Lisong Hot Spring

One awesome weekend we decided to do something special, I guess assuming that living the dream isn't special enough. Rumored as one of the most beautiful hot springs in Taiwan, Lisong Hot Spring is located about a four hour scooter ride to the south. After a hundred kilometers or so, the desired road cuts inland and remote and beautiful mountain tops can be seen. The logistics of the scooter trip determined a situation that some might call "unsafe". Dacota's fifty pound pack and two gallon water jug sat wedged between his seat and the steering column, where feet would normally go, and his feet hung over the side. I sat on back, forty pound pack on my back, holding on for dear life hoping to not fall over backwards. Scooters are pretty tiny after all, and balancing myself and my pack while we sped at 70 kph down a highway made for a long and painful trip, but absolutely worth it! As we drove south, the weather gradually became sunnier and temperatures warmed slightly. Tourists lined the highway taking pictures of flowers. 

We stopped to see what all the commotion was about

The majority of people here seem to take great pleasure as amateur photographers and laughed and smile as they frolicked through the fields.

We continued the drive with temperatures decreasing rapidly as we drove into the mountains. The directions taken off the internet were half-assed at best and we stopped twice to make sure we were on the right track. At one stop, it became apparent that no other towns existed before the hot springs, so we hoped to procure some vegetables to make dinner, no sense in carting around veggies for the duration of the trip since farming communities are so prevalent and are always selling their goods. This small farming town seemed an anomaly for it offered no market, yet we were fortune to be, forcefully, gifted cabbage by a rather aggressive shop owner. We had stopped to verify directions and she insisted we take some cabbage off her hands, but in a way offering no remorse. We gave in and took a head, but that wasn't enough, and she appeared offended that we did not take the whole lot. "They are too small," she claimed and we took another two heads to appease her. I wouldn't be writing about this unless it was weird. Seriously! Why did she get bent out of shape because we would only take a cabbage after insisting we didn't need any. But I digress.

Back on the road we drove another twenty minutes before I accidentally spotted the, near impossible to see, road we needed to turn down. Three miles away to the trail-head, we rumbled our overburdened beast down the broken pavement and gravel road towards our destination.

The trail-head far below

Nestled on a small bluff formally used for some type of food cultivation, a parking lot with vehicles informed us that we were not alone. We readied our bags and were about to begin the hike down when a group of hikers emerged onto the bluff and talked with us for a minute. They seemed thrilled that we were camping at the hot spring and told us to bring gloves. Questioning their meaning, one of the people pointed towards a small pile of gloves near the trail-head. Thick rebar posts about three feet tall lined the steep path and even thicker rope ran paralleled the trail  which was supported by hoops in the rebar. At this point in the narrative, I would either post a picture or describe the path. During the hike up, I took pictures of the route and thus will cover the path at a later point.

During the hike down, elderly folks, and older folks in general, slowly made their way up the steep mountain-side. Passing these people with our gear caused them to question us about our trip which resulted in all of them telling us to have a great time and to enjoy the solitude of a night in the mountains. What encouragement!

After the final rope repel down, we came upon the river but no hot springs were in sight. Two small beaches lines this section of the river and a few people were gathered at the close bank eating and talking. We decided to hike our stuff to the other beach where we assumed would be a nice campsite. As soon as we began crossing the river, we noticed something, the water was cold, like really cold, Oregon cold. Feet frozen after crossing the twenty foot (in width) river, we changed into soak gear and headed upstream where the hot spring was to be found. Getting to the hot spring could be quite difficult for those less fit, for not only were there a few trips, waist deep, into the water, but some cool rock climbing. None of these were intense, but would have easily stopped people with children from getting to the pools. How those elderly folks managed is a testament to their longevity. Finally the pools came into sight.

A far off shot of the pools

All the closer pictures of the pools didn't turn out very well. Bah! There was simply too much detail, too much temperature change, and my shaky hand. So I shall describe our the scenario. After the minor challenges presented thus far, we are standing on the opposite side of the river. A rope descends from this rocky outcropping into the swift moving water below, the pool depth at over five feet. We took off our clothes, well I did, after Dacota, tested the water's depth while attempting to cross with his shirt and sweatshirt, discovered that it was truly as deep as it looked.  So we swam to the other side of the river and began our soak, the hot water feeling like heaven after the ice bath immediately preceding. 

Hopefully this is shot is good enough

These springs are tiny, as you will see, and source from both a trickle and a shower of scalding water out of this rock face. The beauty beheld is best told by the pictures. 

A look at the southern most modified wall

Sitting in the north-most pool, I see this

A wider angle shot

My thoughts can be read on my face. This was worth every second of travel.

Gazing upwards

 And with night setting in, we headed back to our gear make camp. After we set up the tent, we began foraging for firewood, only to discover, that a much better campsite existed on a small landing as between rope systems up the opposite hill. We, once again, packed all of our shit across the river, up the thirty foot embankment, and set up shop. As I attempted to Macgyver a fire, Dacota was sent out to find the driest pieces of wood possible. This is a sub-tropic climate and the likelihood of starting a fire seemed minimal. But with temperatures moving south of fifty degrees it seemed mandatory to make the effort. Furthermore, it had begun to rain and a fire would make the night much better. After two close calls, I finally created a masterpiece which burned over the course of  six hours as we enjoyed the evening.

Proof of my manliness

 After dinner, stories, and a lecture by Alan Watts we turned in for the night.

