the southernmost distribution in the world. Cijiawan Creek and Gaoshan Creek in the Wuling area on the east of Shei-Pa National Park are the only habitat for this species of salmon."

Day Two:

After breakfast in a nearby hotel, we drove 5km or so up to the ranger station at the start of the trail to Snow Mountain. MISTAKE. In addition to a national park permit, hikers need to check in at the police station in Wuling Farm and apply for a mountain permit.

After sorting out these permits we returned to the station. The rangers checked our papers and then, in a friendly manner, fell into a debate over whether we should be forced to watch a movie introducing the park. They finally came down on the side of reason and told us to go our merry way. We humped our packs onto our backs and started up the trail.

At this point we were already at 2140m. Our destination for the day, the first cabin, called Chika, was 2,463m. It is a 2km, 1.5-2 hour hike to the cabin. (Chika by the way refers to the 7km from the original trailhead, or last station, to the cabin. Those taking the bus to Wuling will find that it is still Chika indeed.)

We arrived at Chika around noon, not two hours from leaving the ranger station. Our plan was to make a day of it at Chika and head up to the second cabin near the summit the next day. MISTAKE (of sorts). There is nothing to do at Chika. It is a cabin in a clearing on a very steep trail.

That said, there were a few small trails nearby (that weren't part of the main trail) and on one of these I was privileged enough to see a juvenile Formosan black bear at about 30 metres. I had followed a trail behind the cabin to a small waterfall that sources the cabins sinks and toilets. As I stood looking at the water tumbling down the shale slopes, I heard a crash and a large animal dashing across the level ground across the stream. At first I thought it was a monkey until it rushed passed a 3m wide clearly and I clearly saw a long snout, whitish fur around the neck (the Formosan's classic white V), and the unmistakable loping gate of a bear.

He was clearly more scared than me, though I was a little stunned to have seen a bear in Taiwan. I went back to the cabin, at first not sure if it had really happened. But it was a bear and while they are rare, they are still hundreds roaming the high mountains of Taiwan.

After exploring the cabin area some more, Igor and I realized we had nothing to do till the next morning. Stupidly, neither of us had brought a book or musical device, or even a deck of cards. It was a very very long day let me tell you.

There was no one else in the cabin that but Igor and me night: I still slept poorly. Lots of little critters crashed around in the bush outside and thumped on the metal roof.

Day Three:

The next day, after a long breakfast, we set out around 11am. Our destination was 369 Cabin (at 3150m). It was a long, grueling hike up switchback after switchback. Very little level ground. All hikers to Snow will recall one particularly brutal section of trail called the Crying Slope: it was a good challenge with heavy packs on.

As the altitude increased it got harder to breathe deeply. I'm more used to it now but this first time above 3000m was difficult. Sudden movements up (such as two or three quick steps) left me lightheaded.

After four hours of hiking we reached the summit of the East Peak (3201m), an exposed knoll surrounded by stunning alpine scenery. It's the last section you can get regular cell phone reception.

We ate lunch and enjoyed the view. Actually, we enjoyed the view all the way up. One of the best features of this hike is the ever-varying terrain. There were forested slopes, sunlit meadowland, bamboo forest, grassy bluffs, and stands of thousand year old oak and juniper trees. The walls of the Holy Ridge to the north were folded up like a xylophone. If you dropped two people off on the mountain, pointed them in different directions and asked them to describe their surroundings they would not likely imagine they were in the same place.

Off two km in the distance from East Peak, and a 100m lower in elevation, lay 369 Cabin (3150m) on a slope of dwarf bamboo. We were there in 90 minutes, grateful as hell for the stretch of downhill.

It was about 5:30 when we arrived and the daylight was fast fading. We set our packs down, claimed a bed (there were 20-30 other hikers - some already tucked in for the night) and made dinner.

After chatting with some fellow hikers, we discovered that it would take 3.5 hours to reach the summit the next day. Much longer than we had expected. This meant a 2am rise if we wanted to reach the peak at sunrise.

We decided against this. I knew I couldn't get up at 2am, hike 11 hours (we had to return to the car the same day) and then drive safely 4 hours back to Taipei. In retrospect, it was a wise decision.

Day Four:

We rose at 6am and watched a beautiful sunrise from the cabin deck. After a quick breakfast, we hit the trail.

Within a few minutes we both expressed our joy that we had not done the trail in the dark. The scenery was too good to miss. The first section cut through the Black Forest, a large stand of Taiwan firs.

Later, closer to the summit, we emerged from the shade of the firs into an ancient stand of whitened junipers. Because of the short growing season in the alpine environment, many of the junipers were only a few feet off the ground yet hundreds of years old. They were an awesome sight, with their twisted roots, and complex branching patterns.

At the point where the forest gave way to alpine meadowland we were just under a kilometer from the summit. The views were grand up a glacial cirque, covered in scrubby Yushan Rhododendron plants about halfway to the summit. In May and June the slopes are blanketed in white and pink flowers. I am still hoping to see this one-day.

In this deep valley we found our perspective was really off. We thought the mushroom-like peak off to the right was our destination and wondered how we could possibly reach it in time. But actually the softly rounded mound that tops the slopes straight up the cirque was the summit. We discovered this, as so many must, only by reaching the summit and seeing the plaque.

Igor and I were alone at the top when we arrived. A Japanese group (with a 71 year old woman in the lead) arrived shortly. We took some pictures and video and shared snacks and a conversation in broken English with the others. The Japanese had come to Taiwan specifically to climb Yushan and Xueshan. They all agreed that Xueshan had the better scenery.

It was hard to imagine then how it could get any better (though now having done both I am torn in half with my loyalties). We had perfect visibility in all directions and could see the run of +3000m peaks that compose the Holy Ridge. We vowed to come back and do the 5-day hike that covers them all. (Last August I did and will blog about it one day soon.)

We hung out on the summit for half an hour and then set off back to 369. It took 2 hours to return which brought us to 1pm. There were still had another 4 hours to hike back to the car.

After a lunch and some much-needed rest, we started out again at 2pm. At Chika we picked up some excess gear we had stowed and stopped for a break. Our Japanese friends were ahead of us and nicely had guides cooking for them. We would have loved to stay but it was growing dark and we had a 40-50 minute hike to the ranger's station and car.

As it was, we walked the last half and hour in the dark using headlights. This experience confirmed that getting up to hike in the dark is the dullest thing one can do in the mountains.

We had one last adventure.

After leaving the ranger station we drove down into the campground. But where was the road out of this area? After several tries, our frustration levels rising, we saw a working vehicle approach. We asked the driver for help and he said to wait till he had done his errands. Twenty minutes later (and one false alarm where we thought he was leading us into an empty field to murder us) he led the way out.

Why couldn't we find it on our own? Because the road we had taken in had washed out in the three days we were up in the mountains. There was a temporary dirt side road beside it, but it was unsigned and impossible to see in the dark.

The ride back to Taipei was long and tiring. There were times the glare from traffic made my eyes water so much I had to pull over.

Practicalities:

The trail is wide and clear the entire way up. It is signposted almost every 100 yards (1.1km, 1.2 km, etc.) with maps at the cabins and various points along the way. There are interpretation signs introducing trees, plants, animals and geographical features. They are in English and Chinese and add a lot to the experience.

There are small wicket fences blocking side trails and offshoots. This makes even the black forest area completely safe to cover. I can see how it would be possible before to get off on a side trail, but not now.

Both cabins are good, with barracks style bedding and water supplies, toilets and cooking areas. There are flush toilets and solar powered lights.

There is a reliable source of water a Chika. People have said that 369 does not always have a steady source but it seems to now. Best to call before you go. There are a few small sources of water in the black forest.

Hiking Times:

Ranger Station to Chika: 1.5-2 hours
Chika to 369 cabin: 5-6 hours
369 to summit: 3-4 hours
Summit back to 369: 2 hours
369 back to ranger's station: 4 hours.

(Dutch travellers should add about 35 extra hours to all the above to cover fying here.)

Igor and I went in mid-November. It was mild around the first cabin. During the day I wore shorts and a long short. At night it got down to around 12 degrees.

It was cooler at 369. By 5pm it was 8 degrees. It probably got down to 3 or 4 at night. But it was warm in the cabin. During the day, up near the peak it was probably around 12 degrees. You need to bring warm clothing for the summit, as it is exposed and the wind can really chill you. Gloves, a hat, a sweater, and a Gortex jacket come in handy. You may not need them as you tramp through the black forest, but you will up top.

Permits:

Barking Deer has the lowdown.

Wuling Farm:

There are three hotels and a campground within Wuling. The campground is set on a magnificent valley, surrounded by forested mountains. It's one of the loveliest settings for camping you'll find anywhere. It's halfway from the bus station to the trailhead. There are pre-set tents so you don't need to carry your own.

Transportation:

You can drive to Wuling Farm from Taipei in under 4 hours. It's a simple route with the new tunnel, essentially being a ride down the 5 (the tunnel) and then the 7.

By Bus: there is a bus from Ilan to Wuling Farm. I would call the 24-hour tourist hotline to get the latest schedule: 0800 011 765.

There is supposed to be a tourist bus within the farm area. Ask at the visitor centre when you get off the bus from Ilan. If there is no bus you will have to walk to the trailhead which will take an hour or two.

There's a convenience store by the visitor centre.

Beidawushan 北大武山: The Ship of the South

2009-03-06T21:33:00.000-08:00

For some time, my weekend hiking partners have been asking me to arrange an overnight hike with them; preferably in the high mountains. I had many options in mind, but when I read a report of my friend Stephen's hike up Beidawushan, I knew I had my destination.

Beidawushan (aka The Ship of the South) is the most southerly of the 3000m+ mountains that run north-south along Taiwan's central spine. It stands apart from mountains to its north giving it excellent prominence and affording stunning views to the east and north. On clear days it is possible to observe both the Pacific Ocean and Taiwan Strait from the summit. Located between the Dawu and Shuanguihu (Ghost Lakes) Nature Reserves, it is an ideal habitat for wildlife and is considered to be the last possible home of the endangered (and probably extinct) clouded-leopard in Taiwan. Other fauna often seen are various kinds of thrushes, gray-throat eagles, crown eagles, phoenix-headed hawks and black kites. Beidawushan is also known for the rare hemlock spruce. It is regarded as a holy mountain, and home to spirits of the Rukai and Paiwan people living in its shadow. Residents of Kaohsiung may sometimes have great views of this mountain, only about 40 kilometer away, after air-clearing typhoons.

The weather reports all showed clear skies and warm days for the entire weekend. In high spirits we met Friday night and drove down to Pingdong, Kate's collection of movie soundtrack CDs adding to the festive mood: Mama Mia!

We stayed the night in a local hotel. Interestingly, the receptionist was the same as two years ago when I had last stayed here, though she didn't seem to recognize me. I suppose lonely Lonely Planet writers have a sharper memory for pretty girls that stray their way than vice versa.

The next day we were on the road by 8am after a hearty breakfast at a local MOS. Though the trailhead was only 30km away as the crow flies it took us 3 hours to drive the backcountry roads and up the final tortuous stretch. At one point we shared the tarmac with hundreds of cyclists engaged in a mountain race. Cycling is getting more and more popular in Taiwan and local communities regularly hold such competitions.

The last 3km of road were terribly broken and potted, and I had to ask my friends to walk to avoid bottoming out on the bumps. We parked about a km from the trailhead (elevation 1520m) and walked the rest of the way up.

Though we had been promised sunshine, we began in the fog.

Monstrous vegetation hemmed us in.

After an hour, a newcomer to our group decided the trail was more than he could handle and turned back. I do thank him though for leaving behind his gouda, salami and crackers. They went down very nicely in the rain.

After four hours of hiking we broke through the fog. We were literally above the clouds and sitting on a lumpy rock lookout enjoying one of Beidawushan's premier attractions: the sea of clouds.

In the photo you can see the peak in the distance and the long arch of the ridgeline we would have to cross the next day to reach it. Before the start of the hike, I knew almost nothing about Beidawishan and had imagined a relatively straightforward climb up a wide trail through a thick forest. But here was something more like a towering Huangdi Dian. It was unexpected, but very welcome.

We continued on and crossed this remarkable stone causeway.

Kate's pic shows pretty clearly that it is more or less a solid natural wall of stone with sheer drops on either side. At some point it must have been wider, and at some further point in time it will surely break during an earthquake or wash out after a typhoon. I suppose the Taiwanese will then simple install ropes to take hikers down to the bottom of the chasm and up on the other side, wherever that may start.

A few minutes past the wall we reached the campground, a place called Juniper Lodge (elevation 2,145 meters). Set amongst centuries old cedars, and featuring rough toilets, sinks, and running water it was another unexpected surprise. That's an understatement. It was fantastic. I could hang out there for days. We found two clear spots and set up our tents. Our neighbor was a junior high school Chinese teacher and a friendly, chatty fellow.

From the trailhead to the campground (which also has a cabin) was a 4-5 hour (4.5km) hike, quite short really and hikers can carry more food and supplies than they might normally consider. We were no different and enjoyed quite the feast for dinner: pasta salad with fresh veggies and feta cheese; more cheese, salami and crackers; Belgian waffles; fresh cut fruit; and a three berry cobbler. Next time a Duvel or Trappist beer or two will surely be included.

Alarms rang at 5am and waffle, oats, and coffee soon followed. We hit the trail an hour later as the darkness lifted. We were alone as almost all the other hikers had left at 2am to reach the summit by dawn. We planned to summit by 10.30am, spend 30 minutes enjoying the view, then return to the campsite by 2.30pm and be at the trailhead before 6pm.

The morning air was warm and clear, though already the lowland plains were beginning to haze over. We peaked out through the trees into some very dreamy distant landscapes.

About an hour into the hike we encountered this 1000 year old red cedar with a 25m circumference. What a beauty, and again, what a surprise.

The trail rose in a series of switchbacks. Some tricky rope climbs and scrambles across rock faces kept us on our toes. The pre-dawn hikers were now on their way back. They cheered us to no end, asked far too many questions, and in general slowed our progress up the rougher sections.

We reached the top of the ridgeline (at about 3000m) in two hours. At this point, we realized our time was getting short, and Chris, not our fastest hiker, decided to drop out and return to the campsite to pack up. Katanya and I continued on as fast as we could.

The trail, now just meters wide - and sometimes narrower - ran atop a wooded ridgeline, and was pure joy to hike. At times we were making haste through thick swatches of dwarf bamboo, shaken dry by the hundreds of hikers before us. Other times we were scrambling down inclines holding on to the roots of old junipers. One side of the ridge lay obscured in fog; the other bathed in sunlight. It was fine, pure, colorful, and enchanting.

About an hour after leaving Chris behind, we reached the remains of a Japanese shrine.

It's a landmark of sorts for hikers indicating that the summit, though only 50m higher, is still an hour away.

We reached the summit at 11am, just 30 minutes off schedule.

The way the fog piled up on one side made the back peak look like a volcano erupting:

After a quick lunch and some photos, we hustled back to camp. It's worth mentioning a short conversation we had along the way with an older fellow who had hiked the mountain 20 times.

"Did you see a man with a red helmet at the summit?" he asked in quite respectable English.

We had.

"Well, he has climbed Beidawushan 579 times. He comes up here 2 or 3 times a week."

Kat and I arrived at camp around 2.30pm. An hour later we were all packed and heading down the trail. We entered the fog zone and again a light misty rain fell on us sideways.

We met a group of Seventh Day Adventists on their way up. One carried a guitar. That caught Kat's eye. Another carried a suitcase. That caught my eye.

Now going up a damp, slippery trail is one thing; going down is another. We made good time but had to be very cautious on the wet stones and logs and especially on the cliffs when the trail narrowed and dropped off sharply on the left.

Near the end, we ran into our neighbor from the campground. His hand was bleeding from a slip going down a rocky incline. Typically, he would not let us help but waved us on. A little while later he passed us again, encouraging us to speedup our pace as the daylight was fast waning.

As it was, we did walked the last 30 minutes to the car in the dark. Even with our headlights it was difficult to see through the vapours. Driving was even worse, with visibility only 4-5m in the distance, and almost no ground visibility at all. I knew I was on the road only because I could see the vegetation lit up on both sides.

Conditions were pretty awful. Kat got out to help me steer around a switchback and then decided to stay out and run in front, pointing out turns and dangerous potholes and lumps on the road. She was a trooper for doing so after 10 hours of hiking. In the hazy visibility, however, watching her and her orange short dashing ahead of the moving car made us all laugh.

"It's like a horror scene from Christine!" Kate yelled out.

I wish I could say that we quickly hit the main road and rode out of the fog. But we didn't. About 3km down we almost literally ran into our neighbor, stuck in a ditch. We got out and pushed, planned, schemed and sulked, but there was no way to unstuck the vehicle. And no way to get around it.

As luck would have it there was no cell phone reception either. Kate and I decided to walk to the nearest village to get help. Our neighbor was opposed to this for some reason but I had decided already that while he was a nice man, he didn't have much sense dealing with emergencies.

As it turned out, we got reception about 200m down the road.

After this things get a bit confused. Though we called a tow truck it never arrived. Meanwhile, another hiking group pulled up behind my car and became pretty vocal and aggressive expressing their annoyance at not being able to pass.

Three hours from the moment when we had first arrived at the accident, two local police officers, one rather heavy set and the other short and underfed drove up on scooters. What followed next was a classic scene of small town cop fatuousness.

