Traveling Taiwan, Day 5- Fairy caves and demon-eyed merriment- 墾丁國家森林游樂區, 不顧眼紅玩人體衝浪

(Couldn't find a map that goes as far north as we traveled)

Entrance to Kenting National Park

So over the beaches in Kenting.  This is what we were thinking after getting up on the fifth day.  The waterfalls had convinced us there was more to see here than just beaches; literally around the corner from our hostel lay the Kenting National Park, home to what people call 'exposed coral caves'.  It's as good a place as any.  As we're parking our bikes, a German man tells us to beware of the mosquitoes.  We take due notice.

Apparently the park is teeming with wildlife as well, though we didn't see much evidence of this, not knowing where to look.  Near the beginning of our hike though we did spot this though:

It's a little difficult to see, but there's a hawk in the middle of this picture.

A better picture of what we saw.

The area around is thick with banyan trees and crawling vines, blocking out most of the sun.  The park area isn't too large, and it's about a twenty minute walk before we reach the first of the exposed caves, Fairy Cave.  We immediately plunge in, eager to take a respite from the drowning humidity of the jungle.  The cave is interesting enough, with fanciful stalactite formations and narrow passageways, but this time it's my turn to be a little underwhelmed.  When you've plumbed the depths of a cave almost 300 meters, walking down steps slick with moisture, your breath coming out in great plumes...then the caves here are a bit anti-climactic.  Now Germany, what a place for caves!  Caves with pits that swallow light, stalagmites that spiral up to reach the ceiling, and stalactites large enough around to compete with old growth cedars.  Now those, those are caves.

Going down into Fairy Cave, a land of whimsical enchantment and pixie dust.

-Sorry, this is about Kenting.  Yeah Fairy Cave is pretty cool, and we take our time before we're out again, making our way for the observation tower.  Up we go, and I'm unprepared for the view at the top:

360 degrees of breath-taking beauty.  Naturally, we linger here for a bit.  I mean, what else is there to see, caves?  There's a restaurant a floor below us and we stop by briefly to get a couple of drinks.  The old women running the counter ask us if we're surfers.  This is not the first time we've been asked this.  I want to tell them that back in the US, it's not just surfers who wear less clothing when they're hot, especially with beaches nearby.  The best my sun-beaten brain can come up with is, "No, we're not surfers."  Wow, good call with the wit there, genius.

After the tower, we squeeze through the narrow passages of Silver Dragon Cave, and then set off searching for the only primate in Taiwan, the endemic Formosan Rock Macaque.  It must be monkey siesta time, because even in the Cliff of Apes we see nothing overhead but dappled sunlight and bits and pieces of the sky above.

Doesn't want to leave the hole.

Brian's artistic direction for this shot: pretend you're being born again, and you're passing through the hole.  It was an intense photo-shoot.

Exiting Silver Dragon Cave

Looping around, we check out the First Ravine, then laugh, puzzled, as it ends a scant twenty or so meters later.  Wow, that was worth putting a sign in front of.  One-Line Sky is much cooler, as the ravine seems to close above us, leaving only a fine ribbon of blue overhead.  As we're climbing up the stairs, one woman is so overwhelmed by our tuffness that she stumbles over backwards...while we're still a good twenty feet away from her.  Whoops?

First Ravine

One-line Sky

We continue on to the Valley of Hanging Banyans- whoa, sounds like a place in that show Legends of the Hidden Temple, anybody else watch that show?- where a banyan's exposed roots creep all the way from the cliff's edge to the jungle floor.  Past that, and we're looping back to the entrance of the park.

Should've had Brian stand next to it to show scale. 

En route we stop at the Visitor Center, and I wait for Brian to take the world's longest shit.  On my way over to ask him if he needs assistance, a construction guy outside tells me he's long gone.  Ah, fuck me.  I start jogging briskly back to the entrance, see Brian loitering around, and start laughing.  We climb aboard our scooters and head west, hoping to take a quick cooling dip in the ocean.

We find no beaches at Eluanbi, only hordes of Chinese tourists, moving stealthily under the cover of umbrellas.  Deciding on Baishawan, a ride of ten minutes or so takes us to its coarse-sand shores.  Immediately we dive in, strong fluid strokes carrying us towards the roughest waves we've seen yet.  Riding them back in, we see a squat lifeguard blowing his whistle at us as he hurries over.  I get ready to translate and am struck dumb with astonishment.  Brian notices the look on my face and asks me what's up.