Breakfast

 Photographed for the first time, the infamous Fan Tuan being fire heated. A cabbage and tomato soup was being made in the pot and it occurred to me, as it always occurs to me while camping, I didn't bring any salt. Not once, in all of my years camping, have I ever remembered this vital ingredient. Wars have been fought over this commodity for crying out-loud, it is important, yet slips my mind every time. But warm soup on a cold morning tastes just fine and we enjoyed our breakfast and headed down to the pools once again.

A few hours of solitude passed before people began show up. And wave upon wave of people descended towards us. Nice folks but after a while the pools became too crowded for us, probably because we were so spoiled from hours of quiet soaking. As we headed out, I took a picture of the pool, and the people, and the shot actually turned out.

Lisong Hot springs

 We packed up and headed uphill. Now is where I remind the reader that this path was lined with ropes and we needed gloves. The first third (bottom heading to the top) of the journey is done by rope. Some areas are steeper than others, but with heavy packs, at the end of the journey, I felt huge, like I could take on The Terminator, Rocky, The Rock, and Vin Diesel at the same time.

Dacota climbing out

This initial climb is really fun!

The next shot shows some really nice thigh action on my part.

Me climbing up the mountain in my swim trunks

 After this rope section ends, the long climb uphill begins. The mountain provides some awesome natural stairs along the way and we climbed through the various beautiful forest strata.

Natural root stairs

 After reaching the bluff, we took a few pictures.

Shot from the bluff

 I continue to attempt one serene shot of the trip. One that can act as a photographic synopsis of the voyage.

Somehow this next shot combines the famous NWA, KRS-One, and Ice-T songs into its hysterical Taiwanese counter-part. (I will be presenting a blog about the police here because they are radically different from the meat-heads back home)

Cops parked next to our whip, and we weren't worried about getting arrested

The steep climb to reach the main road would be too much for us and our baggage. So Dacota took the gear up while I hiked out to meet him.

The champion of a scooter

Perhaps it was fortunate that I hiked out because I gave me the ability to observe two different monkey families in the trees.

Heading down the mountain, I snapped some really cool pictures which are not featured.

After an hour of riding we arrived in Chishang and stopped for lunch. At the lunch spot, a super old man began talking with Dacota until eventually quiesced by the proprietress of the shop who joined in the conversation. Even if this man was telling his stories in English, I highly doubt he would have made more sense, but he was really kind. The lady gave us all sorts of town history and directed us to the scenic parts of town. So, with sun still shining, we followed after the tourists.

Rice farmers working their fields

Because we chose Palawan instead of Luzon for our upcoming trip, the famed rice terraces of the Philippines will be missed. So it only seemed fitting that these fields were seen in such short proximity to our pending voyage south. I've never before seen rice farmers in person and it caused to me have an even greater appreciation for the hard work that goes into the tiny grain.

Tourists in the fields

With agricultural truck seen in the background, on the left hand side, this photo demonstrates the dichotomy found in this town. After some bizarre form of media exposure, this small town is now a destination spot for many people, hoping to capture that "one shot". Farming as usual continues and tourists insert themselves where they feel like. Do these farmers harbor animosity for these rich tourists as they snap pictures and get into areas that are obviously private property? Do they feel like they are an entertainment spectacle or that these invaders are worth some value besides distraction?

Rice fields 

This area of Taiwan is very reminiscent to the Willamette Valley, a valley of food production located between a coastal mountain range and an inland mountain range.

During out exploration, a contrived flower garden acted as a reception area for a rice factory / cultural learning center of sorts. Near there, the Hakka people's museum offered additional local history.

A new species of flower

 How could I possible resist?

Night approaching the valley

 And with this final shot, I hope the reader enjoyed this story because I surely enjoyed the adventure.

Jade / R.C. Helicopters / Foraging For Food

The readers of this blog might suspect a noncommittal attitude on the part of its writer. As if he finds alternative methods of entertainment preferable to his obligatory story-telling work. I plead the readers remain vigilant through this lull. Pressing matters involving the concretion of our Philippines agenda, attempting to help solidify the China agenda, and writing on various other projects has created a precedence of missed deadlines. Couple this with sporadic weather inhibiting extreme adventures and the reader might understand the situation surrounding this lull. Not suggesting that our days have been uneventful though. We recently met the former mayor of Hualien, river-traced one of the rivers blogged about -- only to have it end abruptly with sheer, impassable, obstacles -- met a hunter with rifle on the trail (and didn't take a picture!! I am still kicking myself for this gross negligence), ate a wonderful meal as, per custom before Chinese New Year, treated by Dacota's awesome employer, and so much more. No; life hasn't been boring yet nothing noteworthy, nothing to cause a shocked reaction from the reader, has taken place. Sunday though, offered an enjoyable experience, one that this limited audience might enjoy reading. So enough excuses already; onward to story-time!

Already mentioned earlier in this "procession of stories" is our incessant search for the best breakfast spot in town. Yes, food, food, food; perhaps the blog should be relabeled as, “My Adventure Towards Obesity”. Some might wonder how this obsession began; why our search for a lunch or dinner restaurant hasn't begun. Well, truth of the matter is, it ended before its inception. My first meal in Hualien happened to be just right; and, after a week of exploration, verified it was the best meal one can find within this fine city. No other place compared to this spot and so we returned, and continue returning although we make dinner or eat other places once in a while so we don't burn out, a probable irrational fear but one doesn't risk such a folly.

When a person frequents an establishment, connection are born. The two cooks are most notable: a young man we nicknamed “RC” because he mentioned that he flew remote controlled helicopters, and “Sifu” because he is a former Buddhist monk and his ever ready smile indicated he is, quite possibly, enlightened. These characters accentuate the experience, combining good company and healthy, delicious, meals. The power structure of the restaurant was unknown to us and we hoped RC never received reprimands from "Powers That Be" for talking with us. Then, one shocking revelation took place during some query about the age of the restaurant. It turns out, RC owns this establishment and our anxiety about conversing instantly dissolved.