Seeing the front left wheel of the car had no traction, the cops began loading the ditch with stones. It seemed like a good idea and we had even tried it ourselves. The problem was the van had back wheel drive. We watched amused as the cops spent 20 minutes moving stones and chopping down plants, all to create a path under the front wheel that would not revolve an inch when our neighbor revved the engine.

"Oh, its rear wheel drive," the heavy cop muttered.

Around 11pm a tow truck finally arrived. It seems our neighbor, fearing a great fleecing from a local operator, had gone down the road to cancel the one Kate and I had called. The truck that showed up 3 hours later belonged to some nationwide car association that has fixed rates for this kind of thing. Great. At 11.30pm we were finally on our way home. We drove all night, Chris and I taking turns at the wheel when we weren't stealing a few minutes sleep.

I stepped into my apartment at 7.30am. I dropped my muddy pack and muttered that I would empty it tomorrow, and give it a wash too. I stepped into the bathroom, looked at my salty, sweaty face and noted that I would wash it later too. I went to bed and slept till six.

Practicalities:

The hike is almost a perfect weekend getaway if you live in the south. It's a bit more of a slog on the last day if you live in the north as you will have to drive 5-6 hours after 10 hours of hiking (unless you take three days). In any case, don't be fooled by how close the mountain is to Kaohsiung, Tainan and Pingdong. It is still a three hour drive.

The trail is 10km in length and well maintained. There's reliable water at the campground and also one hour up toward the summit. Signposts are in English and Chinese. You can't get lost.

The following (and also the intro at the start of this blog entry) comes from a practical guide to hiking in Taiwan that Richard of Barking Deer is currently working on:

If driving Freeway Number 3, take the exit signposted for Sandimen - Highway 24, and travel 10 kilometers eastwards. Just before entering Sandimen there are signs for Majia (and 7-11), turn right here, turn right again at the 7-11 five hundred meters ahead. Travel 1.5 km along this road (shares the 187/185 name), before turning left, at a big temple on your left, onto Highway 185. The left turn(towards the hills) for Taiwu is 12 kilometers to the south, just after the 40km marker. If coming from from Kaohsiung city by car it may be more convenient to the Number 88 Expressway to the end, and then drive through Neipu.

One kilometer up the hill you come to Jiaping Village 佳平村 (often known as Taiwu Village, there are actually two Taiwu's - this one and the one further up the mountain), stop here at the police station to complete the permit process. The friendly and helpful police on duty (24 hours, but prefer if you come before midnight) have application forms available, may help you fill them in, AND do NOT need everything in triplicate!

With your permit in order, go up the hill through the village, around a small traffic circle, and then at the top of the village veer right past a closed checkpoint and onto Pingdong Road Number 106. Turn left at the T intersection after 8 kilometers. When, after another 4km, you enter the second Taiwu Village 泰武部落 through an ornate gate keep straight ahead, not turning right into the village proper, or left onto farm roads.

*****(see note below) The remaining 6 kilometers of road gets narrower, bendier, and deteriorates badly before coming to the clearly signposted trailhead at 1,520 meters elevation. Use caution if driving a vehicle with a low wheel-base and consider parking lower down, before the trailhead proper. Additionally, at busy times, such as weekends, there may not be much space right at the trailhead to park easily.

*****Note that the last 6km road was heavily damaged in 2009 by Typhoon Morakot and while the trail is again opened, you must begin hiking at least several kilometres from the official trailhead. This will add another hour or more to the hiking times given above.

As always, reserved parking is always at hand for our Dutch visitors.

For the full set of pics see here.

Pashan's Picks

2009-02-24T03:04:00.000-08:00

I've decided to add a new feature to the blog: Pashan's Picks, which will link to articles and other blog posts on hiking in Taiwan. To start here's a good overview of some of the longer trails around the country by my friend Steven Crook in Taiwan Journal.

...efforts to draw international visitors to Taiwan's mountains have received a boost from National Geographic Adventure, a monthly zine published in nine languages by the U.S.-based National Geographic Society.

In its November 2008 issue, the magazine included Taiwan on a list of 25 Best New Adventure Travel Trips 2009. Describing the island as "standing shoulder to shoulder with the world's great trekking destinations," National Geographic Adventure also included Indonesia, Nepal and eastern Russia in its Asia section.

According to Pete Royall, a manager with U.K.-based firm KE Adventure Travel that set up the 15-day itinerary in Taiwan, the company is always on the lookout for new routes and destinations to offer its clients. "To many people in the West, Taiwan may not immediately present itself as a destination for adventure travel, but the scenery is superb with lots of hiking above the tree line," he said. "Taiwan's ranges are crisscrossed by established trails which give relatively easy access to wild and remote areas."

The Taiwan itinerary includes 12 days of what the company's brochure describes as "demanding trekking," and 11 nights spent under canvas or in mountain refuges. On most days, the trekkers will be walking for five to seven hours, but there will be some longer days of 11 hours or more.

Enjoy.

The Fu-Ba National Trail

2009-02-13T09:25:00.000-08:00

It's already the middle of February and I haven't had an update of Pashan. There are so many hikes backlogged now it is hard to know where to begin. Some of the grander ones such as the five-day circuit of the aptly named Holy Ridge will have to wait until I sort through 1300 photographs. Let's start with an easy, but hardly less worthy, lower elevation route: the 18km Fu-ba National Trail.

Fu-ba gets it's name from the start and end points of the trail: Fushan and Baling Villages. According to the national trail system website:

The Dakekan Group of the Taiya Tribe first opened the Fubayuehling Historic Trail 200 or 300 years ago. The group traveled through the 2,000m-high Daguan Mountain in the southwest of Baling to reach Fushan and Wulai, making the trail an indispensable access for exchanges and marriage: for this reason the Historic Trail is known as Marriage Trail. In 1913 the Japanese army took Balong (Baling of today) and established a mountain police trail. In the early years of the Republic of China the trail linked mountain sectors in Taoyuan Department and Taipei Department to meet the economic needs required by the camphor industry and the military need to control the Taiya Tribe.

Some might know the end of the trail as Lalashan, a reserve for some of the oldest cypress trees in Taiwan (we're talking thousands of years here). Actually, some might even know this as the beginning of the trail, as many groups begin in Lalashan and hike down. But that's tough on the knees and in any case, the Fushan entrance is an hour from my house, while the Lalashan-Baling (on the somewhat treacherous North Cross Island Highway) is about 6 hours.

So the gang met up at Xindian MRT station and drove out to Fushan Village. Alert readers of Pashan may recal that this is the same route we took exactly a year earlier to hike the Hapen National Trail. At the time I did not know the Fu-ba and Hapen trailheads are within a kilometre of each other.

As the crow flies, Fushan isn't far south from Taipei. But past Wulai the road narrows and twists above the Nanshih, a fast flowing river in a deep cut valley that's green with the bounty of nature beyond compare. This is a gorgeous slice of Taiwan; a rugged mountainous holdout; a centre for aboriginal culture, and a hikers dreamscape with dozens of un-crowded trails cutting through undeveloped land. Just now, looking at my maps with the simple goal of getting the names of the rivers down, I got lost in plans for a hour.

Anyway, last Sunday we parked at Fushan Village and crossed a little tributary of the Nanshih River on a handsome looking suspension bridge. Suspension bridges are common in Taiwan but I love them all.

The trail began to climb right away but it was surprisingly manageable. In fact, it was downright pleasant, so unlike the stairmaster workouts that are so many of our hikes.

As a national trail it was also well furbished:

We climbed along the southern slopes of the Zhakong River Valley for a couple km. The trail then split, the Fu-ba heading right and up toward the Daguanshan mountains. The forest was rich in fir, cypress, and beech, and the barkless wonder known as the monkey slip tree (see two pics up). But I wasn't paying that much attention as the wet tropical vegetation was more varied and more distinguished.

I love this shot:

We hiked about a third of the 18km length of the full trail before turning back. Near the end, we passed by the same flocks of chirping yellow-throated minivets we had encountered earlier, rounding the day off on a literally good note.

Practicalities:

The Fushan trailhead is south of Wulai about 18km (which is south-east of Holland about 19,345km). It's obvious on the left just before the village of Fushan. There is infrequent bus service from Wulai to Fushan so your own transport is best (you can arrange for a taxi to take you here in Wulai). Biking the route is also an option, and a damn fine one at that.

It's possible to hike up the entire lenth of Fu-ba in a long day (it's 6 hours hikng down) and stay in Baling at the top in a homestay. There may be buses from Baling back to Taoyuan (where you can catch a train to Taipei) but check first. Mountain bus routes are always being cancelled.

It's also possible to camp out on the trail. We saw lots of clearings along the trail that were obviously being used for just this purpose. This is an all weather trail, though inquire after typhoons.

The Sunriver 1:25,000 scale maps you find at mountain equipment shops near the Taipei Main train station covers the first half of the trail on map 9. If you can find the forestry department map of the whole trail buy it.

Last point, remember to bring a passport or ARC as you need to pass a police check on the way in (such checks are common into mountainous areas of Taiwan).

Return to Nanao: the Biyahao Historic Trail

2008-12-20T09:28:00.000-08:00

You live here long enough and the whispers of the past start to rise to a conversation. Cuts through the forest became trade routes, sites of major battles, and forced resettlements of the native populations by Qing, Japanese and Guomingdang colonizers. And you start to make connections.

Such was it two weeks ago when we stumbled more or less on a centuries old path that runs from Nan-ao on the east coast as far inland as the No 7 highway. It's a few dozen km as the crow flies but 4-5 days with a pack on your back and a determined look to conquer the Batongguan of the north.

As with the Batongguan, the Biyahao Trail began as an aboriginal trade and transport route. In this case, it facilitated the salt trade for the Atayal. This from the National Trail System website:

"The Biyahao Historic Trail used to serve the Shakadan Group of the Taiya Tribe when traveling upstream of the Dajia River across the Siyuan Path before proceeding eastward to Nanao River and Dazhuoshui river and the trip covers the mountain trails in Siji and Nanao."

Those who recall my blog on the Batongguan trail will know that work on that trail began in 1875 after the Mudan incident showed the Qing had no real control over most of eastern Taiwan. As rush of trade and military routes began to be established all over the island.

"In 1889, Liu Chao-dai (劉朝帶), Liu Ming-chuan's nephew, led a team of about 500 soldiers to developed a path in the mountainous region at Xiao Pi-nan-tang (小埤南塘) in Xiao Nan-ao. They tried to find a route to reach San-pu-li village (前山埔里社). In search of San-pu-li village, Liu Chao-dai and his men were attacked by Atayal people of Lao-gou-fan village (Lao-gou-fan, 老狗番, literally means old dog barbarian) at Dong-si-ren-keng (Dong-si-ren-keng, 凍死人坑, literally means freeze to death in Chinese). Approximately 300 soldiers were killed in this encounter which included Liu Chao-dai himself."

Liu Ming Chuan was the first governor of Taiwan after it was made a Qing province in 1885. He used all his power and connections to gather an overwhelming modern force to punish the Atayal for killing his relative.

Six years later, the Qing lost Taiwan to the Japanese. Under the new colonial rulers the Atayal did not fair much better and the Biyahao trail became yet another police route (as the Batonguan was). After 1945, all the villages up the valley were forced by the new KMT government to relocate closer to the coast. Hence Wuta is now a small settlement along the coast (served by the east coast rail line), while a day up the Biyahao trail you can find the abandoned remains of Old Wuta and a number of other centuries old aboriginal villages.

So how did I find all this? Well, a Taiwanese friend we all refer to as "Trail Hacker" informed me last summer that the forestry department was restoring an historic trail from Nanao to Siji: in other words, from the east coast across undeveloped mountain ranges to the No 7. The National Trail System website had a short entry on the trail and I devoured it, hungry as always for more.

A few weeks ago I headed out to Nanao to see if I could find anything more. During the day I visited an Atayal museum, a native species centre, a forestry department branch, and a local village chief. Information was sketchy, conflicting, or at best, promising, but out of immediate grasp ("I'll give you the number of a friend who does guiding in the area.") But we did get general directions to the area where the trail should begin.

Now readers will recal that last month I visited Nanao and wrote about a river trace up the Nan-ao North River. Well, this time we were heading up the South River. As with its counterpart, the south runs through a deep wooded valley. On this day the valley was bursting with color as the handsome white silver grass bloomed in the open fields.

But as captivating as the scenery, what caught me more was the feeling that this was land, though so little developed, had been lived in for a long time.

We drove up the 57, a small country lane off Hwy 9, and a little past the village of Jinyang found a path called the Zhong-yue Stream Trail. I don't know the history of the trail but it was recently restored as a type of make-work project for the local community. We explored briefly, admired the crystal clean clarity of the stream water, but had to return to our car prematurely as it was getting dark.

That was a Sunday. By Monday I was chaffing to go back and explore. The weather that week promised to be glorious, sunny and dry, and so I made a date to return on Thursday no matter what. One of my regular hiking partners, Kate Lin, kindly offered to join me, and we set off at 8am from Muzha.

Despite the early morning traffic through town, it was smooth sailing once we got on the highway, and two hours later we arrived in Nanao. We drove across town, crossed the north and the south river, and then turned to follow the latter upstream.

When we got to the trailhead for the Zhong-yue Stream Trail, I decided to drive a little further to the end of the road. Since Sunday I had had a look at my wonderful Formosan Complete Road Atlas, and discussed the area online with the hiking god Jah Linnie. I was pretty sure the road would end in a few km and the trail to Siji would begin.

So it was. And the trail was signed too:

Of course it says Wuta Old Trail, but this is part of the whole Biyahao Trail, Wuta being the abandoned village a day up. In part, this confusion, or rather overlapping of names, is what made finding information from the various museums and forestry departments so difficult.

In any case, Kate and I set out on the trail and were delighted to find it wide, smooth, flat and clear. In fact it looked as if someone had been through that day with a machete.

It was a beautiful even trail and its age was apparent in sections that were obviously cut out of the rock face: hunters don't do that, only Japanese or Qing troops. Kate could not help crying Wow, wow, wow, every few seconds. I felt the same way. The views across the valley were superb: the gums were turning red, and the Monkey Slip Trees (Chinese Crape Myrtle) were out in force.

After an hour into the hike we began to hear the sounds of large animals crashing through the underbrush: deer or wild boar likely. We also spotted a gorgeous Muller's Barbet, a partridge, and a small troop of monkeys. And that was an hour in: imagine the wildlife on day two or three.

Kate and I hiked in about 2.5 hours and reach side stream that poured into the Nanao South River over a 5 metre high cleft in a stone wall. Below was a beautiful inviting swimming hole that would be worth hiking to on a summer day. We had lunch on the rocks and decided to call it a day.

It was about 4pm when we reached the car. I asked Kate if she minded if we drove to the Zhaoyang Historic Trail that ran along Turtle Hill, a small mound rolling back from the ocean. It's a short trail, 1.9km in all, but the views over the Pacific and down the coast to the famous 1000m Chingshui Cliffs are astonishing. Kate agreed but by the time we arrived at the north trailhead (after an hilarious wrong turn that left us at the end of a no through lane with rice fields dropping on both sides) the weather had suddenly shifted and it was pouring with rain.

I wanted to find the south entry point in any case so we drove out and after a few wrong turns found that trailhead. We were surprised to find it wasn't raining here and so decided to hike up to the top for a look. As it turned out, the best views are closer to the north (harbour) entrance.

We walked the trail through the darkening of night. We passed through a rare intact Gordonia forest, and ended up at a Qing Dynasty lookout that had once held English cannons pointed out to the Pacific. Even in the dark we could tell that the views during daylight would knock your socks off. Anyone heading down the coast to Hualien would do well to make a brief stop in Nanao and climb the Zhaoyang Trail.

So that was my exploration. Now what? Well, after researching and phone calls we have discovered that the Luodong Forestry Department is restoring the trail and it will officially open some time in 2009. Further research has shown that hiking clubs have already begun to explore the area, as the trail, though officially not open is pretty much in walkable shape. One can expect a great 4-5 day trek across the lowland hills of Taiwan through some of the most unspoiled scenery on this island.

Oh and the hot springs.

Thanks to Kate, we found a website of a group that has done the trek; and their videos show a 4 metre hot spring geyser on day two or three. The geyser is called the Mohe Hot Spring Fountain (莫很噴泉) and damn does it look cool. But there is also the Buxiaowan Stream spring (布蕭丸溪). (Scroll down for videos of the springs.)

I really have a hard time sitting still thinking about this trail. I've talked to everyone I know about it, mostly while pacing my floor on the phone.

The Biyahao: an historic hot spring trail. Is there anything more quintessentially Taiwanese? Is there anywhere Pashan would rather be exploring?

I've going to do this some time in the coming months. Without a doubt. Stay tuned. It's going to be a hell of an adventure.

For the full set up pics click here. And here for Kate's blog entry on the hike.

Practicalities:

No prac stuff until I explore the whole trail. For the Dutch, you REALLY have to come and do this with me!

Huangdi Dian: The Emperor's Hall

2008-12-06T08:14:00.000-08:00

When is a hike not just a hike? For some it might be when it there is a nice meal awaiting at the end. For others when a swim or hot spring slips in somewhere. But for me it's a hike that involves temples, monks, monkeys, and an odd meditation centre where "the tea is free if you don't feel the chi."

