Wushe to Wujie: Biking Taiwan's Most Amazing Places

First, I would like to welcome myself back to blogging after a few weeks off. I had some other contracted writing to get done and most of the other recent cycling news is deeper than a few minutes of fluff. 

I can think of no better way to roll back onto the blog, than with this post from a gorgeous Sunday of cycling through one of the most secretly awe inspiring landscapes in Taiwan.

With rotten weather and other obligations, I was looking to get back on the bike, but I was in a bit of a dilemma. I wanted to ride something outside the regular loops to Sun Moon Lake or Miaoli, but my lack of conditioning meant that a little more adventure would remain out of reach until my legs and fitness return.

Somewhere in the discussion, Dom, who is getting used to his role as the action model for this blog, mentioned riding out to Wujie. The village of Wujie is nestled deep in a valley behind Puli Township, and boasts some of the most spectacular images of verdant farms tucked against looming shadows of ancient cliffs. 

Soon the discussion turned to the Nantou Route 83, a route which traverses the Wanda Reservoir below Wushe. 

The idea was too interesting to pass on and we quickly made arrangements to drive out to Puli and make the most of a sunny December morning with a short 60km ride through the mountains. 



Highway 14 to Wushe

We parked in a hospital parking lot and fueled up on some coffee and snacks before launching into the flow of traffic heading toward Wuling Pass. 

The roads are nice enough, but there were ten too many Nissan Cefiros on the road to make the climb up to Wushe a very relaxing one. If we weren't getting barnstormed by a battle damaged Cefiro, it seemed we we being bulldozed out of the way by a fleet of VW Transporter vans sent by one hotel or another to haul guests around the window framed scene-scape in the cushioned comfort of a foam seat.  


Wagon Train

The climbing starts after about 15km from Puli, and it is never really as bad as it looks. There are about four hairpin turns to grunt through, but the worst is over so quickly it is actually a very accessible climb for a variety of riders. 


Fellow Rider

We met a few other people on the road and chatted to a couple of guys who were eager to get up to Wuling and... I dunno... experience cold. 



Dom Attacks

Dom charged the hill and we were soon sitting in Wushe ready to embark on a little adventure. 


Lucky Sevens


View from Wushe



As we turned onto the Nantou Route 83, I knew it was going to be a great day of riding. The sun was beaming through the branches. There were blue skies above and the sparkle of light glittering off the waters below. 


Nantou Route 83

I often forget how pretty Taiwan's forests become in the winter. I hope my readers will forgive me for the numerous images in this post, but when it came time to edit, I just couldn't bring myself to cut. 



The scenery made it as if we were biking through a living Bob Ross painting. The hills were dobs of Van Dyke Browns, Yellow Ochres, Burnt Siennas, with wisps of Titanium White laying blanket-like over the hump of a mountain. 

The layers of color punching through the green added a sense of depth and texture that is often missing from the hillsides in other months. 



The water below was a glassy reflecting pool that gave the mountains the illusion of staring into a hole through which you could peer through the earth. There were skies above and below us. 



On the opposite end of the reservoir, we could look out at Chingjing Farm and the tourist villas above. 



Past the reservoir the road cuts along shallow, swift moving rivers that supply small villages with work on the reservoir, as well as a some heartbreak during the floods of a typhoon. We passed more than one memorial along the route to people who had died in flooding. 



There was still plenty of traffic as the roads were in excellent shape. Most of the cars were pointed toward the Awanda Leisure Forest; a lovers escape to look at maple leaves and for girls to be impressed by the massive camera lenses swinging amid falling leaves. Be sure to avoid the Awanda route as it is a dead end. Stay right. 



My little point and shoot Canon was obviously not enough to impress Dom, so we made slow progress toward Wujie while we tripped over our own amazement in looking at the scenery.



Be sure to fill up on water. The entire road along the river is so stunning, it will leave your mouth agape for lone periods at a time and hastening dehydration. 

The riverside cliffs are so overwhelming and the lack of much in the way of tourist infrastructure is even more rewarding. You simply feel like you are an invisible observer as an entirely different world unfolds around you.   








Song Lin Village

We stopped in the village of Song Lin for a water and to take a look around. The entire village was arranged in a manner very similar to how it may have looked seventy years ago. It was a grid of narrow streets and houses that were about three times as long as they were wide. In many ways they were timber and concrete versions of the traditional houses once used by the area's Bunun and Atayal speakers. 



