Taiwan’s Bat Caves

Yuemei Cave, above Wudu, near Keelung

Until my right little finger finally heals, and allows me to practice piano for more than fifteen minutes without swelling up (and God knows when that will be!) I seem destined to releasing my emotional energies on as many long hikes as I can, and on reliving various recent and long-passed adventures on this blog. At least this gives me the chance to look out and arrange some of the huge backlog of photos from trips around the island that are presently slowing down my computer….

   My return visit to Huangdidian Bat Cave the other week has set me thinking about Taiwan’s  many other caverns. I’m no geologist, but Taiwan’s geological makeup doesn’t lend it to the formation of deep caves – there’s very little limestone here!  (Now my home country England – that’s a different matter – check out this Titanic cave, discovered only in the year 2000!)  Even Wikipedia, rather embarrassingly, has only one entry on its ‘Caves of Taiwan’ page – the well-known Baxien Caves on the coast of southeastern Taidong County.  Actually there are loads of ‘caves’ on the island, and although most are little more than impressive, wind-eroded overhangs in rock faces, Taiwan has a number of true caverns as well.

Sanmin Bat Cave, the largest of its kind in northern Taiwan

Let’s start with those  deep ones. I’ve heard from several sources that there are a couple of relatively deep and possibly impressive stalactite caves in Taiwan – mainly in the south. There’s footage of caves in  Kending National Park, and once while down south I passed  a sign for a local outfit advertising its local ‘show cave’. For good reason though they’re not generally advertised, and – hopefully – now protected; large and beautiful stalactites (or stalagmites) and other beautiful natural cave rock formations mounted on wooden plinths can often be found for sale, and I was told not all of them came from abroad.

In Guanxi Bat Cave

That leaves only a handful of ‘real’ caves that I know of in Taiwan that are accessible to the average explorer. The best-known is the wonderful Guanxi Bat Cave (關西蝙蝠洞)  in a small area of limestone country near the town of that name in Hsinchu County.  [The following info comes from my last visit to the cave, about 5 years ago, and things could have changed since]. Just off Freeway Three, the little road to the trailhead is clearly signposted off the Luoma Highway (羅馬公路; county route 118; actually an often narrow mountain road along the southern bank of Shimen Reservoir). Turn off route 118 close to the 32.5 kilometer road marker (a wooden sign points out the way to the cave). The lane is exceptionally narrow in places, but (keeping left at the fork) it’s not too long before it reaches a small parking area. Leaving the vehicle here, a concrete track continues ahead, steeply uphill, until a clear, stepped path on the right climbs the hillside towards the cave.

In less than ten minutes the trail reaches its highest point and starts descending beside a cliff of weathered limestone, its base pierced by a large black hole. This cave is inaccessible after a few meters, but follow the trail steeply downhill a minute or two further, and another dark cavity in the rock appears, with the Chinese characters ‘出口’ (‘exit’) painted in red paint beside it. This is actually now the main entrance to the system, after the original entrance nearby was closed.

The entrance to Guanxi Bat Cave

    Obviously you’ll need a powerful torch to enter the cave mouth, which is a vertical chimney about 15 meters in depth. A long and awkward rope ladder is permanently fixed to the rock, and at the bottom a long, steeply sloping passage dives down into the bowels of the Earth.   The tricky bit over, the next stage is a much easier walk through a natural cavern whose roof soon rises high above. Entering a large cave chamber about five minutes in, another long rope ladder gives access into a chamber above at the far end of this large cavern for further exploration. A third ladder climbs down further into the system, but it’s a tricky one, and we didn’t go any further on our visit. 

   Oh, and there are LOTS of bats inside, as you’ll find out as soon as you enter!

Below the Bat Cave is the Blue Green Waterfall (碧綠瀑布). Reached by a steep and often extremely muddy trail down the hillside, starting below the cave entrance, the waterfall is unlike any other I know in Taiwan. Walking the last few meters up to the waterfall you’ll have to follow the stream, stepping on dry rocks in the bed of the fast-flowing watercourse. The waterfall cliff soon comes into view ahead, but curiously unless there’s been heavy rain recently, it may well be  completely dry.  At low water the stream disappears into a sinkhole at the top of the fall and gushes out a small black hole at the base of the cliff.  It’s a strange sight, and, for Taiwan, probably a unique one. 