On a brilliant Sunday sunny morning in October, Chris and I set out for the thrilling ridge walk known as Huangdi Dian, the Emperor's Hall. I'm not sure how many times I've done the hike but the first time was over 10 years ago. Back then the ridge was not chiselled flat on the top, and there were no marque style ropes and supports as you see now.

I remember once taking my wife on the trail and about halfway along finding two Taiwanese office workers and a couple Filipino girls just sitting on a lonely stretch of bare rock. In that odd Asian way, no one showed the slightest sign of anxiety, though after a few lines of conversation it was obvious they were all too scared to go on or turn back.

So, the safety additions are sensible on a trail this popular and they really don't distract too much. Nicely they did leave this one section unadorned:

As I wrote it was a gloriously sunny and clear day when we set out from Muzha. At last I figured, I would get some distance landscape shots of the craggy dark hills of the north that roll on and on in successive layers. If was a nice thought, but of course the sky grew grey as we rode the 666 bus (which long habit and tradition requires me to now call the bus of the beast) to nearby Shiding.

I try to take advantage of change now, rather than gripe about it, and decided to use the overcast sky to force my eye downward. As it turned out, some nice opportunities arose to observe the smaller forms around me. Thanks to Chris for providing the names of these little critters:

Formosan Swallowtail (Papilio taiwanus)

Golden orb-weaver (Nephila pilipes).

Stag beetle (Neolucanus swinhoei).

Swinhoe's japalura (Japalura swinhonis).

The charmingly named camel's toe (Chris insists it is "foot") tree (Bauhinia purpurea).

And the flower of the fried egg tree (Gordonia axillaris), looking a little overcooked today:

From Shiding, the ridgeline is reached from a number of staircases. It's about an hour no matter which way you start, and then another two hours or so humping up and down the contours of the ridge to the west peak. This is one of those hikes that make you feel like a kid in an adventure playground.

Below the west peak is a small Buddhist temple that literally hangs off the slopes.

On an earlier hike we had pushed our way down the overgrown trail to the temple and met the resident monk. He was a nice old fellow, and with his lose grey robes, shaved head, and sly humor he was like a character in Journey to the West.

In the pic below he is entertaining us with tales of his master's own monkey friend who would sit in the chair opposite during meditation, meals and tea drinking.

But on this day, Chris and I continued along the ridge, making our way to the east peak. Between the two ridgeline is mostly exposed limestone. You can see a long stretch of it from the west peak.

It's not as hairy as year ago, but do be cautious none the less. People still do fall to their death here. Our friend Michael (on an earlier hike) was lucky.

Lots of graffiti carved into the soft stone:

At the east peak we began our descent to the road. It is possible to continue east from here until a point where the ridge is literally cut in two by the Jingmei River. Chris and I plan to finish the walk to this end one day and then follow the road to the back of the wooded hills south of Pingxi. At this point we will have walked, at different times of course, the entire distance from the end of the MRT line in Muzha to Daxi beach on the east coast: a journey of four days in all!

The path down from the east peak is steep and loose in many section. This may explain why I have never seen this large cave on any other hike. Note the shaggy buffalo painting on the far wall:

A little further down was this shrine dedicated to Guanyin and the God of Wealth.

Note the cliched foregrounding of the burning incense:

From the trail exit we followed a small mountain road down to the 106. Not long after, we passed a rather pretty looking teahouse, set across the river, and popped in for a quick looksee. The owner stood at reception (there were no customers) and graciously offered to give me a tour - for NT50. Thinking this might be interesting enough to include in the next LP Taiwan, I agreed.

The shop ran lengthwise above the river: it was 100m long but was barely 3m across. There were small dividers to break the length into little spaces for tea drinking, or meditation as Mr Chen, the owner, informed me. I looked across the river to the 106 and watched a spewing scooter roar by. Odd place for a meditation centre, I thought.

But Mr Chen, who had lived in Toronto for some years and spoke decent English, was a bit of a character and didn't seem the type to lose faith in a meditation centre off a busy road. And as we stepped from the reception area across a pond on a series of stones, he explained the rather labyrinthine code of discounts:

"If you are over 60, half price."

"If you are over 70, free."

If you can jump across the pond from rock to rock, half price."

"If you can cross the pond on the rocks with your eyes closed, free."

And my favorite, worthy of Johnny Cochrane:

"When you're drinking tea, if you don't feel the chi, it's all free."

The man was serious about the power of his tea. Or rather he trusted the tea god, which he had placed halfway down the shop on a large alter. Unlike other shops where you choose tea from a menu, here you select a divining stick from the cup. And it is the god who makes the selection for you: Oolong, Baochong, Fushou, Longjing, Oriental Beauty, and so on, depending on your needs, and perhaps the god's whims. What would Jesus drink, you might ask yourself?

"All the tea has very powerful chi," Mr Chen said matter-of-factly. "I haven't eaten since breakfast. I just drink tea. But I'm not hungry at all."

He then led me to the far back of the shop where a small wooden shutter let in the artificial light hung on an outside tree. Mr Chen pointed to a wide wooden chair under the shutter and invited me to sit down. I faced back down the length of the shop.

"This is the emperor's throne," Mr Chen said. "You can watch as everyone comes in or out."

"Huangdi Dian," I muttered. It was a nice coincidence.

I got up and we strolled back toward the front. I noted the attractive use of carved wood and unpolished stone in his decorations and Mr Chen lit up with just enough wattage to switch on a firefly.

"This is real Chinese style. Most of what you see in Taiwan is not real. It's polluted with western influence."

I laughed. So we westerners are a form of environmental damage?

"Yes. Westerner people are pollution."

He cracked just the tiniest smile.

At the reception area we crossed the pond again and Mr Chen stepped to his desk and took out a name card. He wrote NT50 on the front and said he would give me a discount next time I came as compensation for paying for the tour.

And remember, he said in his deadpan way as Chris and I headed for the door, "If you don't feel the chi, the tea is free."

In Shiding, as we waited for the bus, Chris and I knocked back a couple beer we had picked up in the local Family Mart, a convenience chain store in Taiwan.

"Oh shit," I muttered suddenly. "I forgot my Nalgene bottle at the tea shop."

I guess we westerners really are a type of pollution.

Practicalities:

To get to the trailhead, take the MRT to Muzha Station and walk down to the main road. Cross and catch the 666 bus on the other side to Shiding, a 30 minute ride. Get off at the main junction at a convenience store and head up the alley to the left of the store (you'll quickly pass an open plaza). Turn left at the first road and follow that UP a winding km or so. You'll see the obvious trailhead stairs to your right.

The hike can be a long one so give yourself plenty of time. The shortest route would be to head down at the west peak. You can't really get lost and there are always other hikers about.

For the Dutch, well, times are tough so I suspect you may not have the cash for the airfare this time. No worries, you may live vicariously through this blog for the time being.

Full set of pics here.

Nan-ao River Trace

2008-11-04T09:58:00.000-08:00

It's raining hard outside my window, and the patter of drops on my awning has put me in a nice mellow mood. Rain reminds me of home, Vancouver, and since Vancouver reminds me of hiking it's time for the latest installment of Pashan.

The subtitle of Pashan is: hiking the mountains, valleys, rivers and jungles of Taiwan. I haven't had a good river tracing entry since last year's 5 day walk up the Namasiya River in Sanmin (which led of course to a month in bed with scrub typhus) so I am well overdue.

Now November is a bit late in the season to be sloshing in water, but we'd had good weather all week and I was bringing along a pair of neoprene shorts and socks. My destination was the North Nan'ao River and the wild hot springs a few kilometres upstream.

I invited a few friends I thought would be up to the challenge and we set out on Saturday night to Nan'ao with plans to camp out at the Nan'ao Recreational Farm. Kat was in my car, and being a good conversationalist, she distracted me from the road. From Xindian MRT station we drove across Muzha to the highway entrance. By the time I realized I was on the wrong highway we were at the exit near Xindian MRT station. Oops. One hour later we had crossed Muzha again and were back on the route to Hwy 5.

We made it to Su'ao without incident (maybe because most of the way is a tunnel) but here once again we started going round in circles, always managing to get off on roads heading north.

"You know, I really do write about this country for a living," I joked.

Eventually we found ourselves on Hwy 9 heading south on the highly scenic stretch from Su'ao to Nan'ao. The twisting road tosses up expansive views across the Pacific and down the coastline which, rising straight out of the water, and broken with dark islands and rugged promontories, is a tropical island setting par excellence.

Of course we were driving in the dark (the pic is from the return trip) and missed it all. Plenty of mist though and I must say I did not enjoy the tortuous journey very much.

We arrived in Nan'ao about 9.30pm. After a short drive through town we crossed the bridge over the North Nan'ao River and took an immediate left. I didn't recognize the road at all.

"Yep, I really do write about this country for a living," I joked again.

It took a few drives up and down the main drag before I remembered that there are two rivers in Nan'ao and the left turn was after the bridge over the south river. My travel writer's bona fides re-established, we made our way to the campground.

There was no one at reception so we set up on a grassy field near a small cluster of other campers. Kat noticed the mess of bottles, bags and food items on the picnic table beside a group of tents and commented how this would get you eaten by a bear in Canada.

But in Taiwan the camper has fiercer worries, including out-of-control kids and karaoke. Yep, the machines were blasting what might - within scare quotes - be generously called "melodies" from a metal shelter across the field. More annoying though was the scene of domestic un-harmony in a backlit tent 50 yards from us. A spoiled kid was being berated but his parents, but such were the wails and moans of the child that, complemented with the KTV soundtrack, the scene took on a strangly operatic quality.

The wailing stopped after an hour but the KTV continued till 11.20 when the revelers went to bed. No big deal. Unfortunately, there was another group singing on the far side of the campground, up the road past the reception house. The sound was low at first but as the night grew quieter it was less and less tolerable.

"Well, the locals win tonight," I said, as really there was not much to do. Holger quipped that at least it wasn't techno, as he had once been forced to endure a sleepless night in Heilongtan when a group of local gangsters decided they needed more of the great outdoors in their lives.

Like everyone else I had a fitful night's sleep. The music went on till 1.30am and then, after a peaceful lull, when only the sounds of night herons, crickets, and geckos filled the air, the singing picked up at 4.30. I tried sticking my fingers in my ears to drown out the sound but of course as soon as I started to doze off the fingers slipped out and the ahhhhh ewjgg oooooxqqwy, la la la was all I could hear.

By 6am we were all up and preparing breakfast. Everyone was in a good mood despite lack of sleep. The campground, as you can see in this pic, is really lovely though I wouldn't be in a hurry to ever stay there again on a weekend.

We headed out about 8.30 and drove into town for some water and snacks for the trip.

"Do you know how to get to the trailhead?" Holger asked.

I said I did and we'd meet him there. But as I drove through town it was obvious I couldn't remember the turnoff for the springs. I wanted to ask a local but I couldn't remember if the name of the developed springs along the same road was Siji or Si-something else (Siqu, or Four Parts, as it turned out).

"Where the hell is my Lonely Planet when I need it."

As we crossed the Nanao South River I saw the road that we needed to turn off. We drove down the quiet country lane, and passed through the aboriginal village of Jinyue. On the other side, we found ourselves being challenged to a race by an 8 year old on a scooter. We knew he was 8 because the other two kids on the scooter with him didn't look more than 10 and 12. In any case, he beat us.

The road roughened at the end, and a few stretches were in desperately bad shape. Two patches saw the tarmac jagged and crumbling at the edges where half the surface had collapsed. We probably shouldn't have driven over them.

In any case, at the end of the road we parked and donned our super hero costumes.

Normally I don't wear much for river tracing but we were going to have to cross a fast wide river and then enter a narrow canyon with 600m high rocky walls. Last time Holger traced up to the hot springs rocks tumbled down on his group at frequent intervals.

We set out and hiked along the shore, clambering over and around the boulders, which were stained with beautiful swirling orange and white patterns. The river beside us flowed a muddy grey (from upstream quarrying) but otherwise the terrain was a very beautiful and untouched part of Taiwan. There was lots of driftwood caught between rocks and a fair amount of it was sweet smelling camphor. There were also some strange sand formations.

And one long but very dead worm:

Holger was nominally leading the trip and told everyone to keep an eye out for signs of when to cross the river. Usually these are rock cairns and sure enough, an hour later we saw a small collection of stones at a sandy spot that was about as far up the left bank as we could go.

The spot looked right and we decided to give it a try. I tied myself to a 75-foot section of climbing rope and, with Holger holding on, stepped out into the river.

The water was up to my knees for a few metres but then quickly reached my waist and then solar plexus. At this deepest spot, the current was also the fastest and I could feel myself losing my balance. I slipped and Holger had to pull me in.

We tried a few more times, and from various locations along the river but it was always the same. The current was strongest where the river was deepest and the riverbed was soft gravel. Even if I could have made it across it is doubtful the gals could have as they would have been up to their noses in the deepest parts.

So we turned back and had lunch at the junction of the Nan'ao and a smaller, but beautifully clean and clear river tumbling down from the slopes. With so many hours on our hands we decided to head up this river for a look. It was a great move, as we hit a number of deep pools and frothy waterfalls perfect for standing under for a good massaging. Or superhero posing:

The scramble up the river was also a nice challenge, and I plan to return here next summer to trace as far up as I can.

When we got back to the cars, it was still early and so we drove to the Siqu Hot Springs. These are a makeshift affair of concrete pools built at river level: short on aesthetics though long on great views.

As we pulled up a group of 15 Taiwanese headed down the stairs. I balked at a soak with such a crowd, but Holger wanted to at least see the springs again (he had soaked and camped beside them many times). Surprisingly, only one open concrete box was left; the other structures had been destroyed by this year's typhoons. Such is life in Taiwan, and such are the difficulties of being a travel writer. Folks, if you head to Nan'ao don't get pissed off that some things aren't as I described them in 2006.

But note that there are advantages. With the destruction to the springs visitors now need to wade along the banks for 50m to reach the remaining pool. The 15 Taiwanese who arrived with us couldn't be bothered to step into the muddy river and so we had the riverside alkalescent carbonate hot spring waters pretty much to ourselves.

Of course the aboriginal guys had no problem crossing the stream. But they were a lot further downstream, and the river was wider, and shallower, and I think they did haves some kind of shamanistic protection...

As with all great hikes we finished this one off with a big dinner, this time a seafood feast at Su'ao harbour. A long debate ensued over who has it rougher in Taiwan: western brides or western grooms: on reflection I think the brides won soundly.

And as with all great hikes, it has taking me two days to clean up and put away all my clothes, pack and gear.

All pics can be seen here.

Practicalities:

Nan-ao is on the east coast, and Highway 9 runs straight through the centre. Regular train service connects the town with Taipei and Hualien. Getting to the river and campground is a bit tricky, as you have read, so my best advice is to bring a Lonely Planet with you (we're the only guidebook to have coverage - including a map - on this area).

If you head to the area in the next few months keep an eye out for any sign of the new trail systems connecting Suao and Nan-ao, as well as Nan-ao with Siji on Highway 7 (between Wuling Farm and Chilan). Both are part of the National Trail System and are slated to open at the end of this year. For a short stroll, there is a trail up to Turtle Hill which affords majectic views down the coast. Nan-ao is one gorgeous slice of Taiwan.

For my dear Dutchies, if you can find your way to Dusseldorf, Saudi Airways has a special to Bangkok. From here catch an EVA flight to Taipei and the take a bus to the Taoyuan train station. Catch a Hualien bound train and get off at Nan-ao Station. Or best, just call me when you arrive.

Bijia Shan: A Ridge Walk from Maokong to Shiding

2008-10-14T02:49:00.000-07:00

Back on the trails after a month riding around in the back of a Land Cruiser. The destination: Bijia Shan, part of a long ridge system that runs from Xindian in Taipei County pretty much to the east coast around Jiufen. The most famous section is called Huangdi Dian (after the butcherous first emperor of China), but among the cognoscenti (which includes a former Taiwanese premier) Bijia Shan is the best.

Bijia Shan means Penrack Mountain is Chinese which gives you a pretty good idea of what to expect: rolls and dips and undulations. It's a full body workout involving a lot of rope climbs and rock scambling. The ridge is narrow, as usual, but the trees and vegetation grow up from the slopes so you don't feel exposed in most places. This allows you to enjoy the great sweep of foothills in all directions (obviously better on a clear day).

Unfortunately, though Saturday began with promise it soon turned overcast. No inspiring views, just a good 6 hour workout and plenty of time to chat with some friends I haven't seen for a while.

We began the hike in Maokong and went west to east, opposite of our usual routine. I think Shiding to Maokong is best. I prefer finishing with just a short walk remaining down to Maokong (which I consider home), as opposed to a 30 minute bus ride back to town.

As I wrote, it was a day to catch up with friends. Here are some that caught up with me:

Nasty little creatures. I was in the lead and scored about 20. How many can you count on the one gator? Where's Leech-o anyone?

Practicalities:

To get to the trailhead in Shiding, take the 666 bus (the bus of the beast) from Muzha Rd, just down from the Muzha MRT exit. Get off in Shiding (a 30 minute ride) and cross the road. At the bridge you'll see English signs for the Bijia Shan trail. Follow them. Along the ridge signs tell you how much further you have to go. We usually take about 6 hours.

On the other side, just after climbing down a metal staircase, you'll reach a junction of trails. Be careful not to head up Ergeshan. Just keep heading down in the direction you were going in. In 20 minutes or so you will reach a road. Keep heading down until you reach another larger road. You can catch a bus here back to Muzha, or if you keep walking you will reach some teahouses.