As we regrouped, a little boy rode up on his bike and demanded that I speak with him in English. I scowled by best Han Solo half-faced scowl, and told him that I wasn't going to ask him to dance or sing for me. He then changed the subject to my relationship with Kobe Bryant. 


Local Bar



The remaining 10k of road is a series of short, punchy climbs and easy glides through narrow corners amid tall grass and terraced farms. 

There is also a prehistoric site along the road where there is evidence of a settlement dating back over 2000 years. This would place this river valley as a key location in the dispersal of Austronesian languages and cultures. 





Wow!






With such a great road it was easy to enjoy picking up a little bit of speed between camera stops. One corner had me coming in too hot and I just about slid into the gutter. 



At one point we encountered a group of mountain bikers coming in from Wujie. From the looks of them we were not too far off. The area boasts some excellent mountain bike trails. 



As we burst through a tunnel that looked like something out of a Disney theme park, we were suddenly met with one of the most beautiful images this rider has ever encountered in Taiwan. 



We also stopped to take a look at one of the many waterfalls dotting the area. 







A quick lunch of fried pork in Wujie provided enough fuel to push us over the Nantou Route 71 toward home. 



The climb out of Wujie is far more preferable to the ride leading into Wujie from Puli. 


Wujie

I turned back a couple more times to catch a glimpse of the entire valley and reflect on the images I will try to hold in my mind for as long as possible. It was truly on of the best rides I have had the chance to complete. 

For all those riders in central Taiwan.... The next time you think about going out to Sun MoonLake again.... give this route a try. The rewards far outweigh the investment. I will surely be doing this ride again. Hopefully as a part of a longer campaign. 

Now get out there and ride this before the Tourism Bureau finds out and ruins it with tour busses and sausage stalls.


Puli Basin

Bike route 1929377 - powered by Bikemap 

Alishan Adventure II: Biking Gods Smile

This is the second of a two-part post. The first installment can be found at: Alishan Adventure I: Biking Behind The Mountain



As the clouds of sleep lifted from my head, I flung my eyes open wide and stumbled over my legs as the sensation of feeling returned to my rested limbs. Through the picture frame window I could look off  toward the rocky walls of the valley illuminated by the reddish gold hues of morning sunlight.

The skies were crackling clear the way they are on sunny Taiwanese winter days when there is no humidity to hang from your body from the moment you step out of bed. We were going to have as perfect weather as imaginable on our ascent of the unobstructed north face of Alishan.



With dry clothes, thanks to the convenient heat from the hearth, we were directed toward the town breakfast shop. They had a full spread of Taiwanese style breakfast sandwiches, egg pancakes, and other breakfast necessities. It is so rare to enjoy such a spectacular spread in the mountains. Even the lettuce in my breakfast sandwich was fresh from the garden. The real treat was when I ordered a coffee and received an espresso bar paper cup of hot black coffee instead of a dixie cup of sweetened powdered brew that makes a regular coffee drinker wince tears of vinegar with every sip. I had a full cup of BLACK Friggin' COFFEE.



In the crisp morning light the town looked clean and friendly. The locals were all sweeping the streets and wearing traditional Tsou costume for Sunday service at either of the two local churches. The Presbyterian and Catholic churches stand about a block apart. In the realm of Taiwan politics they might as well have been a world apart. The Taiwan Presbyterian Church was an early advocate of social justice during the era of White Terror and martial law in Taiwan, while the Archdiocese has remained close to the ruling Kuomintang since the KMT lost China to the communists. The Vatican still recognizes Taiwan's ROC government as the true government of China. These political and ideological battles are often fought by religious proxy in indigenous villages all over Taiwan.



What was evident was that the church played a central role in village life. Over the centuries many groups of Taiwanese indigenes have sought out foreign missionaries to help them gain political and economic leverage against state power and an unequal distribution of goods, benefits and rights.

In many ways these indigenous communities have subverted the church organizations as a means to serve more traditional functions of indigenous village life. The churches also act as a deliberate means of drawing borders between an ethnic minority and the orthodoxy of the state as the civilizing center; a powerful act of resistance by othering oneself while retaining a sense of ethnic integrity.