Guanyin Cave, the symbolic source of the Keelung River (it actually rises a few hundred meters above this shallow cave), a couple of kilometers west of Jingtong village, New Taipei City

Baxian Caves (八仙洞), a series natural formations in the cliffs above the Pacific coast just inside the Taidong County border, are scenic and attractive, but of greatest interest for the prehistoric remains found inside at least one of the shallow caverns.  North, just across the border in Hualien County, Moon Cave (月洞) is  a real – although flooded – cavern; the (fresh) water inside is said to rise and fall according to the phases of the moon.  My only visit to the cave was, er, many moons ago, and at that time we could only walk down to the dark, flooded entrance; the wooden rafts that once shunted people through the flooded cavern were rotting and unusable. Moon Cave has since re-opened, and should make for an unusual break on the long, beautiful haul along the coast road between Hualien and Taidong.  

   There’s just one other really deep cave I know of in Taiwan, the  Quhu Immortals Cave (堀湖仙洞; described elsewhere on the blog here), the only one of the three ‘caves’ on Guanyin Mountain (near Taipei city) that really deserves the name, but although easily accessible (if you know the way!) this one is deep, and dangerous for casual explorers, requiring ropes etc.   

OK, Those are the best natural caverns in Taiwan that I know of, but there are loads more fascinating places that with a bit of artistic licence can be shoe-horned into this catagory. The Taiwanese love  using the word ‘Bat Cave’ to describe anything from the deep recesses of the cavern in Guanxi (packed with the furry little mammals) to a small overhanging rock face  in Nuandong Gorge (near Keelung) which shelters a collection of pottery urns containing the remains of long-departed locals, but little else.

The Bat Cave at Nuandong Gorge, Keelung city

Ten or fifteen Bat Caves lie dotted around the island, all interesting diversions while in the area, and a couple, such as Shifen Bat Cave (see here) and the Huangdidien Bat Cave (described here and here)  are pretty impressive in their mysterious isolation. Best-known by far though are the two at Sanmin, in Taoyuan County, and at Toubienkeng, near Taichung.

In Sanmin Bat Cave

Getting to Sanmin Bat Cave (三民蝙蝠洞) used to be a wonderful short adventure, threading along a narrow, overgrown trail then climbing down the side of the gorge on a long, fixed rope, before making a way up the streambed, stepping on rocks, to the gaping mouth of the cave. All that changed nearly a decade ago, when those-that-know-best decided to lay a surfaced path, with steps, almost all the way to the cave. At least they had the sense to stop a few meters short, and the cave area itself is still largely untouched (aside from a few unnecessary hand rails and cute picnic tables). The cave remains a very impressive and atmospheric place. 

The waterfall at Sanmin Bat Cave

A small waterfall plunges through a naturally-carved hole in the rock into a plunge pool (used by locals for swimming during the summer) at the mouth of the cave, which in the flesh always seems bigger than its vital statistics would suggest (50 meters wide by 20 meters high, and 20 meters deep).  The cave is certainly well worth the short walk  from the end of the (signposted) road from the North Cross-island Highway (route 7) that starts in the middle of the village of Sanmin. More details can be found in Taipei Escapes II, on page 69.

Guanyin Cave temple, Sanmin, Taoyuan County

From the Bat Cave a trail winds beside the stream above the waterfall for about an hour to another large natural shallow cavern, Guanyin Cave (觀音洞); sadly though  this one  has gone the way of many other similar natural features such as Sun Moon Cave (日月洞, in the hills above Tucheng, west of Taipei) and has almost disappeared behind a large but cheaply built and rather ugly temple – all reinforced concrete and exposed girders.

Sun Moon Cave, above Tucheng, New Taipei City

The Dapu Bat Cave, east of the huge  Tsuenwen Reservoir in southern Chiayi County is, like the one at Sanmin, accompanied by a beautiful waterfall, but here the fall (Yuetao Waterfall; 月桃瀑布) is more enticing than the black hole of the cave next to it and rather overshadows it. In any case the rocks below the cave looked too slippery to risk climbing up!

In Toubienkeng Bat Cave

On the hilly route 136, one of the roads connecting Taichung City and neighbouring Nantou County (a road which, amazingly, was still unsurfaced for many kilometers the last time I drove along it a couple of years ago!), the Toubienkeng Bat Cave  (頭汴坑蝙蝠洞) has, like those at Guanxi and Sanmin, been a famous tourist attraction for many decades. According to a friend it was once a long walk from the nearest road to the cave mouth. That must have been a long time ago, because the cave has stood right beside a road for the decade or so since I’ve known it, suffering a bit from its proximity to ugly concrete residences, and a well-meaning but ill-conceived attempt to landscape the area in front of the main cave with ornamental foot bridges and wide stone paths.

