Tales of Taroko 太魯閣的故事

So a few of you may have already heard me tell this escapade, in which case, read it again! Unless you are my mother. Mother, do not read this post under any circumstances. It will just make you angry and unnecessarily distressed. / End disclaimer. 

All the way back in February, I fled from cold China to temperate Taiwan. I had an absolutely great time meeting up with my old friend, Helen, who is currently studying in Japan. Our week was jam-packed with touristy goodness. We managed to visit the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall, the Palace Museum, Shilin Riverside Park, Shilin night market, Taipei 101, Zhinan temple, teahouses in Maokong, Longshan Temple, the restored Bopilao street, Botanical Gardens, the shopping hotspot of Ximending, the Red House, the Contemporary Arts Museum, Tianmu, hotsprings, and a massive hot pot dinner. One experience will tower above them all in my memory, and that is our trip to Taroko National Park. 

Having spent 4 full days touring urban Taipei, we were determined to get out of the city and explore some of Taiwan's spectacular countryside. Hello Taroko. The plan was to spend one afternoon in Taroko, and catch a late train back to Taipei so that Helen would have plenty of time to pack for her flight the next morning.      

The view from the tourist centre in Taroko National Park

To make the most of our time in the wilds, we set out from Taipei early. We caught a fast train from Taipei Main Station and arrived in Taroko around 1pm. In the tourist centre, the man at the front desk advised us to take the bus tour that stops at all the famous scenic spots. Helen and I listened. But we had just been on a 3 hour long train ride and were itching to stretch our legs. We wanted to walk in the great outdoors, to feel at one with nature. We weren't gonna sit on no bus, nuh-uh.

So we checked our map, and saw there was a route starting just next to the tourist centre. The route led to a small village on top of the mountain called Dali. We figured we'd climb up, see the village, climb down, then if we had time maybe take the tour bus. And so the journey began...

Setting off...

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step

Checking out the flora... 

...and the fauna

Up, up, up the stairs we go

Not all those who wander are lost

We reckon there must have been about 1km of steps. All of a sudden the stairs came to an end, with a
signpost saying 1320m left to Dali village. The route ahead was a path of moist soil, slippery rocks and winding tree roots, but we hadn't just climbed a kilometre of stairs to just turn back now. So we pressed on.

I had never been hiking. I've walked up hills before, but considered it different as I assumed the activity of hiking involved more equipment. Well now I've hiked, without equipment, or experience, or training. Hiking is just regular climbing but with more adrenaline and more risk of FALLING OFF A MOUNTAIN. Because when the stairs ended, so did the barriers. At one point we had to climb across a section where some kind of landslide had blocked the path and had cleared the trees right off the slope, giving a clear view all the way down. We hadn't seen a single person for a long time, and we were starting to get nervous about the route. Helen and I agreed that we would climb for another half an hour, then turn back if we hadn't reached Dali. Suddenly we rounded a corner to find a couple of Taiwanese aborigines and their pet monkey having a barbecue. Luckily, they spoke mandarin. We were offered some of their meat, which we declined, and were told it was only another 20 minutes to Dali.

Damn you, signposts

Oh what a cute monkey!

I

Then things turned nasty. The monkey grabbed the knife the man was using for his barbecue and proceeded to chase us up the mountain. Yes, I have a photo of a knife-wielding monkey. 

OH MY GOD IT HAS A KNIFE, RUN FOR YOUR LIVES

We could hear the shouts of the lady echoing through the trees as she tried to call the monkey back. This is hopefully the closest I'll ever come to be hunted by Predator. GET TO DA CHOPPER!!!

Eventually, we lost the monkey and sound of the lady's voice faded out. We climbed for another 20 minutes. Then maybe another 20. And finally we came upon Dali village. If you can even call it a village. There was a fenced off electrical box, and a couple of scooters. It was an anti-climax of mountainous proportions. Especially considering how dangerous our path up had been. I didn't want to go back down the same way; climbing up was hard, climbing down would be even more risky. Helen agreed, and we pulled out our map. It showed a route that joined Dali to a scenic trail. Sure that reaching the scenic route would be less perilous than turning back, we decided to persevere. I can only remember one obvious road leading away from Dali, and the map next to it didn't actually give the direction of the road. We did what we do best, and forged ahead.

I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. 

I travel for travel's sake, the great affair is to move.

The beauty is in the walking - we are betrayed by destinations

You have got to get lost before you can be found

Hours passed and we hardly noticed. The air was fresh and warm. Our feet had set a rhythm we couldn't break free from. We walked on and on and on, weaving round an endless green mountainside. All the while hoping to reach the scenic route and head back to the tourist centre. 

As the sky gave in to the first hues of dusk, we came across a multi-coloured, single-story house in the middle of a field. A woman called out to us in Chinese, "where are you going?". We approached her and asked her where we were. "Datong," she replied. Our map showed a small point called Datong, miles away from Dali, accessible by logging trail. She told us that the path we mistakenly thought we were on had been closed last year due to damage from high winds. It wouldn't re-open until next year. Helen, meanwhile, was baffled. I was getting answered in Chinese, and all Helen really wanted to know was how to get back. When I asked, and was met with, "it's not possible, you won't make it back". The route we had arrived by was the only way. Helen and I finally wanted to turn around, admit defeat, but the woman stopped us. She asked if we had torches, or proper night clothing, which of course we didn't. She was angry we had arrived so unprepared, but was even more stubborn in refusing to let us go. 

Helen can't speak Chinese (if she can, she's been hiding it from me very well), so I spent the next hour getting an earful of how reckless we were, and how could we do this without male accompaniment, while Helen nodded happily. However, we did get complimented on the fact that we made it all that way across some pretty treacherous mountain. Hells yeah.

The lady, called Ximut, who had generously offered to let us stay for the night heated water for us over her fire. We ended up washing ourselves in buckets in her outhouse. As we were bathing, Ximut cooked us a dinner of rice, fish, vegetables, and soup. I felt so bad about imposing on her and her house that I tried to eat as little as possible, but she kept forcing food on us until we were full. The handful of villagers who live in Datong stopped by at different points during the evening. The women were horrified, and somewhat maternal, that we had journeyed to Datong alone. Whereas the men seemed more impressed by our accomplishment. One man poured us glasses of 'whiskey', which was in reality very sweet black-current juice with a little bit of alcohol. 

We headed to bed early, knowing that we had a race on our hands to make sure Helen caught her flight on time. In contrast to Taipei, we fell asleep listening to the chirruping of insects rather than the hum of traffic.

Rising with the sun the next day, Ximut prepared us plain rice porridge for breakfast with pickles and eggs on the side. The previous night I found out that Ximut actually runs a guesthouse, and takes in guests who want to experience real countryside living. Helen and I luckily had enough money cover our stay, so it ended up almost as if we had pre-booked! I don't have enough words to express how grateful I am to Ximut, her rainbow house, and her friends that looked after us when we didn't realise we needed looking after. You've got to be pretty trusting to let two foreigners who've just stumbled out of bushes stay in your house overnight.

Me and our mountain mamas

Helen and co

Our breakfast and the stove

The cloud from the day before had cleared, and on our hurried journey back, I was able to take a few shots that capture Taroko's natural landscape in all its majesty.

A good traveller has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving - Laozi

Morning over the mountains

I'm pleased to say, we made it back safely (just about) and Helen caught her flight back to Japan. I will leave you now with a quotation from Ernest Hemingway which I feel rightly sums up this adventure;

"It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end."