I woke to the sound of Tim discussing the weather situation with the Germans*. "It's the worst of the worst," one declares. Cloudy, rainy, foggy morning. If I'd thought the day before had been bad, well. We took our time with breakfast and started out once the downpour was down to a drizzle. It wasn't so bad, actually. Aside from occasionally having to brace myself against the punishing wind, and, well the last hour, the way down was kind of fun.
Trails always look different on the way down. It's a challenge of a different kind, it's no longer about endurance and stamina, it's about balance, weight distribution and minimal impact. The trail becomes a jigsaw puzzle for the feet. It's a game of brain not brawn. If going up is the mindless zen of planting feet and just keeping the pace, going down is the thoughtful process of planning ahead- left foot pushes off here so that right foot can use this foothold... Working my way down a trail always gives me a serious appreciation for that ever-underrated art of trail making- all those artfully or randomly distributed rocks and logs and leaves that all do their little part to ensure that you don't go sliding down on your ass for 3000 metres (... although that might be kinda fun too). Not only did a few good folks take the time to haul several giant rocks and whatnot partway up a mountain, but they really thought about how to lay them down properly. That's a beautiful thing, that is.
Onwards.
After a longish slog, we get down and are met with the hospitality of the Siangyang police. They are about to have lunch and insist that we join them. When I refuse, they say "hey, we are police. We must take care of you." After Tim and I get over the shock of hearing this, (I mean... they're cops) we sit and relax with tea, food, and a bit of rice wine.
After lunch and mounds of tea, we head to Lidao, descending into the fog. At some points, vis was a mere 10 metres ahead. In Lidao, we park the car and look around for a homestay. Walking down the street, we're met with a chorus of "Hello friend!". A massive group of Bunun aboriginals (ones we later learned we'd passed on our way up from Jiaming) were celebrating their mountain descent in a big way. They'd slaughtered 2 pigs (or rather, were in the process of slaughtering [the two decapitated heads were facing us, their expressions something between solemn and bored]) and had been at it for 2 days. We joined them, drank, and were merry. They laughed a lot, which made us laugh a lot, and best of all, they told all their jokes in Mandarin and I understood everything, which made me laugh even harder.
Lidao sits low in a valley below the mountains. Everywhere about is forest and bamboo and green and green and fog. It's apparently a town of 300, and evidently Bunun. Also evidently poor for the most part. Houses are makeshift- some are sheet metal shacks, some towers of tile, some take the remnants of old brick walls and tack on some corrugated metal to fashion a roof. Everywhere we turned, there seemed to be some form of innovative architecture at work. A cool town, indeed.
Back at the homestay, Tim and I sit down for tea with an oldish Taiwanese lady who'd been living in Virginia for the past 38 years. In the midst of our lengthy conversation, she taught us the finer points of deer hunting (she's got a 2-barrel rifle and a sharp eye), did an awesome Chinglishstrian impression of Arnold Schwarzenegger, and tried to turn us against Darwin and evolution. She was... interesting to say the least.
The next day, Tim and I decide to relax with a trip to the hot springs. We have our choice of a few, but us being us, we opt for what I can only call "the adventure springs." (Neither of us have this "relaxing" thing quite... figured out, exactly.) The Lisong Hot Springs are natural sulphur springs that run down to the river. To get to them, you have to drive to Motien, walk 2km down along a gravel road, cross a farmer's field, hike (or, if you're in sandals, slide) down a super steep forest trail of leaves and trees and giant boulders, cross the river, and scramble over some rocks. Then you're there. And man, is it fucking cool. Getting there was half the fun- especially the rock scrambling. Here's an artist rendition (that's me suspended horizontally using a giant log to get over these giant rocks):
The river itself was freezing cold, and the hot springs were, well, really hot. To get that real "ahhh" feeling involved a carefully maneuvering of rocks, allowing just enough cold water in so as not to burn, but not enough to totally cool down the water. We soon discovered that our talent in mixology was... not that great. Often we'd find half our bodies totally scorching while the other half shivered with goosebumps. Midway through conversation, one of us would interrupt with "burning... burning". and so forth.
We ended up accidentally staying the entire day. When, after several attempts to leave, we finally made it out, I wondered why it looked like it was getting dark. Turns out it was close to 6pm and we had been in the springs for over 6 hours. Driving back, I discovered yet a new record for bad vis- I couldn't see the road at all. Somehow, we made it back, crawled into bed and promptly passed out.
There is a difference between living somewhere and travelling somewhere. They are two very distinct paths, present two pictures of the same place, each with very specific trade-offs. We only get a glimpse of life in the places we travel, and we never seem to travel the places we live in. I lived in Taiwan for 15 months, and I've just traveled it for a week and a half. I felt like I was in two different countries, but in any case, I'm glad I got to see them both.
