Hualien To Iilan The Hard Way: Taiwan Cycling Perfection

My good friend and riding buddy, Dom, is signing off on his life in Taiwan and moving back to New York. The reasons are his own, but it certainly isn't about the lack of any exciting cycling.

He was not going to be allowed out of the country without one last adventure through some of Taiwan's most impressive landscapes, and thus we decided to take a couple of days and ride from Hualien on Taiwan's east coast, to Iilan on Taiwan's northeastern corner.

On a map this looks like nothing for a couple days of riding, until you consider the route would take us from sea level to 2374 meters on the first day... and then leave us spending the second day skimming the 2000 meter mark before dropping us off in Iilan. We covered over 4000 meters of climbing in two days.

We picked the perfect two days for the trip as the wet weather has been sucked out of the area by a looming typhoon. Things couldn't have been better.



The trip had been on and off the calendar for a couple of months. I was the biggest threat to the trip as I had to come back from a sore knee that prevented any serious climbing... and as soon as that was clear, I lost a week to a pulled muscle in my back from stretching. There were several times I thought I would have to cancel.

My back seemed manageable, so I kept with the plan. I had recently only done a few local climbs and nothing over 100k.

My next obstacle was the Taiwan Rail Administration. I originally bought a ticket on the Zi Chiang Train with a bike car. When my wife went to double check to see if I needed to purchase an extra ticket for the bike, they misunderstood and sold my seat. Then, they had to try to get me a new seat on the train, which put my bike in car 12, and I was seated in car 2.

I was fine with this arrangement, but when I went to put my bike on the train, I asked If I could load it in with the rest of the boxes they were loading into the car 12. I was told I would have to enter through the passenger door of the car.

This was a brilliant idea as it was packed and I would be forced to stand with my bike in the hallway until Ruifang.






I finally had a seat and I could roll down to Xin Cheng outside Hualien with a group of girls from make-up camp, which is far less exciting than it sounds.



At Xin Cheng Station there were several groups of cyclists headed out for various projects. There were baseball teams, Taiwanese expat groups, single speed enthusiasts and more. Lots of people using the bike to make a statement.



Our trip was actually two and a half days. I met Dom at the station, and we decided to take it slow and easy up Taroko Gorge. This would ensure we didn't feel rushed for pictures and scenic stops. The plan was to land at Tian Xiang and launch our attack on the mountain from there.



The road through Taroko is metered to a ten minute window every two hours due to the most massive avalanche I have ever seen. We lucked out and the road was closed for lunch and we just ambled through at out own leisure without the storm of vehicles waiting to burst through.



Taoroko Gorge is an awesome spectacle of towering rock. The Central Cross Island Highway chisels its way through tunnels and along cliff sides to bridge the terrain. Taiwan's mountains have an immediacy about them. They are high, like mountains in other countries, but unlike other places, these mountains are compressed very tightly against one another making for some very severe walls and roads to navigate those walls.



We arrived in Tian Xiang with plenty of time to spare, so we thought a few beers might help us load up on carbs for the real climbing.



The second day started after breakfast at the China Youth Hostel in Tian Xiang. These mountain trips are always made fare more difficult by the lack of a good breakfast anywhere. I put three tea eggs on my plate and tried to put as much peanut butter on my toast as I possibly could. It would have to fuel me to Guan Yuan and over 2000 meters.



The second day was as fine as the first. We hit the road beneath another scar from an old avalanche and hit the opening climbs.



The road out of Tian Xiang starts out with an impressive grade for first thing in the morning, but it warms the legs up pretty quick.



We were soon high up above the valley, but still burning in the heat. A cool waterfall can be a great fountain of rejuvenating goodness.



For much of the way, the road is quite manageable. It is still climbing and takes its toll, but ever so slowly.



The next major obstacle is "The Wall"; a massive hump of a ridge with switchbacks stacked one on top of the other. There is a little store right at the base for refreshments and snacks before the climb.



From the top of "The Wall", the climb really starts to impress. The air is a bit cooler and clouds begin to catch on the peaks above.


We stopped for lunch at the restaurant near the God Tree, and then continued on our way. A little mist sprinkled down on us and the pedaling started to get much harder with the altitude beginning to come into play.



We finally rounded a corner to the gas station and our lodging at the China Youth Corps Hostel.



We woke up the next day and got to the breakfast buffet ahead of the annoying camp/club that had been staging some kind of mix between a fascist parade and a hoot nanny. Seeing the breakfast spread, it was decided it would be okay to eat a quarter of the scrambled eggs, in exchange for leaving the pork floss to the other guests. Seemed fair enough.

The worst thing was the lack of drinkable water (or anything to drink) that wasn't scalding hot. Try filling water bottles with plastic melting water....



