9/07/10 End of the line, start of a new adventure

The sign at the entrance of the smaller trail was written entirely in Chinese.  An optimist would have dreams of it saying “Passage to Paradise”, but looking back I should have listened to my gut; it probably read “Westerners who can’t read this sign are foolish to continue past this point.  Residents of Hualien, laugh heartily at their uncanny folly!”

Oblivious, I pressed on.  The students waved to me, “Bye bye” they said, and they meant it.

The trail climbed steeply, switching back on itself numerous times.  At this pace I would be at the summit in no time.  The distance markers came every 500 metres and by kilometre 15 I wasn’t so certain about reaching the top.  The clouds were getting closer and the air was noticeably less humid.  The trail narrowed considerably and for the most part, the drop offs weren’t shielded in any way.  The safety police would block this trail off in an instant.  On that narrow path I came as close as I had ever come to complete clarity and concentration; think about something else up here and allow yourself to become distracted from riding and in an instant you’re dead.  I had visions of me tumbling off the edge, swallowed up by the vegetation, never to be found.  Sure, the Irony Horse would survive; like the bad ass machinery in Maximum Overdrive it would ride itself home under cover of night and never whisper to a soul about my whereabouts.

Jumping up...not off.
Still, there was a 25 foot drop on the other side



I was keeping a good pace, about 40 km/h on a twisty mountain road with no barriers.  Then it hit me, 40 km/h is the speed limit in residential neighbourhoods back home.  If proof was needed that the speed limits at home are simply too low, this was it.  With apologies to my mother: the limits are set with old ladies driving beige Toyota Corollas in mind (sorry mom, its true…maybe you should just change your car).

The air was getting thinner, I couldn’t feel it, but the Irony Horse had become noticeably less responsive.  Climbing was strictly a second-gear affair now.  Later estimates from Space had my altitude pegged at about 2500 metres.  And all along this path I had encountered not a single person.  Maybe the sign at the entrance actually read “Only one crazy westerner at a time please”.  And then I saw it in the distance; cars, a motorcycle and a couple of buildings.  It was a ranger station.  I rode a short distance past and then stopped to take pictures.  The only two signs I could read said “Hualien” with an arrow pointing back the way I had come, and “Nenggao Cross-Ridge Historic Trail” with an arrow pointing in my direction of travel.  Although I had been climbing, this trail wasn’t meant to reach the summit; it was to cross the mountain range and end up in western Taiwan.  The rational side of me said that this was a good point to turn back; but there was nothing rational about the decision to come this far in the first place.  I decided to press on and continue as long as the trail kept climbing.  The “Philosophy of Yes” had proven to be beneficial so far and I refused to believe that it would kill me when we had made so much progress together.



A sign to tempt fate



Ranger station from the other side of the valley

The distance markers had reset to zero and I was a couple of kilometers into the cross-ridge trail when it stopped climbing, leveled out and then suddenly opened up completely.  The intense green colour that had surrounded me gave way to a sea of grey and brown; everything had been swept away by a landslide.  I stopped the bike and took some pictures while walking slowly up to the bend in the now non-existent trail.  I could have kept going.  After all, what’s a couple hundred pounds of motorcycle compared to all that rock.  And then I saw it, a waterfall.  Nothing massive, but enticing nonetheless;  likely the same waterfall that had caused the landslide.  It would require a bit of a climb, but this was it.  I had found my destination.

Disappearing trail

Landslide looking down

Unexplored territory

I climbed up to a comfortable spot, and took off all my clothes without a hint of hesitation and sat on some rocks and let the water cascade over me.  Shinkage aside, the cool mountain water didn’t bother me in the least, it was all part of my perfect experience.  I have no idea how long I sat there, I was just kind of lost in everything.  I could have stayed for hours, but it was getting darker on this side of the mountain and there was noticeably more cloud.  There was no shame in turning back now.  So with a gigantic grin I got dressed and returned to the Irony Horse.

A swift pace was maintained on my downhill return, proving that 60 km/h on a mountain road is safe provided you’re a grinning idiot without a care in the world.  I made such good time that I had time to take a final dip in another pool before riding home in the sunset.

It had been a perfect day; one where I challenged my apprehensions and was rewarded for it.