*The Germans are 3 dudes we met en route, hereafter known as Hardcore (he was rather.. hard), Mediumcore (our favourite), and Vertigo (so named because he was afraid of heights)
**more pictures of Lisong and Jiaming can be found here.
Trails always look different on the way down. It's a challenge of a different kind, it's no longer about endurance and stamina, it's about balance, weight distribution and minimal impact. The trail becomes a jigsaw puzzle for the feet. It's a game of brain not brawn. If going up is the mindless zen of planting feet and just keeping the pace, going down is the thoughtful process of planning ahead- left foot pushes off here so that right foot can use this foothold... Working my way down a trail always gives me a serious appreciation for that ever-underrated art of trail making- all those artfully or randomly distributed rocks and logs and leaves that all do their little part to ensure that you don't go sliding down on your ass for 3000 metres (... although that might be kinda fun too). Not only did a few good folks take the time to haul several giant rocks and whatnot partway up a mountain, but they really thought about how to lay them down properly. That's a beautiful thing, that is.
Onwards.
After a longish slog, we get down and are met with the hospitality of the Siangyang police. They are about to have lunch and insist that we join them. When I refuse, they say "hey, we are police. We must take care of you." After Tim and I get over the shock of hearing this, (I mean... they're cops) we sit and relax with tea, food, and a bit of rice wine.
After lunch and mounds of tea, we head to Lidao, descending into the fog. At some points, vis was a mere 10 metres ahead. In Lidao, we park the car and look around for a homestay. Walking down the street, we're met with a chorus of "Hello friend!". A massive group of Bunun aboriginals (ones we later learned we'd passed on our way up from Jiaming) were celebrating their mountain descent in a big way. They'd slaughtered 2 pigs (or rather, were in the process of slaughtering [the two decapitated heads were facing us, their expressions something between solemn and bored]) and had been at it for 2 days. We joined them, drank, and were merry. They laughed a lot, which made us laugh a lot, and best of all, they told all their jokes in Mandarin and I understood everything, which made me laugh even harder.
Lidao sits low in a valley below the mountains. Everywhere about is forest and bamboo and green and green and fog. It's apparently a town of 300, and evidently Bunun. Also evidently poor for the most part. Houses are makeshift- some are sheet metal shacks, some towers of tile, some take the remnants of old brick walls and tack on some corrugated metal to fashion a roof. Everywhere we turned, there seemed to be some form of innovative architecture at work. A cool town, indeed.
Back at the homestay, Tim and I sit down for tea with an oldish Taiwanese lady who'd been living in Virginia for the past 38 years. In the midst of our lengthy conversation, she taught us the finer points of deer hunting (she's got a 2-barrel rifle and a sharp eye), did an awesome Chinglishstrian impression of Arnold Schwarzenegger, and tried to turn us against Darwin and evolution. She was... interesting to say the least.
The next day, Tim and I decide to relax with a trip to the hot springs. We have our choice of a few, but us being us, we opt for what I can only call "the adventure springs." (Neither of us have this "relaxing" thing quite... figured out, exactly.) The Lisong Hot Springs are natural sulphur springs that run down to the river. To get to them, you have to drive to Motien, walk 2km down along a gravel road, cross a farmer's field, hike (or, if you're in sandals, slide) down a super steep forest trail of leaves and trees and giant boulders, cross the river, and scramble over some rocks. Then you're there. And man, is it fucking cool. Getting there was half the fun- especially the rock scrambling. Here's an artist rendition (that's me suspended horizontally using a giant log to get over these giant rocks):
The river itself was freezing cold, and the hot springs were, well, really hot. To get that real "ahhh" feeling involved a carefully maneuvering of rocks, allowing just enough cold water in so as not to burn, but not enough to totally cool down the water. We soon discovered that our talent in mixology was... not that great. Often we'd find half our bodies totally scorching while the other half shivered with goosebumps. Midway through conversation, one of us would interrupt with "burning... burning". and so forth.
We ended up accidentally staying the entire day. When, after several attempts to leave, we finally made it out, I wondered why it looked like it was getting dark. Turns out it was close to 6pm and we had been in the springs for over 6 hours. Driving back, I discovered yet a new record for bad vis- I couldn't see the road at all. Somehow, we made it back, crawled into bed and promptly passed out.
There is a difference between living somewhere and travelling somewhere. They are two very distinct paths, present two pictures of the same place, each with very specific trade-offs. We only get a glimpse of life in the places we travel, and we never seem to travel the places we live in. I lived in Taiwan for 15 months, and I've just traveled it for a week and a half. I felt like I was in two different countries, but in any case, I'm glad I got to see them both.
*The Germans are 3 dudes we met en route, hereafter known as Hardcore (he was rather.. hard), Mediumcore (our favourite), and Vertigo (so named because he was afraid of heights)
**more pictures of Lisong and Jiaming can be found here.
