YouBike You Know: The Guardian Promotes Taipei YouBike Program

Taxpayer Funded Bike Path in Daya Township, Taichung City


The Guardian has a couple (HERE and HERE)of successive pieces to promote the YouBike system. I think the YouBike system and Taipei bicycle lanes are becoming what they should have been when they started when the planning went into effect almost ten years ago. Both Mayor Ma and Mayor Hau approached cycling in Taipei from the perspective of bicycles as toys or sports equipment. They both emphasized the business oriented approach to cycling, where leisure cycling can cater to rental businesses, cafes, tourism and entertainment: a very bourgeoise view of one of the most transformative inventions in human history with the beneficiaries being the business and the entrepreneur. They tried to pump up interest in recreation cycling through the promotion of leisure bike paths outside the city; a movie to stimulate domestic bicycle sales. After unleashing thousands of rental bikes into a city without any space for them, the report from Jennings sums up the problem.

“We’re now making plans for education and promotion work,” said Liu Chia-yu, a division chief under the city’s transportation department. “For bike riders, we’re saying not to compete with pedestrians, and for people on foot, if you run into a bike give it some space.”    

Thousands of riders have hit the roads and they are only now making plans to educate for safety.

Mayor Ko, on the other hand, has had the political will to take on the city infrastructure with a tenacity bordering on arrogance. He wants the city a certain way and he is going to try to do it. A grid of bike lanes and actual cycling space is really what nobody had wanted to address in the past. I hope other cities will follow suit. 

Sadly, a lot of time and money was wasted catering to special interests.

   

Never Say Never: Never Stop Wuling Hill Climb 2014

It was two thirty in the morning and I was wide awake stuffing my face with a peanut butter-honey-raisin-banana sandwich. How's that for the beginning of a blog post? 

Once again, I was signed up to do the Never Stop Wuling Hill Climb; a quad-snapping ascent to 3275m. over the highest mountain pass in East Asia. I have done this ride before, but never as disastrously epic as this one.  

 

I joined with Team Mosaic and met at the T-Mosaic store on Taichung's Liming Rd. It had been a while since I last rode with Mosaic and I was missing several of the familiar faces I had grown accustomed to racing with. 

By half-past three we were on a mini-bus headed down the freeway toward Puli, where the race was set to begin.



The last time I rode this race, I finished in pretty good time despite not taking things too seriously and taking lots of pictures along the way. That race was also going to be my last Wuling race as the organisers had flooded the course with over 6000 riders and another thousand unregistered riders who had come to join the circus. 

That day ended with dangerous traffic jams near the finish and awful delays on the return trip. This time was much better. The race was pared down to only about 1200 riders with delayed starts by age group. This was also my first race in the 40-45 age bracket. 

The riders all milled around trying to be all Cool Hand Luke while preening with the latest, lightest and newest gear. 

I was especially impressed with Team Poo. I can only imagine how their day went (Insert string of obvious puns here). 



The starting pistol sounded over some awful roadside hip hop and I was underway. The first time in a long time. 

I spun easily all along the flatter introduction to Taiwan's Central Mountain Range. y legs felt fine, despite being insane enough to make another attempt on this mountain with a 53/39 crank. Well...it worked before....

One of the highlights came when a group of about twenty ancient baddasses in the "Over 45" bracket came roaring by in a blazing train of fury and spite. It was obvious that being pushed to the back to make way for the young guns had rubbed a few in this group the wrong way and they were going to put the hurt on some young hotshot further up the mountain. Don't mess with experience. 



I made ground on the first real ascent up to Wushe, but lost it just as fast when I couldn't shake the cramp in my left calf. I surrendered and pulled into the Wushe 7-11 to stock up on liquids. You see, I had been sipping on water that had been sitting in my bottles for almost a week. I had erroneously assumed we would be stopping at a 7-11 before the race...just like before. Nope! We simply went to the middle of nowhere and waited. 

With water bottles filled with something better than brackish water and a good stretch, I was back on the road. With a 39-tooth crank, I couldn't help but make time, despite being overmatched for my level of fitness and training. I did briefly consider ditching the race at Wushe and heading off for a lovely ride down the Route 88 to Wujie, but pride kept me in the saddle on a course set for the top. 