Entrance to the Toubienkeng Bat Cave

The Bat Cave, unusually, is a combination of natural and man-made passages.  The entrance to the cave is a small, black, and rather uninviting slot in the cliff face, and there’s often water several inches deep on the floor (bring boots or flip-flops!) but fifty meters along the cliff to the right, the exit is via a gaping natural cavern which looks quite imposing, even from the nearby road. The tunnels were apparently bored through the rock during the Japanese colonial period, to channel water from the swiftly descending river to irrigate fields downstream. The bats which once lived here now seem to have gone elsewhere (no doubt fleeing the assault of noisy, flashlight-totting thrill-seekers that arrive each weekend).

Toubienkeng Bat Cave

 Plenty of caves do still provide a home to bats, of course, one of the most important of them being the Ruifang Bat Cave (瑞芳蝙蝠洞) on the northeast coast just down the road from Keelung. This place is famous among local naturalists as a reserve for the Schreiber’s Bat (Miniopterus schriberii), listed as ‘near threatened’ on the IUCN Red List. The caves (there are actually two), beside the coast road between Shen Ao and Nanya (immediately after the road passes through the only short tunnel between the two villages; look for the Bat sign) are actually the man-made result of mining. Despite the importance of the site, local authorities have stubbornly resisted giving it any kind of protection. Noise created during road widening scared off many of the bats, and a local now cultivates  an allotment  (!) on the ground in front of the tunnel mouths. Apparently the tunnels are still used by the bats during the breeding season (May to July), although in depleted numbers.

   Another man-made tunnel used by bats to this day (simply because it was – until recently - so little visited; how DID they find this place?) is called Reclining Dragon Cave (臥龍洞), close to the town of Puli (埔里) in the very center of the island. This place used to be a bitch to find, and during a year-and-a-half of living in Puli and several attempts, I never found the correct way, because the tunnel entrance lies in rough, confusing, jungle-covered country and there was no trail. We finally struck lucky five or six years ago when, while in the area, we’d heard a group had been there with a guide (and a big machete). It appears the local authorities have recently finally cleared the historic route that passes through the tunnel, and made a followable trail. The trip from the road isn’t all that long (perhaps 45 minutes), but the tunnel (about a hundred meters long and up to about 7 meters in height),  cut in Japanese colonial times as part of an old route through the mountains, is (or at least was) a wild place, deep in thick jungle. I must go back one day. My photos of it are awful, but this website has one that gives an idea of the place, and here are directions (in Chinese); it’s well worth seeking out if you’re in the Puli area.

One of the White Horse General Caves

   Another place with a bit of history, White Horse General Cave (白馬將軍洞),  near the tofu town of Shenkeng in Taipei coun… er New Taipei City is a collection of tiny overhangs in the densely jungled hills above town, which were the hideouts for a group of resistance fighters in the early years of the Japanese colonial period.  A couple of them lie beside the surfaced path that climbs up to little Black Moon Hill (烏月山); the route is described in – yes – Taipei Escapes I (page 197).

   Finally, a rather fine feature in an unexpected location: Wugu, near Keelung. Up in the low hills north of town is a very nice little climb called Mount Xiandonghu (仙洞湖山), which despite its insignificant height of 298 meters (!) offers excellent views from its sheer  cliffs. The trail up the hill starts near Yuemei Cave (月眉洞; see the photo at the top of this blog entry), a large wind-eroded overhang in a sandstone cliff similar in shape to the Bat Caves at Huangdidien  and Shifen, but much easier to get to than either.

Sun Moon Cave, near Mingjian, Nantou County, the result of a decades-long labor of love by a local man, who dug the network of tunnels out by hand!

   I could go on and describe a few more, but they’re pretty similar. Several  fascinating places I’ve yet to reach though include the biggest cave mouth in Taiwan, the Thousand People Cave (千人洞) near Chiayi County. Accessible from one of my favorite spots in the whole of Taiwan (Fengshan 豐山; the scenery in this area is some of the finest on the whole island, for my money), the cave is usually incorporated into a 2-day hike between the mountain resort of Shanlinxi (杉林溪) and Fengshan, combining the cave with a visit to Shuiyang Shenlin (水樣森林), a coniferous forest flooded (and still partly submerged in a lake) when a landslide caused by the 921 Earthquake damned a stream.  

