Thank "God" We Weren't Offered M&M's !

Taiwan, thus far, has exhibited immense ecological diversity, lush terrain, staggeringly complex geologic formations, jutting mountains, unique blue rivers, a prominent aboriginal culture, and much, much more. Although Hualien is famed for its striking beauty, the town described in my second post seemed to parallel the sub-tropic wonderland. A little over an hour scooter ride from Hualian is an area renowned for its beauty; supposedly Taroko is one of, or solely, the most beautiful spot in Taiwan. It is a tourist hotspot and must only be visited on the weekdays, in my opinion, to bypass the hordes of amateur photographers and families. There isn't a way it could be vastly different, or so I told myself. Unimaginable to some, it turns out I was mistaken. In my month and a half in Taiwan, we've spent entirely too much time in less toured areas and sought experiences never hinted at in a guidebook. But rumors of a hot-spring brought us to the decision to seek them out. So, with a cold-front still bringing rain and frigid conditions, we set off at seven thirty in the morning towards the springs. The sub-tropic landscape continued to increase in wonderful geologic landscapes and majestic sites. Not that our previous explorations weren't comparable in radiance but this region is brimming with jaw-dropping scenery. Our day of surveying demands further exploration -- and often. So this post is a guaranteed foreshadow of many more tales to come.

Standing off the road about halfway between the mountain peak and river far below

Although a Thursday, and cold as Hell, tour buses still passed us but were sparsely populated. It seems that this was an optimal time to explore. A few stops to take pictures of the majestic setting, all failed to even remotely capture the complexity of the scene, we arrived at the hot-spring's trail-head. The river far below might have proved challenging to get to if not for the consider “built up” path. Stairs, made from stone and wood, created an easy walk down. Two interesting things to note about our descent. First is that part of the path goes through a hillside where a gate is situated to be closed by town officials during typhoons. Apparently they didn't want people dying down there. If this gate had been shut, there wouldn't really be an option to continue since the path edge was a sheer drop off. The gate appeared effective for, unless it was open, the area would be sealed off. Thus begs the questions (idiomatically, not philosophically), is the lock pickable, besides for repelling down the face of the cliff-side, is there another option down, and what if we were stuck down there. The barrier basically dares us to attempt such feats. The second noteworthy mention is the suspection bridge that gaps the gulf and allows a person to cross the river and finish the descent to the hot-spring. Although massive metal cables secured either side, it swayed under foot and was a fairly novel experience. They are quite common in the area (including one that seemed sketchy as hell during the later hikes of the day which won't be described) and are fantastic. You truly feel the expanse of the gulf at the center inflection point. Across this bridge, some 100 feet above the river, one could look down onto the pools below.

The sharp stairwell cut into the hillside caused us to stoop and hold onto the guard rail on the west side. This is the only guard rail outside of a public park that I've seen in Taiwan. To illuminate this point, at one precarious point on another hike there existed only a loose chain hanging from loose concrete anchors which are set into the stone face.  Anyway, the walk down was quick and easy and we arrived to find constructed pools yet they were utterly dry. A sign warned against dangerous water and we walked over to peer over the edge where some five feet down were the pools sighted when crossing the bridge.

 Chronologically this picture is obviously taken after our initial inception.

The river raged and small pools were created by stone walls retaining the sulfur water which pored out of a small chase. After subsequent inspection, it appeared that the water's source naturally from vents under the close hill and that the seemingly constructed chase was due to the built-up dry pools locate in the previous detailed area under the rocky overhang.