It was all pretty ho-hum up the lower ramps, which is where suddenly, in the middle of the pack, the ride turns into a grunting crawl. The action is so slow that a heavy cloud of B.O. lingers over the roadway making for an unpleasant climb if you are anywhere within 10 meters of another rider. All that stank just hangs there and you are unable to move away fast enough. 

I skipped over the lower water and feed stations feeling pretty good on my morning while making time calculations based on elevation and memory. 



Left and right riders were stopping to stretch, rest, pee or smoke. The 7-11 proved to be a popular hang out for many riders who were lacking the energy to continue. 



I felt some fatigue, but I was still climbing at a pretty good pace-- good enough for a respectable time. The views were staggering. I had been preparing for a day of clouds and sprinkles, but the sky was crystal clear. 



The open view of the ridge line is a heart breaker. 



The torture was enough to elicit an unfriendly gesture (in the UK) from some participants as I snapped photos on my way up. 



I had passed 2000 meters and it was almost as if someone had instantly pulled out my batteries. 



I needed to stop and stretch my back...then my hamstrings...then my calves.



I was grinding up the hill on old muscles; muscles that had been built up years before, but nothing new. I had no endurance and kept wondering how much longer it was going to take. 



I thought about calling it a day and letting the team know I would be waiting for them in Ching-jing or Puli or Taichung. Still I kept grinding upward. "It is the altitude fucking with you", I kept telling myself over and over again. Hell, it probably was. 



I knew the team bus was waiting in Kun-yang. If I could only get to Kun-yang I could accept my defeat and declare a DNF. 



I knew my time was well beyond disappointing for a competitor like myself. I watched larger and then smaller waves of riders slip on past up the mountain and I was a touch jealous at the ease in which they were able to climb. 



Te first riders started dropping from Wuling with their time certificates in hand, while I was still well below the death ramps of Kun-yang.



The roadside carnage was mounting as the shoulder began to fill with hobbling and disabled riders. 



I stopped to rest and snap a few pictures. I figured a few more minutes wouldn't make that much of a difference at that point, so I might as well record it. 



Just under Kun-yang the road lifts up like the rungs of a ladder-- one lane stacked upon the next. 



On the last ramp to the Kun-yang parking lot, I was forced to hike. Yes, I was walking my bike up the penultimate ramp on the mountain. 

For my teammates this was the ultimate vision of absurdity. After I had finished at the front of just about every other clime we had done together, I was suddenly the picture of futility and defeat... almost. 

They delighted, this one time, in my moment of painful despair and I played along with it because I knew better. It is a sight I hope they can chew on and enjoy for a little while. 

I almost put my bike down and for the day... but that is not what I am about. I could see the finish line within a kilometer up ahead, so clenched my jaw and slung my leg back over the seat with the deep tightness in my muscles pulling my body apart. 



It was a slow grind up the final ramps before the road levelled off at the finish line. 



The clouds that had been threatening the ride all morning had finally pulled a foggy hood over the pass and the temperatures dropped. 



Riders were milling around, taking pictures with the famous sign, smoking, and some were even tang in some extra oxygen. My final score was a lowly 5hr and 50min.



I was lucky. I had made it. There was one fatality on the day as one 33yo. rider succumbed to cardiac arrest and was pronounced dead later in the afternoon.



While my team and other riders who know me or have followed my riding when I have been healthy, might make light of my less than impressive time, I sorely rode away with the victory I had been looking for. 

Almost one year ago I was unable to climb out of bed. I could barely walk let alone stand for any more than five minutes. I was in a state of excruciating pain for over three solid weeks and constant pain for the better part of a year. I was forced to give p all forms of exercise for eight months and even wondered if I would ever be able to ride a bike again with or without pain. 

I have been slowly training my body back into shape. This all happened at the worst possible time in my life to get back into shape, but now that I have put this mountain beneath me, I don't see any reason why I can't continue to train and bring myself back to where I was at my peak. 

My team is already on notice: Next Year!

This Old House: What Difference Does Fit Make?

What difference does fit make? It makes some. And now that I've gone. I'm not feeling very sick or sore today.



Today was a short ride around Dadu Shan to simply get a sense of the new fit without the risk of going too far afield and having some problem flare up.



Keeping it short was also good for the fact that I had been relying on different muscles to ride and I felt extremely weak as I rolled up and down the hill.

I felt very comfortable in my back and shoulders. My knees felt great.