During our meals, RC occasionally joins us until business called him away. Last week, plans were hatched to go out hiking together, and, this past Sunday, the hike commenced. Meeting at the restaurant a little after nine, we set out in his car -- a much warmer and more relaxing method of transportation. Since the majority of the breakfast shops were closed, we'd only been able to obtain fan tuan for breakfast; but not to worry, RC headed into the restaurant and returned within a few minutes with a bag contain raw vegetables and uncooked noodles. And we were off... Three quarters of an hour later and we arrived at an established parking lot, trail-head leading upriver.

This semi-protected river offers a watershed for spawning fish but is recreated for one major reason, jade, and the ability for visitors to claim a trophy if they search hard enough. As we ate our breakfast, we searched the river for a minute and a local man came over and chatted with Dacota and RC. As per usual, I busied myself with other tasks. The old man gifted me two small slivers of jade and directed us towards the path we'd wanted to follow.

The well established path

As we hiked along, we asked RC's help in identifying local edible plants. Our conversations with various aboriginals gave us some information about these readily found plants and RC helped solidify this knowledge, while adding considerably more. He talked about a soup made from five plants, and also gave cooking instructions for the curled fronds of the fern trees. His skills proved accurate and are much appreciated. The path ended at a fish ladder (of which I forgot to photograph) and one needed to walk along the concrete retaining wall of the fish ladder to continue further upstream. Our jade search, thus far, yielded sparse results, and we continued forth.

I see a waskly RC wabbit

Although originally scheduled as a hike, this turned into a trace and we headed along the stream, the algae covered rocks being "fun" to travel along.

Side Paths

As with any trace, one should expect short cuts along the way. Very little land is left untouched by the aboriginals, land used for hunting, farming, or foraging, so these frequent side trips decrease travel time.

A shady alcove 

Compared to some of the other rivers we've traced, very few large obstacles hampered our progress. The search for jade became increasingly more fruitful the further upriver we traveled. Some very large jade pieces, one weighing roughly thirty pounds, sat upon various rocks, obviously discovered and waiting to be trekked out to be sold. Leaving these displayed treasures for their rightful owners, our success in jade collecting stopped only because of weight and time restrictions.

A small waterfall that ended our days progress

This rushing waterfall would have been quite an obstacle if rope infrastructure didn't circumvent it, allowing one to climb the steep embankment to continue. But we decided to end our forward push for the day; demanding Dacota and I return to discover where the trace could lead.

It seems these posts often end part way; but one must remember, we are hiking up a river. After a few miles of tracing, remote destinations can be accessed without resulting in an end. There is always the possibility of tracing further, going out longer, but the river could cascade down around impassable boulders (as what happened a few days prior) or it could lead for a marathon worth of distance until the final source can be found. Usually a steady stream running down an imposing mountain-side is found at the end, the accumulated waters from the surrounding mountain ranges composing the volume found at the start.

Success! We made it out with treasure.

During the hike, Dacota continually collected a delicious fern-type vegetable called San Su, which grows wild. As we hiked back, food plans were discussed and we agreed to harvest some local plants to finalize the soup noodles. Packs filled with veggies, we left the watershed and relocated to a close park with tables and benches.

Chef RC making the soup noodles out of wild-harvested plants

Would it surprise the reader to be informed that the soup was delicious? Well then... it was awesome.

Two of RC's Remote Controlled Helicopters

As we drove back to town, conversation points spurred us to visit RC's father's home in the country, where he keeps his helicopters. Up to this point, I'd only assumed that these rumored helicopters were play toys and he was a mere hobbyist.  Although in the past he'd mentioned that he competed, I guess I never understood the particulars, and so not only was I impressed by the following experience but educated as well.

These helicopters are professional beauties, weighing very little, without the battery pack, and are constructed out of carbon fiber. Intricate motor and gyroscopic control systems allows for precise control of the flying copter while the pilot, standing on the ground, uses a radio controller to send it zooming around. As long as the helicopter remains in visual sight, the pilot could continue manipulation the bird over half a mile away.

Not a hobbyist at all, RC is a sponsored pilot, having won dozens of awards, and has recently departed from competition to allow others a chance to win. Now a days, his corporate sponsor provides prototype models and prototype control systems for him to test out. The red copter is "perfect", and was used successfully in many competitions. The blue copter is a prototype, yet the both flew amazingly complicated sets.

The "perfect" raptor mid-air

The picture doesn't really do the copter  justice; these birds are five feet in length with four foot wingspan. As they fly, an incredibly loud hum is issued. Imagine a very large humming bird. In fact, it moves like one and can stop or take off on a dime, no hesitation, no lag. Like some prehistoric bird, this machine commands the sky.

But how does one compete in this exclusive sport? Are mini-guns attached to the hull and, in-air, dog-fights take place? ... Not quite. It turns out that the most readily understood comparison would be figure-skating. Music accompanies the flight, the pilot "dances" the copter in-sync with the beat, complex routines and maneuvers judged for accuracy and originality. Imagine flying this big bird, a hundred feet in the air and needing to make figure eights around a common focal point, copter changing orientation in the interim. We watched RC perform this move with ease. Rocketing hundreds of feet in the air and slamming back towards the earth to stop a foot off the ground, and zoom off again. Although the flight-time is limited to three minutes, the intense experience would have caused sensory overload if longer duration could be sustained. I'll never again scoff at people's interested in remote controlled vehicles.