The Sitting Room, Sun Moon Cave (Nantou County)

   Nearby, an awesome-looking trail (阿里山來吉蹤走) connects Alishan with Laiji, another magically situated settlement. The two villages are separated by the terrific cliffs of Tashan (塔山), on which lies the  Quanshuixian Cave (泉水仙洞), which local aboriginals believe was once inhabited by a giant. It looks like an amazing place, but getting there (with two major cliffs, the Mountain Goat and Tashan Passes, to climb) would entail hiring local aboriginal guides.

GETTING THERE

I’ve listed approximate GPS coordinates for some of the caves below (taken from Google Earth); of the remainder, you’ll have to rely on a good old-fashioned map for now – most are marked on good Chinese-language maps.

   All the caves in the Taipei area are described in detail in Taipei Escapes:

Guanxi Bat Cave: 24° 45 ’32″ N  121° 14′ 02″ E

Guanyin Cave temple: TE2, page 70

Huangdidian Bat Cave:  TE1, page 183-4

Nuandong Gorge Bat Cave:  TE1, page 45-6

Qufu Immortal’s Cave:  TE2, page 21

Ruifang Bat Cave: TE1, page 67-8

Sanmin Bat Cave (24° 50′ 10″” N  121° 21′ 14″ E): TE2, page 69

Shifen (Nanshanping) Bat Cave:  TE1, page 83-4

Source of the Keelung River (Guanyin Cave): TE1, page 88

Sun Moon Cave (New Taipei City): TE2, page 173

Toubienkeng Bat Cave:  24° 06’28″ N  120° 46′ 48″ E

White Horse General Cave: TE1, page 197-8

Hohuan North and West Peaks (合歡山西/北峰)

Hohuanshan North Peak puts on a spectacular show each May as the rhododendron bushes studding the mountainside come into bloom

Hohuanshan, straddling the Nantou-Hualien County boundary in the center of Taiwan, is the most accessible slice of high mountain magnificence in the whole of Taiwan.  And high it is – Wuling (武嶺), the highest point of the road (route 14, which connects the town of Puli in the south with the Central Cross-island Highway at Dayuling in the north) is 3,275 meters above sea level, making it the highest road in Taiwan, and one of the highest in northeast Asia.

Near the North Peak

  

Below Mount Hohuan North Peak

Hohuanshan is famous for a couple of reasons – it’s the favorite (and easiest) place in Taiwan to see snow in the winter. It’s renowned for its gorgeous high mountain scenery, which is jaw-droppingly spectacular in clear weather, even from the car, although most visitors can also handle the 20-30 minute climb to Mt Shimen (3,237 meters), by far the simplest of Taiwan’s ‘Hundred Peaks’ to climb.

Rhododendrons near the North Peak

  Come this way in April or May, though, and it’s the extraordinary display of flowering rhododendrons that really steals the show. Hohuanshan has one of the island’s most famous displays of high mountain flowers – it’s up there with the famous alpine meadow at Batongguan (八通關), which apparently is at its best a little later, in June.

The trail to the west peak is pretty steep in places, and makes for a tiring return!

Hohuanshan is the best place in Taiwan to see how spectacular this island is without even leaving the comfort (and warmth) of the car, but the hiking here is fab, and mostly pretty easy. If anything a little too easy, perhaps, as the one-hour road walk up to the main peak (3,417 meters) and the short scoot up Mt Shimen which I already mentioned don’t exert anywhere near the same appeal for many of us hikers as the challenge of the cliff-bound peaks of nearby Mt Chilai (described here), which tower across the valley to the east of the road.  

Mount Chilai North Peak is an impressive sight, looming across the valley

Looking back towards the North Peak

   Among the five main peaks of the Mt Hohuan group, however, the hike to the North and West Peaks (3,422 meters and 3,145 meters respectively) are in a class of their own, and make for a great and mildly challenging day (or a more relaxed 1.5 day hike) in spectacular scenery that feels like a genuine Taiwan High Mountain hike.

