There I am, just about to get to sleep after fending off jet lag for two nights, and an earthquake comes along and wakes me up. How inconvenient!
6.3 on the Richter scale according the the USGS.
Hualien really gets it bad every time! Luckily, I was asleep for the two after shocks…
Usually, when heading back to the UK, a healthy two-week window is necessary to really get over the jet lag and calm down properly. I didn’t quite have that luxury this time, however, and was restricted to one week of British Summer Time, Tour de France and Wimbledon.
Super tent in the garden, filled the space to a tee!
Jess looks cheeky, as ever.
Just super to meet all the family members that I miss out on, while away! … and play with a silly Holga lens mod present that I had bought for Abe.
However, what it lacked in duration, it more than made up for in intensity. No sooner had I landed, a pig had been slaughtered and spit-roasted in the name of my Dad’s 60th birthday, family members had descended from around the UK and I had sunk a few ‘test pints’ from the professional-quality draft beer tap(s) installed for the event. And thankfully for my Dad, Andy Murray was not in the Wimbledon final, or the party would have surely been significantly less well-attended. A blur of catchings up and barely a moment of sitting down, and the first weekend was dispatched.
A nice cup of tea to round off a good ol’ tea party.
After meeting up with Phil, Rich and a couple of other friends in London, I take the fast train up to Birmingham to meet with Mum and Dad for a couple of days of hiking. I had not spent much time in the north of Wales before, so it was great to sleep in the shadow of Snowdon; tallest mountain in England and Wales (I love how England feels it can claim other countries’ mountains as its own… Month Blanc, the tallest mountain in England and France).
Sheep sheep sheep. Wales.
I had always thought of Snowdon as a particularly boring hill, such as it is plumbed-in with a train to the summit and images of Victorian ladies getting taking their afternoon constitutional. It was with such a false sense of postcard security that we attempted ‘Crib Goch‘ – the most challenging of the approaches to the summit, and reading here, ‘a Class-1 scramble in good weather, it should be considered a climb in poor conditions’.
Happily ignoring this, we attempted it anyway, and fell in behind a group of experienced climbers with ropes. Right then. Ideal conditions for Team Biddle to begin our ascent!
The climbing was not extremely technical, but as we gained altitude, our confidence in the available hand grabs and invisible foot-holds faded somewhat. Trusting yourself to lift yourself up and around tall pillars of rock, when there is a several hundred metre drop on one side was not for the faint-hearted. No matter how firm the holds seemed, we were glad to be shadowing an experienced set of climbers, and shook our head worryingly as we inspected the ridge heading off into the distance.
Starting off slowly.
Almost time for a breather
Planning ahead
Views from half-way along were formidable.
I barely dared take out my big new camera, relying instead on snapping away with my little Ixus!
Incredulous smiles!
Kinky boots
Clouds in the distance
And clouds. Having cleared the first section, and after wedging ourselves into the rocks at a minor summit to gorge and sandwiches and chocolate, the clouds descended and we lost contact with the leading group. An eerily expansive acoustic edge accompanied the final set of pinnacles, and we guessed that through the mist and clouds were drops ever increasing in height. It was with no shortage of glee, then, to happen upon the railway tracks up to the cafe at the top, and the best-tasting cuppa tea in England and Wales.
The North Face.
A long way down
Vultures circling
Looking back, as the clouds roll in
This was definitely a good idea. I am sure.
Edgy
Dropping in for a final night of food and drink in Birmingham with Jess, I took the slow train back to Cambridge, packed up, and readied myself for one more long flight back to Asia. Fair England, how I do miss thee.
… enjoy this video of some far braver souls, as they traverse the knife edge. Imagine, while watching it, me straddling the apex, legs both pointing straight down to different valleys. Not quite the dare devil!
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ELdijJpGcyc]
Suited and booted
After finding the rather great hiking blog, Pashan, we were inspired to go and trek pastures new around Wulai. It’s Labour Day weekend here, and the weather has just been impeccable for the whole time, so no excuses could be found not to strap on the boots and get motoring.