To be honest, never in my life did I anticipate writing about remote controlled helicopters in such detail. Taiwan is full of new experiences!

If RC is reading this... Thank you for a wonderful day!

----- Addendum ---

We re-traced this river and below are additional photographs of that trip. I wanted to produce an updated document while still preserving the original mystery, thus I did not change the original document but let it remain "in limbo" until making the time to complete this small update.

Fish Ladder

Making up for my poor documenting skills I photographed the fish ladder one must walk along to begin the trace.

- And so we begin -

After a heavy rainfall the previous two days, the river we found today was much swifter than before. With a goal of distance instead of immediate-vicinity exploration, we set off and made tracks, reaching the climax point (the waterfall) in roughly half an hour. This first waterfall turned out to be the actual starting point for a cool trace, with small waterfalls around every bend, steep moss covered walls, dripping with moisture, creating beautiful walls, the increase in size and frequency of jade, and more.

A trinity of pathways

The most adorable little San Su ever!

Although I did not mention this before, Areca Palms covered the hills to the south, obviously cultivated. As no roads were seen, and a few paths lead up to the fields, RC assumed ( a reasonable assumption) that people collected the nuts from the field and trekked them down river. As an hour continued by, we found another one of these paths leading up into a field and, on a whim, decided to check it out. As we hiked up, a widening path through the trees, and remnants of tire marks, indicated that there was indeed a road leading up to this field. Spurred on to discover the source of these tracks, we continued to hike through the field until we came across a decaying dirt road. With this higher vantage, we could faintly see the road on distant mountains to the east. The muddy and sparsely traveled road would be currently impossible to travel by scooter or motorcycle and a 4x4 rig would find the sinking, slippery road treacherous. Because the road continued upstream, albeit a hundred feet above the river, we decided to take this short cut and hiked about three quarters of a mile until we came upon a gate with signs declaring, "No Entry."

The Gate

This isn't the first time we've reached this dilemma, to enter the restricted area or call it a day. The green sign indicates construction (this far from town probably meant the dynamiting and the destruction of another mountain) and we decided to duck under the fence and see what was really going on.

As we continued to hike, the river, once far below, raised in elevation to meet us along side the road. If a human confrontation were to occur, we could claim that we traced the river until reaching the road and decided to take the easier path. Farmed fields ended at the gate. A rusted, but looking functional, backhoe stood like a dinosaur and we passed by it ever expecting to see people. Yet, none were found. After a mile or two along the road, we reach the end of the operation. From small side detours, some kind of destructive mining was taking place but I couldn't quite figure out which stone was sought. Perhaps veins of jade made this operation worth it, but we never found any indication that this venture was successful. he river continued onward but the site abruptly ended, giving little indication what was harvested or why they stopped.

Camera Facing East, I'm standing next to the river

So what should we have done? Call it a day and head back? No! Continue the trace, obviously. Fallen trees provided excellent homes for shelf mushrooms and we observed four distinct varieties, none of which we'd previously observed. We spent an hour hiking up this remote river before the first drops of rain began. Far beyond any point where people would consider looking for us, we decided it best to return, on the off chance the sprinkling rain became a downpour.

The view as we turned around

At this point, I can, fairly, confidently claim that no infrastructure existed upriver and that this trace would (continue to) deliver wild, sub-tropic jungle wonderland. At this point, I question whether or not to return to this spot. On the one hand, we trekked out fifty pounds worth of jade and on the other, it would take illegal actions to gain access to the pristine portion of the river. Knowing a mining operation is above stream somehow diminishes the value of the lower trace. So there you have it folks, a double-part story based off a river possibly never to be mentioned again.  

Rumbles in the Night

Sun peeping through rain clouds lit my office with spring-time longing, when I was rudely interrupted. My laptop's screen undulates as if nodding at me, giving me permission to abort the operation known as the “slow narrative train”, to pull me away from pressing matter of writing, hinting that my overseer will not yell at me, enraged that I halted my progress (as this sarcastic joke is easily glossed over, my overseer – boss -- is me and this asshole demands productivity! You know that jokes and sarcasm are only good if they need to be explained, right?) Minutes continue to pass yet the rumbling earth has yet to calm; as if angered that I've yet to describe their mammoth disturbances on this small island of Taiwan. It's in this frame, earth growling its demands, that I begin this short post.

Last night as I lay in bed, waiting for sleep to pull me into its quiet embrace, I listened to the racing of scooters, motorcycles, and cars outside my window. Accompanying those horrid unnatural sounds, gale force gusts howled through my sealed windows like sickening banshee screams. Outside, corrugated metal roofing loudly snapped within its limited scope of flexibility and unseen objects could be heard tumbling through the street. Even amongst all of this distraction, sleep was approaching until suddenly, my bed became alive with vibrations. Sourced far below, some fault-shift caused an intense wave-front. A few items crashed to the floor and, with one crescendo of a jump – Bang!-- the structural movement subsided. After this episode's finale, barking and howling dogs joining in with the existing chorus of exogenous noises, letting the neighborhood know something weird just happened. “Happy Earthquake,” I called to my brother and drifted to sleep recalling the narrative of Richter 10 .

These events are like a welcoming embrace by now. They greeted me within my first few hours of arriving in this majestic land. Just beginning our first hike in Keelung, the ground moved under my feet causing me to stumble slightly and I could hear the loud cracking of tree branches within the forest. Since earthquakes are frequent in the PNW I didn't think much about that event besides that it seemed quite large. Upon arriving at our apartment, various scattered clay pieces, once terra cotta pots, littered the floor, as if Dapple the Adorable (the Terrible?) became maliciously intent on destroying everything in the house. No, her perfect self would never do something like that, unless she desired to and, anyway, she wouldn't be punished if she did. But no, the quake caused this damage and we cleaned up the mess. A news broadcast the following day informed us of the 6.3 quake epicentered in Hualien. If we were in town that day, imagine the roller-coaster ride we would have experience. Fortunately, no buildings collapsed... this time.

