Taiwan's green spaces

Another thing I love about Taipei is how easy it is to reach the excellent hiking spots that surround the city. Taipei is surrounded by mountains and steep hills, most of which are unpopulated but for a few farmer's huts and hiking trails. To a certain extent, this is because Taiwan's hills are often so steep so as to be prohibitive to building., in part because of the risk of earthquake or typhoon-triggered landslides. However, even in the relative flats west of Beitou or out in Neihu, there are surprising swathes of forests or farms. I suspect that a significant contributing factor in emptiness of Taiwan's hills is the everpresent urbanity of Taiwan's culture.

Taiwanese people seem to fully embrace city life for all it is worth. (Ok, since I lived in Taipei my whole time here, my sample might be skewed. Whatever.) When I asked my older students what they do for fun, the answer I got was, more often than not, “I go shopping in the nightmarket.” Taiwanese people don't really drink socially in the same way we do in Western countries. So when people want to hang out with their friends, they usually meet at the markets to graze for cheap food or tacky clothes. The idea of having a house out in the hills with a a yard doesn't really fit with their view of life.

The park areas are not just less traveled than American parks, they are also all but devoid of wild mammals. Oh, there are mammals, just not wild ones. I have seen water-buffalo and goats, I have seen cats, and even a pack of feral corgis (yeah, that happened.). I have seen birds of every variety, including an eagle big enough to snatch up one of those corgis. I have even seen a number of venomous snakes. But I saw very few wild mammals. The only mammals I saw worth noting were martins up in the high mountains and monkeys in a group of temples on the east coast. Comparatively, during a half an hour stroll in the neighborhood around my parents house, I saw two rabbits, four deer, unknown quantities of squirrels and chipmunks, and a muskrat, as well as a flock of turkeys, a hawk and a pair of turkey vultures in the sky.

So, the hills are empty, but for the concrete staircases that serve as hiking trails and the macheted farmers paths that lead to small bamboo or vegetable plots. Older people and the rare family with children climb, but for the most part the trails are without the sort of weekend crowds one would expect in an American city park.

But while the Taiwanese hiking community may be small, it is dedicated. In many places, elderly guys that don't work for the Parks Service can be seen maintaining a certain section of trail or park.. Out in Wulai, there are hot springs that feed directly into the cold Wulai River. There is a group of 60-year-olds that build hot tubs out of boulders and sand on the side of the river, apparently rebuilding and maintaining them every weekend. On Elephant Mountain close to Taipei 101 (which is neither populated by elephants nor much of a mountain), there are distinctly homebrew-looking ropes and pathways up the cliffs, and even a Mcguyvered gymnasium to be found on the forested trails.

Even stranger, for those like myself that have an innate desire to explore off the beaten path, most hiking paths in Taipei feature a plethora of side trails. These deerpath avenues lead to little ramshackle cottages built for weekend cookouts by families living in the city, or to small vegetable gardens cut out of the jungle or amongst a bamboo patch. Other paths might have been cut as an access route to some local farmer's PVC water pipes, slurping from hillside streams.

All of these little sidepaths are especially helpful for the wonderful running-drinking club, the Hash House Harriers. Through the lens of the weekly beer-fueled chases, I saw parts of Taiwan I would never have seen. Were it not for the abundant sidetrails, as well as very lax property rights and a general lack of fences, it would be nearly impossible for the Hash runners to bring runners to different locals every week.

For the uninitiated, hash runners are not drug couriers evading Taiwanese policemen by taking backcountry trails, but rather an expat-in-asia institution of serious runners and drunken fools, waiguoren and locals, that chase after a designated “hare”, who leaves a trail of flour to follow. From rocky slick anklebreaker steps down steamy forest hills to the muddy clay embankments of a terraced rice patty, steep tea fields to buffalo pastures and indeed to crowded nightmarkets, the hash runs everywhere. Following the 5-10km trek, the club assembles for something of a roast, telling occasionally truthful stories about each other with plenty of Taiwan beer shots. The atmosphere is sophomoric at best, with shades of British ol'boy public school humor and frat-house conventions like mandatory nicknames (Gerbil's Graveyard, Sheep Shagger) or drinking chants. It certainly is not for everyone, but for those that enjoy, or at least are willing to put up with, the dumbassery inherent in the activity, the hash is the best way to be introduced to Taiwan's mountains.

Make no mistake, those mountains are pretty great and well worth being introduced to. Close to the city, Yan Ming Shan national park offers excellent (albeit weather dependent) views of Taipei and the ocean. To the south, Sanxia and Wulai's steep canyons are quite scenic, and the wind-swept buffalo pastures of the north east coastline's cliffs are fantastic. However, even these sights are dwarfed in beauty by what can be found in the mountains in east-central Taiwan.

By far the most famous natural sight in Taiwan is Taroko Gorge, and rightfully so. The intricate, deep canyon system an hour north of Hualien is stunning, due to its cake-like layers of white marble, and winding beautiful roads and bridges that are threaded through tunnels and caves and twisting valleys. Hiking is wonderful, but the best way to see it is by renting a scooter in Hualien and zipping down the highway to the park. Don't worry if you have never ridden a scooter before. Just tell the renters you have with a straight face and they will rent away. Learning to drive a scooter is not too hard. Heck, the first day on one, I only fell twice.

Almost as beautiful was Xue Ba National Park. Xue Ba is a park chuck filled with 10,000ft mountains, including Xue Shan (Snow mountain, the second largest mountain in Taiwan) and DaBaJian, a fierce peak with a giant square stone plateau top featured on Taiwan's 500NT bills. My friends and I hiked the Wuling Quadruple ridge, four of the “Hundred peaks of Taiwan” connected by knifeblade granite ridges. Each of the peaks and ridges is quite unique in topography and vegetation. Pintian Shan is largely bare rock and gravel, and the ridge is covered with tall fir forests and dwarf bamboo prairies. Dwarf bamboo is worth noting, because of how difficult it is to walk through. The grass is often not too high, only a couple inches. Bushwhacking is nearly impossible however, because the damn stuff is tough enough to push away your foot when you try to step on it. Other areas feature regular bamboo thickets perched on either side of a 500ft cliff and hemlock trees that have been twisted and bent by the wind to look like full sized versions of bonsai miniatures. The trail quality throughout the park ranges from clear corridors across bamboo plains to rope-and-root supported scrambles. Xue Ba's peaks were truly unlike any I have seen.

Taiwan truly should be a famous hikers mecca. There are reasons it isn't, of course. There is a widely held but eminently false belief that Taiwan is a concrete slab of bike and computer parts factories floating in the pacific. A more justifiable reason is the root-canal pain involved with anything related to Taiwan's parks services bureaucracy, and specifically getting permits to go on trails. It is all worth it though to see the spectacular scenery that the little jade notacountry has to offer.