For my dear Dutch readers, I hear British Airways has sales to Taipei via Manila. Once in Taiwan take a high-speed rail to Taipei Main Station, then catch the MRT to Muzha.

More pics here.

My Journey to Lhasa

2008-09-02T18:55:00.000-07:00

I'm off in a few hours to Tibet for a month. Unfortunately the Great Firewall of China tends to block all blogger stuff so there won't be any posting.

If you want to see what I'll be seeing check out the set of pics from last year. It covers pretty much the same places: Chengdu, Lhasa, the road to Mt Kailash, the astonishing Guge Kingdom ruins, the kora around the Holy Mountain, Lake Manasarovar, then the road back to Lhasa via Gyantse, Shigatse, and Everest Base Camp. The last couple shots are of Kathmandu.

Enjoy.

Tibet.

The Formosan Blue Magpie

2008-08-28T23:33:00.000-07:00

I don't post enough on wildlife in Taiwan so here are a few pics of the Formosan Blue Magpie, an indigenuous species (and our new national bird) found in broadleaf forests and orchards at elevations of 300-800m.

Also called the old lady of the forest, the blue magpie is about 60cm long, 2/3 of which is the spectacularly long tail you see below. Because of the length of this tail the bird tends to short flights between trees. When you see one magpie, grab your camera as more are sure to follow, their inimitable tails flopping behind them. Some good areas for spotting the birds are Yangmingshan, Muzha and the mountain road from Shuangxi to Daxi beach on the coast.

The shots below were all taken about 10 minutes from my house at the start of the trail to Ergeshan, the highest mountain in southern Taipei. The pics are courtesy of Kate Lin who snapped then on a hike up Ergeshan a few weeks ago. I merely cropped the pics and touched up the colors.

Pingxi Trails

2008-08-22T22:11:00.000-07:00

Twenty km east of my home in Muzha rests the town of Pingxi, a former coal mining settlement along the Pingxi Small Rail Line. The rail line, one of several small gauge lines kept open for tourism, runs through a lovely wooded gorge and one day Pashan and co plan to walk the 16km of track after the last train has left for Taipei around 6.40pm.

Meanwhile, I spend a lot of time doing day hikes in this lush, hilly, craggy landscape. It's appeal is obvious, and in any other country, being so close to a major city, it would be prime real estate. If I ever find a place to rent, in particular an old Japanese era house, I will move in a second.

A few of my favorite trails in the area include Shuliang Jian (you can see Taipei 101 in the distance from the top); the Sandiaoling Waterfall Trail, with its dozen or so falls; and the scary ridge along Fengtou Jian which we climbed last year.

And then there are the Pingxi Crags.

Yep, you can climb to the top of this beauty on metal stairs. It's not technical in any sense, just a lot of fun if you aren't scared of heights.

One of the best day hikes starts near Pingxi Elementary School. You begin along an old coal train line which soon reaches a cool old mining station with deep water-filled tunnels: we call the area Gollum's Lair. From here follow the maps to do a great easy loop through a broad leaf forest. Keep an eye out for the native kiwi fruit trees.

Recently, I have been returning to the ridge, which begins about 10 minutes along the coal train path. Look for the stairs to the left with signs to Cimu Feng, Shaozi Shan and Jhongyang Jian.

The trail heads straight up from here for 30 minutes or so running alongside, and then atop, a gorgeous grey cliff face, probably limestone, and pitted with small pockets. The stairs are carved directly into the stone.

There's a flat section about 30-40 minutes along at the top of the ridge, with great views over the surrounding hills.

The first pic shows Fengtou Ridge. The second Jingtong, the tiny village at the end of the rail line.

As you start to descend the trail is rather narrow in a few places. Most people, like my friend Chris, sit down to get past the trickiest part. It doesn't help that the rope line is loose at this, and only this, point.

Here's a nice pic back when the club used to attract a dozen or more people for a hike. Sigh. Living overseas you see so many great people come and go too quickly.

After the narrow section, the trail rejoins a cement staircase that leads to a small road. You can follow the road down and then head up the main road to reach the elementary school where you started.

More fun though is to tackle the Pingxi Crags which begin just off the cement stairs. These crags are fairly well known though you see far fewer people on them than a few years ago. Reportedly, the stairs up to the crags were hand carved by a retired body guard of Chiang Kai Shek, which explains why two crags are known as Cimu and Shaozi Shan: Loving Mother and Dutiful Son, respectively.

In any case, it's a pretty crazy trail.

Going up.

At the top of Putuo Shan you'll find the Buddhas of the Three Families and at the back a statue to one of the Eight Immortals. A nice example of multi-denominational worship in Taiwan.

The steps up and down Cimu Feng can be seen clearly from the back of the flat on Putou Shan.

Stairway to heaven:

Shaozi Shan is the shortest of the crags, but the most dramatic. I have to post a few pics of this as the day I took these the light conditions were perfect, a rarity in this region. The air was dry, the sun was low in the west and I was at the perfect angle.

Practicalities:

Pingxi is easily reached from southern Taipei by heading toward Shenkeng and staying on the 106 toward the east coast. The trails start across from the obvious red brick elementary school just before the main street in Pingxi. Buses 15 and 16 run from Muzha Road just across from Muzha MRT station. Or you can catch the Pingxi Small Rail Line, which begins at Rueili on the coast.

For the Dutch, KLM has specials to Taipei now. From the airport take a shuttle bus to the city and then transfer to the brown MRT line. Get off the bus at Muzha MRT station and follow the instructions above.

After a hike we used to hang out in this cozy, deep swimming hole. Unfortunately there's a small house and farm just upstream and they added a chicken coop. I've still been in the pool but it's just not the same now standing under the falls in the back and wondering if a piece of shit is about to plop down on your head.

More Pingxi pic here.

Wantan River Valley

2008-07-14T05:57:00.000-07:00

Posting has been light of late as I've been in China (Hainan Island and Qinghai) for the past two months on LP work. I had hoped to make a few posts while I was away but for some very odd reason the Great Firewall of China had my blog blocked. Too subversive I suppose. Should call it hiking the mountains, valleys, rivers and jungles of the renegade province.

In any case, I'll post a report with lots of pics later but today I want to write about the first swim of the season in the pools that line a pretty section of the Wantan River Valley.

The Wantan River flows into the Beishi upriver from Pinglin and eventualy feeds into Taipei's Feicui reservior, our main source of water. Though only 30km or so as the crow flies it takes at least `1.5 hours to drive to the trailhead, as this is a mountainous region and the roads follow a tortuous route.

We arrived at the trailhead around noon. From there it was a short hike on a narrow trail through a jungle landscape.

And 15 minutes later we had arrived. Chris and I had found this spot about two years ago on a four day walk from Pingxi to the coast. The water is as warm as a bath on a hot day and there is a little beach area on the south shore and a clearing under a shady tree. It's a popular place to picnic and camp (as the litter remains testify) but we've never seen anyone else there on a Sunday afternoon.

The rest of the afternoon we spent swimming, sleeping, arguing Taiwanese politics, and exploring the two pools just slightly downstream.

I'll let the pictures do the talking:

There were an unusual number of butterflies about. At least half a dozen different species:

Later in the afternoon we explored the lower pools. I may like these even more than the upper one. Behind number two is a large grassy field perfect for camping.

On the way home the air was dry, a rarity in this part of the county. Some great views were offered from roadside of the mountains and teafields.

And that's it for today. Bye all.

Practicalities:

A couple posters asked for directions so here they are, sort of.

First get to Pinglin. The easiest way is to drive on the No 9 highway (those of you coming from Holland need to fly into Taipei first). In Pinglin head toward the new No 5 freeway entrance and get onto the 42 heading east. The 42 rides high above the river. Just past the 13KM mark turn off to the right and follow the little wooden signs in Chinese to 黑龍潭 (Heilongtan). This is a great campsite right at the spot where the Wantan and Beishi rivers meet.

From here I can't explain as it's basically completely unsigned and even I turn down wrong roads and have to backtrack almost every time I go. But there are swimming holes as great as these at Heilongtan. If you want to get to the ones above just head upstream from the campground and where the rivers join follow the Wantan (the river to the right). The swimming holes are about 1km upstream. There's a path that starts off the road that starts to head uphill near the junction of the rivers.

The Brothers' Peaks

2008-05-02T00:32:00.000-07:00

Had a lovely afternoon in the wilds last Sunday. The sky could have been a brighter blue to enhance the overall glory of the landscape but that is a piddling complaint.

The trail we set out to hike is one we have never set foot on before. It starts off a beautiful mountain road that winds 500m above the sea between Shuangxi and Daxi on the Northeast Coast. I've driven the road many times, and even biked it once (highly recommended) but I'd never hiked any of the trails that I've seen tagged heading up to the ridgetop or down to the coast.

Sunday was the day to correct that. The hard part was deciding which trail as I poured over my map. A series of small peaks called Big Brother Peak, Brother No 2, 3, 5, 7, etc, caught my eye.

We could have taken the new tunnel to Daxi but I wanted to show the others the mountain road. As usual I stooped at this perfectly restored sanheyuan (a traditional 3-sided house).

We made many other stops to revel in the clear views of rolling hills, and coastal bluffs. This is one of the north's unsung country roads.

Much of the area is a watershed, which explains why there is so little development. Here we are observing the water that will later flow into our taps in Taipei.

And an old bridge:

The trail to the brothers' peaks starts around the 6.5km mark, just before a large temple perched over the Daxi River Valley. It's a simple 10 minute walk up a grassy trail to the ridge.

Some nice views of Turtle Island.

At the top we found outselves on a large rock outcrop with dazzling views up and down the coatsline. This would be a prime picnic spot.

After enjoying the view, we continued. The trail narrowed considerably, and while it was never so overgrown you could lose your way, it did require the occassional push through high grass. There was nothing too rough on Sunday, and in any case, the path follows the top of the ridgeline. The ocean is literally just down to the left, so you really can't get lost.

That said, the trail probably does get pretty overgrown at times, especially by summer. A machete wouldn't be a bad idea.

More glorious views as we pushed on.

We hiked from noon till about 3 along the ridge and then turned down a side path that took us back to the mountain road. From there we simply walked back to the car. That stretch took about 10 minutes. Looking at the map we could see that we'd only walked about 1km along the ridge.

This is a long coastal ridgeline, however, and the trail system is extensive. Jah Linnie has mentioned on Forumosa.com that he has walked all of it in different stages from Daxi to Hwy 9 near Pinglin. He says it would take about 2 days to hike the entire thing, assuming the trail is passable the whole way. I plan to give it a try in the fall.

Originally we had planned to go for a swim in a nearby river (and a fresh seafood dinner at Daxi) but it was overcast by late afternoon and we all felt like getting home. On the way back we did stop at Wai'Ao Beach.

I love this Muslim inspired residence off the beach. Supposedly it is the home of a rich Taiwanese man who has done business in the Mid-East for decades and converted to Islam.

I also adore the heros of Islam statues.

So altogether another great day, with excellent company. And here's to yet another close-by trail system that begs for further exploration.

Practicalities:

The trail starts around the 6.5km mark on the mountain road (labelled the 007, or 01, in this area). The trail is more like a wide grassy lane at the start and has a big sign for Yingshi Jian. The Brother's Peaks series start south of Yingshi Jian.

There is no water along the trail and you need your own transport to the start. Just realized that the no water bit will make a two day hike a bit more of a slog as I'll need to carry 6l or more.

The Batongguan Historic Trail

2008-04-25T09:41:00.000-07:00

My most recent hike covered the most important of Taiwan’s historic cross-island trails: the week-long Batongguan, which crosses the alpine spine of Yushan National Park.

As this is such a great trail, and one for which there is so little English information, this is going to be a very long blog entry. For ease of navigation, I will divide it into 8 parts, the first of which will center on the history of the trail and overall practicalities:

History of the Batongguan Trail:

My journey into Taiwan’s rugged highlands was made possible by a little know incident way back in the spring of 1874. Paiwan aboriginals had murdered a crew of Japanese sailors and attempts by the Meiji government to force the Qing to punish tribal leaders led to the flimsiest of excuses: we don’t have any control over this part of Taiwan. Sorry.

Angered (or looking for a good excuse to scout out the island), the Japanese government sent a punitive expedition of 3,600 soldiers. Under the leadership of one Saigō Tsugumichi (which sounds uncomfortably close to tsutsugamuchi, the disease I was struck with in January) forces invaded southern Taiwan in May 1874. As with a similar assault by US marines in 1867 against aboriginals and pirates in Kenting, the battle was not exactly favorable to the invaders. The Paiwan suffered loses of about 30 men. The Japanese, 543 (12 killed in battle and 531 by disease).

In Taiwan, the expedition is known as the Mudan Incident and there is a monument on one of the battlefields in a large field off Hwy 199 in Pingtung County. It’s not far east of the popular Sichongshi Hot Springs.

The Qing were understandably not happy to be shown to have little control of their territory and so in 1875 sent ambassador Pao-chen Shen to oversee the strengthening of Taiwan's defenses. Shen took charge of developing and charting the mountains, and placating (subjugating) the aboriginal tribes. The project for engineering the Batonguan trail began that same year.

The project was headed by an officer named Wu Guang Liang, who commanded 2000 soldiers from the Flying Tiger Corps. Wu’s route started off at Chushan, Nantou County, passed through Lugu and Hsinyi Villages, climbed over the Batongguan meadows and the Hsiuguluan Mountains, and ended finally in Yuli in Hualian County. In total the route was 152km long.

Today, the trail remains intact (but in poor shape) only after Dongpu though in several towns such as Jiji and Lugu there are commemorative stele. This one has an inscription by Wu Guang Liang himself.

The path took a year to complete and was called the Batong Pass Route, though there is no actual mountain pass to cross. Wu decided to use the name Batongguan (which is a transliteration of the Bunun “Pan Toun Kua,” their word for Yushan) as it sounded like the Chinese for “being able to pass unhindered.” Or maybe not. We have read of competing versions of the name.

In any case, that is the Qing Dynasty Batongguan Trail. But there is also the Japanese Era Batongguan Traversing Route, which is what we hiked. Both trails both have a common point at Dongpu. They join up again at Batongguan (some reports suggest that the trails are the same from Dongpu to Batongguan) and for the last time at Dashuiku. In general the Qing Dynasty trail follows a harder, higher, more northern route.

The Japanese route was in part designed to facilitate transportation and communication between eastern and western Taiwan. But to a large degree it was built to pacify the aboriginals in the highland areas (using their labor of course).

Surveying for the trail began in 1919, with the entire stretch being completed by 1921. However, it does seem that parts were already in place. By 1910, according to reports I have read, there was a trail from Yuli to at least Dafen. Dafen (also Tahun) was a major outpost with a school, martial arts and ceremonial hall, munitions depo, and trading post.

Dafen became the center of the colonial government’s attempts to control the Bunun around the Laku Laku River Valley. An inflexible policy banning all aboriginal firearm possession was met with such resistance (the Bunun revered guns) that police stations had to be set up every 2-4km along this part of the trail. To this day, commemorative steles marking bloody battles can be spotted every few kilometres.

Click here to see Day One.

Practicalities:

The Japanese Era Batongguan Traversing Route is about 90km long. While it has suffered numerous landslides and washouts over the years, in addition to the unforgiving shifting of tectonic plates, repairs that began in the last 1990s have restored it to a perfectly hike-able condition for most anyone in good shape. There are markings every kilometer or so, and maps and interpretative signs in strategic places. There is also an excellent system of free cabins and campgrounds.

A tent is still recommended however, as there is a 12 hour stretch between the Dashuiku and Dafen cabins, which not everyone may want to do in a day. The weather could also force you into making a shorter day of it. In any case, there are numerous campgrounds along the trail. As these used to be former police stations the ground is flat and sheltered.

One needs permits from Yushan National Park to hike the trail. These permits usually book you into cabins for the first couple nights. After that, it’s first come first serve, though the trail is hardly busy. We didn’t encounter anyone else on the trails for 3 out of 6 days.

Water sources are plentiful, both at the cabins and from side streams. I mention the availability of water in each day’s entry.

The cabins do not have blankets but they do have thick mattresses, solar powered lighting, and in some cases, toilets. The Dafen cabin has solar heated showers, which are heaven sent after 5 days on the trail.

Most people take seven days to complete the trail. We did it in six. Eight would be ideal as it would allow time to climb some of the higher peaks, as well as spend time in the alpine meadows with the sambar deer.

Batongguan: Day One

2008-04-25T08:48:00.000-07:00

Sunday March 31

We leave Dongpu (elevation 1100m), a small hot spring village set in glorious mountain scenery, at 9am. It’s not a terribly early start but we'd gone out drinking and eating the night before (carb loading as one member called it) and still needed to sort out our packs in the morning. We grab one last meal at a local breakfast shop and then head out.

My hiking companions are Richard, founder of Barking Deer Adventures, Dave and Mai, two geophysicists from England, now living in Vietnam, and Stephen, who works in the IT industry in Kaohsiung. Everyone is a keen and experienced hiker. Our differing professional and social backgrounds will make for great conversation over the next week.

A cold front was predicted to blow in during the night, but it’s pretty mild outside, if misty. I’m hopeful that with our easterly direction we will avoid the rain predicted for later in the day.

The trail begins just outside the village, and starts to climb steeply almost immediately At first we are on tarmac and then dirt. Despite our heavy packs we still overtake scores of daytrippers heading up to the Yunlong and Yinyu waterfalls.