Indian Jones-style bridges.
Abe illustrates his bike-handling skills.
The hike was well graded, and punctuated by groups of improbably old Taiwanese hikers coming the other way. It’s a sad fact, but hikers that we bump into tend to be old, and complain that the youth today are not interested in Hiking. Although I usually take these types of comments with a grain of salt (‘in my day…’), I have to say I agree. However, I do hold out hope that in the grand rollercoaster of Taiwanese trends, hiking will follow folding bikes in rising popularity – perhaps it will be some local tech GPS gadget that kicks it off – who knows.
After reading the Pashan article, detailing the Sanxia-Wulai Trail, we did manage to get one minor detail wrong… the starting point. As a result, the fantsatic diving pools ‘in the first third of the trail’ were not quite where we expected them to be, but no matter; we’ll be back soon to do it properly. Here is a map of the starting point / ending point:
View Wulai – Sanxia Hike in a larger map
Team Taipei
Air conditioning for whom?
After the hike, we headed straight for the smoked chicken roadside restaurant, and devoured all manner of vegetables and delicious bird. It then did not take an enormous amount of persuasion from Tasha to head to Gonguan and rather a special chocolate shop, where we each ordered a brownie large enough for 12 people. Food coma. Bed.
Link to my Flickr set for Wulai-Sanxia
It has been raining non stop for about one and a half weeks now. Not ‘shower’. None of your English ‘drizzles’. And ‘precipitation’ seems a bit polite for what we are getting here. No, this is angry rain that seems to bounce when it hits the ground ensuring that everything gets wet, no matter what you wear. It’s depressing, and wearing constantly damp clothes really gets you down.
Still, when the sun does eventually come out we can be sure that the humidity will go through the roof and I will begin complaining about the inability to breathe instead. Luckily, I suppose, there is little chance of that problem next week – just check the seven-day forecast!
Michael Fish would be proud…
The Stone Deer Trail is spoken of in legendary whispers amongst our mountain biking circle – few had completed it, and even fewer knew what the conditions were after leaving it for a few years. We dabbled with the idea of taking a large group to tackle it, but with impending bad weather and mixed reports of the trail’s status George, Mark, Norbert and I (visiting from Germany) stepped out at 4:45am to take the bus into the mountains.
Mark and I mentally prepare ourselves for the climb
The weather had gifted us with cool air and clear skies, bags were laden with Power Bars, Snickers, litres upon litres of water, spare parts and first aid kits, and in the warm sunshine of the morning things were looking good. The first kilometres of riding were simply fantastic, weaving up through the hills, up until the point that my lungs started trying to exit my body via my nostrils. The climbing.
Team photo!
Winding up through the French Alps
Feeling pleased with ourselves in the sunshine, munchin‘ on Chocolate
The ascent got more and more extreme with the increase in altitude. Rocks became bigger, the trees loomed down upon us and gradually, the first of the hike-a-bike began in earnest. My sharp road saddle was already cutting into my shoulder and the weeks out of the saddle were beginning to haunt me. It was with some hilarity and amusement that we met the first of the rope climbs; cameras at the ready we happily snapped away, laughing at the idea of hauling ourselves up with our arms.
The price of old rope
Selective vision
Rocky
After passing through the saddle of the range, and munching on further Snickers bars, we began the first kilometres of epic descending. With the gradient with us, the sun shining through the trees and bamboo forests rushing back past us it really was one of the finest half hours of my mountain biking life. We took it in turns to lead and it was a pleasure to follow the tail of my compatriots as leaves were kicked up by the rear wheel in a plume that must have been directly lifted from a computer game. Gorgeous, sumptuous, luxurious descending.
Singletrack nirvana
Mark my words, it was fluid
Pictures are better than words – mine anyway!
Indiana Jones – it’s safe, honest!
The one mechanical failure of the day (except for me popping a spoke near the end) – not a bad setting!
