Yangmingshan, Part 2- 陽明山國家公園第二部

After a relaxing soak at the Millenium Hotspring in Beitou (I've missed bathing with all the old folk) I ran into Jason and Marie at the Taipei train station.  Jason and Marie are a couple who've taught at Hess for three years now, and they live in the same apartment I do.  Then we ran into one of the Taiwanese teachers from our branch...then Jason and Marie's nanny and her daughter, who also works at Hess.  Jesus, when you work at Hess the world really does shrink in Taiwan.

Anyway, while chatting with Marie, I asked about Shimen (石門), a city at the northernmost tip of the island,  wondering if it was worth a trip.  She laughed and said the natural arch was impressive, but not to get hyped up about the other attractions, as they turned out to be disappointing.  Hm, so much for my plans tomorrow.

Waking up, I racked my head about where I could possibly go, but came up with no better plan than to head back to Yangmingshan.  After all, Ben and I had only just scratched the surface of what the national park had to offer.  I mean hell, we basically spent a good three or four hours at the first major stop along the bus loop, and there's what, five or six more?  A quick stop at the beef noodle restaurant I frequent yielded some motherly advice from one of the owners:

Her: "You're going to Yangmingshan?  Why didn't you get up earlier?"
Me: (embarrassed smile)
Her: "Are you going to be climbing up any mountains?"
Me: "Yeah."
Her: "Well, it looks like it's going to rain, and that's especially true for Yangmingshan.  Are you going alone?"
Me: "Yep."
Her: "Well, go to 7-11 and buy one of those ponchos, they cost $30 NT."
Me: "Ok." (had no intention of buying one)

Shitski, apparently walking around Yangmingshan when the weather threatens rain makes me one buff-ass motherfucker.  I stuck to my usual plan of cosmic self-importance- hoping that it won't rain because that  would ruin my hiking and what's more important than that- and made my way to the park with two bottles of water, two bagels, and 0 umbrellas.

Either because of the weather, or because it was already past 1 pm, the buses were barely crowded at all.  I was easily able to get a seat in the first bus, even though I later learned that it was only going as far as Erziping.  Hm, a loop bus that doesn't loop around, COOL.  I get off and board the next bus, making damn sure it goes to Xiaoyoukeng (小油坑) this time before once again managing to find a seat.  Going hiking late in the day kicks ass, especially when my laziness is rewarded.

Now, I'd seen the view of Xiaoyoukeng when Ben and I were busing around yesterday.  It's hard to miss a great open wound running the length of an otherwise lush mountainside.  Even from the road our noses were hit by the gouts of sulfurous steam spewing forth.  In fact, if the wind hadn't been blowing so hard at Xiaoyoukeng when I got off, the stench probably would've been magnified.  Wouldn't have mattered much though, I'd skipped my morning shower, so it'd be good to pick up a base of rotten egg smell to mask my own odor.

I hung out for a bit around the main viewing area, filling my lungs with the smell of sulfur, and then started climbing up towards Seven Star Mountain (七腥山), thinking that was the end of that.  You could see people crawling up, ant-like, on the winding path far above Xiaoyoukeng.  I decided to join them.  After a certain point above the parking lot I started getting blasted by the wind.  Long grass on either side of the trail took the brunt of the force, but I briefly considered how much it would suck if it started raining.  Pushing aside such thoughts I continued up the stone stairway.  Dotting the landscape of shining tall grass I found several more miniature fumaroles, each spewing their own cocktail of healthful minerals.  After cresting the side of the mountain where Xiaoyoukeng lay, the path dipped for a bit before climbing up once more.  Taiwan lay spread out beyond the reach of the mountains, a blanket of brown and grey, with the Damsui river winding through it all, a ribbon of cloudscape brought down from the heavens.  Perspective's a funny thing.  When I'm in the city I love to look out at the surrounding hills, but when I'm high above the city, I'm attracted to the tall grey buildings and endless sprawl.

From the above photo it's about a half-hour of steady uphill hiking before I get to the top of Seven Star Mountain.  The view is much the same as it has been along the trail, just better.  A placard proudly declares 360 views of the entire park on clear days, and while the weather is far from sunny, the view is expansive.  Everywhere in the immediate vicinity is pure, green vitality.  I quickly become lost in the names of all the peaks surrounding our vantage point.  Like yesterday I can see all along the northern coast, see which parts are blessed with patchy sunlight, and which lie in the shade.  And just like every time I see the ocean from afar the water melds with the sky, creating the illusion of distant ships gliding far above in the air.

Helped a couple take a picture at the top.  This was my reward.