Two older people bathed in the pools and we donned on swim trunks and climbed over the guard rail, against the warning, down the sharp embankment, and arrived at current river level. Five small pools were constructed, the first retaining the water directly from the vent and then gravity fed and distributed the water to the other pools. Our freezing bodies, especially feet, from the scooter ride ignited in pain was we tested the waters. The old folks were not laying in the pool but rather dishing bowls of water over themselves, and we quickly understood why; the heated sulfur water was hot! The river flowed southward and the old man recommended we take up the north-most pool, which had a small stream of cold running into it and was also the largest pool, oval and roughly 6x4 feet. Unlike the four feet deep hot-springs we previously visited, and are described in previous posts, these pools were around a foot deep. As Dacota eased himself into the north-most pool I channeled more of the cold water from the swift moving river into the pool to make it bearable. Twenty minutes of easing myself into the pool and it was perfect. The old folks questioned Dacota for a minute and then we soaked in peace. After an hour and a half the old folks left and were replaced by a group of four people who immediately submersed themselves into the cold river. They were obviously pretty intense and we would soon discover more information about them. As the turn of events go though, some time after their arrival a solo man, short, dark-skinned, and squat framed with backpack, shorts, but no shoes, climbed down the cement wall drop-off and looked around. By this time our pool had become perfectly regulated and after a few minutes speaking with the other people, he came over and asked if he could sit by us. Inviting him in, he put his feet into the water and a conversation arose between Dacota and him. It turns out this youthful looking man was in his mid-thirties, had grown up in Taroko, was a member of one of the aboriginal families, spoke the native tongue, and worked in Taroko but lived in another town. We asked questions to the best of our ability and he attempted to answer them in ways that would be understood. Chinese isn't additive like English, ie. Doghouse isn't the character for dog and the character for house but is an alternative word with its own semi-unique character combination. Because of this and because there are so many words for a single given item, communication can be difficult at times, to say the least. From what we gathered, aboriginal Taiwanese inhabitants traversed the mountains to settle in this previously remote region. By climbing along the spines of the mountains, they eventually made it down in the small valley known today as Taroko. It was difficult to decipher if these were the true original inhabitants or if they simply expanded the culture found there. Either way it was only three hundred plus years ago which seemed odd to me because of the unique language found and because the Dutch had already landed/visited the Portuguese named island of Formosa. Until around a hundred years ago, the area was pretty isolated. With increased access came missionaries and profiteers to convert and destroy the native population, and so they did. Recently, by a very progressive stance by the education board of Taiwan, it became acceptable to learn and use the native tongues in school as a way of preserving the remnant original culture. They are also afforded a different set of laws including the right to own a gun, which is forbidden to every one else outside the military. The language though doesn't use the Chinese character system (were the historic people illiterate?) and only through modern use of the Romanized system of Pinyin was their language put into some kind of formality. There was obviously significantly more dialog going on but for the sake of the story some parts have been omitted. After exchanging contact information, he invited us to visit him at his house in Yu Li, which is fortunate because there are hot-springs near there and it is always optimal to have someone local to contact if something unfortunate happens. Off he departed for work and we continued to work on digging out the pool, now almost two feet deep!

I departed momentarily for a snack and returned to find Dacota, once again, in conversation, now with two members of the group who'd been there for a few hours now. These gentlemen were from Yi Lan which also has nearby hot-springs. They mentioned that the reason they enjoy this spring is because it was free and natural. Illuminating this point was the difficulty in conversing because of the roaring river beside us.

Although they did not have the local history under their belt, they were interesting and generously offering us bread, fruit, and tea. Because they were worked for a tour group in Yi Lan they offered to take us around and show us the sites for free. The two other people who stuck to themselves were from Hualien and only a briefly introduced themselves before leaving. From what they said, they hot-spring in Taroko almost every day and we are bound to meet them and have prolonged conversations with them in the future. 


More dialog between the two co-workers/friends  and we, for the second time that day, exchanged contact information with the nice people. Three new contacts in a single day. Wow! I feel popular. Suddenly, a slew of white tourists peered over the edge. Dacota called up to guide, “Hey, are you Matt?” , and sure as shit he was. Although they'd never met personally, they both have mutual friends, knew of each other, and simply hadn't met yet. As they talked, the group clambered down and took up residence in our pool. Again, this pools was the only one no longer scalding and was also significantly deeper than the others because of our excavation work. There were three men and a women. The two guys from Chicago were traveling together and the man and women were from L.A. and came for a wedding, she was of Taiwanese descent. Although these folks were significantly different than me, our conversation seemed adequate enough. One of the guys, from Chicago, happened to be a union electrician and we talked shop for a minute. I'm always amazed at how hard it is to make small-talk. Basically our conversation consisted of the job summery, purpose for the trip, big news events, the weather, and various anecdotes, nothing noteworthy. It was however, my first time speaking with people who were vacationing here like me. For, what was supposed to be a solo day exploring and relaxing in the hot-spring, it turned into a packed day full of people and conversation. Who knew that our small pool, which we made curtailed to meet our satisfaction, would house up to eight people at one time and generate a social hotspot; it's weird how the world works.


After some seven hours in the hot-springs we decided to do some hiking. Our hike was beautiful and lasted until night which fell fast and dark. As we scootered out of the gorge, the ambient temperature gradually increased. A delicious meal awaited us and we sped hungrily back towards town.