River trace from Xiufeng Falls- 秀峰的朔溪

And so it begins.

On Saturday I decided to revisit the trace I did from underneath Xiufeng Falls, this time to take photos this secret playground.  While I had traced in nothing but boxers last time, the added encumbrance of a swinging camera bag vied with moss-covered boulders for my attention.  Luckily, when you own a old, beat up point-and-shoot, you don't care quite as much when it gets knocked around a bit.  As I descended, Mowgli like in my Speedo and four-limbed gait, I saw traces of civilization scattered throughout the river bed: an old tire, a bit of tiled concrete, pipes and wires; not enough to detract from the beauty around me, but enough to awake a passing interest in their origin.

The working man's selfie.

Oh, hey random tire.  What's up?

Going barefoot, laughable I'm sure among Taiwan's staunchest river tracers, afforded me a better grip on the rocks.  Still, it was careful going, differentiating from slimy moss and naturally green rock, testing every footfall to make sure I didn't fall ass over heels.  In some parts I treated the trace almost like a rock climb; when grips were absent, I'd push my back against one rock, my feet against another, and shimmy up my improvised chimney.

The perfectly flat pool nestled within all these boulders was too photogenic to pass up.

For an island that seems to pass autumn right by, it shows a startlingly vivid palate of fall colors in the mountains.

Looking back before crossing over to the wooded ridge.

Making the traverse over before I begin the descent.  Already wending my way through branches at this point.

At such a steep incline, the river cascaded into miniature waterfalls every dozen yards or so, clipping along at a merry pace.  I saw few pools to relax in, but no matter, I'd bathe at my destination.  Before long, I saw the familiar autumn-hued rock right before the plummet down a waterfall I (rather prosaically) refer to as Xiufeng Falls II.  I'd stopped at this point last time, marveling at the similarity between these falls and the ones above, all the while knowing I'd never make it down the sheer rock face.  It had seemed like such a shame to stop so abruptly, and tapping into the more reckless side of me, I looked around for any possible way down.  The wooded slope to the right seemed promising- trees could provide hand and footholds halfway down until solid rock forced me down a much more manageable angle.  Would the small trees prove sturdy enough to take my weight though?  My gamble had paid off, for I found them more than up for the task.

A shot as I'm climbing down.  The falls here really do mirror the more darling cousin above.  Only ease of access prevents them from enjoying similar fame.

Going down proved more difficult due to the recent rains.  Though the trees were as staunch as before, the rock face looked slicker from above.  Damn, I hadn't considered that.  No turning back though, not now.  With my back to the face, I placed my feet strategically, willing my feet to grip the slick rock until I could maneuver below to the spongy trunk of some exotic tree (筆筒樹).  From there, it was only a few steps to the bottom.

That trunk on the bottom right is what I'm aiming for- it'll make my life a lot easier.

Bleached leaves do a fair impression of fall.

It's difficult to see, but I came down the slope with those three trees in the middle.

I admired the view, glad navigation to the foot of the falls went without incident.  I could've traced further down, but I think I might want to save that accomplishment for when I go with a group.  I don't know what we'll find at the end of the river, or even if we'll be able to make it that far.  Just imagine though, a group of hardened foreign explorers, emerging from the jungle brush to the astonishment of some locals, and the look of incredulity when they hear we've traced the river all the way from the mountains to the flatland.  A tale to pass down to the children, perhaps?  Then we'll have what every explorer seeks, whether or not they care to admit it- a little slice of immortality.

One last shot of the slope before I head over and out.

Pingxi Peaks, Stone Bamboo Shoot and Shulang Peak- 石筍尖和薯榔尖

Yesterday was the first day of our four-day break for Mid-Autumn Festival.  Originally, we had intended to embark on an epic six-hour hike through a redwood forest near Taoyuan-

http://hikingtaiwan.wordpress.com/2009/12/30/beichatian-mountain-ii/

 -but after realizing the lack of public transportation to the trailhead, we knew this particular hike would require logistical planning beyond our usual "shove shit in a backpack and we're good to go" routine.  I hope to write an article about it in the near future, provided we're able to procure some scooters.

So, with that hike on the back burner, we looked to other places.  Jiufen looked appealing, as did Yilan, but in the end we settled for the Three Peaks of Pingxi (they're actually closer to Jingtong).  I had misgivings about the mention of endless stairs on some blogs, but "the Collective" had been wrong before, and what was I going to do anyway, sit around at home plucking my ass hairs?

Saw these everywhere around the train station, apparently people write their wishes on them, just like what people do at Japanese temples.