A third sunny day was ahead as we pushed out into the chilly morning air. I was happy to have worn all the clothes I had packed.



We punched through the mountain at the tunnel and started an amazing descent toward Lishan. Before we could even whorl up our descending smiles, we were forced to stop for some construction. We passed the time letting the road worker ogle our bikes.


Finally, we were in free fall toward Lishan. It was nice to be on the other side of the ridge. I am so used to the Wuling route, I was happy for the change in scenery, which looks a lot like northern California... but more grand.



We hit Lishan; a high mountain agricultural town famous for pears, apples, and tea. It was nice to have phone reception again. It was also nice to sit down for a cup of coffee and take in the morning. We couldn't stay long as we still had well over 100km to cover on our way to Iilan.





The Highway 7甲 starts on a wonderful descent over some uneven roadways. It takes a moment to realize you are still at altitude and this is merely a round ridge between two opposing mountains.



The descending comes to an abrupt end. Suddenly it becomes another day of climbing. Each hill dissapoints in its promise to offer a badly needed descent. The altitude needle bumps 2000 meters a few times, but the descent never comes.



A headwind made things feel all the more desperate. I started to have my doubts. I started to regret the picture taking and coffee breaks.



Then it came. The most wonderous descent imaginable. As far as covering ground goes, I can't thing of a better sight. It was a slalom course to Iilan. It was a natural thrill machine. It screamed 45kph.



We blew down the mountain and through the green cabbage farms. The legs were buzzing. Dom was in excellent shape and would lose me when my power failed to materialize midway through a bump in the road. I would then race to catch up on the low sections.


This carried on for kilometer after kilometer. The speeds were incredible.


We finally lunched with some locals who were happy to admonish their buddy for touching my bike. After a good laugh we were on our way again...



Iilan was in sight and it was as pretty as ever. We made it into the city by 4:00pm and had our bikes loaded up within the hour.

It was as perfect a trip as you can find. I was honored to do one last big ride with a great friend.

This also makes for a great post before I take the show on the road to ride a little in the United States.

Vacation starts here!

Nathan's Ninety-nine Peaks: Trails of Treachery

I just had my fit reworked two weeks ago, and I have been cautiously testing my legs against the stresses of cycling. Each ride has been incrementally longer than the last, but each has also ended with my knee feeling a bit sore or on the verge of flaring up. Last Sunday I logged 90km of light climbing, but my knee started to become sensitive at the halfway point. Things are improving, but I need time and patience to let my knee realign. 

Therefore, I was a bit surprised with myself for accepting an invitation from Natan Miller, one of Taiwan's most prolific and dedicated cyclists. 

Nathan, an instructor at Asia Pacific University in Wufeng, has spent the semester riding and mapping out the bramble of farm roads in the hills above Wufeng. Taiwan's farm trails are often hastily laid tracks of asphalt with a minimal commitment of road engineering. They simply follow the landscape as the capillaries of a greater network to draw small crops of produce from the hills of family farms. The foothills of central Taiwan are a labyrinth of false starts dead ends that can lead a rider far from water, phone coverage or rescue if something goes horribly wrong. I was aware of this route, but I never felt I was in a position to take the risk. 

With Nathan's lead, I was curious enough to go. From the beginning I had planned to head home from the Hi Life on the Route 136. My other policy was to stop the ride as soon as my knee hurt. Honestly, I wasn't expecting to make it over the first climb before heading for home. 



The group was a collection of some of the most prolific riders of the greater Taichung area; a mob whose members have all gained some form of recognition or infamy on the bike. 

Nathan knew the way and he was ready to test out his disc equipped Culprit Croz Blade. Nathan is the most wonderful person to ride with. He is a hell of a nice guy. 

Crazy Lenny decided to show up on a Chris Boardman TT bike; the most unusual choice for a day of climbing and uneven pavement. 



Local hard man and Stravaneer, Rob King was on hand. 



Dom made an appearance rocking his steel Seven. 



Cameron Miller brought his Croz Blade out as well. Simon made a showing to teach the group how to climb a hill. Rounding out the group was Iron Mike (Brass Balled Mike); a man with grit, resolve and determination. Mike is just getting into cycling, but he always shows up for the Main Event ready to take his lumps, learn something and get that much better. The man is a fighter. 

Then there was myself, the weakest link in the group wracked by fitness robbing injuries and rehab assignments. A couple years ago I may have led the whole parade, but this time  I was happy just to be within shouting distance of the lead. 



We pulled away from Nathan's 7-11 at late past eight. I was scared. I really didn't know what to expect from my body. I worried I would pull up lame in the middle of the jungle and have to hike out or delay everyone as they waited for me to gimp along to the top of the next hill. Nathan made it sound easy, so I believed him. 



