An exciting day isn't always extreme. For a week of diverse adventures, I am telling the story of Sunday to help elevate the likelihood of being reprimanded again. “He's grounded; … by his mother.” The quotation will be easy recognizable to anyone that knows me well. Omitting stories of far more dangerous situations, precarious climbs, foolish river traces, and slippery and downright stupid excisions, yesterday was both fun and safe; making it a good tale. Two consecutive posts of gallant misadventure might result in multiple third-party life insurance policies purchased. Such tales will not go amiss however, and will slowly be filtered in to keep the blog exciting.
An argument arose during a previous river-trace regarding the exact definition of the word. For those who are unfamiliar with the term, a river-trace is the act of hiking upriver. Specifically not hiking next to a river, this interactive experience couples bouldering, rock climbing, river crosses, river walking, bank hiking, and swimming. Hualien is very well known for this event and tour groups can be found adventuring on the safer and more accessible rivers fully geared with helmets, life vests, wetsuits, and special water shoes. Of course the only gear we need for such activities is rice slippers, drinkable water, and, of course, betel nut. Being over prepared today though, we also had four “fan tuan”. Fan tuan is a round ball about the size of a baseball with a bunch of goodies stuffed inside. These goodies include tofu, peanut shavings, picked veggies, and other things I have yet to identify. Enclosed by five-grain rice with a piece of seaweed wrapper to seal the seam of the rice shell, the unified the ball is delicious and constitute our daily breakfast. Unable to get geared up the 'Murician (or rather R..E.I.) way with Cliff bars, fig bars, and trail mix, these delicious breakfast balls would have to do. Our previous days of river -tracing were significantly more akin to bouldering being both physically straining and dangerous; so this trip was a refreshing vacation. Speeding out of town, north towards the famous Taroko Gorge area, we passed small towns, farms, immensely intricate cemeteries, bicyclists, and other motorists. Perfect weather at seven in the morning, warm, clear, refreshing, foreshadowed a wonderful day. And it was!
Arriving at the trail-head, a local elderly couple used an existing rope system to scale down the rocky bank which composed the initial decent. Backpack, consisting of woven leafs, was jammed packed, full of provisions. They began crossing the river towards the other bank, something new for Dacota who traced this river before. Speculating they knew a local hidden path, we followed suit, down the rocky edge, into the crystal-clear blue water in pursuit of some gnosis. A half mile up a path revealed that these folks were not picnicking somewhere up the river but instead lived on this far side of the river, completely isolated from the nearby town. With no bridges or roads leading to their home (home used instead of shanty because the home was ingeniously put together out of various materials) the only way one could get to their house was to ford the river. What would be done at times of volumetric increases during the winter or during typhoons baffles me. There's no doubt about it, this elderly couple is pretty hardcore. Returning back down the bank, we began our trace, again.
Accustom to water temperatures in the PNW, the hobby of river-tracing in anything less than a wetsuit is impossible during most times of the year. Glacier and snow fed streams lead to an ocean of inhuman coldness. Contrary to my previous experiences, in this strange and exciting land, when stepping into water, which is even clearer that the water in Opal Creek, the instant coldness turns into coolness that is simply comfortable. If hiking to fast along boulders, one just needs to take a refreshing swim to feel instantly better. Hiking in the river is truly enjoyable and after eight hours, of fluctuating sunshine, wind, and rain, spending additional time in the water is enticing. Each leg of the trek was around four miles, not including the additional exploration. Of the entire day, only a single casualty took place. Dacota, crossing before of me, backpack raised above his head, went chin deep through the river managing to stay up right and unscathed. With camera above my head, I began crossing, my tip toes barely holding onto the sandy bottom when I suddenly slipped and started floating downstream. This wasn't frightening at all, it was rather enjoyable actually, and with a few quick strokes I reached the correct bank. Upon traveling further however, I realized that my sunglasses were not on my head, but rather I'd placed them in my pocket during a quick water break. They must have floated out of my pocket during the rather deep crossing. How I overlooked the safety of my beloved sunglasses is beyond reprehensible; both that I inadvertently littered and that my cool sunglasses took a watery grave.
To say the hike was uneventful or boring would be completely inaccurate. The shear beauty of the scene is beyond description. Immense metamorphic rocks of quartz and serpentinite, basalts, both columnar and normal round rocks, were encrusted with some type of mica (maybe??) shimmering in the sunshine; a myriad of varieties creating a geologic wonderland; a geologists wet dream. The epitome of clear water shone blue as if in opal or topaz. The steep canyon were lined with such startling diverse jungle no camera could ever draw out the complexity. Water falls flowed down rocky outcroppings and disappear into jungle only to reemerge cascading down overgrown vine clearings, mist scattering and creating tiny rainbow clouds far up the valley walls, only to disappear again, all eventually flowing into the stream below; the one we delightfully interacted with. Eventually we reached an area known as The Grotto. Regretfully, this area was far more extreme than what we could simply do with determination alone. There is a reason people use rigging gear up there and without doing so would result in disability or death. One day, it will be fun to get up there and do some exploring. The steep rock walls, glistening and beautiful, make a gigantic canyon which offers the challenge of surmount-ability. Even more exciting though is what might lay beyond. Continuing the trace beyond the Grotto continued to increase in difficulty, being much more similar to our previous bouldering/tracing excursions. At a particularly alluring bend we stopped for lunch only to be disappointed by the beginning sprinklings of rain. Part of this difficult continuation of the journey involving climbing in and through the steep area of a small waterfall and the cliffs surrounding it. Because the water below was far too swift to cross at a lower section of the river, this partial rock climb was the safest possible way to continue. Given the impending slippery conditions, we felt it best return to a safer spot before this voyage became worthy of another experience where the declaration of “hardcore” is necessary. Down a mile or two from The Grotto, the first sighting of people took place, a group of Taipei tourists, fully geared, getting ready to ford the crossing that stole my beloved sunglasses. Amped up on betel nut, we were cruising along, blowing by previously difficult areas with ease. Not wanting to get in the tour group's “grill” we crossed upriver. This area was even deeper than the other and was at least 6' deep. They watched in shock as two extremely white guys, without gear, charge into and across the river like it was nothing. Only to boulder the areas surrounding them, and disappear into the stream beyond with only a wave of acknowledgment. The shocked look on their faces was priceless!