As Taiwanese tend to be, they are friendly and want us to stop and join them. But we have a long day ahead of us.

In the first hour we passed this little snack shop. It’s the last chance for a can or bottle or aiyu jelly until Yuli.

The trail then cuts right into the side of a ridge with sheer drops to the Chenyoulan River Valley. Metal bridges span streambeds, ravines, and sections where the trail has been washed away. The slopes are so steep here that any washout makes the trail impassible without a bridge across it.

To emphasize just how precarious the ridge is the Chinese have named it the Father and Son Ridge, as in even a father could not help his son here in the event of an accident.

I ask Dave, who is a geophysicist from England, to describe the local geology. He proceeds with an impressively detailed report: The Chenyoulan Valley below is a major fault and the side we are walking on is metamorphosed sediment around 50 million years old. On the other side are un-metamorphosed sediments roughly 10 million years in age. Because we are over a fault, the rock strata is very broken up, which is why the ridge is so steep and prone to landslides.

“You can tell all that just by looking?” I asked.

“No,” he laughs. “I read the sign back there.”

Though cut into the ridge, the trail is for the most part wide and clear, and our view alternates from deciduous forests of camphor, machilus and blue oak, to misty views across the river valley. In fact, all day long we will simply be heading up the valley.

We lunch around noon at a small clearing with a wooden shelter. There was a little mailbox for dropping off reports of bear sightings. What do the bears do when they see us?

Mango Man:

Six hours into the hike there is a noticeable change in the vegetation, from deciduous to coniferous trees. You don’t even need to look up to see this for the trail is now covered in a soft layer of needles whereas earlier it had been a bed of leaves. There is still a picnic grove feel about the area though: soft colors, clear trail, and a warm inviting forest cover.

There are no daytrippers on the trail now, but no serious hikers either. We hear many birds, but don’t see them. It’s been hazy since we left Dongpu and the higher we ascend the foggier it gets. I’m a bit disappointed, as I’m really hoping for some big landscape shots to make carrying my Canon Digital Rebel worthwhile.

But there are some interesting shots of the fog filled forest to capture:

By 5pm I am really feeling the weight of my pack. Guanggaoping (elevation 2580m) is just another km ahead. Then 500m, then 200m, then 200m again, then…we reach the flats and nearly break down to discover that the cabin is actually down a side trail another 600m east. We’ve reached the site of an old police station, an important strategic spot of control along the old trail, but not a place to spend the night.

Fortunately, the path to Guanggao Cabin (elevation 2490m) is downhill and we cover it quickly.

The cabins (there are three structures) are actually the ugliest of all the overnight shelters along the trail and should be replaced with something more modern. The bunk bed frames are good thick cedar, and have nice thick black foam mattresses, but the structures are bare concrete with lots of wall cancer and mold.

It’s a lovely setting though on bit of terraced meadowland overlooking another deep valley (we’re on the opposite side of the ridge now). We’ve arrived in time to watch a sea of clouds roll in.

Click here for Day Two.

Practicalities:

There are small streams for water every hour or two along the trail so there is no need to carry more than 2L at any time. The cabin has running water, toilets, and lighting. We arrived around 6pm, having hiked about 8 hours, not including breaks.

In Dongpu, we stayed at the Youth Activity Centre (4-bed rooms NT1000-1700). Dongpu is a small village, with a cobbled main street lined with shops, restaurants and hot spring hotels of varying quality. It’s the sort of place where across from one of the best hotels in town you can witness a young waitress bashing a fish to death on the side of the road, and then to carrying it into the kitchen for cooking.

During Japanese times, Dongpu was famed as a hot spring spa. Today, the waters still flow and there are about 20 hotels to choose from, some with outstanding mountain views. I don’t have the name of it but there’s a fantastic looking new resort perched over a deep valley half a kilometer before town. Accommodation is in 2 story wood cabins.

Batongguan: Day Two

2008-04-22T07:46:00.001-07:00

Monday April 1

"I’m not getting up at 2am and hiking for 14 hours. No way."

Richard and the others want to spend the second day climbing Yushan by a back route. Since it will involve about 12-14 hours of hiking we need to start at 3am so we can return before nightfall. But the way I look at it, we have to walk in the dark either way, so why not get a good night’s sleep and start out at dawn? 2am is just a little too shy of my usual bedtime of 1am for me to even consider it.

I lose out on the planning, though Richard grants me a 3am wakeup. I sleep little that night, as the snores of fellow hikers eat away at my brain. When 3am rolls round I’ve slept about an hour and tell Richard he and the others can go on without me. I’ll leave at a reasonable hour and either catch up or hang out in the Batongguan Meadows.

When I wake in the morning I find it is much chillier than the day before. The fog lifts and reveals blue patches here and there but overall it is a damp, windy, somewhat biting morning. I head out on the trail about 6.30am.

As I leave I meet one of the schoolteachers from the second cabin. He is leading a group of high school kids from Taichung on a trek up Batongguan Mountain. He’s concerned that I am heading up to Yushan by myself, especially with the weather so changeable. I assure him I have a map, proper waterproof gear, and lots of food and water. But I do take his warning seriously.

I feel like crap for the first hour or so of uphill walking, until I reach Batongguan Meadows (elevation 2800-2900m). The meadows are a glorious sight: a wide expanse of rolling mustard yellow terrain covered in short Yushan cane. The trail cuts through the lowest part of the meadows, which appears flat but is really terraced and furrowed. Rolling high hills hem in the meadows on the sides, and smaller rounded hillocks lip the edges where the ridge drops off.

I watch the fog roll in and out of the valley for a long time. It moves so fast that visibility goes from 1km to 10m in a minute. It’s especially fascinating to watch the fog break on the hillocks as it rolls in and then reform as it sweeps down and across the low meadows.

I’m amazed at how quickly the trail has gone from feeling like a walk in a warm grove to this rather blunt and forbidding environment. I head up a thin side trail on the slopes above a steep valley. My side of the valley is covered in Yushan cane, and white rhododendrons bloom everywhere. Across the rift is dark pine forest, and layers of rugged mountains can be seen receding in the distance when the fog clears.

On a warm, sunny day it must make you want to sing up here, but today I kept asking myself if it was wise to continue on my own, on a trail I don’t know, in dense fog. When it starts to rain heavily as I proceed up a rough side valley toward a cloud-obscured Yushan, I turn back.

I spend the rest of the morning and afternoon resting at the cabin and chatting with the school kids who are preparing for their GEPT tests (General English Proficiency Test). Around 5pm I go out for a walk to see if I can intercept the others. I spot them just up from Guanggaoping. They are cold, miserably wet, and grumpy. They had made it to the top of Yushan, slogging through snow at the end, but visibility was down to a few metres. They might as well have been in a parking lot.

That night we have to switch cabins and sleep with the school kids in the second cabin (which does not improve the mood of my grumpy companions). The kids should have been out already but had decided to spend another night at Guanggao waiting for the weather to turn better. Such are the vagaries of life on the trail.

The kids are quite well behaved considering, and as some compensation we get to eavesdrop on the teacher’s lecture on the high mountains of Taiwan. In case you didn’t know (and I didn’t) there are five mountain ranges on the island: the Yushan, the Central Mountain, the Syue, the Coastal and the Alishan Ranges.

The Batongguan Meadows are a gap of sorts at the intersection of the Yushan and Central Mountain Ranges.

Click here for Day Three.

Practicalities:

If you do decide to climb Yushan from here, give yourself 12-14 hours. You can leave your pack at the cabin but prepare plenty of food and warm weather gear. Water sources are far between so carry 3-4 litres and top up when you can.

Batongguan: Day Three

2008-04-22T06:46:00.000-07:00

Tuesday April 2

The cabin we share with the school kids has no proper door, just a corrugated metal sheet that rolls down over the opening as if we were a shop to be shut up for the night. We opt to leave the entrance open during the night, though I do wonder, as I am lying closest to the front, if I will wake up to some weasel chewing my face.

I don't, but the snores, which this time go on uninterrupted all night long, eat into my brain again.

We wake up around 6am but take our time getting moving. As he had the day before, Stephen starts to snap photos of the morning scene in the cabin until Richard makes a joke that he is in fact taking pictures of high school girls in bed. Steve laughs and put the camera away.

We head out about 8.30am in a light rain and fog. We reach the Batongguan Meadows after a 1.5 hour uphill climb. The meadows are more obscured by fog today than yesterday and there is no chance for taking decent photos. We cross quickly and find that on the other side the trail becomes narrower, slippery and rougher. But it also for the first time is more or less flat.

Around 10.30am we make a short climb down a stream as part of a detour round a landslide. Moving along slippery rocks is always slow going, but especially when you are carrying a large pack.

In general it’s all slow going after the meadows as we push through high Yushan cane that is dripping with dew. It’s stopped raining but the vegetation is doing its best to see that we never dry off. I notice Richard and the others are moving considerably slower than the first day.

The trail alternates between a wide clear path through red pine forest and a tight narrow slice bordered by shoulder high dripping Yushan cane. It’s an easy walk either way, and with the splendid scenery, we don't hurry.

The red pine forests are particularly gorgeous, especially with the contrasting light greens of the underbrush and gauzy curtains of darker lichens hanging from the pine branches. Such lichen is often described as resembling an old man’s beard, which is probably why such forests always feel like they contain some ancient mystery.

We reached Jhongyang Cabin (elevation 2850m) around 2.30pm. It’s a very pleasant looking little A-frame, with solar powered lights, and a loft for extra bed space. The roof slopes over the edge of the outer walls to provide some shade from the rain or sun. There’s a good water supply here: two rain tanks, and a nearby stream.

The outdoor squat toilets provide all the privacy three-foot high walls can give.

Jhongyang is a former gold mining area, and last time Richard was here he was able to do a little panning in the creek with equipment left behind. We don’t find any equipment here this time.

We shared the cabin this night with a group of older Taiwanese hikers who are climbing a few of the 3000+metre mountains in the area. Like many big groups they have hired Bunun porters to carry, and cook, their food. The meals these guides provide are astonishing. After preparing various rice, noodle and soups dishes, I watch as the porter prepares abalone and broccoli. Ahem, my tortellini and canned tuna (spiced up with Tabasco) was quite delicious, thank you very much.

Richard is a chatty fellow and makes it a point to be friendly to the other groups. The rest of us discover this is also a good way to score extra calories (or better food) as he is always invited to join the groups he befriends for dinner.

The Bunun porters mostly come from Hsinyi in Nantou. If you recall, this village was on the original Qing Dynasty Batongguan route. The porters carry huge packs, which have the flimsiest waistbands. Most of the weight is as a result carried on the shoulders, and the neck in the traditional way with a head strap. These are tough fellows, but they are quite friendly and professional. They do a great job of enforcing the carry-out-garbage rules.

The cleanliness of the trail is something worth mentioning. While the cabins always had a little litter about, the trail itself was free of bottles, cans, plastic bags, and even sliver paper. The national park, and the hikers themselves, deserve praise for maintaining this route at the highest levels.

This night, as I lie awake in bed (listening to the snores of my fellow travelers reduce my capacity for logical thought) I wonder what I will do when I return to Taiwan.

Click here for Day Four.

Practicalities:

It’s only 5-6 hours to hike from Guanggao to Jhongyang. There is water every 2 hours or so from streams until you reach the cabin. Some maps show a cabin at Banaiyike, but it is only a rough shelter.

Batongguan: Day Four

2008-04-21T05:23:00.001-07:00

Wednesday April 3

We’re up early again, but have an easy day ahead so again we take our time at breakfast.

There is a young couple in their 20s who are also sharing the cabin with us and the older Taiwanese. We discover that they have again abandoned their plans to hike the Mabolashi Trail.

The Mabolashi is another week-long trek that breaks from the Batongguan here at Jhongyang Cabin. It’s a much rougher route and the couple, finding themselves the only one’s on the trail and in the cabins, had gotten a little spooked. They decided to return to Dongpu but on the way back met a team heading up who were also planning to tackle the Mabolashi. Well, why not give it another try, the decided. But after a good night’s sleep they choose once more not to continue.

We head out about 8am. My pack is several kilos lighter now (each day I lose at least 1kg of food) and I truly appreciate the reduced load. I notice patches of blue sky above and a fast moving, high cloud level above, and feel grateful for this also.

The trail today starts out with a steep climb up a narrow cane lined trail to the top of a ridge before dropping back down into the valley. It then climbs up a sloping meadow of blooming rhododendrons and azaleas with clear views west across a deep valley.

There are many landslides in the area, and some tricky sections that need to be crossed with ropes.

Collectively I’d say our spirits are the best they’ve been as the weather is warm and dry, and we have the first blue skies since the trip began. Yushan to the west is still obscured by clouds, but we are in high rugged terrain, blessed with outstanding lookouts. No one has a bad word to say.

We stop at one such lookout for lunch. The trail bends 90 degrees here and on a dry terraced knoll rising back toward a high crumbling cliff face, the immensity of the Yushan Range unfolds before us.

The 3000m+ peaks of Tafenjianshan and Yunfeng (Cloud Peak) are closest to us and most visible across the valley. When the fog shifts we can see Batongguan Shan and the meadows. As at Batongguan, we watch the rolling fog get split by peaks and reform as it sweeps into the valleys.

We take advantage of the warm weather to dry off our clothes.

Just as we set off after lunch we see to the south on the col of the Nan Dashuikushan ridgeline a gaggle of hikers. We won’t be alone tonight at the cabin, we think, though this makes us take note that we have not seen anyone else on the trail all day.

We proceed through more red pine forest, and pass some old police stations at Dijuan and Nan Campground. There’s little left at either but some old stone walls, broken bits of ceramic jars, and numerous beer bottles stuffed into the soft earth.

Richard picks up a bottle and points out that it is in fact from Japanese occupation times. If it was later in the trip I would take it with me.

As we leave the site, Stephen and I chuckle about how historically impoverished we are in Taiwan that shards of pottery and old beer bottles from 80 years ago are an exciting discovery.

Our destination today is the cabin at Dashuiku (elevation 3280m). In the last hour or two the terrain starts to change from thick red pine forest to scrub: short alpine juniper and pines, and scraggy shrubs that catch on your pack. It’s a dry and rugged landscape.

We arrive at Dashuiku Cabin around 4pm. The red cabin lies in a rolling yellow alpine meadow similar to Batongguan, though with a wider sweep. The cabin rests just above the lowest point, where a small pond of still water lies. The air is chilled with a lashing wind but the cabin is well made, with double glazed windows, and is remarkably cozy inside. We have it so much better than the Japanese who used to abandon the area 4 months a year because of the extremes of weather.

At Dashuiku, the Qing and Japanese Era trail converge for the last time. It’s the highest point on the entire Japanese era trail and is actually considered the end of the eastern trail (which begins in Yuli). During the Japanese occupation there were plans to build a road through here, but it was deemed too expensive and difficult to attempt. Later plans by the KMT in the 1970s were also shelved. Now fortunately, this is all national parkland.

There is a lovely, but difficult to photo sea of clouds that evening.

Signs of sambar deer (their scat and prints) all over the meadows and around the pond. When night falls I go outside and wander round. I hear deer grunt and squeal not 100m away but I can’t see anything. There’s no moon tonight and the stars don’t give off enough light to see your hand in front of your face.

I don’t wander too far as the fog rolls in and out without warning and there is only a single red light on the cabin roof to guide you back.

The hikers we had seen on the saddle share the cabin with us that night. They are a student group that had tried to catch the snowfall at Jiaming Lake the week earlier (Richard, Dave and Mai saw it and described it as one of the most beautiful sites they have seen). But they arrived just a little too late and now are stuck carrying and wearing heavy boots and parkas.

Oddly, they also carry a heavy frying pan. That evening, as the rest of us settle into our sleeping bags for a few hours rest, they can be seen crowding round a glowing gas stove preparing pancakes for the morning. I fall asleep to the clink, clink of a spatula hitting the frying surface. It’s a restful sound. At least compared to the snores of the middle aged that make me lose brain cells.

Click here for Day Five.

Practicalities:

There’s water from a stream in the first hour and more maybe 3 hours later. Dashuiku has rainwater tanks but they are often empty. Some people take water from the pond but there is a nice clean stream not 30 minutes back toward Jhongyang. After we arrived and realized there was no water, Stephen and I hiked back (it’s flat) to the stream and collected 8 liters. We were rewarded with the sight of a sambar on a flat across a gully.

Batongguan: Day Five

2008-04-21T04:20:00.000-07:00

Thursday April 4

This looks like it’s going to be a long long day. We agree the night before to get up at 4.30am to begin at daybreak. Unless we get stuck and have to camp out along the way, we will hike 21.9km today over a 12 hour period.

There is time in the morning before we leave to take pictures of a beautiful sea of clouds from the edge of the meadows. The slope of Shinkang mountaintop also catches our attention.

And then we head out at 6am sharp. It’s all downhill today, and for the first while we get clear wide vistas of broken ranges and fog filled valleys.

It's interesting to watch the terrain increasingly grow wooded and lush.

Forty minutes after leaving the meadows we are back in pine forest with a needle carpeted trail. There are also abundant blooming rhododendron bushes.

Despite my apprehension about such an early wakeup, I feel great. Strong, alert and inspired. The scenery is certainly helping.