The trail began changing for the extreme when we reached the bridge. 120m across and probably about the same above the torrential water below, it was quite a sight to see it gliding off into the distance through the canopy. Mark took the lead and walked over – I could almost sense his relief on reaching the other side. After Norbert reached the other side on two wheels it was clear that I was going to have to do the same thing, especially with George watching over my shoulder! The first ten metres or so were easy, but then the canopy suddenly gave way, and with an abrupt change in acoustics and that strange feeling of infinite parallax in your peripheral vision, a strange sense of elation and fear gripped me. With no way to stop, I had no choice but to continue this semi-religious cycling experience to the other side, and safety.
Bugger off
Built in the 1920s, you say?
… by Taiwanese?
Pausing at an abandoned police station for more glucose-laden treats and snouts, we neared the area where the first of the land slides had occured. Before we got there, we had to negotiate some more switch backs – this time with rather larger cliffs on our side. Mark had warned us that at the exact moment we felt like we could accelerate was the precise location of a hairpin turn, with a backdrop of a 200m cliff. I managed my way round the corner, but with my body tiring and my nerves wilting I had a wee bit of a crash a few hundred metres further on, luckily without any usual cliff jumping antics.
And then we meet the first group of hikers, and the rope heading up the hill. The sun was beginning to beat down on us and to the shrill, enthusiastic screams of the Taiwanese walkers we lifted the bikes onto our shoulders and began the climb, rope in hand. Several different techniques were developed for carrying the (bloody) bikes, but at the end of the climb everyone’s expression told the tale – one slip, and we were fish food. And much more climbing than this, and our bodies would shut down.
Redefining the words ‘Mountain Biking’
Panorama – click the pic for a bigger view
Mark’s face tells the story
Mark does a stirling job on the second descent / ascent of the day. This rock fall was so severe, and the ground so unsteady we decided to dismantle the bikes.
After two major sections, our bodies were screaming and we were seriously beginning to lose concentration and motivation. On top of that, we were beginning to keep a closer eye on the time – the light was beautifully warm, but we knew our chances of getting back to the waiting bus if the sun set. It was with these thoughts on our mind that we rounded the corner to a scream of dismay from the leading rider – a river crossing, followed by a huge climb up what looked like another vertical face. We stared in disbelief, seriously considering hiding our bikes and returning the next week, and hardly in the mood to record the event with any photos.
With a push, Norbert lead the climb and managed to negotiate his way up the slope, the major distraction and danger sadly became the over-enthusiastic locals again, who began tugging at the ropes and trying to pull the bikes off our backs. I personally came quite close to saying some pretty rude things as they ran up and down the rocks in front of us. This was absolutely not the time for being a happy Brit abroad.
Still, we persevered and eventually reached the summit – by rights the zero point of the trail as we had made a net altitude gain of precisely zero metres. It was with immense relief that one of the team heard a motorbike and with it the realisation that we were back to fully maintained trails away from the reaches of the Taiwanese landscape trying its best to return to the sea.
If Jesus rode…
Not a happy camper
Spirits lifted as we began our last few kilometres of singletrack descending. Norbert lead the way with me giving pursuit. The site of his BMX legs flailing, leaves flying and the bike flying was simply marvellous. It is amazing how quickly the human body can recover given no more than a hit of adrenalin.
Biking in heaven – click for a bigger view
With the sun setting behind us, we finally returned to the waiting bus. We left, but not before taking an extended dip in the hot springs. Swigging on cans of victory Coke, the team was jubilant, the bikes were intact, and we were certainly ready for the ride back to the relative concrete safety of Taipei.
Human Shabu Shabu
The ride home, above the clouds – click for a bigger view
Location
Northern Taiwan
The Stone Deer Trail
Google Earth – Stone Deer Trail Beginning
Google Earth – Stone Deer Trail End
… and if you check the date, it looks like we were the April Fools!
I need to make a special thanks to Georg, who happily ignored our cries to STOP taking photos and provided the wonderful photos for this post!