May on Hohuanshan North Peak

   The great thing about Hohuanshan is that, almost uniquely among the high mountain peaks, no permits are required. Er, police permits ARE actually required for the North/West Peaks trail, although we didn’t bother – there was no one up there to check. If you’re playing by the rules, they’re easy to get at any police station on the way up the mountain. The great –  no HUGE – advantage of this is that for once it’s possible to cherry-pick the time you hike there, and choose the best weather for the hike – in Taiwan (where national park permits have to be applied for at least a week in advance) this is a rare and wonderful luxury.

Between the summits

    Chosing the best time to go does mean a trip will often turn into a last-minute decision (as in deciding the day before the trip), and this was one of the reasons that in the event only two of us were actually up for the trip when we decided to go for it. The omens weren’t so great: I’d been feeling out of sorts  for a week or so – dicky stomach, sleeping badly, no appetite, plus on the Saturday afternoon when we left Taipei on a bus bound for Puli (埔里) in Nantou County, there was a huge afternoon downpour that lasted well over an hour, with forecasts for more the following afternoon. In Taiwan though, hikers soon learn that the only way to get out into the hills on a regular basis  is to take an educated risk, and this time it paid off – the weather was better than I had any right to expect, my stored fat reserves were enough to keep my ailing body going, even though I was finding it hard to force anything down, and calm, collected yet ever-enthusiastic Ian was  the perfect company. Plus the rhododendrons were at the height of magnificence. In short, this short mountain hike was quite a highlight of the year’s hiking experiences to date!

On the trail between the two peaks

We arriving in Puli (a 4 hour bus ride from Taipei West Bus Station, from where there’s a regular service) just before 8 pm. We’d have left Taipei earlier, but one of us had to work until 2 pm. Immediately opposite Puli Bus Station a scooter hire shop got us kitted out with new scooters for NT$600 for 24 hours. A few other outfits nearby have cheaper, older bikes, but didn’t seem willing to rent them for the punishing almost 3,000 meters of vertical ascent up to Hohuanshan. In any case International Driving Licences are asked for; we both had Taiwan scooter licences so we were high and dry.  

On the North Peak, early morning

The exhilarating ride up the mountain to Hohuanshan (about 53 kilometers) takes around 2 hours if you push it; bring a windbreaker and gloves – it’s freezing cold up on the top, even in May! Pass over the summit at Wuling, and continue down the far side for about six kilometers, past the Songshue hostel (site of the trailheads for Hohuan East Peak, Mt Shimen and the mighty Chilai ridge) and on down a discouragingly long way to the trailhead for the North and East Peaks, on the left a couple of hundred meters after some toilets.

   It was about 10:30 pm when we started up the trail, headlamps on, backpacks on back. The trail is pretty simple and quite safe to climb at night, although the scenery is so fabulous it’s a shame not to do it both ways in daylight. From here it’s about 2 kilometers to Mt Hohuan North Peak (合歡山北峰). The terrain is covered in low cushions of dwarf bamboo all the way up however, with plenty of places to pitch a tent, which we did at the first available spot, about 1.4 kilometers (about 50 minutes, in the dark) up the trail. A few hundred meters further up the trail, near a conspicuous aircraft reflector panel the terrain flattens out, with much better camping ops, as we found out the following morning.

On the trail, not far from the West Peak

   Our tiny camping place was cramped and a bit sloping, which made for an interesting night in our two-man tent, but we made it through the night with good humor, and awaking at 5:30 to THAT view in the morning was truly memorable. The cliffs of pyramidal Mount Chilai North Peak (奇萊山北峰) towered dramatically ahead, while over to the left the more distant peaks of fabulous, pointed Zhongyangjian (中央尖山) and the softer contours of Mount Nanhuda (南湖大山) were conspicuous along the long line of the ridge to the north.

At the summit of the North Peak

   The area around the rounded summit of Hohuanshan North Peak is dotted with countless rhododendron bushes of seemingly two main species. The earlier, white-flowering kind had already been in bloom for some time when we arrived the second week in May, and the first blooms were dying off. The even lovelier deep pink species, however was at its height, with plenty of buds still swelling. The scene was simply enchanting, with rounded bushes heavy with flowers giving a perfect backdrop to panoramic views over the mountains, with Lishan (梨山) village far below, and beyond the great wall of Snow Mountain West Ridge clear as a bell in the early morning air. Snow Mountain (雪山) itself looked unusually angular from this direction, while to its west the unmistakable point of Mount Jiayang  (佳陽山) and the abrupt drop-off off of Jian Shan (Sword Peak; 劍山) - summits I’d love to climb one day – stood out against the blue sky.