Even now, after taking the time to write these lines, the quake continues to rumble along. With such sustained duration, how can I be sure this isn't a tactile / visual hallucination. Perhaps this shaking computer screen and low rumble are imaginative longings for my earthquake friends. Acknowledging that a volatile beast lives – for it is alive! – below our feet, and, literally, supports our buzzing culture as we strives for planetary dominance, is revolutionarily important.


(From this point on, it is an opinion article. Continue reading if you wish.)


As humans continue taming the world into mono-cropped functionality or eradicating anything that stands in our way, the veneration of this life-giver is misdirected towards a man in the sky. Managing to remove the standards of proof demanded of even the lowest in our culture, a thriving system continues to remove our thoughts from this obvious truth. The planet that our semi self-conscious species finds itself living on is the obvious cosmogony of choice.

These gentle, and sometimes not so gentle, quakes act as reminders, ways to inform our race that we are guests upon this floating rock. Unless we attempt suicide and destroy this wonderful life-giver, blowing it to kingdom-come, our puny race will dissolve far sooner than planet. As bombing and pillaging continues, unsustainable destruction solidifies, no it ensures, an ever decreasing longevity for our species. So, as T-Mac questioned all those years ago, should we destroy the Earth and leave its corpse behind as we fly off to the stars or do we drastically change our actions and seek to protect the only life-source known to us in this universe? Very few people will claim that that the Earth, and its resources, should not be preserved, yet our very existence today rebukes sustainable foresight. Every single day presents our species, and us individually, with the question how are we to grow, to move forward, to change status quo. The inheritors of this mess will find a much different world because of our decisions today. No single person can change the system; not I, nor you, nor them, have the power to fix this situation alone. It is a bleak outlook, one laughed at during discussions, and is glossed over as liberal / hippy propaganda (as if insinuating that conserving the planet, a.k.a. Our species' home, is a radically “progressive” (democratic party) idea). The mundane life matters of paying the bills and staying happy come first, because they are the “here-and-now” concerns. Yet, I ask the reader, are conversations regarding the need for a systemic change a circle-jerk or do they offer more? Do they, instead, offer a migration of the collective unconscious into some tangibility? Reducing, reusing, recycling, not procreating, eating vegetarian/vegan, don't solely solve the problem, although perhaps they are individual steps to help mitigate it. Yet, it seems, we omit conversation about this topic of survival because it leads to extremism, ostracizing, or upset. There is a starting point consistent amongst most people, the planet should be left for the children with plenty of opportunities for them to live a good life (perhaps even the same standard of life that their fore-fathers/mothers experienced.... hopefully better!) From there, the wagon falls off the trail and people are left divided. Such questions should be discussed for, to my mind, the attained answers suggest that the every system of modern civilization need to be radically altered; everything from the extreme inherit faults of our economic systems to the uncontrollable population explosion. How can one look at the population rate and not become worried? One can accurately assert that our staggering numbers set us apart from history and that resources will be completely depleted in the near future; that is, unless some clever person can find a way to continue providing us with energy and food until we max those capacities, like a bacteria spreading along a substance, growing and expanding until the boundary conditions reach maximum retention. Yet we are not bacteria for we are capable of destroying the competition, capable of expanding to another place, and another, until we could max out infinity while never addressing the vital question of our consciousness and the responsibility with this phenomenon. This very notion of “life sovereignty” and “freedom of action” repeats itself throughout history, no philosopher, to my knowledge, provides an adequate summation on how our species is to live while not “shitting on others.” So once again, why is this not discussed at every table around the world? It is clear that no actions that a single person performs (obviously not withstanding fictional narratives) matters one way of the others, so why be afraid of the topic. So, do we have the freedom to ruin this world, to live life without consequence, to wash our hands of the resultant; or does freedom demand ultimate responsibility, some utopia of empathy where omnipotent understanding can take place. Or do we have the freedom to realize that we are non-entities, not a player in the field of cosmic scales. But then freedom offers us the ability to believe that somehow this entire show was for our benefit. Its funny how this simple term is so elusive, and, in tern, so manipulated.

Perhaps people read this diatribe and consider me the problem, an obvious hypocrite, for I exist. I am reminded of a debate, years ago, where some illogical “opponent” (for lack of better terms) claimed that if I believe all of this then I should just kill myself. Camus' argument comes to mind! Although at this point I cannot remember if it was because I was too “depressed” if I thought this way or if my idealism should push me into suicide so that the humanity would stand a better chance of survival. Perhaps this is the flaw in my argument, for I do live, I do breathe, I do consume, yet I have the audacity to question the direction of our society. How can I be taken seriously without some panacea, for that is what people desire. “What is your solution,” I am asked, as if one easy answer existed and I that I could magically implement the cure. So, without some biblical line of bullshit, all I offer is one simple sentence, standing out on a limb for peers to criticize, “Alter the current trajectory”. There it is folks... shit's gotta change because we have a gun pointed towards our temple and the hammer is snapping forward. This change should move into radical conservation of resources, and has been called for throughout time. I recommend reading Ecotopia for a historic perspective of trajectory change written almost forty years ago. These changes could have been easily realized by now, yet nothing changed, no system alteration, and our generation has inherited the problem, and we will most likely gift it to the next generation, ad infinitum, until the end is reached without change. As I heard Carlin mention today, “Behind the mind of every cynic is an idealist.” The worst thing I can do is sell out my idealism, giving away my hopes and dreams and becoming a placid citizen. Could you imagine if I manumitted these thoughts and started to keep up with Jones', watch Idol, accept Jesus, and raise a family? If this nightmare was on the horizon, my love of writing, breathing, living, and wonder would be handed away and my soul's death would be truly realized. At this point, the Dylan that you know would be gone and simply waiting for a corporeally death.

