Jaded in Taiwan: Getting reacquainted with my sense of direction

When I first heard that I'd be avoiding work on Saturdays I was, needless to say, very pleased. The problem is, when everyone else works Saturdays you find yourself wandering off doing stuff alone. Nothing wrong with that, but it makes it even harder to get up early on a Saturday morning. Ah, the checks and balances of social obligations.

I decide the night before to try hiking up Jinmianshan, mainly because part of the hike climbs over bare rock. Luckily, all the hikes I've encountered in Taiwan are a pushover, and even if you start a hike after 1 or 2pm you're still good to get up and down before the sun even starts to set.

Or if you fail to find the trailhead after an hour of searching.

I kid you not, I spend forever reading the regional map, determined not to get lost, and what's the first thing I do? I look squarely at the sign marked Jinmian Mountain and walk in the opposite direction. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. It's like I'm dyslexic, but for directions. I mean, even your most directionally-challenged person would figure to walk towards THE ONLY FUCKING MOUNTAINS WITHIN VIEW, but once I orient myself I ignore all common sense otherwise indicating where I should go. Nothing else even becomes an option.

Luckily, nature has a way of compensating for shortcomings. Blind people develop keener hearing, slower animals a means of camouflage; I've cultivated the infinitely useful talent of second-guessing myself, especially my navigational skills. After twenty minutes of walking in one direction without anything even remotely resembling a mountain I walk into a 7-11, confirming my fears: I've been walking in the opposite direction. No biggie, I'm out in an unfamiliar neighborhood, drinking in the subtle differences of the Xihu area. It's Saturday, no rush.

Aside: there are no "subtle" differences between local areas in Taipei. Everything looks the goddamned same: the same kinds of restaurants, the same configuration of liquor stores, real-estate agencies, banks and beauty salons...all mind-numbingly alike. You find the same people sitting outside of lottery stores with their tickets fanned out before them, the same fruit vendors selling their awesome mangoes and shitty bananas, and 7-11's are spaced apart with a mathematical precision Starbuck's back home would envy. That's why I'm fine with living in Xizhi, because it doesn't really matter where you live here. Hell, as far as I'm concerned Xizhi isn't half bad, because of its proximity to the NE coast, and good hiking.

Sorry, don't want to distract from my quest. Because a quest it has become. I stop in front of the Xihu MRT station, look at the arrow on the Jinmianshan hiking path sign, and shake my head ruefully, optimistic that I'll be able to find my way now. I seem to forget the cardinal rule about finding hiking paths in Taiwan. Signs will appear two times: once at the beginning of your journey, and once upon arriving at your destination.

And nowhere in between.

I'm going around looking for any other signs and wondering where the fuck I'm supposed to be going. I decide to cut my losses and just hop on a bus to the stop indicated in my guidebook. Even that fails, as the bus never comes. I'm hopping mad right now at this series of delays so I just decide to say fuck everything and march towards the mountains I see in the distance. I don't care what the hell they are, but something's getting climbed. Something's getting conquered by Stephen Hopkins today.

This turns out to be the best decision I make, because in not fifteen minutes, I'm walking towards the path up Jinmianshan (金面山). Damn me for a fool. I'm so eager to make up for lost time that I start running up the mountain. Bad idea in this heat. Minutes later I'm catching my breath, my balls effortlessly buoyant in a Dead Sea of my own making. I hop down concrete steps to a temple, and two old hikers point me back in the opposite direction. Today is not my day.

Finally made it.

Around the curve...

...right down to a little temple where I had to turn around again.

Almost walk right into this little guy on the way back up.

Before long I'm confronted with a choice. Head left at the fork up to some Qing-dynasty mining ruins, or right up some steps chiseled into the rock face.

Can you guess what decision I made?

The Qing dynasty isn't that old anyway.

Those kids are game.

Yeah, I opt to save the history lesson for next time, and start hauling myself up, pausing to take in the scenery below me. Songshan Airport stretches out to my right, and Taipei 101, rises up in the distance, needle-big. I stand to the side to let a family pass by and realize that the whole rock face is open for climbing, not just the area near the ropes.

Never get tired of taking pictures of the Taipei cityscape. Funny, never thought to take pictures of Seattle back home, even though we've got some incredible city views too.

Flattening out before the final push.

Inspires confidence in you, right?

I scramble up, eventually reaching a flatter, more heavily wooded area, which climbs steadily to the peak Jiandaoshi Mountain (剪刀石山, literally 'scissors rock mountain'). The whole area is naked before the sky, and sports massive boulders. I could not ask for a better playground, and I'm off bounding from one rock to the other. Below me, to the north, the mountains trail away into a verdant depression, before rising up once more. Choosing a likely spot, one massive boulder jutting out over a cliff, I force myself to sit on the edge and gaze out at the greenery. Only after pausing to rest do I realize I stink like shit. Failing to wash my backpack after many sweaty adventures in this heat has resulted in a sour smell wafting from it, not unlike spoiled milk.

The eponymous 'Scissors Rock'. Yeah, I don't see it either.

Getting swept up in the selfie craze. This is what a selfie would look like in the 1800's.

The trip back down the mountain is uneventful, though it does start to rain lightly. Eventually I loop around and exit a fifteen minute walk further down from where I entered. Despite trying to drape my ExOfficio shirt around the back of my pack to dry it out (ExOfficio is the biggest waste of money, don't believe their moisture-wicking, fast-drying bullshit. All a bunch of loud, empty catch-phrases. Yuppy assholes.), I feel like I'm jumped into a swimming pool when I put it back on. From now on, I decide shirts are coming off at the trail head. I break down and buy a T-shirt at 7-11, which actually proves to be far better at keeping me cool than my bullshit brand-name 'hiking' shirt.

Nearly lost my shit here.

I thought I'd never see another spider to make me shit my pants. This guy from head to tip of his abdomen was longer than my forefinger. If I spread my fingers as far as they could stretch, that would approximately match his legspan. I'm not even that close to him in this shot, did not dare approach him.

I make my way home on the train, keeping my backpack as far away from others as I possibly can. I overhear people in Chinese wondering why foreigners carry their backpacks in hand and don't wear them as they're supposed to be worn. Smell my backpack and find out then, if you want to.