   The hike to Hohuan North Peak is pretty easy and extremely lovely if you’re blessed with clear weather. Just before the summit plaque the trail splits, with one route striking north to the lonely little Tianluan Pond (天巒池) on the ridge above Lishan. The trail to  Hohuan West Peak heads westwards here, but be warned, the trail from here is a lot more strenuous than the easy prelude just completed, with five or six steep peaks of varying sizes to conquer before the modest, rounded West Peak itself is reached. It’s not too bad, but the trail is steep and rough in many places, and an absolute killer if you take it too fast.

More rhodos

   Immediately after the North Peak plaque, the mountain, all rounded contours and grassy hummocks from the southwest, finally reveals its rugged side. The  northwest face of the North Peak is completely eroded away into a mass of sheer cliffs of rotten, crumbling shale. And – the good news – the trail sticks to the edge of this spectacular landform for much of the way, passing over another small peak, and then plunging down the longest and steepest descent of the whole hike.

   The scenery is simply wonderful all the way from here to the West Peak;  things calm down a bit in the later stages, when the trail lies more in stunted woodland, but even here there are still enough marvellous views and soft, rolling hillside views to make the hike a constant delight. The West Peak is so low it’s hidden behind the peaks you have to cross first until to the top of the final one, when its rather humble, gently curved contour finally comes into view below. There’s one last steep drop with a fixed rope, then the trail climbs through the springy tussocks to the summit plaque of Hohuan West Peak (西合歡山).

Mount Hohuan West Peak

   It’s a great place to hang around awhile – the scenery is gentler than earlier on the hike, but with a long view up the deep Hohuan Stream valley along the line of little summits back to the North Peak. If retracing steps all the way though, don’t wait too long, as it’s still a long way back! Strangely the return is slightly quicker (or at least it seems to be), despite a lot of steep uphill climbing. The final set of pushes to the top of the North Peak is really hard on tired legs, and I had to force-feed myself chocolate for an instant energy burst to get my poor, sickly body to the top.  Those with their own transport (and driver) can however opt for a much easier alternative: a trail about a kilometer before the summit of the West Peak drops down to Huagang in the Hohuan Stream valley in a little over an hour, bypassing the long climb back, although by doing that you’ll also miss out on all those marvellous views!

The summit of the West Peak

On the West Peak

GETTING THERE

Hohuanshan North and West Peaks is a fabulous walk, especially since the ease of getting permits means it’s possible – for once – to choose a good weather day for the climb. The North Peak is within the range of anyone that walks at all regularly, and the long upward climb visible from the road below shouldn’t put anyone off if the weather is clear. The hike to Hohuan West Peak is a tougher proposition, especially if you’re not used to the altitude. The two of us agreed that the return hike, if done in one day, is a stiffer test than any of the days on the standard Yushan or Snow Mountain routes - it’s a long day (about 9 hours). On the other hand there are loads of great camping sites (albeit the best are either side of the North Peak, where there’s more flat land), and as a two-day trip it would be awesome. Alternatively do the three easy climbs: Hohuan Main and East Peaks and Mount Shimen on the first day and tackle the North and West summits the following day, when your body has adapted a bit to the high altitude.

Ian on the second morning

Taiwan’s Top Ten Day Trips

I’ve just written this piece for a Korean magazine, and while most of the places here have already been put on the Blog, it’s probably worth putting the whole thing up here  - Taiwan really is an extraordinary place!

This list is only a start, and on another day I might have come up with a completely different ’top 10,’ but these are wonderful places, and all are great personal favorites. I’ve uploaded new photos and expanded the write-up on the spectacular Taiji Canyon, which is not covered elsewhere here.

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The secret’s finally out: more and more tourists are discovering that Taiwan is an island of quite extraordinary natural beauty. But whatever you do, don’t limit yourself to the big tourist draw cards such as Sun Moon Lake, Alishan and Kenting. The island’s popular sights are great of course, but be sure to make time for at least a couple of the countless little-known gems that lie scattered around the island and on the outlying islets.

   There are enough enchanting spots to keep a weekend explorer going for decades, and any ‘top ten’ list is bound to be highly subjective, but here’s a personal list of ten places – all feasible day trips from one or other of the island’s big cities – that may well prove to leave more lasting memories than lying on the beach in Kenting or zooming through Taroko Gorge in a bus. 