Throughout literature, generation after generation foresee some apocalyptic end, always just around the bend. This further verifies that our collective unconscious is riddled with guilt, fear, uncertainty, and confusion. Topics like these addressed will continue being the crazed writings of some individual until said topic is brought into the open and discussed; not simply throughout the halls of university, the religious institutions spouting some inconsistent panacea written by men, thousands of years ago, or in corporate boardrooms but instead democratic freedom of discussion should expanded with peers, friends, family, and lovers. Obviously these ideas aren't easily answered since the best minds in history flail for concrete explanations. So why worry, why work up a sweat, why not discuss this at dinner tonight and, if people get heated, remind them that if they were truly correct, 50,000 years of philosophical inquiry could be solved if they documented their beliefs and revolutionized the world. A humbling thought which will hopefully reign in the certainty that people hold about their own convictions or spur them forward to help humankind with their ideas.

Ropes... Yes Please - Complete (Sort Of)

With sun shining, we chose to find out where our mysterious hunting trail led to. If the reader remembers, we started this path during an expedition where we helped a film group transport their gear to a lookout, overlooking one of our favorite rivers. Since the Taroko Gorge trip ate my camera batteries, I plugged in my camera to recharge and failed to bring it with us on the hike. So, instead of a picture saturated post, words will have to suffice. Fortunately Dacota brought his camera; unfortunately though, his batteries were also shot resulting in our inability to take more than eight pictures before it also fell victim to a neglected power system.

This hike isn't like the Taroko hike; it is less isolated but has a significantly more vertiginous incline with a jungle that offers an extremely dense variety of flora. This sub-tropic jungle has already caused us confrontation with two gigantic orb weavers, spike covered bushes, rock slides, and thorny trees before reaching the novel portion.


Fast forward, we are now at the last rope system featured in the previous post. We climbed up the wall (for it is a wall and, without rope, I don't know how someone could safely do this. That is, if one  proposes that this rotting rope should be trusted to support our weight for any duration of time) and continued our climb. Additional rope aides were used in the climb, including one Dacota temporarily secured to ensure a safe descent. The path continued to be questionable (in direction) and we busted out the yarn supply and began marking the way. At one point we were faced with a guess and we chose left. Along this ridge we slowly climbed, holding onto anything we could, as our footing kept sliding out and causing dirt and rocks to bombard down the abrupt "ledge". After a while, we realized this path was a bust and returned along the same treacherous path to, once again, make a guess as to where to go. We chose northeast and climbed/bushwacked and eventually found the path once again.

Four rope aides on this upper portion of the trail created a total of eight rope systems used to help one reach the "top". One moment we were hiking up a hill-side, the next we came upon a small clearing. A small camp was situated up here with firewood, a makeshift cooking stove with fencing on top (to be used as a grate), and a poorly constructed "A" shaped pole system obviously meant to support a tarp. Various bottles littered the area containing leaves (used for sprouting roots?) of San Su, a wild fern-like vegetable. There was also a bunch of trash and tarps containing unknown items tucked into the cliff-side.

Dylan at the campsite

We looked around for a minute and found a rope heading down the opposite side of the clearing descending into some sort of ravine, or as I will call it, "the Grotto" (although it is not a true Grotto). It was about a forty foot height difference and we came into this area primarily composed of stone. Regrettably, I didn't get a good picture of the cool ground effects. This place could easily be used as a stage by which one could entertain a group of neanderthals for a evening drama in the light of campfire.

The Grotto

We continued our hike on the other side of the Grotto, up the embankment and along a significantly less traversed path. We hiked around for a half hour or so and were required to turn back so Dacota could get to work on-time. This is not altogether a bad thing as these paths could have easily contained a trap waiting for something to trigger its torturous intent. Beyond anything natural that needs to be feared when hiking in this jungle, traps are the most nefarious and my greatest concern.  With luck, my ankle will never feel its biting, deadly, grip.

I imagine this area as a jump-off point, where we can use the existing infrastructure and create paths designed for our purposes instead of the someone else's. So much potential exists and I hope more stories will surface from this area.

Back up at the camp, and with all 10x zoom camera capability, we took a picture from our new, ocean-view, apartment.

10x zoomed image of the ocean from our new home

Lotus Pond or Bust?

There have just been too many adventures of late to document! Life is incredible every day. What more could one want at the inception of a new year. A year where over half of it will be spent pursuing my dreams and filling the off-time with expeditions.


The reader might remember the post about the Taroko Gorge hot springs. S/he might also remember that after our seven hour soak we went on a few hikes until it became too dark to continue. With sun shining its wonderful face, we decided to complete one of the uncompleted trails of that day to check it off the list. Being one of the most touristy areas in all of Taiwan, there are hundreds of trails, some aboriginal and some made of tourists, and the tourist paths are regularly traveled. Shocking it might be to the reader, we actually decided to hike a spot well traveled. All we knew from the get-go was that the path lead to a mountain lake called Lotus Pond, yet information placards provided additional details as we proceeded.