I’ve mentioned before that Dave (and his wife Mai) are geophysicists. It’s great traveling with scientifically minded people. Not only are they wonderfully informative, and can make intuitive assumptions about the trail that I couldn’t possibly (see the last day) but they can, without the slightest bit of self-consciousness, look at a massive fungal growth and say:

“Now that is a brachus fungi to beat all brachus fungi.”

And indeed it was.

The temperature warms up quickly as we descend and soon everyone is changing out of their thermals. We reach the Miyasa police station (now a lovely flat sheltered area for camping) in a few hours. This area is whited-out 6 months of the year, and today was one of those days.

A few hours later we pass the old walls of the Shashalabi Police station, built in 1922 to cover the large gap between Miyasa and Thomas stations. Shortly afterwards we come across one of the most important commemorative steles on the trail: sura asen.

By the time we reach Thomas police station ruins (6 hours later) we are in dense rainforest.

The air is supersaturated with moisture. Whatever clothing had dried off is now soaked through again. There are also leeches everywhere and everyone ends up with at least 2-3 by the end of the day.

The high stone perimeter walls at Thomas (elevation 2600m) are covered in a fetching lichen green. It’s an atmospheric place and makes an ideal spot to stay overnight between Dashuiku and Dafen.

Does anyone know what this is?

But we decide to press on to Dafen, another 6-7 hours away. This will prove the roughest stretch of the trail with dozens of detours around landslides that make the going slow and frustrating.

Where the trail still exists along this section it is a real treat to walk along, as it’s wide (1.2 to 1.8m) and flat, having been literally hacked into the ridge. But as the ridge is composed of soft siltstone shale, which is prone to sliding, probably half the original trail has been wiped-out. It’s really a slog most of the day, up and down around landslides, down rough slices of path, and my ankle is feeling every twist.

About three hours out of Thomas we reach a series of massive slides called the Tuge Fault. There’s no real path, just the footprints across the loose shale that others before you have made. It’s unpleasant to tackle this when we are already exhausted and few words are spoken.

But we do make it across all the slides without mishap and at the old suspension bridge at Yisala there is time for a little levity. Or levitation, perhaps.

There used to be 12 iron cable suspension bridges along the Batongguan. Three were restored in the 80s, and seven more rebuilt between 1998 and 2004. Only the bridge at Yisala, built with hinoki cypress in the 1930s, remains intact, though most people cross the modern bridge erected beside it in 2005.

When Richard first hiked in this area a decade ago, few of the bridges were even in as good shape as the old one here.

Besides old bridges, something to look for in this section of trail are telephone poles. Though none still carry wires, they were once part of the communication system between the various police stations.

And these odd sail shaped spider webs lined the sides of the trail all the way from Miyasa to Yisala.

It’s dark for the last hour of the day’s hike, and we all worry a bit silently about what we may encounter on the trail (landslides more a concern than bears). But at last we find ourselves on a glorious pure stone causeway crossing a low gully. All we needed was a drawbridge on the other side and a triumphal arch.

We’ve reached Dafen (elevation 1320m), the “eastern capital” of the Batonguan trail. In its time it was the largest of the police outposts, and also held a trading post, general store, martial arts and ceremonial halls, a munitions store, and guesthouses. Today the area is famous for being the center of the largest black bear reserve in Taiwan. It is estimated that the population of bears is in the hundreds and quite stable. As long as areas like this remain protected there is no reason the bears should ever go extinct.

The original wood structures at Dafen remained until 1992, when they unfortunately burned to the ground in a fire. Today there is a modern cabin, which nicely has hot showers and a steady supply of water. In addition to being a way station for tired hikers, the cabin functions as a research center and we find it occupied this night by 4 graduate students from Pingdong University.

The student read our faces and quickly make room for us inside. By now we had descended almost 2000m, hiking over 12 hours. I’m sure every is sore, but my right ankle feels like it has been twisted, my knees ache from the strain of going downhill for so many hours, my left lower calf is swollen like a piano leg (my knee brace has, much to my surprise, cut off circulation), and my right hand is pink and stinging from landing palm first into a patch of nettle (called Cat Bite People Plant in Chinese).

I am also feeling mighty annoyed that my voice recorder (which I was using to take notes – you don’t think I could recall all this from memory did you?) had fallen into a bucket of water at Thomas and was not working.

I can’t recall ever being so stiff all over as I climb into my sleeping bag around 9pm. Perhaps this explains why I finally sleep right through the night.

Click here for Day Six.

Practicalities:

There is little water from Dashuiku to Thomas (6 hours). Thomas however has a steady supply. There are some small streams from Thomas to Dafen. Carry around 3 liters and top up when you can.

It’s best to break the trek from Dashuiku to Dafen into two days. After 9-10 hours on the trail, crossing a serious of tricky landslides is not the sort of thing you want to face.

Batongguan: Day Six

2008-04-21T03:53:00.000-07:00

Friday April 5

We wake up around 7am to our first really clear warm sunny day. It’s glorious outside and our surroundings, which we are seeing for the first time, are eminently kissable.

We take our time getting started, snapping pictures and drying our clothes, most of which we have been wearing wet for days.

I don't usually like to post pics of me looking so stupid, but well, this is a classic. I'm sucking the moisture out of my voice recorder if you must know. And yes, it did help to make it work again.

There are many interpretative signs about the area, but to be perfectly honest I was too tired to really grasp their message at the time. But that’s what cameras and the leisurely weeks afterwards are for.

So here is the skinny. Dafen comes from the Bunun Dahun (or Tahun) which means steam. The steam in question originates from hot springs along the Laku Laku River (which Dafen sits above on terraced levels). I don’t know if the springs remain but that is something I will check out next time I am in the area. I’m a big fan of wild hot springs.

In 1911, the Japanese built a garrison at Dafen. In 1915, probably as a result of the hated policy of confiscating weapons, the Ta-Hun Event broke out and the garrison was destroyed by the Bunun. I believe this monument is to the event:

In 1920, during the construction of the Batongguan Traversing Route, the garrison was rebuilt, this time into a major stronghold. It became in fact the most fortified station along the eastern Batongguan. Not much is left now.

As I mentioned yesterday, Dafen had a general store, and various halls. Itinerant doctors and dentists paid frequent visits, as did acting and singing troupes, and even hikers. There were two schools: one for Japanese children and one for aboriginal. There are still aboriginal elders alive today who attended that school.

The modern day grad students at Dafen had long headed out to do research by the time we got up, but they’d nicely left bags of scat and leaves drying on the picnic tables.

It’s around 10am when we leave the cabin. The original path out of Dafen was destroyed years ago so we have to climb a series of switchback 800m (4.5 hours) to a ridge, then descend down again to rejoin it on the other side.

We begin by crossing the Laku Laku River.

You'll probably need to click on the pic to make out Dafen cabin, now across the valley from us, looking nice and snug on the thickly forested slopes.

After crossing the river, we strike through a lovely mixed forest of oak, machilus, chalkboard tree, crape myrtle, paper mulberry and ferns of every size and shade of green.

As we get up around 2000m, ancient pine and cedar start to appear (some of these trees look a thousand years old) as well as camphor. It’s an odd forest, both jungle like and coniferous. When wind stirs up leaves are blown down on us like rain.

The climb up goes on for too many hours and then ultimately disappoints, as when we gain the ridge there is no view. One simply crosses a narrow saddle, covered in lush rainforest, and then immediately begins to descend.

We have lunch on the saddle, and are treated to some lovely light shows, including a rare Brocken Spectre. (I thought everyone was saying Brock Inspector and thought up a tale of a superhero with special solar powers called Inspector Brock).

But a Brocken Spectre is light phenomenon which enables you to see your shadow in a wall of fog in the distance with a rainbow or colored aura around it.

The Brocken, also called Blocksberg, is the highest peak (3,747ft, 1,142m) in the Harz mountains. This range is eight miles southwest of Wernigerode, Germany.

The Brocken Spectre, also called the Brocken Bow or Glory Ring, is produced by a low sun, casting silhouettes on the fog surrounding the mountain peak. Often these shadows have rings of light surrounding them (due to moisture in the air) which are similar to auras. This phenomena has given the Brocken a mystical significance in German folklore.

Due to magic connotations and stories surrounding the Brocken, witches began to celebrate the sabbath (April 30/ May 1st) midnight rituals there. The mountain even has a witches’ altar and devil's pulpit.

Descendants of the Brocken are known to have a sixth sense. They also possess the ability to feel poltergeists and perceive emotions in others. Equally sensitive to their powers, most are quiet about these abilities.

Goethe also made a trek to the Brocken in 1777 and the trail he took is now a tourist attraction. There is also a scene in Faust that occurs on the Brocken.

After a short climb down a steep, muddy trail, we reach the original Batongguan path, which continues in great shape from here to Baoyai cabin, an easy 3 hours walk. This is one of my favorite parts of the trail, and one where the fog really builds on the rich history of the surroundings. There are several ruins of old police stations running alongside the trail (the best at Duo Meili) and numerous suspension bridges, some long enough that we can’t see across in the fog.

Baoyai (elevation 1680m) is a simple cramped cabin set on a small flat tract of grassland on the slopes above a tributary to the Laku Laku River. Stephen and I arrive just as it is getting dark.

I didn’t think it was possible, but my legs and body are even sorer today than yesterday. I can barely sit. It’s worse than when I jogged 20 miles once without any special training. I’m so stiff I’m not sure if I will break or just freeze up. Every movement causes me to groan.

We are alone this night in the cabin. In fact, we haven’t seen a soul on the trail since Jhongyang. We eat as much of our dinner foods as we can, knowing the next day we will hike all the way to the trail end.

At night there is the clearest sky imaginable overhead. The Big Dipper is low on the horizon and Cassiopeia high above me. In between the constellations are so filled with bright minor stars I can’t make many of them out.

I sleep fairly well this night. I think my companions are just too exhausted to waste energy snoring.

Click here for Day Seven.

Practicalities:

The day’s hike is around 7.5 hours. There is water in the first hour but then nothing for the next 4 hours. After crossing the saddle, and descending to the old trail, there are small streams every hour or so to Baoyai. The cabin has flush toilets (including one in the cabin) and a steady supply of water.

Batongguan: Day Seven

2008-04-21T01:39:00.000-07:00

Saturday April 6

We are up at daybreak and on the trail by 7.30am. We have another long day ahead of us: 28km, or about 9 hours of walking.

We quickly enter a thick forest dominated by blue oak, paper mulberry, figs, and blackboards.

Some lovely flowers in bloom:

The underbrush is thick on the steep slopes, which makes it easy to spot deer trails when they cross ours.

Or to spot deer when they drop dead on the trail.

It’s a barking deer of all things. Richard is in mourning and we all suspect Dave and Mai who are ahead of us on the trail.

Or possibly it was this ferocious bear:

About three hours out of Baolai we turn a bend on the ridge and leave the forest behind. I’m not sure entirely why but the slopes are now covered in high silver grass, much like you find in Yangmingshan in the north.

The path hugs the slopes as we begin our decent into the Laku Laku Valley. The views across the valley, which Stephen notes is 1km both across and down, are delightfully clear and impressive.

Stephen has a keen eye for rocks and notices some marble deposits in the rocks. The geology, as we learn later from Dave and Mai, is changing, from loose shale to harder quartz-mica schists. As a result we see no landslides on our side of the valley, though plenty on the other side from where we came. It was fascinating to be shown how different types of stone can affect the landscape and also trail conditions. I’d never really given it any thought at all before.

On the last stretch before Walami the forest starts to sprout giant ferns as I often see in my hikes in the north around Wulai. Replanted Japanese cedar also abound which is ironic as the name for the area translates into Pine Forest.

We arrive at the Walami cabin (elevation 1060m) at noon. Its a lovely log walled structure with clean manicured grounds. The whole setup looks like a national park visitor center (with toilets and running water) though inside are bunk beds like in all the other cabins.

I’ll have to return to spend the night here. It’s still enough of a hike that you don’t get too many day trippers. It’s also the perfect (the only) venue to start my Walami Salami enterprise.

There’s a large extended family picnicking here, and they try to be nice. But we really aren’t in the mood for English lessons, or being the grateful recipients of a Taiwanese lunch that was one course too big. Well, one guy does give us half a large bar of dark chocolate. We like that.

Nice sign warning about leeches. They should have had one about 3 days back, as well.

We leave Walami around 1.30pm. Once again the forest starts to change, more typical of sub-1000m terrain: there’s Chinese yew, crape murtle, camphor, also wax trees, soapnut trees, paper mulberry, pigeon trees, and still some replanted Japanese cedar. It’s also the first time on the whole trail I’ve seen dear old bird’s nest ferns sprouting up from machilus.

The forest looks a lot like Wulai’s Red River Valley but just a little more open and with wider views across the Laku Laku Valley.

From Walami the trail is wide and gentle (you could bike the whole thing) and we walk slowly, taking lots of pictures and enjoying our time. We see more people now though it is hardly crowded.

I don’t want this to end even though I would love to stop walking and enjoy a beer. Richard too apparently.

I start to go over what I learned as I walk. I think about my cooking, how well my menu worked out for the week (incredibly, I gained 1.5k), and about pushing my body more than I thought I still could. Especially on so little sleep. I make a mental note that Panadol really helps the feet and shoulders on a long day.

I’m also loving that the last few hours are a really strong finish to a great trail. There are beautiful wide clear views across the valley, dominated by a towering green pyramid of a mountain. The forest is lush and varied, and has that soft, inviting look as it did on the first day. There are still some cool old suspension bridges to cross and some excellent old sections of the stone trail still etched into the slopes.

And one of the coolest looking steles:

We reach Jiasin around 4pm. The name means great view and they weren’t kidding. It’s also the site of a new campground, one of the nicest I have seen in Taiwan (and I have seen some lovely ones). There are showers, bathrooms, and an outdoor kitchen area made of slate piled on slate (in the Ruiki aboriginal way). If you hike this trail, try to time it so you get to spend a night here at the end.

The last two hours pass with a mixture of wonder, reflection, meditation and the shifting of my pack to try to lessen the throbbing pain in the knees, ankles and left shoulder.

We cross historic Shanfong Suspension Bridge and I know we are almost at the trailhead.

And then we make it to the tarmac, just as the sky is darkening.

Richard has asked a taxi driver, who was leaving then with passengers, if he will return to pick us up. He says yes. There is nothing to do but wait.

It grows darker and Mai spots a gleam of weak light in the bushes. A firefly! What great luck. But there are more. Dozens then hundreds, lining both sides of the path all the way to Shanfong bridge.

It seems like the perfect ending to the hike, but we have one more treat. Instead of a taxi returning to pick us up, it is a van big enough to carry all of us and our gear. Driving the van is a Frenchman, who turns out to be a Catholic missionary named Father Moet who has been in Taiwan for 40 years. As he drove us back to Yuli, Father Moet offers to let us stay in the church. They have a room with a shower on the 3rd floor. How could we say no?

After dropping our packs and grabbing a quick shower (and shave for some of us) we head out to dinner. We find a local steak house and gorge on red meat and two grocery baskets filled with Taiwan beer. Father Moet was hoping to join us for a drink later but must have gotten sidetracked. It’s a shame, I would have loved to have heard some of his stories.

Later that night, Dave and Mai make a strange discovery: our right feet are all wetter than our left. No one really understands why.

The next morning, a little hung over for sure, we catch a train from Yuli to Kaohsiung, where we finally part ways. For me, it’s a KMRT to the HSR, a HSR to Taipei, then an MRT to Qizhang and a taxi home sweet home.

Damn, I find my larder is empty. There’s nothing to eat but the rest of my pasta and tuna from the hike.

Click here for my Seven day Menu.

Practicalities:

There are some streams in the first hour or two from Baoyai, then nothing until Walami.

From Walami to Jiasin (3 hours) there are small streams so carry 2L and top up. After Jiasin I don’t recall any water that was accessible but it’s only another 2 hours.

Batongguan Menu

2008-04-15T10:14:00.000-07:00

Some people have asked me to write about the food I brought with me as I spent a fair amount of time working out an ideal calorie to gram ratio. In general you want foods that have at least a 4:1 ratio, though you need to make a few exceptions to get enough protein.

My menu was based on a 4100 calorie a day diet. This proved to be more than I needed most days. I weigh 77k and could probably get by with 4000 calories on the hardest days and 3500 on the lighter days. This translates to 1k or .8k a day of food to carry.

I never ate the full 120g of trail mix a day (usually I ate none) nor did I eat 200g of chocolate (more like 100g). I also usually ate only 1 granola bar.

I did try to eat a little every hour on the hike. This really helped with fatigue. The carb gel packs also help for a boost of energy. I took them on the hardest days near the end so I would have energy to prepare dinner.

I had 10k of food for this trip (I thought we would be out or 8 days so I brought 9 days worth of food). Next time I would try to get this down to 6-7k.

For coffee I would follow Dave and Mai and drink Indonesian style. Put a teaspooon of fine ground coffee in a cup, add boiling water, stir, and let sit so the grinds sink to the bottom. Afterwards you can just toss the grinds away. No mess. No leftover paper.