The heat was amazing. I haven't been as active on the bike since the heat of summer arrived and I was really not used to the high temperatures. I used to go out in this kind of weather and century rides, carrying only one water bottle. Not now.



I used the descent on Cheng-gong Ling (成功嶺) to get a feel for the cornering and agility of the bike after the refitting. It felt great.

\

It is sometimes in the rare moments of cycling inspiration that truly amazing things happen. This was one of those inspired rides.

I had seen a smaller road at the bottom of Cheng-gong Ling that I presumed led back to the Ling Dong area, but I had yet to ride it. As I buzzed along rice fields and through neighborhoods of mud-walled shacks, haphazardly stacked one upon the other in a battle for Feng-shui or simply available property, I sliced through a narrow gap and right into the shadow of one of the largest and most ornate manor houses from the Japanese Colonial Period in central Taiwan.

In Taichung there are few large family homes left, and those that remain are generally traditional Han style structures based on the three-walled farmhouse. The story of the house was a bit mysterious and as I went through my library and what little information there is online, I think I may have found the most plausible explanation.

According to some sources, the house in Wu-er was built by a poet, surnamed Chen, from a large landholding family in 1920. The original owner's grandfather passed the Qing era civil service examination and likely received an award of government owned "wasteland" to rent out to tenant farmers. It is unlikely the land was acquired through the appropriation of tribal land as Wuer sits adjacent to Wang Tian (王田) or the "Crown Fields" once the exclusive domain of the House of Orange. During the late Qing Taiwanese examination participants received preferential selection in an effort to help quell Taiwan's notoriously contentious and anti-government population.

When the Japanese colonial administration arrived, they left much of the existing Qing land policies in place and hoped to co-opt the gentry class into supporting the Japanese colonial program in an effort to quickly gain control and the allegiance of the Taiwanese.

The structure of the house embodies many of the conflicts extant during the early-middle period of Japanese rule as the first Japanese civil administrators looked toward the new doka policy to begin the process of Taiwanese assimilation and integration into a budding Japanese empire.

There is a clear use of baroque styling, which was popular in Japanese colonial Taiwan as it represented the perceived modernity of the West, which the Japanese viewed as essential for projecting its dominance over the rest of Asia.

In Japanese colonial Taiwan, the gentry class felt they should be regarded as equals to the Japanese, and sought to leverage their wealth and local power to overcome the stigma of the colonized. This stigma led many elite families to use demonstrations of their modernity to gain acceptance in a society where the lines between colonized and colonizer were still quite clear.

On the other hand, the house was built with a main section (hall) and two wings on wither side of a courtyard. This was to emulate the traditional Han style compound and essential to capturing Feng-shui.    Many of the landed elite were the last to give up their traditional Han cultural practices as elite families sent their children to special schools to learn the Confucian classics and other cultural traits that were popular during the late Qing when the power of the gentry was at its zenith.

The house was obviously built for spectacle to impart on the visitor the feeling of opulence sophistication and grandeur.



As I stood there taking it all in, I wondered how such an ornate structure could fall into such a state of disrepair. How could a family's fortune have turned to such a degree that this massive house could simply sit abandoned, rotting in place.

The sad fate of this family may be closely entwined with its fortunes.

In 1945, following Japan's surrender to the allies, the Chinese Party-State under the Chinese Kuomintang (KMT) arrived to administer Taiwan until a decision of sovereignty over Taiwan could be attained. No resolution was ever reached and the issue remains unresolved.

Despite Taiwan's unresolved status the KMT remained on Taiwan with the support of the United States as the fall out from the Cold War enveloped Asia. The KMT lost the Chinese Civil War and retreated to Taiwan in 1949, where the KMT hoped to regroup and retake China with American assistance.

In an effort to neutralize potential opposition to KMT rule on Taiwan, the government sought to neutralize the Taiwanese elite, whom they regarded as Japanese sympathizers and "traitors to the Chinese race". The violence perpetrated by the KMT throughout the March of 1947 targeted the educated elite and either eliminated political opposition or silenced opposition with fear.

As non-land owners, the KMT instigated a program of land reform that has often been heralded as "bloodless"in comparison to the violent turn of events that marked China's land reform program. The Taiwanese elite made for the best logical target to avoid the mistakes made by the KMT in China of alienating the peasant farmers in support of their wealthy industrialist cronies.

The echoes of the 1947 killings actively silenced Taiwanese opposition to KMT mainlander hegemony and the state land reform policies leaving the elite families little recourse but to cooperate.

