We had just hiked 17km that morning on the Dalu trail, a disused forestry road. It was a pleasant, gently undulating walk, tending towards tediousness towards the end, the trail being cut into the hillside, with a steep drop on one end and a lush forested cliff on the other.
Andrew, one of our team members, had fallen behind with a sharp pain in his foot, rendering him unable to continue. We would find out much later that a small bone had fractured, causing considerable discomfort.
But that was not the crisis.
At the end of the trail, after a short scramble down a steep path, there was a hut, clean and bare but habitable. We left a guide, a porter and a few others who had volunteered to stay with Andrew for the night. They had food and sleeping bags and the river was nearby. That left the three of us and Kid, our other guide.
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We stood at the Madara River, at the trailhead that would climb 950m in the next 4.1km to the mountain huts. It was already 2pm in the afternoon.
“Dinner is served at 5pm, and before 6pm, it’s all gone,” said Kid.
That was the crisis. Never mind poor Andrew’s foot. Missing dinner would have been a disaster!
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For the unaware, hiking is a national sport in Taiwan, spanning demographic boundaries of age, sex and segments of society. As one of the most mountainous places in the world, with 70% of it covered in forest, the locale has nine national parks, 268 summits exceeding 3,000m and the Baiyue — 100 peaks voted most challenging by locals.
Ours was a semi-leisure, semi-hiking trip organised by a Taiwanese friend. For foreigners, obtaining a permit to stay at the many mountain huts on popular trails is a challenge, both in terms of the process and availability, as demand far exceeds supply. Conversely, being a foreigner also provides a higher chance of a successful application. This is due to the fact that there is always a small allocation for tourists per number of available places in the strictly-controlled accommodation.
A bridge spanned the rocky river below. Nearby, an old suspension bridge lay shattered, destroyed by heavy flooding. It was a bright, sunny afternoon as we crossed it and started on the upward trail, a narrow ribbon fading in the forested gloom. The climb started almost immediately. It was shady and cool in the forest, and as we trekked along the well-maintained path, the sound of the river faded away.
Every 100m, a wooden marker displayed the distance. It became steeper as we were ascending a one in four or average 25° incline. Steps cut into the slope at steep points helped. Around and above us spread the forest, a vast green canopy of filtered light, cathedral-like in majesty and silence. It was not as dense or humid as a tropical rainforest, yet that was small consolation as we laboured upward.
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In some parts, the trail crossed rocky terrain or detoured around fallen trees. We came across other hikers, a family of father, mother and two uncomplaining children, stoutly climbing away and a group descending and shouting jia you — which literally means “add oil” as an exhortation of encouragement.
We panted and groaned, the steepness taking its toll. But up ahead was the lure of a hot dinner (or the crushing disappointment of having to eat biscuits and snacks if we arrived late). A hearty meal, as we all know, can be an amazing inducement to step on it.
Mercifully, there were relatively flat spots to catch one’s breath before the next climb, while the clock ticked inexorably towards dinnertime. We knew our distance with the markers, and sure enough, at 4.1km, the terrain flattened and a wooden arch proclaimed our arrival at Jiu Jiu Huts, so called because it was located at an altitude of 2,699 metres above sea level (masl). “Jiu Jiu” in Mandarin means “99”, the last two digits of the altitude. It was 5:15pm.
Jiu Jiu Huts was a large sprawl of wooden buildings, with metal yurts around the central kitchen and the dining area on a flat piece of land. The accommodation consisted of large common dormitories with raised double decker shared wooden platforms covered with spongy plastic mats. Down sleeping bags were provided. Toilets in a separate building can best be politely described as “basic”. The level of upkeep seemed rather out of character with the Taiwanese penchant for neatness and cleanliness.
Still, there was freshly-cooked food, a buffet of several dishes served in the central kitchen area. Given that provisions are carried up on the backs of porters and all waste carried back down, any hot meal — we tucked into a small selection of vegetables, a meat dish and plenty of rice and soup — is doubly appreciated. Guests bring their own cutlery and bowl, and wash them afterwards.
Thankfully, the weather was clement, with neither rain nor wind, although it was cloudy and nippy. When night fell, however, it was frigid.