Here are two sample days:

Day 2:
Breakfast:
a. 100g oatmeal (400c)
b. ½ cup blueberries (200c)
c. two tea eggs (120c)
d. coffee

Lunch:
a. 2 slices bread (200c)
b. 2 slices cheese (200c)
c. 2 tbsp each peanut butter and jam (300c)
d. dried mangoes (60g) (200c)

Dinner:
a. dried package mushroom/rice (w Tabasco) (750c)
b. tuna 85g (150c)
c. 1 veggie drink (100c)
d. 2 tbsp olive oil (200c)

Snacks:
a. granola bar (200c)
b. protein bar (300c)
c. 120g trail mix (650c)
d. chocolate (if needed) (300c)
e. carbo energy gel (120c)

Total: 4100

Day 3
Breakfast:
a. 100g oatmeal (400c)
b. ½ cup blueberries (200c)
c. two tea eggs (120c)
d. coffee

Lunch:
a. 2 slices bread (200c)
b. 2 slices cheese (200c)
c. 2 tbsp each peanut butter and jam (300c)
d. dried mangoes (60g) (200c)

Dinner:
a. Pasta shells (150g) (450c)
b. 85g tuna (150c)
c. 2 tbsp olive oil (200c)
d. veggie drink (100c)

Snacks:
a. granola bar (200c)
b. protein bar (300c)
c. 120g trail mix (650c)
d. chocolate (if needed) (300c)
e. carbo energy gel (120c)

Total: 4100

This is a list of all the food I brought and the weight of each type of food. Below is a list of various common foods and average ratios of calories to grams or some such measure.

Food List:

a. Bread: 22 slices (so two packages of rye) (900 grams)
b. peanut butter – (300 grams go for 400g to be safe)
c. jam – 20 gram a tbls (50 calories) (300 grams)
d. multivitamins = 9
e. tuna cans – 2 cans (680 grams)
f. olive oil (240 grams, 8 fluid ounces, or 240 ml)
g. 8 veggie drink packages (240 grams)
h. cheese – 8 slices (200 grams???)
i. oatmeal (16 packages – (800 grams)
j. blueberries – 4 cups (480 grams)
k. 16 tea eggs
l. (10 coffee packages (100 grams???)
m. trail mix – 1kg (put in plastic container like a drink container so I know how much each day to apportion)
n. tortellini – 500g
o. dried packaged meals – 4 package =840g
p. granola bars – 9 (400 grams)
q. oatmeal bars – 10 (650g)
r. protein bars – 5 (400 grams)
s. chocolate bar – 8 (500 grams)
t. dried fruit – 60 grams a day (just under half a cup, 3/8th cup a day, 540g)
u. energy packages – 9 (370g)
v. 1 bottle Tabasco sauce - 100 grams
w. black tea bags

Weight about 10 kilos in total!!!

Average calories for foods

Bread: 1 slice (45 grams) = 100 calories
Flour tortilla – 2.5 to 1 ratio (ratio is calories per gram), 1 tortilla/45g = 120 calories
Pumpkin seeds: 1 cup (138 grams) 760 calories
Granola Bar: 1 bar/40g = 200 calories
Protein Bar: 80g = 300 calorie
Pasta: 3 to 1
Raisons: 3 to 1 (1 cup = 500 calories)
1 can salmon or tuna = 1.6 to 1 (100g = 160-180 calories)
Most nuts: 6 to 1 ratio
Peanut butter: 16 grams in a tbps of 100 calories (if eat every day need 300 grams or so)
Soba noodles: 1 pack = 300 calories
Cheese slice: 100 calories
Salami:
Oats: 4 to 1, 1 cup = 600 calories
Muesli: 100g = 350 calories
Olive Oil: 1 tbsp (15 grams) = 120 calories,
Parmesan cheese: 4 to 1 (1 cup/100g = 400 calories)
Instant banana pudding: 100 grams/1 package = 400 calories
Fruit bars: 4 to 1
Chocolate: 4 to 1
Trail mix: 5 to 1
Veggie drink package: 30g = 120 calories
Tortellini: 3 to 1
Salami: 4 to 1/ 28g = 110
jam – 20 gram a tbls
honey – 3 to 1 – 1 tbsp (21 grams) = 60 calories

The Hapen Trail: Wulai

2008-02-15T01:50:00.000-08:00

Blogging has been light in recent months for a very good reason. After the last outing in Sanmin I came down with a tick-borne disease called scrub typhus.

Scrub typhus is an acute, febrile, infectious illness that was first described by the Chinese about 2000 years ago. This illness is caused by Orientia (formerly Rickettsia) tsutsugamushi. Humans are accidental hosts in this zoonotic disease.

The term scrub is used because of the type of vegetation (terrain between woods and clearings) that harbors the vector. Scrub typhus is endemic in regions of eastern Asia and the southwestern Pacific (Korea to Australia) and from Japan to India and Pakistan.

Patients most commonly present with high fever, severe headache, generalized myalgia, and malaise. The incubation period from the mite bite is 5-20 days following inoculation.
Toward the end of the first week, approximately 35% of patients develop a centrifugal macular rash on the trunk, which may become papular.

In other words, a red rash all over the torso and face. I looked like a spotted leopard as seen through infrared.

There were about 60 cases of tsustugamuchi in the last year in Taiwan, with one death just a week ago. You can get bitten anywhere on the island so cover up when you head out into the bush. If you find yourself with a high fever, swollen glands at the back of the head and neck, rash, and one telltale ulcerated wound (like a cigarette burn) get to a hospital.

Normal treatment is a week of antibiotics but it took two weeks for me to get on them as originally my doctor thought I had Dengue Fever, for which there is no treatment but rest. So overall, it was like 3 weeks with a sever flu. However, recovery is quick and I’m 100 percent again.

Which leads me to a recent hike on the ancient Hapen Trail:

Running from Wulai to Fushan is the 20-kilometer Hapen Trail, which was once known to the local Aborigines as the "wedding trail." Atayal of Wulai and their compatriots in the Ilan township of Tatung would often do business with each other, and intermarry, and the Hapen Trail was vital for this.

The scenery of the Hapen Trail is outstanding, and it is home to a wide variety of flora and fauna. At dawn, kingfishers, grey-cheeked fulvettas, black-browed barbets, and brown dippers come out for breakfast, and sharp-eyed visitors may catch a glimpse of the Formosan macaque, Reeve's muntjac, or red-bellied tree squirrel. Also swimming around in the Hapen River is the Taiwan shovel jaw carp. At night, glowworms dot parts of the landscape. The whole area is like Taiwan's own Amazon.

The weather cooperated somewhat for this hike. It didn’t rain on us though cloud cover obscured all the nice views.

Hapen is part of the National Trail System and so has been gussied up a bit in recent years with maps and km markings along the way. The trail is wide and clear, feeling a bit more like a route through a national park back in Canada than most of the paths we go on.

But there are still a few rough parts that you sure wouldn’t find open to the public back home.

We only made it as far as the first stream crossing, before turning back at the threat of rain. No tsutsugamuchi but a lot of leeches. They seemed to be particular fond of Chris.

The drive to the trailhead from Wulai is a lush, wet, rugged one, high up the Nanshih River valley. Numerous high thin waterfalls tumble down from both sides of the valley and washouts of the road are common. Fushan Village, the last real settlement in the area, is cut off by landslides almost every summer after a major typhoon.

Every hike leads to more plans for hikes or other trips. This one was no different. At the very least I want to bike out here in summer and maybe ride and carry along the trail to the campsite at the end.

Sanmin River Trace

2008-01-04T06:08:00.000-08:00

Sanmin refers to the Chinese modern classic of political and social organization know in English as the Three Principals of the People, by Dr. Sun Yet Sen. By any standards it was abominable to force this name on three villages comprised almost entirely of Bunun aboriginals. In a move that smacks as much of opportunism on the part of local leaders looking for kick backs from funding to rename signs, as redressing authoritarian-era wrongs, the villages voted to rename themselves Namasiya starting January 1, 2008.

Anyway, it’s a lovely little pocket of Taiwan, hemmed in by high ridges, and riven by country lanes lined with yellow and red poinsettias, banana trees, betel buts, and, at least this time of year, blooming plum blossoms.

But on to the hike.

We had no destination in mind. The plan was simply to follow the Cishan (Namasiya) River valley upstream for several days and then return. Richard from Barking Deer Adventures had set up the outing, describing it on his blog as “a vigorous five day river trace.”

The trail began as a jeep track behind this wonderful little campground.

I just love the soft colors of the hillsides down here. It seems to result from the mix of vegetation: some scrub, some high acacias, some forests of bamboo, manchilus and cedar.

There are hot spring resorts nearby with open pools that offer pure mountain views like this. I remember sitting in one once last winter when the plum blossoms were filling the air with sweet odors. It was as fine an afternoon as any I have had.

But on to the hike.

We left the jeep track shortly and entered a thick jungle of bamboo, manchilus and barbed rattan. On the edges of the very narrow trail grew shin-high Cat Bite People (Mao Yao Ren), a kind of poison ivy. I was stung many times, but the bite doesn’t last long.

The trails are “maintained” by local hunters and rarely see regular hiking groups. They are similar to the cuts into the sides of steep slopes that pass for paths in Wulai, but were even more rough. At times there was barely enough trail for a wide foot to step on.

I’m used to this kind of terrain, but not when carrying a large pack. Balance was an issue the whole time. Here’s me sliding off the trail (pic to come).

Making our way upriver, we alternated between hunting trails and hiking the stony riverbank itself. It’s always fun clamoring over and around huge boulders, but again, with the pack on it was tough on my knees…and ankle…and wrists.

At times we needed to cross the river. Interestingly, the local hunters mark the best places to cross with small rock cairns.

Though we only saw about 5 hunters in 5 days, signs of their presence were everywhere. They leave traps about (usually marked in some way) and numerous rough shelters.

Richard knows a few of them and is hoping to eventually try to get more of them involved in leading trips. Their hunting is devastating the local wildlife.

There were no stunning views along the trip, but that is not a complaint. We saw five people in five days, and the rest of the time had a winding river and relatively high mountain scenery for company. At night we camped on sandy clearings above the river and built campfires with the abundant dry driftwood around.

The Cishan River valley is a excellent location for a bit of rough camping especially in winter when the south is warm and dry (actually you couldn’t camp here in summer as the river level gets too high).

There were five of us on the trip, all avid hikers. Ray, a band teacher at the American school in Taipei, entertained us on Christmas Eve with stories of his adventures in the Peace Corp in Ghana. Life seemed pretty challenging living in a hut and contending with poor food, bad water, snakes, rats, and other vermin. And then one day, said Ray, “my cat got rabies.” Not sure why, but this cracked us all up.

A number of small streams feed into the larger Cishan and it’s relatively simple to keep pretty good track of how far upstream you’ve gone. On the third day we reached stream 7. We hiked up the streambed a short distance to sit above a cool waterfall tucked in behind a slab of pinkish stone.

It occurred to me that this pool was the perfect secret swimming hole. In summer it couldn’t be reached and in winter it was a bit too chilly for a dip. At least for me. I left Canada for a subtropical country for a reason.

Stream 7 was the farthest point north we trekked. According to Richard, it’s possible to continue and reach the road to Alishan in another 2-3 days. But at this time the water level upstream was still too high where the canyon narrowed. Not even the local hunters would attempt it, such softies as they are.

On day five we returned to Sanmin and the campground. After resting I hiked up to the pretty Longfeng Waterfall for a swim. It was the right way to round off a week in the wilds.

Some random pics:

A lovely deep swimming hole. The Cishan flows down from Yushan National Park so the water is icy cold.

Bamboo shedding. This is a natural phenomenon.

A turn in the river.

Down at riverbed level.

Jabba the Hut stone.

Aphids or some such insects devouring a tube of bamboo.

Lovely mountains scenery from the valley floor.

Where we turned back.

There’s my tent: the orange one.

Bit of a rant, but it performed so poorly I had to return it to North Face. Super lightweight (1.2k) but condensation was intolerable. I would have puddles on the floor in the morning if I didn’t wake up during the night and wipe down the insides of the walls.

Conditions were ideal on this trip, warm and dry, so the problem is with the design. I’m pretty grumpy about this as I bought this tent both because it was so lightweight and because it promised superior ventilation for humid climates. Oh well, North Face is being good about it.

Practicalities:

I don’t know if there is any public transportation to Sanmin but it would be easy enough to rent a scooter in Tainan and drive there. The campground has showers and bbq areas and there are plenty of small restaurants just down the road in the villages.

Barking Deer is likely to have more events in the area. Just to be clear, I have no financial or professional ties to this company though I do recommend them. Nice people and very knowledgeable of the south of Taiwan.

Christmas River Trace

2007-12-22T21:39:00.000-08:00

I'll be gone for the next six days hiking and river tracing up a remote valley in Kaohsiung County. Looking forward to this as much as opening presents as a kid.

I'm in great shape for this hike having been plied with potent Three-Penis Wine (see vase) last night at a Christmas party. Grrrr!

First Attempt at Pull Out Knife Mountain

2007-12-14T06:14:00.000-08:00

It's Friday which means I'll be out again on the trails tomorrow. Time to sit down with a couple cans of Murphy's Irish Stout and get this hike from last weekend recorded before it slips from memory.

Not that it wasn’t memorable. In fact, it was one of the best times out in the woods I’ve had, which is of course what I said the week before. But we’re really hitting one top place after the other these days and my top ten day trips list is being rewritten all the time.

If you grew up on Tarzan legends like I did, it just doesn't get better than this. Dad, wish you were here.

So last weekend we returned to the Jiajiuliao Stream trail to begin this hike. The original plan was to hike to the top of the pass mentioned (and pictured) in last weeks post, and then head up to a nearby peak.

But in the comments, Jah Linnie, one of Taiwan’s foreign hiking gods, suggested the trail behind a cabin off the Jiaojiuliao Trail (near the second swimming hole) would make for a rewarding day trip. The trail is an old forestry bureau route and leads to the coolly named Ba Dao Er Shan (拔刀爾山; Pull Out Knife Mountain). At 1115m, this is the highest point in the Wulai area. The views are long and wide of rolling range upon range.

Unfortunately, as I was writing this, Kate posted elsewhere that Ba Dao Er Shan is just a tranliteration of the Japanese which means "hat made of vines." Oh well. We can pretend this was once the site of a "knife fight to passage" ritual so to speak.

So off we went. It was just Kate and me this time, and Kat, a Vancouver Islander, who turned out to be a great hiker and outdoors enthusiast. She was also a really fun person to spend an afternoon with and I truly hope she joins us on more outings.

Here she is chatting with Kate.

No, she's not being a granola freak here, but is smelling a camphor tree. I scrapped a section of bark off to mark a side trail and when an intoxicatign odor suddenly filled the air I realized what I had cut into. Camphors are a hardwood with a delicious scent and termite-resistant wood. The mountains around Sanyi used to be filled with camphor forests which is why the wood carving industry began there during the Japanese occupation.

There hasn't been much or any harvesting of the trees in recent decades so you find a lot of them in the forests again.

We reached the cabin in about 1.5 hours as usual. As Jah had described there was a trail up just behind the cabin. This was much more narrow than the path we’d been on. In fact it was only about a foot wide in most places with a dense underbrush coming up to our waists on either side.

It was jungly, just the way I like it. And steep.

It was easy enough to make our way up, and as the day was dry, not too hard on the lungs. A small stream ran down the slopes to the left, forming cascades and small waterfalls that looked perfect for a shower on a hot summer’s day.

Twice the trail disappeared under a thick growth of grasses, ferns and shrubs.

Twice we beat our way to the point where it became clear again. On the third try, we could not find it again. We’d reached a small creek but there was no sign of where the path began on the other side.

According to my GPS, we were only at about 700m. With 400m more ascent and the time reaching 1.30, we decided to head back.

Where we turned round was one of the most beautiful spots on the hike. There was the lulling sound of water tumbling down a steep slope over layers of disordered stones. There was an overflow of vegetation that spouted up even from the tips of bare rock.

There was a canopy of vines and thin acacias and common manchulus whose sides seemed to spit out bird nest ferns.

But there was no trail.

Coming down we actually found ourselves a couple times on the wrong path. Going up these paths were invisible but going down they often seemed the right way to go. Fortunately our psychology major, Kate, is studying memory and employed a cute Hansel and Gretel narrative to remember our every move.

We met a couple of hiking groups on the way down who confirmed that a side trail we had seen was the one we should have been on. Apparently most people hike this route from the other side, concluding where we began. There is less likelihood of missing the trails this way.

We all want to go back soon and climb Ba Dau Er Shan from the front side and finish off where we started this time. None of us cared that we didn’t make it this time. Just being out in that lush jungle all afternoon was reward in itself.

For me there was the extra reward of seeing a great part of a region’s hiking route come together in just one afternoon. Even after a decade hiking in Taiwan there are still, just 40 minutes from my house, long and complicated trail systems I am only just beginning to understand and explore.

Wulai to Sanxia

2007-12-03T05:54:00.000-08:00

At long last the hiking club completed the old hunting route that stretches from the Red River Valley (紅河谷) in Wulai to Xiongkong (Bear Hollow) near Manyueyuan Forest Reserve in Sanxia.

We're very familiar with the first third of the trail, as two of our favorite swimming holes are found just off of it in the Jiajiuliao Stream (加九寮溪).

(The first pool on a summer's day)

(The second pool)

Saturday was a bit chilly for most of us to swim except Peter who met us at the trailhead after his morning swim. Peter lives to swim in the rivers of Taiwan and once swam every day for an entire year except when typhoons made it simple insane to attempt.

The entire trail is about 20-25km long, with only one steep climb of about 40 minutes. Otherwise it is an immensely enjoyable long hike through mostly replanted Japanese cedar forest. There are a few stream crossings, one longish one at the end, so river tracing shoes are useful, though not absolutely necessary.