Before beginning the hike, we sat down to eat some steamed buns at the trail-head. An S.U.V. pulled into the parking lot and a nice couple and their two kids got out of the vehicle and we struck up a conversation with them. They were American (possibly from Oregon but I forgot to ask), living in TaiZhong, Taiwan. The man worked at Nike in some R&D department and his wife stayed at home with the kids. It's been mentioned that we tend to converse better with the local people as compared to tourists. Not previously conveyed is greater information about this phenomenon. I call it a phenomenon because it reared its head during out time in China as well. This lack of gregarious conversation surprisingly isn't from me not wanting to talk with others, it is actually quite the opposite. It seems that most people on vacation want to remain isolated, experiencing a new culture, devoid of interaction with us "common" folk, thus they leave the small talk back home. This does not appear to be the case for most foreign workers/ex-pats/long-term tourists (like me) because Taiwan is a small island with a limited number of foreigners. There is an extremely high chance that you will run into the same people over and over again and it is beneficial to be polite. It is also refreshing to bullshit with someone who can understand a similar language. So far, 10/10 times, if you say  "Hello" to someone and they don't respond, or actively avoid a conversation, then they are tourists. So our conversation with these foreign workers was pleasant and mutually beneficial through information exchange and reflecting on life in Taiwan. As they prepared their kids for a brief excursion on the path, we told them about some of the later conditions in store for them on the trial. After hearing this information, they decided a preview would be enough for the kids, as a three hundred foot drop to certain death would ruin the small vacation. We waved fair-well and began our charge.


At this point I need to mention that these pictures will appear inconsistent. I didn't want to say anything before but I actually didn't document this trip until we reached the viewpoint where the panoramic picture was taken. The tame trail didn't offer much excitement (so I thought) and I didn't want to be try to dazzle the readers with a lame story. Not to say this was an extreme hike, compared to our usual chuckleheaded adventures,  but standing amongst the Gods, I realizing my mistake and attempted to get some pictures as we left the mountain in an attempt to re-create our voyage, to reverse time as it were. A fading sun will easily give away this trick and, once again, as an honest journalist I needed to inform the reader of said reconstruction.

(Once again, please note that by clicking on the image it can be expanded and provide needed detail)

First Bridge

After walking upon broken/mossy concrete as close to the cliff face as possible because broken guard-rails offer no barrier from the ~300 feet fall, one goes through a small tunnel, rounds a corner, and gets the first glimpse of the bridge that s/he is supposed to cross. This is a cable suspension bridge and the cable is roughly ten inches in circumference. If one has never walked over a bridge like this, the experience can be frightening at first. Not only does it undulate while walking, into some kind of oscillation pattern depending on footfall rate, but the wind also swings it to and fro and the boards under toe never feel sturdy enough. (a picture below will demonstrate this).

About to walk across the bridge

Although I described the situation above, regarding bridge and path condition, the reader needs to be aware that this is one of the safest paths we've walked on. It is heavily trafficked and I do not intend to present this portion of our trip as dangerous because this was a fairly tame journey.

As we walked across the bridge, we looked up to notice that the orb weavers, viewed weeks earlier, are still happy and healthy with expansive webs across the cabling. They are rather beautiful if you can forget that you are walking under a spider that is about the size of your hand. 

Condition of the bridge floor

As we walked across the bridge, signs, attached to the mesh rope sides, stated in English and Chinese  "Vehicles Prohibited" . No shit! However, with the mentality that scooter and motorcycles can "go anywhere" including, but by no means an exhaustive list, pedestrian sidewalks, bike paths, night markets, and outdoor markets, this warning is probably necessary. Several motorcycles, covered in plastic sheeting, on the other side of the bridge caused us to suppose they were for maintenance and left on that side permanently.  

Looking down at the river below (from the bridge)

 Is it weird that I thought about jumping in? I put this picture up to specifically worry my mom. Hi Mom!

Second Bridge

After hiking a half a kilometer, over some questionable conditions, the second bridge came into view.

Bridge Selfies?

Pretty standard by now, right?

A non-forested section of the path

Now is when the real hike starts. As the crow flies, one only needs to walk two kilometers to reach the lake. Raising 800+ meters in that time makes me wish I was in better shape. I can climb up a mountain-side with little problem, but stair and steep but gradual slopes cause me to think I am a fat, lazy slob in desperate need of a "Stair Stepper". The path is actually really nice and opens up into some really cool viewpoints as you go. Wild raspberries, for lack of known name, provided us with a small, sweet, wild harvested, snack along the way. 

Natural root staircase

A cool natural staircase leads to the wooden "stairs" that actually make a terrace verse a stair. Perpendicular boards with curved rebar anchors are set into the hillside creating a semi-level area for a person to walk on.
 

Lotus Pond

A quarter kilometer after one reaches the summit the lake is found. As one walks along the path towards the lake, s/he is surrounded on either side by incredibly dark forest which creates an almost night-time feel if ventured into. You cannot see more than twenty or thirty feet into the forest before it becomes too dark to distinguish tree from blackness. Weird! Perhaps the placards should have claimed Mirkwood Forest could be found up here!

Tree-lined path into town

Here is where the story gets interesting. The lake isn't the attraction after all. An abandoned town, nestled in a beautiful mountain valley is the true attraction with a surreptitious and possibly nefarious history. The town is a half a kilometer or so away from the lake and as we walked along the tree-line path, a deer jumped across the path in a blaze of motion. We were not alone!