KMT land reform involved limiting tenant taxes, distributing former government lands, and instituting a land to the tiller program. Landlords were offered 70% rice bonds for paddy land or sweet potatoes for dry land. They were then given 30% of their land value in monopoly bonds for state owned enterprises, tying the fortunes of the elite with the fortunes of the KMT party-state.

This scheme worked out well for some elite families, such as the famous Ku family, but many of these elites were aware of the KMT and their history with fiscal mismanagement, causing them to sell off their depreciating shares (shares that would eventually yield immense profits during the 1960's).

The Chen family of Wu-er were likely awarded rice bonds, but with most of their former wealth coming from tenant farmers, they were largely cut off from their cash flow and were unable to pay property taxes on the residence.

The house was eventually sold to the Liu family trust, which had sought to replace the house with a modern concrete box. When financing fell through the house sat vacant, occupied by squatters.

The house was recently rediscovered by the Taichung City Government, and it is slated to become a regional attraction for holiday makers arriving on the nearby High Speed Rail.

This may be the first and last time the KMT worked against the interests of the 1%.




House Information (Chinese):

Here

Here

Japanese Era Buildings


View Xuétián Rd, Wuri District in a larger map

Taiwan Cycling: A Shining Example?

The Vancouver Sun had an interesting piece in which the writer uses Taiwan as a model for Vancouver. The author raises some good points, but risks over-idealizing Taiwan's cycling environment in his pitch to his Canadian readers.

The government seized the opportunity to offer incentives to build "bike parks" around the island. These are scenic rural tourist destinations replete with paved paths, tea houses, bike rental stations, ponds and bridges, and picnic spots. There are now dozens of such bike parks all over that country, and one can only wish some clever folks would build something like them in Canada.

"Bike hotels" are springing up replete with drive-thru lobbies, wash and repair rooms, cycling instructors and rentals. You can ride your bike right into your room and hang it on the wall. Paved bike paths and bridges are popping up everywhere in rural Taiwan. It's a recreation revolution.

While there are more cycling projects in Taiwan than ever before designated for cycling recreation, at best Taiwan's current cycling situation might be similar to having dozens of beautiful islands separated by shark infested waters and nary a boat in sight. The hotel he describes is the Yoho Bike Hotel near Heng Chun in Pingtung County. He also fails to delve into the quality or purpose for many of these trails and leaves it to the reader to imagine an ideal, when in fact, there are tremendous problems with traffic flow, speed limits and the quality of construction.

You can ride to the market, school, library, between towns, to the beach, all on smooth paved recreational paths than don't allow motorized vehicles or pedestrians.

The idea of interconnectivity may be stretching it a bit. I know people who opt for taking a taxi everywhere to simply stay off the dangerous roadways.

Politically speaking, the end result is that most Taiwanese are now in favour of spending yet more taxpayers' money on much more cycling infrastructure. Building safe and separated bike paths and dedicated overpasses costs money, and in urban areas that means lots of money. Simply painting an imaginary line on the pavement is not enough to encourage most beginner cyclists to start jousting with heavy metal.

I do take some exception with the paragraph above. I have yet to see the government directly engage citizens in transportation policy. Most bike lane projects seem to be directives issued from the Executive Yuan or township chiefs with a special budget allotted to them from the central government. This is often where we see bike lane funds misspent on painted sidewalks and crumbling tiled paths. The Taipei City government even voted against spending more funds on rebuilding the disastrous Dunhua Rd. bike lanes. 

I understand the writer is trying to instigate progress in Vancouver's cycling infrastructure by leveraging it against Taiwan's. Unfortunately, by heralding Taiwan's cycling policy without due balance, the interests of the citizens of Vancouver are not being served. While Taiwan makes a conveniently distant example to draw from, there may be better examples a bit closer to home.

Portland, Oregon may be one of the best cycling cities in the world, and it is within a day's drive from Vancouver. It may be more worthwhile to ask for some advice from other cities in the Pacific Northwest, than trying to use selected examples from Taiwan, which is still struggling with its own traffic culture and with the conflicted interests of the state and other political actors who benefit from the current direction of recreational cycling policy.


Also:

• Taichung Cycle and the Formosa 900 will be held simultaneously next year. 