There are several very fun rickety log bridges to cross at first. They wash away every typhoon but the aboriginal hunters who use the trail rebuild them quickly. They're fairly sturdy and only once have I seen someone fall through in crossing. Wasn't me.

The trail is wide and clear the entire way. As it follows the Jiajiuliao and later Dabao River (大豹溪) it is either level or gently rolling.

Except for one fairly long climb up to the pass at around 900m.

The trail on the back side of the pass looks like it was once used to haul timber down the slopes, likely on sleds as there is no sign of a railway track. What this area must have once looked like when it was covered in 2000 year old cedars is just hinted at little further on into Manyueyuan in a small patch of forest with a remaining stand of ancient cedars.

My favorite part of the trail was where the Dabao River is formed by a half dozen smaller streams joining in a dense forest of mountain banyans with giant birdnest ferns sprouting out of their branches and trunks. I wouldn't mind camping out here one day and exploring downstream for swimming holes.

By chance we saw a group of aboriginal hunters stride past us as we were crossing the last stream. They were a blast from the past with their handmade flicklock rifles and woven bags around their shoulders. Sadly none of us were quick enough to ask for a photo.

Aboriginals are mostly Christains in Taiwan, which is evidended by the shrine Chris and Paul are looking at in this pic:

Notice the Virgin Mary and Jesus on the cross:

The presence of hunters explains why the area had so little wildlife compared to neighboring Manyueyuan ( a protected area). We always see monkeys and squirrels and even Reeves Muntjac (the barking deer) when we hike there.

But this trail was silent though we did encounter one sluggish Habu, a rather poisonous snake with an impressive arrowhead and thin tapered tail. My shots are not the clearest but I didn't want to get much closer if that's alright.

The trails ends at a place called Xiongkong (Bear Hollow).

From here you take the road down to Lele Gu (Happy Happy Valley; 樂樂谷) where you can catch a bus back to Sanxia. A nice way to round out the day is to stop about 8km down the road at Great Root Spa, a hot spring resort. There are two levels, one nicely just for adults, with about 10 different pools, including some jets and a foot massager.

You can check out their website:
http://www.dabangan.com.tw/

All in all everyone had a great time, though we had one new member, Paul, who may have found walking 30km on his first hike a bit much. Kate though was thrilled to break her old record of 18km.

As for me, I am so happy to have another long hiking option so close to home. This one is safe enough to do alone (though be prepared to be out all day) and there are many side routes up to nearby peaks that would make great day trips on their own. (Note: Jah mentions one in the comments.)

I wish I had Beauty, my sisters dog, with me. She would have a blast on this trail.

Practicalities:

To get to the trailhead take the MRT to Xindian station. Exit and turn left and walk up the main road to the 7-Eleven. Bus for Wulai (marked in English) come by often. Catch one to just past the 11.5km mark at the village of Chenggong. Get off her and walk down a side road to the right all the way down the hill to the red bridge.

Cross the bridge and follow the road up and around to the second bridge. The trail starts to the left just before the bridge.

Always stay on the main trail (it's obvious). There are a few stream crossings. The last one (about 5 hours into the hike) is long. You won't be able to see the trail on the other side of the stream as it restarts about 50m downstream. Make sure you take the trail on the other side as there is also one of the same side.

Follow the last bit of trail to the road and turn left. Follow road down to where it splits and wait for the bus. Last bus is around 6pm. You can grab a beer and snacks at a little shop at the split. The bus takes you back to Sanxia. From there grab a taxi to Yongning MRT or the regular train station in nearby Yingge.

You could also continue down the road from the split to where it joins the main road to Manyueyuan park. A walk through the park to Fuxing on the North Cross Island Hwy would be another 8-10 hours. I'd like to do it one weekend as an overnight trip with a stay at the campground in Lele Gu.

Mud Volcanoes and Maolin

2007-11-15T05:19:00.000-08:00

I spent last weekend scootering around the mountains of Kaohsiung with Richard Saunders and gang. Richard is author of the best books on hiking in the north of Taiwan: Taipei Day Trips I & II (more on the these later).

I had thought we'd be spending most of our time in Maolin, hiking around the mountainous forest reserve famed for its purple butterfly (purple milkweed or crow butterfly) valley. But much of the time was spent on the scooter, or taking short strolls to visit the sites. So this isn't really a hiking post, but it does introduce a seldom seen part of Taiwan so I thought I'd post.

The gang sets out.

The purple butterfly valley was discovered to home hundreds of thousands of purple butterflies each winter only about 30 years ago. It's true significance only became apparent a few years ago after the publication of a book on the world's butterflies by a British etymologist.

The valley in Maolin is one of only two mass wintering sites in the world, the other being the valleys of central Mexico, where the Monarch Butterfly spends his winter. From Maolin National Scenic Area website:

Every winter, it is conservatively estimated that at least a million Euploeini butterflies glide on purple wings to the holy mountain of the Rukai and Paiwan Tribes in south Taiwan and take shelter in warm valleys at the foot of Dawu Mountain. About six hundred thousand butterflies winter in "Purple Butterfly Valley", which along with the Monarch butterfly's winter home in Mexico is one of only two mass wintering sites known in the world.

"Purple Butterfly Valleys" exist only in the medium and low altitude regions of Kaohsiung, Pingtung and Taitung counties, in the traditional homelands of the Paiwan and Rukai tribes. At present there are about twenty butterfly gathering places known in the area, and the Maolin area of Kaohsiung County is home to at least seven.

On the way to Maolin we visited a number of mud volcanoes and mud pools. Mud volcanoes are quite rare in the world and a number are found in Taiwan.

The volancoes at Wushanding were best. Nicely, the area has been turned into a nature reserve. You must sign in to enter the area and also read a large signpost explaining how to behave. And note you can't just look at the sign. The volunteers insist you stare at it for at least a few seconds to absorb the import of the message. Laughable were it not so very necessary in a country where locals can utter "Wow how beautiful" and then toss a plastic bag into the landscape.

Up close the active volcanoes looked like grey beeswax candles.

You can stand on the volcanoes where the mud has dried and watch the churning and gurgling and spurting of mud in the crater.

This volcano is extinct.

The mud is not hot as many people expect. The bubbles are caused by natural gas perculating up through the slurry. The pools are supposed to be extremely deep. At this very remote pool we tested the depth with a long bamboo pool. Ribald commentary by Mark:

At the Yangnyu Mad (sic) Ponds the local shopkeeper kindly lit the pool on fire.

We arrived late in Maolin and rode out to Duona, a small Ruiki aboriginal community set in a low valley. It was almost dark so all my photos were taken the next morning.

The Rukai traditionally built their houses out of slate and a number of old slate houses can still be found.

The village is a decent place to spend the night. There are hot springs just down at the river but sadly they have gone from this:

To a series of bare cement pools on a bare cement retaining wall with a sheet metal cover. I didn't bother to take pics.

It's still a little early in the season for the purple butterflies but because we were seeing a fair number off the road I decided to take everyone to a spot I had discovered last year. Last weekend there were maybe a tenth of what I saw last December. According to Richard, the orange flowers blooming all over the slopes in this area are lantana, much loved by butterflies. I have a video from last year:

This is still a public area. The swarms in the reserved areas must make one pause. We're so happy to see one squirrel or a deer when we hike but to see such a superabundance of life, even such small life, is something precious on this crowded little island. God how the land must have teemed with all manner of mammals, fish and insect life at one point. I have heard that Taiwan used to export 50 million (dead) butterflies a year for those little students kits we got as children.

Lots of lovely high waterfalls at Maolin.

And many high suspension bridges.

Which are not just for people though.

Random shots of the beauty of Maolin:

Next...the badlands.

My Neighborhood

2007-11-04T07:11:00.000-08:00

One of the reasons I live in the southern part of Taipei is the proximity to the mountains. It doesn't hurt that I get this view out my front window, either.

The highest point in the background is Monkey Mountain. Some mountain biking friends say they have seen Formosan Macaques in the morning, but I never have. I suppose I just go out to late.

In any case, the new gondola system has a stop up there and I can see the little cars gliding up and down the wires from my windows. It's a glorious ride up, both day and night, and for both city and nature views. I'll try to post some pics later.

From the gondola station you can walk up to Monkey Mountain and continue on a natural path along a ridge for about 9 hours until you reach the next town. If you had the time, you could walk for two days to reach Fengtou Ridge - site of last weekend's hike - with only one short stint on a road.

Taipei is not a beautiful city at ground level but it's very lovely from the surrounding hills in my neighborhood.

Evenings and nighttime are quite dreamy.

I couldn't stand another day at home, cold or not, and went out tonight. Lots of begonias, wild ginger and red orchids blooming alongside the dike.

Down by the river a group of monks and mourners were burning a massive pile of ghost paper. Obviously someone important and wealthy has died recently. A gangster perhaps, judging from the cars.

I really need to carry my camera with me at all times.

Jiaming Lake: 嘉明湖

2007-11-02T23:08:00.000-07:00

Richard at Barking Deer, a southern based adventure company, thinks I have a bit of a curse when it comes to the high mountains. Despite living here in Taiwan for 12 years, I've never been able to reach the top of Yushan, the island's highest peak.

Don't think I haven't tried, but rain, fog, landslides, and life, just keep getting in the way.

A month ago, we tried to climb to Jiaming Lake, that gorgeous jewel you see above. It's the highest alpine lake in Taiwan, and supposedly began existence as a meteorite strike.

When we arrived at the trailhead, the rain came down in buckets. Let's at least make it to the first cabin, we decided, and four hours later arrived, soaked through to the skin.

I must say I was pretty disappointed how fast my Gortext shell jacket let in water. I really need to reseam it and probably give it an iron. My felt water-resistant felt-lined pants held up better. At least they kept me warm.

The cabin was full when we arrived, and we set our tents up on the patio in the back. We all changed clothes and had some warm tea and felt a lot better afterwards. I suppose we might have tried to stick it out for the night and hope for better weather in the morning, but we discovered that our tents were leaking.

That was it, better to call it a day. When you're up at almost 3000m you really shouldn't be stupid about the risks you take.

Anyway, this weekend we were set for a second attempt on Jiaming. But, cursed luck, the weather not only called for rain all weekend, but I came down with a chest cold. Now I'm stuck at home, not even able to head out for a hike in the hills around my apartment.

Good for the blog, I guess.

A Halloween Hike Along Fengtou Ridge: 峰頭尖

2007-11-02T03:11:00.001-07:00

It never crossed my mind that it was the Halloween weekend when we set out to climb Fengtou Ridge. And since I'd never climbed the ridge before I had no idea how challenging it would be. Quel surprise when this hike exposed us to some of the hairiest sections we've come across in years. In other words, it was just the thing to celebrate the scariest day of the year.

Fengtou Ridge, or Point, is part of the long ridge system that extends pretty much from southern Taipei all the way to the east coast. It's just east of the famous Huang Didian ridge, separated by a narrow river valley that long ago must have cut the ridge in half.

We started our hike in Pingxi, a former coal mining village along the Pingxi Small Rail Line.

The first part of the trail followed an old rail line that was once used to haul coal out of the area until the mid-80s. Lovely softwood forests dotted with the occasional stand of Japanese cedar hemmed us on both sides. Occassionally we caugght a glimpse of the ridge to the southwest.

The sweet clear Gualiaokeng Stream (瓜寮坑 )warbled below. This stream would make a wonderful little river tracing excursion for someone with kids or someone looking for a safe place to practise the sport.

In 15 minutes we reached an old coal mining area, with abandoned buildings and mine shafts. One shaft is filled almost to the top with water and we call it Gollum's Lair.

The trail narrowed after this and followed a crystal clear stream that the locals are restocking with fish. Efforts are paying off and you can easily spot a dozen or more fry and larger adults in the deeper pools.

The signs for the turnoff to Fengtou Point were obvious but the first part of the trail was a bit tricky. In essence we had to clamber up a rather steep rocky slab for about 50m. It wasn't terribly difficult, but involved navigating around some boulders, and up a narrow cleft in the rock. It was good preparation for the really challenging bits later.

After the rocky slope the trail cut through a light forest until it reached the ridge proper. There were some astonishing views back toward the famous Pingxi crags. You can actually get to the top of this and other outcrops in the area on a series of steps cut into the stone. I've been to the top many times and will likely write about them another time.

The ridge looked like most others we have climbed: very thin but wooded even at the very top which tricks the eye into thinking you are not that high up. In other words, even though we were on less than a metre wide ridge top, with a drop of 200m on either side, we didn't feel it as the trees and shrubs that grew straight from the rock hemmed us in cozily.

At least at the start. It soon became apparent that this ridge was more exposed than others, and had almost no ropes or spikes for balance and safety. The day was a windy one and the gusts of high wind were annoying at first - and then worrisome.

After an hour or so of scrambling along, we stopped for lunch on the east peak, a rocky cap with a high slab back jutting up from the north side of the trail. We clambered up the slab to take advantage of some natural seats cut into the rock. It was a precarious spot, but the senery couldn't be better. Here we were only 30 minutes from Taipei but there was not a sign of development anywhere, just green rugged mountain ranges in all directions.

As we ate lunch a visitor dropped in, a middle aged Taiwanese man who was obviously a very experienced hiker. I don't know if he was showing off but he climbed up onto the pointiest part of the outcrop and strode over to where we were having lunch. This was insane. The ridge top here was literally a knife-edge. But he had astonishing balance and sang-froid. Far more than me who was nervous just having him around.

It was around 2pm at this point. We had been hiking since 11.30am. It was clear we were never going to finish the entire ridge. Fortunately our crazy visitor mentioned that a side trail branched off from the main ridge trail in about an hour and would take us back down to Pingxi.

I think we were all pretty glad of that as the trail was a bit more than we had expected. Silly us. The worst or best was yet to come.

The pics we have don't show just how precariously we were situated. This one looks like we are happily sitting on a rock, but in fact, it is a bare stretch of ridge with sheer drop on both sides to the wooded valley below. We're sitting because no one wanted to walk across. The rock was not as dry as expected and it was windy as I said.

This is not a pic of Fengtou Point but it shows how thin and lofty these ridges can be and why the bare sections can really scare the crap out of you.

I suppose one of the reasons this hike was particularly unnerving was that we had never done it before and did not know what to expect. One of our members, Kate, is not a very experienced hiker, and struggled bravely to overcome her fears. She did
an admirable job but I was worried that we might come across a section that would prove too challenging for her - or all of us.

Fortunately the long bridge proved the worst of it and we made it to the branch in the trail around 3pm or so. The view of the ridge as it continued to run west was outstanding.

The trail down was very very steep and there were few ropes in place as is usual on Taiwanese trails (some trails are so steep you couldn't climb up or down without assistance). This made the going slow, but after the challenge of the ridge, it didn't seem at all difficult.

I love the type of low-altitude forest we climbed down through. It's not quite jungle but it's so luxuriant and so unlike anything I grew up with. We passed patches of acacias, you tong trees, bamboo, begonias, Chicken Shit Flowers, and a yellow puffy thing whose name escapes me.

The trail flattened out after a while and then crossed a saddle. The trail became overgrown in a few places but it was simple to follow as there were the ubiquitous ribbons on the branches. Taiwanese hiking groups hang these as markers and very often in this tropical land of quick growing plants and washouts, they are the only thing that marks a trail for long stretches.

In the last hour of the hike we unexpectedly found ourselves walking along the base of a towering grey cliff. It was very cool and quite a treat at the end of a long day to see something so beautifully rugged.

When the trail branched near the end we decided to head down to a small stream. We found a large man-made pool of clear water, which was obviously a catchment of sorts to collect water for piping down to the village. We would have gone for a swim in it had the day had much light left.

After a few seconds I suddenly knew where I was. This was the Gualiaokeng Stream and the trail that we had started on to the coal mining area was just above us. I hike in this area a lot and had been down to the pool many times but never from this direction which is why I didn't recognize it at first.

In any case, we crossed the pool, scrambled through a bamboo field to the trail and had a most satisfying amble back to the car along the old railway track line. It was about 5.30pm now and dusk was settling in the sky. I love this time of night here in Pingxi. Shuliangjian, which looks like a volcano, is particularly beautiful when its dark outline is set against an evening sky.

We decided to go for dinner in the area at a quaint little place set in an old Japanese era wood house. Chris brought the new Lonely Planet Taiwan guide into the restaurant and after dinner I read aloud passages. Everyone though it was pretty funny to attend a reading of a guidebook.

All in all this was one of the best hikes we've had. Though a little unnerving in places we'd all love do it again.

Practicalities:

Pinxi is south-east of Taipei. You can get there on by rail by taking a train to Ruifeng and then transferring to the Pingxi Small Rail Line (a nice ride) and getting off in Pingxi. There are also buses to Pingxi from Muzha MRT station. Just walk to the main road and cross. Buses 15 and 16 run every 30-60 minutes. A taxi from Muzha MRT is about NT400.

Once in Pingxi head up the road (the 106) just past the red brick school on the right. On the left you'll see a set of stairs with a map board. The map board is in English and Chinese. The trail system around here is all mapped and signposted at junctions so you won't get lost exploring.

The whole hike took us about 6 hours to complete. We only covered about 1/3 of the ridge. Taipei Day Trips by Richard Saunders covers the last 1/3.

Save this hike for a dry windless day with no chance of rain. Once on the ridge there is no way down for hours. It's a thrilling trek so make sure you and your group are up for it. Running shoes are probably better than hiking boots for grip.