Stopping to skip rocks, build sand castes, play Lui He Ba Fa Quan in the river, swim out to rocky outcroppings and scale them, and play Taiji on a particularly enormous and flat monstrosity of nature in the middle of the river, we were surprised by a hail from behind. Coming down the river quickly, a local, with extremely dirty clothes and determined face, was chasing after us. Puzzled, we crossed back to meet him, where he asked if we had a light. Confirming we did, lighting up his cigarette, and offering betel nut, Dacota and him began chatting away. Once across the river, Ma Dao pulled out two large fresh-water crabs which he caught in a particularly dangerous tributary. He explained that because the area was so treacherous, nobody went up there and he could find these gigantic crabs. Inviting us to accompany him, he took us along hidden paths used to circumvent the river where possible decreasing the time needed to get this far upriver. He and Dacota chatted away like old friends, and the rest of our voyage was spent in the company of this very interesting man. Learning a few words in English from American movies, he asked questions and Dacota answered them. He knew of major American celebrities like Nick Cage, Denzel Washington, John Travolta; knew and sang parts of songs from Aerosmith and the Beatles. The spectacle of this was extremely humorous. Currently unemployed (we derived that he was a construction worker of some sort) he kept his wife and him fed by either hunter or fishing for food. Squatting in some kind of building out of town, he lived off the land in his own unique way. Both he and Dacota complained about Taipei tourists “mucking up” the place. Apparently local resident Dacota didn't fit the description of a tourist. Imagine that! Perhaps the coolest and most interesting point of the conversation came about when we asked Ma Dao about a man-made structure overlooking a bend in the river. Built long ago, it was used as a resting and luncheon spot for visitors. The exciting part came about when he described an aboriginal trail behind the structure that lead back to Hualien. He described the path as dark and dangerous. It is most likely akin to the hunting trail I described in my third post. Given that, as the crow flies, Hualien was about 18 miles away, this path leads up and down mountains, into uninhabited canyons, and through thick subtropic forests, and wouldn't be hike-able in a day. Perhaps this information will foreshadow a coming adventure! Although, I hope to enlist the help of a native or local if we attempt such a feat.
A very heart-felt goodbye came and went, and we returned to the city, charged by such a fun day.
I didn't mention this earlier because I felt it would break up the flow of the story. At one point, this man sat down with us and took a break. He offered us some white liquor, we declined, and drank it up leaving the bottle behind as we departed. We'd already collected a grocery store size plastic bag of trash and I took his bottle without comment. Dacota, much to my surprise, asked him about this. Only on our ride home did I actually hear about the discussion. Ma Dao said to not worry about littering, that when it rained it would be washed out to the ocean. This brings to mind a conversation I had with my friend Chris about the luxury of environmental concern. Although I disagreed with his argument, supplemented by plenty of proof which I will mention, his notion, if I am consolidating it correctly, is that only in environments plush with excess and leisure is environmental concern prevalent. I'll add to his argument and say that an education which teaches of the consequence of such harmful acts as littering is a luxury.
With part of his reasoning I agree. This man, so far removed from a culture of luxury, truly felt that once it was out of sight it was out of mind.
When looking at the countries most vocal and most concerned about climate change though, first-world countries, like the U.S. and China, are not shouting for change. In fact, third world countries are far more concerned with educating their population and changing local and global policy. The main reason for this is simple. Poorer countries, especially in the tropics, are far more affected by the effects of climate change. They are far more affected by the toxification of the environment, the depletion of available resources both food and energy, and by the extreme weather patterns already being observed. As the Maslow Hierarchy of Needs shows, concerns about the ramification of pollutants on a global scale are far from the mind of people simply looking for enough food to survive. Why it takes the elite individuals from certain third-world countries to call for global environmental change should be embarrassing for countries of vast empires and extreme ostentatious wealth. If we are truly supposed to care for the meek and protect the future for our children, shouldn't massive reform be taking place? Shouldn't the democracy of our dollar be spent attempting to support businesses and politicians with a more realistic idea of the world today?
How do we both help the environment and keep all of our toys? Perhaps that should be the real question and one every 'Murican should contemplate.
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