The first buildings in town

It is not known to me if this mountain valley had previously been explored by the Taroko people before this settlement became established. The various information placards informed the reader that this town was built for and inhabited by retired veterans. Who these vets were and which war referred to is unknown to me at this time. The placards claim the only method in and out of this town involved the use of the bridge system and the steep climb that we followed. This might or might not be completely accurate as I question later; however, for all intents and purposes this village is remote and isolated. Although relatively small, with thirty or so units, there was obviously a significant amount of building material needed to construct such a town. Thus, it causes me to wonder how it all arrived. Perhaps a helicopter? At the beginning of the trail (in the parking lot where we talked with the family from TaiZhong) a crazy looking pulley system exists with a cart hooked onto it about the size of a pick-up truck bed. The suspended lines run across the valley and up a mountain (possibly near where we were?). The distance is so great one cannot see where the huge cable ends up because it blurs out of sight, as if suspended in mid air. There is not any electrical hook-up on the cart, so I am left to wonder how the system works. I propose that some huge motor must reel one of the cable lines onto some gigantic spool while it tugs the cart up. There is electricity in the town (run along the same route as the bridge path), which, once again, causes me to wonder how all this material actually made it up here. Another question is, why! What would the purpose of this isolated town be because I can guarantee it was not an easy undertaking. When I get back to the states, I look forward to discussing various technical details with a high voltage electrician: what kind of code restrictions exist on cable length, possible de-rating needed, and other code related questions. The rumors in school is that they (the power company) don't comply with the NEC and use some alternative code system. It will be interesting to learn more about this unknown part of the electrical world.
 

Jesus On High!

What isolated town would be complete without a church?!?! Especially if the citizens are suffering from P.T.S.D. and easily exploitable?

The town was staged with a lower and upper section of houses. On top of a small stair climb through the center of town, a group of tourists ate lunch on benches over looking the town proper and the glistening lake in the distance. We waved and continued on, destined to find something "unique" in the town. Buildings existed high up the hillside and we decided to take a look. A winding path of trampled grass took us towards the hill-side and a few deer could be seen hopping away from us. The buildings found were nothing more than water collection/retaining tanks yet a path continued. Various flags marked the path and the further and further we walked, the greater elevation we began to climb. Huge timber bamboo (six inch diameter) consisted the first ecological strata yet fell away quickly as we continued to hike through five distinct stratified ecological systems. Markers made of a similar material as caution-tape marked a steadily climbing path. In an attempt to return to civilization, we have started marking our path with yarn as means to located our trail. These flags worked infinitely better.

The Path

The town's elevation was over 1200 meters and, as we climbed, it fell away into obscurity. We have often take such hikes near a town and these steep climbs tend to lead to lattice type transmission tower; however, with no power running anywhere near here, we continued our climb towards an unknown destination. We hiked on the spine of the mountains, up another mountain, and beyond. During the few times I could get a distinct target, I took compass bearings, just to be safe. Once again, besides this town, there is nothing up here. If an alternative town could be found, the chances that we could scale down the mountain and back up again to gain access is unlikely. This path was very remote and beautiful. The slope changed between fairly level, spine of the mountain, type hiking to sheer hill-sides where one has to grab onto roots to pull themselves up. Footing went from good, to slippery conditions in various portions simply because of sun exposure. We were definitely at cloud level and the densely forested areas, where the sun could not touch, were slick from that moisture.  The density of this forest paled at the normal frantic distribution of other hikes and felt more like hiking back home than in a sub-tropic jungle.

Reading over this, one might think this "path" was no different than the one climbed to get here. S/he would then be incorrect. Spotting the distant flag was the name of the game, without the flags, there would be no way to distinguish the majority of the path, especially during the steep climbs. 

 The hike was so quiet that my ears hummed with silence. A small chirp from a bird or a hoot from a distant monkey were the only things to break the stillness outside the occasional insect hum. It was quiet and serene. Possibly one of the quietest times in my life.

Work that ass!

As my figure is rarely featured on this blog, I thought I'd put this picture up for the ladies. :-D

One out of many viewpoints

We took over a hundred pictures during this trip, most were at viewpoints such as this. Cloud haze and a brilliant sun managed to ruin most of the pictures and this is one taken about 3/4 of the way up the mountain.

Viewpoint using a panoramic feature

We reached a climax point of the day. The clock read passed four in the afternoon and we needed to retreat off the mountain before darkness overtook us. Heading down the ~800m we climbed to get here, instilled the desire to return and conquer/complete this adventure. The path continued and lead off towards ... unknown. Does it connect to a small town somewhere? Does it lead to distant transmission towers some absurd distance away? With its "clearly" marked trail, is it a hiking path for those bold enough to stomach the massive drops and rough climb? Is it a red-herring meant to swallow the stupid?

At on point, we could see the tiny snaking road that consists as the "highway" through Taroko Gorge, and our height felt truly remarkable. One feels like a god up here.

We made it down to town and did a quick survey of another (local) path which lead towards another promising adventure. When we return to this abandoned town, this alpine valley of potential, another post will hopefully fill the reader with desires to create a trail on his or her mountain-side and be one of few to explore the divine.

Our cousin in the trees

As dusk descends, animal life abounds. As we walked down the path towards the scooter, a boar, not twenty feet before us, ran into the path, stopped and looked our way, and scampered off again. This was my first sighting of this elusive animal and its beauty makes one question how they are killed for food. Birds swarmed and chirped above us in rich, sweet melodies. Another deer was sighted rummaging through the forest and monkeys hooted reprovingly because we interrupted their dinner. Only this one monkey cooperated with our photographic ambitions.


-

But wait, there's more. We had flashlights, swim trunks, and towels which catalyzed the only possible course -- night soak at the hot spring.  With a roaring river, scorching sulfur water, and a womb-like blackness shrouding us, our tough hike melted away into relaxation.