We each ponied up NT900 to cover our rooms, dinner, breakfast and coffee, as well as the beers we shared. It all came on one tab and we were ready to roll back onto the road. My butt was still a little sensitive and my legs gummed up from a tight sleep, but I was game for a charge at Alishan.



In the daylight the Route 155 took us out of Laiji and past the geological scars left by the devastating blows of Typhoon Morakot, which pummeled Taiwan in 2009. In the wake of massive landslides  and flooding, Laiji was labelled a disaster area. The central government proposed moving the community to an area deemed safer and less of a disaster risk. The Tsou of Laiji negotiated a move to an area that was formerly a traditional Tsou village site deeper in the mountains. The government accepted the proposal, but reneged on the promise. 



With the morning sun beginning to radiate off the polished rocky cliffs, a light haze filled the air as precipitation in reverse with the saturated earth raining on the heavens.



My legs warmed up as we crossed the bridge up the 149甲. I had the advantage of knowing the route well enough to gauge when, where and how to spend an effort. I quickly rocketed up the lower ramps until I found a comfortable spot in the shade to take pictures of the rest of the group. I designated myself the ride documentarian as I had nothing to prove but a good time on the slopes of Alishan.



Each rider plodded up the smooth asphalt at his own pace. Dom's training regimen paid off and he quickly disappeared into a buckle along the mountain's flank. I would stop for pictures and then race ahead to search for more choice shots. Each rider had his own plan for the ride and scrapped for elevation in a beautiful game of speed, power and finesse.



The chunky rocks with their angular faces and deep striations seemed to resemble the bare canyon walls and spires of the American West rather than the forests of a mountain that sits squarely on the Tropic of Cancer.



Bend after agonizing bend we lunged skyward leaving the dusty riverbeds and betel nut trees far below. The road is in near pristine condition and on this day there was very little traffic. The quietness of the bicycle brings out the detail and contrast in each image and sound along the road. The bicycle frees up the senses and faculties that would be otherwise employed in the operation of a motor vehicle and delights the rider with a sumptuous panorama of sensory experience.



On days like this, when the marble sky swirls around itself, you can't help but look up.



Cranks turned and legs burned.



Michael had outfitted his bike with a special long cage derailleur and mountain bike sized sprocket set-up specifically for this climb. The new gear ratios and a higher level of fitness made a made a huge difference as he had plenty of energy to take on each ramp all the way to the top.



For the most part the route to Fencihu is clean and clear. There are always a couple sections where construction is immanent. This time the concrete slurry and dusty roadway had been replaced by a brand new Route 162 junction of sparkling newness.



Halfway through the ascent, conversations that could take moments over a beer drag on as heavy breaths and concentration chop and dice sentences into non-sequitur arrangements of sounds and syllables.



Just near the three-quarter mark of the climb the entire valley starts coming into view from the mosaic of peeks and views available on the lower sections. We could look out at our road dangling on the edge of nothing; a bright white scribble against the deep greens of tea and bamboos.



As I stopped to record the visuals of our riders filing along the naked cliffside against a jagged-scape of rock against blue, I noticed the shape of a cyclist on a road bike pushing his way up the cliff behind us.

At first I thought it might be one of the riders who had failed to materialize Saturday morning and in a fit of remorse decided to give chase in a one-day tour de force of Alishan cycling. The notion came from the fact that road is not yet a favorite among cyclists due to it being a full campaign over two mountains. Once you commit to the descent of the first, you automatically sign up for the ascent of the next. There is really no clean way out if things go poorly. Any rider on these roads is serious about making it to the other side.

The notion of a friend coming to join us was short lived as we waited to discover a lone Taiwanese rider mashing along the same road. I managed to chase him down and chat for a few minutes as we made slow headway into the tea farming village of Taiho.



At the three quarter mark we stopped for a photo-op.



Taiho is a patchwork labyrinthine maze of tea fields, one folded atop the next to cover the highest slopes. The tea is harvested from impossibly steep ledges as the local farmers have sought to claim every inch of arable land for tea production.

Even where sections of mountain have sloughed off in earthquakes and storms, the famers have simply planted around boulders and obstacles.



The rest at Taiho was short to keep our forward momentum.