The signs at the top of Seven Star Mountain make my next decision easy.  Rather than hiking back the way I came and waiting for a bus to take me to Lengshuikeng (冷水坑), walking there directly requires the same distance.  I quickly realize that few if any of the paths exceed 3km, and it'll be easy to bypass the bus entirely and just hike to the other attractions along the loop.

Actually hiking up towards the east peak of Seven Star Mountain before the descent down.

Big guy.  Kept on barreling towards me when I tried to get close.   Hope someone enjoys this, because I sure didn't.

I've yet to encounter anything but stone steps, so the going down is easy.  Were it not for my constant photo taking, I could easily make short work of the 'average hiking times' they post next to each map.  I jog over a short distance to a nearby lake, Meimenghu (美梦湖), something I want to check out before continuing on to Lengshuikeng.  You see, since this lake is apparently the only habitat for the extremely endangered Taiwan quillwort it's been designated an ecologically protected area...yeah I don't actually give a shit about all that, I just want to see me a purdy lake.  And with its surface suffused with all manner of lush aquatic greenery, Meimenghu delivers.  The lake gets its name from the year-round mists that enshroud it, muting sounds and transporting one to a dream-like realm.

Though the name literally means 'cold water pit', it's more of a joke; the water at Lengshuikeng is around 40 C, though well below the average 80-90 C found in the park, making the water here 'cold' by comparison.  I was expecting a full-fledged public hot spring (they have one, I just didn't see it), but a nice foot soak is welcome.  A child falls in the water and starts bawling.  The sound is like ambrosia upon my ears.

As I'm standing up to dry off my feet I hear somebody say hello in English.  If you're the only foreigner in the vicinity and you hear this, chances are it's directed at you.  I see a woman waving me over and I approach, confused.  She needs me to help her up, something she apparently cannot do alone.  Fine, but why me?  There are plenty of people around you who speak your language.  Is it for the novelty of interacting with a foreigner?  Are foreign hikers thought to be better physically endowed?  I mean fit.  Physically fit.  I don't mind as it takes all of three seconds to help her get up, but still leaves me a bit curious.

A quick jaunt to see Milk Lake, and I'm cruising once more towards Qingtiangang (擎天刚), a sprawling meadow where wild cattle graze.  Not sure where they come from; one of the signs said they're descended from the cattle brought over by Qing dynasty farmers, but I'm also finding info about assisted grazing for modern Taiwanese farmers, so maybe they own them.  Anyway, when I arrive they're just doing their thing, tails swinging lazily, shoving their faces into the ground.  The cows interest me far less than a fiery glow off in the distance, just behind Seven Star Mountain.  The interplay of pink and orange arrests my attention for some time, and I consider ending my day here, watching the sun slowly slip below the horizon.

Despite the many signs warning against it, people had no qualms taking pictures right up against the cattle.

 Instead I push on towards another mountain, 竹篙山, or something like that, hoping to get a better view of the sunset.  I hurry upward, racing against the dissipating sunset.  From on top of the mountain the view of the sunset is no better, but certainly no worse, and my attention is drawn now to the clouds, then to the city below.  Fireworks sound off towards Jiantan, and I smile as my eye catches bursts of light, not quite escaping the reach of the surrounding skyscrapers.

Oh hey!  You totally weren't there before!

Never rained, not a single drop.  Man I'm a lucky bastard.

And here begins the tale of Great Hobo Stephen and his hitchhiking adventures!

Rather then backtracking, I complete the loop trail and head back towards the bus stop, hardly realizing that the last bus left almost a half hour ago.  Shit.  I take one last shot of Qingtiangang, before walking down the road, hoping someone will pick me up like they did on Jiufen.  Taiwanese people are friendly, right?  I hardly expect the first car I see to stop and pick me up after I stick my thumb out.  Hot damn!  The woman asks me in English where I'm going, and I start a conversation with her in Chinese, saying not to go out of their way if they can, that I just need to get to an MRT station.  The husband tells me to get in, and I find myself sitting next to their five year-old son.  The man's name is Yin Ding Hong, the woman Jenny, and their son, Wei Guo.  Mr. Yin remarks how he saw me standing at the bus stop looking dejected, so maybe they were on the lookout for me, dunno.  I repeatedly thank them for their generosity.  Jenny spends much of the journey asking me questions, some in English some in Chinese.  Their son, while quiet at the beginning warms to me after I start playing some simple games with him.  By the end of the journey he's begging his parents to invite me over.  Guess I don't have a say in the matter.  As he does so, I write my phone number on a piece of paper and tell him it's his, as long as he behaves himself and keeps quiet.  It works, for the most part.  We arrive in Taipei Main and I thank them again.  Should've taken a picture, but I didn't want to impose any more than I was already.  Besides, who knows?  Maybe I'll get the chance to pay back their hospitality.