• Giant's Tony Lo advocates Taiwan's "economic integration"(Read: economic and political unification with a large, belligerent neighbor) to ensure its economic viability. Shock Doctrine!!! It is no secret that Lo is politically aligned with the ruling KMT. It is a shame to see his company exploit Taiwanese national pride for profits while selling the nation downriver. Quote: "Lo said Taiwan needs to integrate into regional markets as soon as possible so local firms can enjoy the trading privileges that other nation’s companies do, such as tariff exemptions." This is a familiar talking point repeated by the KMT in their drive to ratify the ECFA agreement (in which bicycle makers were an early beneficiary). Of course, since ECFA was signed there have been no FTAs to date and ECFA has had almost no positive effect on the nations economy or regional competitiveness. 

• The City Fix publishes a strange piece detailing the resurgence of cycling in China and Taiwan. I can't for the life of me figure out why the two countries are being discussed in the same piece as they are two separate states that, naturally, would have different policies and political cultures. It seems random in the least. You might find a better corollary in comparing the UK and India. 

• Sir Chris Hoy, the Olympic gold winning track cyclist from the UK was caught up in the little tremor we had last week. Apparently, Hoy was in Taichung checking up on his new self-branded frames and was given a proper Taichung welcome. Hoy also has some family history on Taiwan. 

Trouble in Paradise: Tour of Taiwan's Future In Doubt

Last week a report appeared in the Liberty Times questioning the future of the Tour of(de) Taiwan, Taiwan's premiere UCI sanctioned stage race. 

The entire report is posted below:

〔自由時報記者葉士弘／台北報導〕2013年環台賽昨天畫下句點，卻傳出自由車協會有意吹熄燈號，明年可能停辦環台賽。副秘書長王美香表示，比賽自去年升級為2.1級後，各方面要求都明顯提高，尤其國際轉播需要大筆經費，來自經濟部的贊助卻可能在明年取消，續辦將遭遇極大困難。 

環台賽因寶島地形特殊，總能吸引世界各地車隊參賽，卻不是一路順遂，也曾在2001年因經費募集困難停辦一次。去年升級為國際車總2.1級賽事後，大幅增加的國際轉播費用，車協依靠來自經濟部的經費挹注，但今年贊助只剩三分之一，明年甚至可能取消。王美香說：「降級太難看，如果找不到錢，可能會停辦。」停辦環台賽，引來車界不同看法，申騰美利達領隊邱朝雄說：「每年就一場比賽，這是最能代表台灣的比賽，停辦可能讓車隊找不到贊助商。」 

南寶樹脂NOVATEC車隊教練郭文進則強調，當初升級就太倉促，環台賽都是國外車隊曝光，與國內車隊有距離。 

Liberty Times/ Reporter Yeh Shin Hong 

2013 Tour de Taiwan ended yesterday. However, it’s rumored that the Chinese Taipei Cycling Association is planning to suspend its role as host for the Tour de Taiwan next year. The TCA deputy secretary, Wang Mei Sian (王美香),  stated that the requirements for hosting games have been raised ever since the race was promoted to class 2.1. In particular, international broadcasting rights are quite expensive. However, the subsidies from the Department of Economic Affairs might be suspended, making it difficult to continue hosting the event next year.  

The Tour de Taiwan is famous for its special geographic landscape, always attracting teams from all over the world to participate. However, things are going as well within the Tour de Taiwan. In 2001, Tour de Taiwan was not held for a year due to the lack of sponsorship and financial difficulties. Beginning last year, the Tour de Taiwan was promoted to class 2.1. The increase expense in international broadcasting has been relying on the support of Department of Economic Affairs. However, the amount of money from the Department of Economic Affairs that went to the event was slashed to one-third of what it used to be.  

What’s even worse is that the Department of Economic Affairs may be planning not to allocate funds for the race next year. “ Instead of being demoted in class, it’s possible the race will be postponed for a year if not enough financial aid is provided.  

When asked about the possibility of postposing Tour de Taiwan, various comments have appeared. The manager of Team Senter-Merida Taiwan said that “This is a yearly event, which best represents Taiwan. Postponing the race may put teams in danger of not able to find sponsors.” 

On the other hand, the coach of Nanpao-Novatec Cycling Team emphasized that the promotion to class 2.1 was too rushed. It turns out that most teams participating in Tour de Taiwan are foreign, while local teams are not provided with enough opportunities.