Me: "He's telling us we can't swim here because we're good swimmers."
Brian: "What?"
Me: "Yeah, he's not concerned about us, but he says if people see us going out and swimming they'll follow us into the water."
Brian: "What the fuck?"
Me: "Yeah, I'm pretty pissed off too."

Never have I heard a more sorry-ass excuse for not letting people swim at a beach.  You want to punish us for the inadequacies of others because you don't want to do your job?  If people follow us out, and you don't think they're up to the task of swimming, then you can let them know.  Or better yet, you can wait and see if there's an actual problem, then swim out and help them.  You know, do the job you're paid to do.  This kind of blanket solution is laziness of the worst kind; it's like covering furniture in linoleum.  Sure, you don't have bother with cleaning, but you never really get true satisfaction out of that easy-chair you have.  We leave in disgust, heading north along the western coast.

We took a detour through a bumpy dirt-trail never intended for scooters.  Hoping it'd take us to some secluded beach, we were instead deposited at a chicken coop.  Brian commented that it was like riding through Vietnam.  Though neither of us has been there, I couldn't help but agree.

For a while we just cruise, as all the beaches here are rocky and barren.  We stop at a town whose name I don't even remember and grab a few beers.  A bridge is being built near the shore, and we survey it while drinking Taiwan Beer.  A man gets used to that stuff when it's the cheapest ale available.  He even comes to like it.  Some kids are playing around an ugly concrete structure, and we start horsing around with them.  Initially scared of us, they begin to lead us around their little fort area, running across planks set across muddy pools, climbing up hills littered with empty bottles of gaoliang and soy sauce.  It reminds me of the time back in China when I visited a village with Pat.  There too we played with the local children, though the area was much poorer.  And this time I have no bag of candies to toss around.  The children have to leave, or that is the excuse they give, and head off on their bikes.  Dropping off our empty bottles at the small convenience store, we take the scenic route back towards Kenting.

I have no pictures of this ride, only the satisfaction at staring out over rolling green hills, scooting by distinctive tile-faced houses, some with faux roman columns, others with even more eclectic designs.  We pass by a German man and his wife, the same one we met at the National Park, and he waves at us.  On we ride, past fields of rippling green and gold, mountains on our left, sea on our right.  My grip on the handles is relaxed, sure, and gazing out over everything, I feel all my cares and worries sublimate.

Naturally I get us lost, and we have to turn around to make it to our last destination, Sichongxi, an area famous for its hot springs.  I have no idea where to go, but we follow signs up a hill to a hotel and adjoining hotspring park.  Checking out the mini waterfalls and artfully placed cherubs I shake my head ruefully.  Something a little more subdued would have sufficed, but we're here anyway so...I look up at the prices.

Me: "300 NT?!"
Brian: "I'm not paying that."

There must be another reasonable way of getting in without paying.  Nope, there isn't.  So we walk through the front gate and see if anybody stops us.  No one bats an eye.

Guangong admiring the sunset on his temple-top throne.

There are many pools inside, hot ones, cold ones, ones with fish that nibble at your dead skin.  I won't bore you with the details, not when the ride back is the exciting part of the story.  The rain picks up as we leave, and we're already pretty wet by the time we pull out of the parking lot.  Wind gusts force me to squeeze my eyes against the piercing rain.  If it gets much worse, I know I'll be essentially driving blind, my eyes already red with pain.  Well, things get worse, and up ahead I see Brian steering with one hand and shielding his face with the other.  I do some quick math: driving blind < driving with one hand.  Mimicking him, I find driving easier, though by now it feels like we're driving through a monsoon, with the wind conspiring to tilt me off the road.  People, already decked out in full rain gear, are stopping off to the side, and I know they must be staring at us, incongruous in our tank-tops and shorts.  Fifteen more minutes of riding through this, and suddenly we're driving on dry highway.  I give the engine some gas and edge alongside Brian, grinning madly.  Goddamn what a stimulating ride!

We pull into our hostel, clothes nearly dry now from the rest of the ride, and walk upstairs.  I frown as my sandals squelch with each step.  The shower I take is heavenly, and toweling myself off, I look in the mirror.  I look like one of the deities guarding a Buddhist temple, for my eyes are as red as garnets.  To the other residents I must look like a demon.  Hopefully that goes away.  Flopping down on my bed, I do a fare imitation of reading before sleep takes me.