1.  Loyal Son Mountain and

2. Sandiaoling Waterfall Walk, Taipei County

Descending Loving Mother Mountain

The 12 kilometer-long Pingxi Branch Railway Line, an hour’s ride from Taipei city center, is one of the most beautiful train rides in northern Taiwan, but the real attraction of coming here is the host of natural and cultural attractions easily accessible from the tracks. The area is dotted with atmospheric reminders of the area’s coal mining past, and the valley (which boasts the wettest place in Taiwan) features well over twenty waterfalls. The most famous (and touristy) of these is forty meter-broad Shifen Waterfall (十分瀑布), the widest waterfall in Taiwan, but waterfall lovers can’t do better than take the stunningly scenic, 3-hour Sandiaoling Waterfall (三貂嶺瀑布) Walk nearby. Named for an impressive 30-meter high fall which plunges over a huge overhang behind which hikers can stand, the walk also features a further two beautiful waterfalls, and several exciting but safe climbs up cliff faces on chunky rope ladders.

Niya Waterfall, on the Sandiaoling Waterfall Walk

  

Mounts Junda and Xiluanda

The summit of Mount Junda

Yushan (Jade Mountain) is not only the highest summit in northeast Asia, but also forms the high point of its own mini-mountain range. Yep, Yushan is officially (and I suppose there’s geological evidence to support this) the smallest of central Taiwan’s three big mountain ranges, boasting eleven peaks on the ‘to do’ list of any budding Taiwan peak-bagger. 

Badlands Country

  

Between Caoshan and Tianliao, in Tainan County

Apart from some magnificent temples, the occasional fine old town, and a scattering of miscellaneous minor sights, the flat plains and rolling foothills that run down Taiwan’s western coastal strip is generally a zone to pass through quickly, rather than stop and explore, but in northern Kaohsiung and southern Tainan counties, the otherwise monotonous and unremarkable landscape is punctuated by a quite remarkable series of bizarre landforms, known collectively by the Taiwanese as ‘moon world’ (月世界).

Mount Chilai (奇萊山)

One of Taiwan’s more notorious high mountains, reams have been written about ‘black’ Chilai and it’s been a goal of mine to climb it for myself for many years. About a decade ago, during my first spate of high mountain climbs, I did almost tackle it with a local hiking club, but I came down with a nasty cold two days before the off and missed the trip.

   The problem with Mount Chilai (or Qilai) is probably less due to the actual dangers of climbing it (although the North Peak does have a few dicey moments!) than with the experience (or lack of) among the people who used to climb it.

Zhongliao and the Chessboard Rock

Tucked away in a corner of Nantou County well away from Sun Moon Lake, Sitou and the other major tourist attractions of the area, Zhongliao (中寮) village receives few outsiders, except those passing through on the way to the nearby resort town of Jiji. Hidden in the steep valleys to the east of town, however, are a number of interesting natural curiosities that make this an excellent half-day stop on any tour of Nantou. The individual sights may be interesting rather than spectacular, but they are unusual, and exploring the area of small, narrow roads which cross this rural, quiet part of Taiwan’s center is a joy in itself.

The Amazing Water Curtain Cave of Ping Lai Stream

As a kid growing up in England I never dreamed I’d end up living in the Far East. In fact I don’t think I ever even thought, as a youth, of visiting the mysterious Orient; poring over books describing the wonders of England and Wales (especially the mountains, waterfalls, lonely moors and (for some reason), prehistoric stone circles of the far-away north provided more than enough to set the imagination of this pre-teenager racing. About the full extent of my exposure to Chinese culture (apart from a tablecloth mum embroidered using the ‘willow pattern’ design she’d traced off a plate) was watching ’Monkey’ on TV. In those days I had no idea that the series was based on a Chinese classic (Journey to the West), and the mad antics of Monkey, Pigsy and Sandy (quite unlike anything else on TV in the UK at that time) made a bigger impression than the fabulous scenery of the locations, so it was only after my hastily planned arrival in Taiwan in 1993 that I learnt that crazy TV series was based on a great work of art. In the novel, the Water Curtain Cave is the home of the monkey king, Sun Wukong, and this wonderfully evocative name has been adopted at some of the island’s most enchanting waterfalls.  ‘Water Curtain Caves’ can be found in Taoyuan, Chiayi, Yunlin, and Hualien counties, but perhaps the most beautiful (and certainly the most mysterious) lies in the hills below the resort of Sitou in the central county of Nantou.  Although not far, as the crow