Dom quickly launched back up the mountain and didn't materialize until Fencihu while the rest of the crowd soaked in the splendors of surreal landscapes below.





Just after Taiho there is a brief section of steep roadway that mows weaving arcs through a bamboo forest as a transition between the verdant, emerald slopes of Taiho and the dark cedar in Fencihu.



As I rounded one of the last corners to the final terrace above Taiho, I passed our Taiwanese friend whose legs had failed him somewhere below. I spun in my seat in time to watch him valiantly remount and plod the final paces to meet a group of friends from his DAGO cycling group as they took the more leisurely route from Fencihu.



With very little gladhanding or celebration in summiting on this route, I mechanically marched ahead for a revitalizing coffee in Fencihu.



The race down the other side seems a world away. The cool darkness and flickers from blinding spots of warm sunlight between the boughs of tall cedars provides the sensation of cycling through a moving picture. This was one of the nicest days I have ever seen on Alishan, which is often muffled by clouds and haze.



We all sat back for refreshments at a little cafe in Fencihu and made light of our adventure. There were fewer tourists and less traffic on the roads. This made the front of Alishan more pleasant than I remembered.


Michael holding court

When I think of this ride I always imagine it consisting of three distinct parts.

The first is the warm up over the foggy grey rocks and decay of the climb through Caoling. The second is the climb through the exposed northeastern flank of Alishan through Taiho.

The third section is just as impressive and distinct in character as the other two parts, and I think it is the  key element in making this route among the greatest rides in Taiwan.

As cyclists we often get caught up in the numbers game and measure our ride in terms of altitude, distance, speed, gear ratios, gradient percentages and other hard data.

In the sport of competitive cycling an effort can also be measured by the subjectivities wrapped in the single French term-- panache.

Panache defines the style and manner in which a ride is executed.

For Alishan, there are other routes that reach higher points on the mountain or pass more famous scenic spots on the tourist map. The Highway 21 through Tata Jia and Highway 18 are the standard roads for riding Alishan. These are fine, but they lack the panache of the route outlined in this post. They lack the two climbs, the cliffside scenery, the bare loneliness of the rider dwarfed by the enormous mountain shadows that loom from above. Moreover, they lack the descent down the 159甲.



The 159甲 starts off easy enough and the thrill snowballs through every corner and dip as the skinny track hugs the precipice along an old Tsou trading road.

"Now it is time to enjoy the refinement of a custom ride." I called to Dom as we gained momentum.

You can clearly see where you're going as you skip and flow like leaves in the trickling steams below. But there are surprises around every root and rise of the mountain.

There is dipping and slicing around every corner as you jump from the saddle to take full advantage of your inertia, which creates a zen-like sensation of effortless concentration and reaction. You enter "the zone" and stay for the entire ride.



Sheer cliff faces stare back at you and require a moment of awesome reflection.



It seems each tuck and bend reveals hidden tea farms, majestic waterfalls, and fearsome ledges.



The road contorts and burrows through jungle and along the fingers of deep gullies with their iron-work bridges. At times it seems as thought the entire road might simply close in on you like the Wandering Rocks of the Odyssey.



Then, just as the legs shift into recovery mode, there is one last climb that is anything but gentle.



The road pitches up for a steep sustained climb through two tunnels. It evens out only briefly before another staggering climb before sliding into the most surreal betel nut forrest. The chalky grey and white trunks of betel palms soot up from all sides with large boulders all around. There is something spooky about it that words fail to describe.



The bottom falls off the 159甲 as it points its nose down one last time and cuts wide banking corners in a slalom through persimmon farms toward the Chiayi City.

Dom and I continued onward to the HSR station, which is poorly marked from Chiayi City and took far too much mental energy to locate. Without WiFi, if we had followed the signage, we would have ended up in Tainan.

A completely amazing trip and an excellent birthday present to myself.



When I pulled up at the HSR station I was met with that little girl smile that makes it so hard to leave and so great to return from a long ride. 



A little volcano action at Chili's made it all that much better. 



Michael Turton's Excellent Post on the Trip. Here

Information:

Lan Hou Hostel (Laiji)
Address: Alishan Township, Laiji Dist. Chiayi County, Laiji Village No.11
Tel: 05-266-1002/05-266-1172
Cell: 0978-208137

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