My first reaction is to assume the issue will come to naught. My guess is that this is part of a play by the sponsors to pressure the government and taxpayers into picking up a greater percentage of the tab. 

The chief beneficiaries of the Tour of Taiwan, besides the chiefs in the UCI, are the large bike companies that routinely use bike festivals and events as a sales tool for generating greater streams of domestic revenue. 

Although there is another part of me that feels the influence of the sponsors in route planning really hurts the Tour of Taiwan's ability to market itself for broadcasting. 

I mean, who really wants to tune in to watch the peloton cut through polluted and industrial Dajia for the simple reason of swinging past the Giant factory to pad the company's ego? It may play into the whole "King and kingdom" motif they have built up around Giant and King Liu by having riders pass the headquarters and pay homage, but it does not make for very compelling racing or marketable television for the amateur cyclist. 

The race has been in existence since 1978, and recognized by the UCI since 2005. It may be high time to step up and focus on repositioning the race on the race calendar as either an early season stage race to condition climbers and other specialists for the grand tours, or position the race as a season ending option for a few riders who failed to live up to their hype and earn a few more points before the World Championships. 

Moreover, organizers are going to have to resist those tempting industrial wasteland loops in favor of parcours through Taiwan's more challenging interior. Taiwan has the terrain to become a bright spot on the cycling map, but the Tour de Taiwan lacks the confluence of timing, geography, weather, and willpower.  

For starters, the organizers can replace "de" with "of". 

Related: 

Lee Rodgers has a nice article in Pez Cycling about the Tour de Taiwan.

Tatajia: Taiwan's Other Cycling Monument

This Lunar New Year was supposed to be about four weeks of regular riding to rebuild and return to lost form in the wake of the wonderful life-bomb called parenthood. I was poised to take advantage of a generous vacation package with little weekday rides and longer weekend riding. 

Four days into my vacation I got sick. It always happens. Just as the stars start to align themselves... WHAM!... back to square one. 

I spent about a week coughing my lungs clear enough to get back on the bike. Things still weren't coming together. I had to do a couple rehab rides after being sick to wake the legs up a bit more. I messed around in the hills over Taichung for some training, but nothing too far. I was actually becoming moody that my vacation was slipping away without a trophy or monument to show I had done something special with the only valuable commodity I had in any reserve-- time. 

The posts on my Facebook feed were already streaming in with painfully spectacular updates and pictures of a crisp, gorgeous sunny day on a ride to Wuling that I had to un-invite myself from. 

Mentally, I was pacing like a caged animal. I was brooding, moody and growling under my breath about my blood pressure being higher than what is normally my normal. I was just really pissed off. 

Then on the way home from dinner the idea popped into my head to drive the car to Shuili and then bike up to Tatajia on Alishan's eastern flank and then cap the summit before heading back to Shuili. 

The idea made perfect sense and I quickly and half-assedly made plans for a day of climbing. 

This spur of the moment rush of inspiration gave me no time to properly prepare for a long climb with the right intake of carbs and liquids. It was also pretty late, so I would be riding on less than ideal sleep. As the notion of the ride edged closer to reality I was feeling the buzz of excitement again. 

It felt good to be riding with a purpose.



There was no way I could wake up early enough for a pre-dawn launch, so I hoped for the best and hit the road by around 6:30am. I pulled into a sleepy Shuili and thought I would take in a tall cup of black coffee and a few more carbs at the 7-11. 

I guess I lingered a while as I hit the road closer to 9:00am with leaden legs that were having a difficult time turning over. Climbing is like that. When you start out it feels like there is no way you can ever complete the climb if the first 50 meters of the slightest incline feel like your legs are made of concrete plunging into mud on every pedal stroke. 

Sometimes it takes a sharp climb to wake the legs up and they're good for the rest of the ride. 



As I loped along the Highway 21, I kept looking for the legs to meet me somewhere over the next rise. The road seems relatively flat and the discouraging forward pace on the gradual incline is a real heart breaker. Only on the descent can you fully appreciate that the road is a constant 2%-4% grade. 



In the morning light the mountains appear to stack up all upon each other as the highway dips and curves in a slow-motion roller coaster ride around old landslides and water hazards. 



The narrow river valley passes through some small farming villages that seem keen on making more money from tourism than farming. 



I hadn't taken the highway 21 in several years, so I couldn't remember how far I had to ride before the real climbing started. 

it seemed the river valley just went on forever. 