We made cycling small talk and razzed each other through some early dips and rises. Moisture was being pulled from the forest and sticky to my skin like a suffocating layer of cellophane. 

We swung into the first serious climb. I felt comparatively good for the amount of training I have had over the past couple of months. With a blog post in mind, I convinced myself to take a few pictures as the rest of the gang disappeared around the bend. Bagua Shan mad a brief appearance in the distance across the Wu River and I was cautiously tickled that I had made it to the top. 



I was in awe of Lenny's bike prowess as he threw that TT bike skyward. 



Nathan promised a brak at the top, and I was more than ready to indulge. 



Like mana from the sky, we were more than happy to allow a few Lychee to fall from the trees and into our hands. A little boost of sugar to kick the body into gear. 



Before recovery could wash over the legs Nathan ushered us over the hill on a ripping descent on some serious grades. For me this was the point of no return. This is where I had foolishly committed to climbing out the other side on the Route 136. It was impossible for me to back track. It was impossible to even direct a rescue by car. The only way out was by bike. 



We hit a few washed out sections of road and I did my best cyclocross (psycho-cross) imitation to scramble out of the mud. 



The road clung to a rolling valley hemmed in on all sides by towering walls of chalky cliff sides, draped in the greenest color of plant life imaginable.



The trees gave us some welcome cover from the unbearable burn of the summer sun throbbing down on us with every heartbeat. 



I was too slow to get what must have been a spectacular picture of our group blasting through the guts of a long narrow trench coated in green. 



We stopped for one final rest before the finale. Nathan mapped out our final climb, describing some sections as 40% grades. When we finally launched up the ramp, I decided to play it safe and I dismounted as soon as my rear tire lost its grip on the thin layer of moss, which coated large sections of roadway. A few times during the ride I felt fortunate enough to have made it that far without pain, I wasn't about to tempt fate. I was powering up hills far beyond by limits three days prior and I was ready to simply take my winnings to the bank. 



The initial straight climb finally gave us a switchback to chew on and I was able to put my weight back and make the climb. As I rounded the bend, Lenny was on the side of the road with a nasty puncture. Dom and Rob were with him, so after offering one more set of hands, I continued to the top. 



From the high point in the road, the seismic violence that created the Ninety-nine peaks shows itself through the jagged corners and angles poking through the carpet of jungle.  



I had never really thought there was a road through the area, but it was evident that I was resting right in the northern shoulder of this geologic monument. 



Nathan gave us our orders for the descent: 

"Go slow... single file... so you don't take anyone out with you if you fall. It's really slick and rough in there. I mean it." 

He wasn't kidding. The forest primeval had us all spooked, like the cycling equivalent of a herd of antelope fearful of a lurking collarbone snap or femur break. This was for experienced riders only. You need to know how to balance, how to unclip, and how to fall. 



In a break in the trees I could look out over the tucked and folded earthscape at a few drifting clouds tinged with a hint of grey. Taiwan's summertime weather is as unpredictable as it is unstable. A rain squall can quickly vault the mountains and turn a difficult ride into a disaster.  



I rode down the remainder of the road and passed Lenny who was again hobbled by another flat. 



When we all met at the bottom of the hill, a far off rumble of thunder sent us all scanning the sky for rain. We hung out with the local dogs as Lenny fixed his damaged tire with a gel wrapper to help seal the wide-mouth rip in his sidewall.



One by one we hopped the lip to the Route 136 and dug for speed toward the Hi Life, where badly needed refreshments were waiting. 



The original plan had been to continue on to Sun Moon Lake via the Nantou Route 147. I had always planned to head home, but I was quickly joined by a few more volunteers. Only Nathan, Cameron and Simon pointed their wheels further up the road. The rest of us beat it back toward Taichung. 

I was already happy with my results on the day, and therefore, I was not so keen on clinging to Lenny's wheel. Later on I wished I had stuck with the group as a wall of wind and water was looming in the immediate distance. I hoped to outrun it to Taichung, but the alternate route I was on veered back toward the rain. 



The system seemed to build up out of nowhere. A swirling black thunderhead brought its full weight down upon the area. The temple flags that had been steadily blowing one direction were blasted the opposite. Just as the first drops started to fall, I made it to the safety of a 7-11. 



In a sudden blast of swirling atmospheric violence, the storm moved through the area. And then it was gone. 

Over the course of a cup of coffee, the storm had blown out and I was on my way at a faster clip home. I didn't want to be drenched in another wave. 

For me, it was a magnificent day on the bike for the fact that I was again able to feel moments of myself shining through. It made me hungrier for more. 

I really have to thank Nathan for the invite and the persistence in prodding me to go. It was a truly memorable day with a fun group of guys.