Waking up around 8:06 despite setting an alarm, I frantically throw some water and dried fruit in my backpack and hurry out the door to catch the 8:23 train.  All this rushing proves to be for naught, as the local train decides to go rogue and barrel through the previous stop the others are currently waiting at.  So I sit on my bench, feeling sticky and not quite awake.  Goddamn it.  If the local train is going to be slow and unreliable, then you assholes better make damn sure it stops at every station.  Eventually we get on the same train and transfer to the Pingxi Rail from Badu.  The weather alternates between brilliantly clear and Seattle Drizzle (that's a paint tone, look it up if you don't believe me), though by the time we alight the sun is shining and it is hot, the heavy Taiwanese heat that physically weighs you down.  We dick around near the station before walking along the train tracks towards Pingxi and turning left onto a small mountain road.  At this point the heat abates and the skies open up, softly at first, but quickly intensifying until we're being pissed on by the gods.  I laugh at our circumstances, knowing full well it'll be miserable going if the rain holds.  Thinking it will hold, and not wanting to look quite so much the drowned rat, I take off my shirt and stuff it into my pack where it apparently sits moldering until this very moment (the stench coming from it is faintly redolent of sour milk).  We dutifully trudge up and across a river, and after a stretch the rain lets up.  The weather gods are fickle on our hike, the sun never daring to show its face for long.  In some ways this is a boon, making for a cool ascent, the water adding a glossy, slippery sheen to the exposed roots we scramble on and over.  Our first stop is at an outcropping of rock, where we have a commanding view of the peak we're heading towards: Stone Bamboo Shoot Peak.

Stone Bamboo Shoot Peak

From this point it's maybe forty minutes of rope climbing, the path weaving tightly up the chimney that comprises Stone Bamboo Shoot Peak.  Steps carved into a sandy boulder prove the last obstacle before we stand under a Taiwanese flag, flapping in the thankfully dry breeze. Ash busts out a fruit salad of bananas, papaya and dragonfruit, while Jaryd shares a wedge of blissfully sweet tangerine.  Ryan points out a stone throne tastefully placed in the center, probably by the some long forgotten mountain lord.  A dwarf, from the size of it.  I remark how I'd like a picture of myself seated in this throne, but complain about getting my butt wet, hardly a valid excuse when my shorts are soaked through.  Someone ups the ante by suggesting I take the picture in my Speedo.  With my honor on the line, I can no longer refuse:

Surveying the kingdom

Admiring the view for a spell, we descend to a fork and make our way to the next peak, Shulang Peak, emerging from the sheltering canopy of the trail near the road.  The rain takes great delight in picking up at that precise moment, mockingly urging us forward.

Shulang Peak has nothing to recommend for it at the bottom of the trail; ugly grey steps stretch on before us, and once we mount them they don't end, not until the very top.  It's about an hour of mindlessly placing one foot in front of the other, broken only by a paved pathway lasting no more than twenty yards.  On the way up you can see discarded ropes piled up along the stairs, some still tied to their original spikes...all that remain of what must've been a fun hike, before some overzealous park officials decided to put their civilizing stamp on it.  The view at the top is impressive, though hardly worth the effort since it's essentially the same as the one from Stone Bamboo Shoot Peak.  If you're in the area you might as well do it to mark it off the list, but don't make a trip specifically to climb it.

Steps, steps...

...and more steps.

We make short work of the stairs on the trip down, my right knee protesting for most of the twenty-minute descent.  Following the path to the road, we pass by a small hamlet consisting of a score of rustic village homes.  A few of these are abandoned or gutted from the inside by fire.  This is not an uncommon sight in the countryside, and I wonder how these fires start or why these houses become so dilapidated.  In the US your neighbors get pissed if your house is rundown because it decreases the value of their property, but here nobody seems to care.  The owners don't seem to have enough money to rebuild the house, and are unwilling to sell the land, so the ruins sit, sometimes for years.

Ah yah, dat house is prty nice, BUT I WOULDN'T TAKE IT.

Paid out the ass for a sea salt latte, but damn was it tasty.

Back in Pingxi we decide to get some food and wait for the next train rather than tackle some other hikes.  Pingxi Old Street provides some amusement before we get back on the return train:

In downtown Pingxi

Pingxi Old Street

Pingxi's famous tourist activity, releasing sky lanterns.  During Lantern Festival you see hundreds of these dotting the sky.  That day, there were a mere handful of them floating in the dreary sky.

Almost every city along the Pingxi Line was a coal mining town.  Pingxi is no different.

Dinner that night is at Ed's Diner, a place on the brown line that does Southern-style BBQ, and by God it does it right.  For a mere $380 NT ($12 US), I get a great hunk of beef brisket slathered in a wonderfully tangy bbq sauce, paired with black-eyed beans, thick tomato soup, and a dinner roll (sweet, as all the bread in Taiwan is).  As I've had nothing to eat all day but a few scattered snacks, including the most insubstantial Taiwanese jerky ever, I scarf down my meal in seconds.  Satisfied, we all head over to the largest IMAX screen in Asia, 58ft. across and eight stories high if I remember correctly.  I'll spare you my thoughts on Elysium, except to say that a platinum blonde Helen Hunt spouting French is beyond hot.  French, such a lovely language.

Seattle Drizzle isn't a paint tone.