Finally, it seemed I had veered away from simply following the river and I braced for the serious climbing. 



Oddly enough, once the steeper grades arrived I felt better and more comfortable climbing. I eased up the mountain at an even pace with a few stops to simply document the trip and not the occasional strategic leg-rest-photo-op. 



On the map the road squiggled all over the hillsides like an anaconda sunning itself on a Taiwanese hillside. On paper it looks much more formidable than it really is. The confusing pile of roadway folded upon itself on the map was really a sensible grade that used each curve and bend to take some of the severity off the skyward ascent to 2600m. (8530ft.)



The scenery was spectacular and sheer cliff faces and towering mountains rise from the abyss below. 



If Wuling is Taiwan's first cycling monument for its incredible height (3275m.) and short distance from sea level, Tatajia is Taiwan's second cycling monument. While the ride to Wuling throws much nastier ramps in front of a rider, its course through mountain farms, cedar forests and alpine meadows has a somewhat friendlier countenance than Tatajia. There is something very severe, stark and raw about Tatajia that is both frightening and compelling. It has a cold ruggedness about the landscape, and a glaring silence as well, that makes a lone rider skirting the cliff's edge feel totally exposed and unteathered to the roadway.  



After a succession of tunnels a huge, ugly scar rips across the mountain like nature's own warning sign. The area is strewn with concrete, rubble, rebar and other debris. 

As I made my approach the entire area was thick with the smell of burning brake oil as drivers overheat their brakes unsure and fearful of the scene of such obvious violence.  



As a rider I instinctively knew that this was the main event. It had the terrifying look of battle and I brought the fight to each pitch and ramp. 



The road looked as if someone had hastily flopped a wet ribbon across the brick-red clay and called it good. 



With my adrenaline pumping from hugging the guardrail away from oncoming traffic, I realized I had made it past the most imposing stretch of my ride and I would soon be surrounded by the cool shadows of cedar boughs in the forest. 



The air hand the crisp clearness of Winter. Off to my left I could see each crack and snarl in Jade Mountain, the highest mountain in East Asia (3952m./12966ft.)

It looked just like the picture on my bank book. 



With the turn of a corner I was looking down the northern face of Alishan. I was becoming aware of the thin air and I worked harder to make progress. I was also becoming aware of a growl in my stomach. I had burned almost 4000 calories on the ascent and I was out of food. The extra food was gone. I had been hoping to find a tourist stop with a few vendors selling stuff I swore I'd never eat. 



As I closed in on my goal of the God Trees, I was beginning to think more about food. The rule is to drink before you are thirsty and to eat before you are hungry. I was in caloric deficit and my body knew it. I did not want to bonk on Alishan. 



At last I turned a corner and found my trees. There were several tourists milling around taking pictures, but no food. 



I took a rest for a few minutes and posed for some tourists who obviously couldn't see how little enthusiasm I had for pictures. With my late start I was still able to summit by 2:00pm, which was my plan to land me back at my car before 5:00pm. 



My descent was incredibly fast. All the parts I had thought were dips or flat, were showing themselves to be pointing down hill. The only thing on my mind was to get whereI could grab some quick fuel for my legs. 

At the bottom of the climb there was a 7-11. I stopped for a late lunch that looked like it was chosen by an 8yo. It was all food high in sugar and caffeine to give my legs something immediate to burn. I threw in a rice ball to digest, but it was mostly all junk. I had about 1000 calories in 10 minutes and was back on my way. 

After about a half hour I was feeling much better with a new spring to my stroke. I launched up the remaining hills to Shuili and was back at the car early after logging 150k of riding. 

I popped open a bottle of water and quenched my thirst before heading toward home. 



As soon as I left Shuili I was stuck in a three and a half hour traffic jam to the #3 Freeway. All the mountain roads feed like tributaries into Mingjian causing severe holiday traffic. After al that riding I was stuck without dinner until after 8:30pm. 



The road up Tatajia is higher than the 149甲to Fenqihu, but it is also easier with easier gradients to climb. I had actually been contemplating returning on the 149甲, but my morning coffee was just a bit too long to give it a try. 

There were too many tourists on the road on my way out, but it was doable. The scenery was the type of spectacular you get when riding Taiwan's Central Mountain Range. Lots of good stuff on this ride, just remember to bring enough food. 

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