We were in the Shei-Pa National Park, on the Dabajian Mountain Hiking Trail, a roughly 11km hike from the trailhead at Madara River. It would lead to a view of Mount Dabajian, which is 3,492 masl and features on the new Taiwan 500 dollar banknote. Climbing to the summit has been forbidden since 1991, although it is possible to hike to the base of the mountain. There were several other peaks along the trail, all above 3,000 masl.
The next morning, we set out at 5am, when it was still dark, fortified an hour before by hot porridge with an assortment of preserved and pickled vegetables, meat floss, roasted peanuts and hot soya bean milk — in other words, a typical local breakfast. The path led steeply upwards from the huts towards the ridge, the cold crisp air biting the lungs in the darkness.
The dawn could best be described as a lightening of the sky, for it remained resolutely murky. The path began to flatten out as we gained the ridge at about 3,000 masl. At that altitude, the temperate forests from the day before gave way to alpine vegetation, characterised by a dense low brush of miniature bamboo plants with clumps of juniper, fir trees and flowering shrubs.
Bird life was abundant as well, though they defied attempts at being photographed. We passed by a couple of small junctions with signposts indicating the distance to nearby peaks. We walked on for several kilometres to a part of the trail where Kid paused and said, rather ruefully, that this was where we should be able to see the magnificent outlines of Mount Dabajian and Xiaobajianshan.
It was a soggy day and there was only a wall of white fog. We stood there for a few minutes and I thought I discerned something and pointed it out. “It’s in that direction,” said Kid, gesturing towards somewhere else entirely, and that was that.
It began to rain, a light drizzle. Donning raingear, we hurried along to a mountain hut for shelter. It was just a few kilometres on, a sturdy small building with a sliding door. The interior was empty save for a portable altitude chamber for severe cases of AMS (altitude mountain sickness). This was Zhongba Hut.
A couple of other hikers were already sheltering within. Kid boiled some water on a portable stove for hot drinks and we shared our snacks. In no time, more hikers, wet from the rain, joined us. After some time, the rain died out but it remained glum and impenetrably foggy. There was little point hiking a few more kilometres to the base of Mount Dabajian.
We retraced our steps back along a trail shrouded in misty haze. At a junction, we detoured half a kilometre to Mount Yizhe, up a gentle incline to the summit at 3,297 masl. There was a weather station there but we could not see more than 20ft or 30ft away in the soupy fog. After snapping some pictures, we descended and walked back in disappointment.
The fog lifted a smidge but too little, and in the wrong direction, to make a difference. We hiked back about 5km before detouring for 1km to ascend Mount Jiali, at 3,112 masl, for the requisite photographs.
The descent was a knee-bashing 2km from the ridge junction, back to the spartan comfort of Jiu Jiu Huts, which we reached in the early afternoon, leaving the alpine mountain ridge for the beginnings of temperate forests.
From pictures, we knew that Mount Dabajian was magnificent if observed on a clear day. Unfortunately, luck eluded us this trip. We had seen and climbed its lesser siblings and hiked in an invigorating alpine environment, but the mountain we had longed to see decided to be coy and bashful that day.
Blazing a trail
These hiking accessories will provide both comfort and style on your next adventure
By Sophiya Sabapathy
1. Start your journey with Under Armour’s cotton-twill bucket hat. Featuring an extended brim, the vibrant green headwear has a soft feel and relaxed fit. UPF 50+ protects your skin from the sun’s harmful rays. (underarmour.com)
2. Salomon’s hiking shoes are a dependable and confidence-boosting ally. This pair is lightweight yet stable, as effective for conquering steep hills as it is for tackling descents. The X Ultra 5 Gore-Tex features a long-lasting outsole for grip, making it suitable for mixed terrain. (salomon.com)
3. Quench your thirst with the largest thermo flask available on the market by Over. The container has a 3.78-litre capacity. It comes with a non-slip side ensuring a secure hold and a double-walled design to keep your hands dry and your beverage cold for up to 24 hours. (over.my)
4. The Super Free Alpine Jacket by Patagonia is perfect for climbers who need a technical shell for mountaineering. With simple yet innovative details and sustainably made fabric, this piece will keep you warm and dry in difficult weather. (patagonia.com)