Today, I had the pleasure of a wonderful hike with Ruth & Christophe (designers from Germany) and Markus & Evelyn. The weather was supreme, and it is quite strange to think that the weather back in the UK is probably cold and ‘orrid. We are still in t-shirts, though there is a distinct chill in the air these days. We took a train out down the coast and arrived at DaLi – just past Fulong. After a very pleasant climb over the peak we had a wonderful stroll accross farmland with a light and coolness that made me think I was back in Blighty once again.
Stairway from Heaven
Bike & shoes under palms
Paddy’s Day
Trike
Games with reflective things 1.0
Sun set bank account in the red
Games with reflective things 2.0
Ruth and Christophe have a cheeky laugh on the way home
The kids are asleep in the back
Some assorted photos over the last week or so in Taipei.
Nelson looking pretty in PS Cafe while hanging out pretending to study Chinese
Messing around with the RAW settings on my camera while downtown at night in Taipei
Mister Donuts is a Japanese confectionary chain in Taiwan. The quality is poor poor poor, but every time a new one opens expect a line up around the building and down the block. People like donuts here in Taiwan.
Markus and I out for some quiet (mid-week) beers at Underworld on ShiDa road. The place shut down a few months ago and we were happy to see it humming again (and our heads the next day).
A night time street vendor is either stopping or starting work for the day
Rich and I head north as I make my first trip on scooter in about five weeks. We stop to admire the paddy fields.
This was the big one. The ride we had all been talking about, and finally we were doing it. Peter provided the prod, the good weather reports the motivation, and two local dingbats with buses the transportation.
We are an international bunch – Peter from Ireland, Lee from Taiwan, Mike from Oz, Ludvig from Sweden, Mark from the USA, Martin from Switzerland, Me from Ingerland, and George from Germany. Sounds like the Eurovision. Peter would win.
La La Shan by bike sounded like heaven. 2 hours by bus into the mountains south of Taipei followed by 16km of pristine singletrack, hot springs in Wulai and home in time for dinner.
Mmmmm… singletrack in the sunshine. 16 Km of it! Sort of.
It almost ended up like that. But then it also nearly ended up with several of us walking home. I have never been on a ride beset by so much catastrphic mechanical failure – in the space of about 200m we had 3 flat tyres (all on Peter’s bike, I would like to add…) a wobbly bottom bracket, 2 shredded tyres (Peter’s again), a rather worrying wobble from one of the rear suspension units, and then there was me.
Nik will not be pleased!
The record for flats goes to Peter Grogan of Ireland
My chain is in there somewhere…
The only warning I had that I would riding the remainder of the ride with one gear was a mild tinking sound from the rear of the bike. Stoping to inspect, I discovered that the derailleur had caught up in the spokes of my wheel, snapping the chain, taking out a spoke (and buckling the wheel) and both breaking the gear hanger and bending the derailleur itself. Hmmm. Houston, we have a problem.
Spot the deliberate mistake
Lee’s turn
“WHEN WILL THIS END?”
Luckily, one of the middling gears on the rear gave me reasonable chain tension, so I was able to make it along just fine – especially because the gradient meant that pedalling was rarely needed. It did, however, mean that the 19 K back to Wulai had me spinning my pedals like crazy, and no explanations that Lance Armstrong demonstrates a similar ‘supplesse’ escaped the fact that my feet were twirling away as fast as my rear wheel was bouncing around.
Mark is pleased to be motoring again – home for lunch? hmmm
Bike at rest – wheels, chain and rear sprocket less than 18 hours old!
Sadly, much of the riding… was more like clinging on for dear life
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George and I made the wise choice of staying in Wulai and sampling the hot springs. Marvellous. Tremendous. Just what I needed. Switching between natural hot spring, chatting with locals while sipping tea and jumping in the river, was really special – especially holding on to a rope and allowing the cool waters of the river to drift past me, with only my mouth and nose above the water. It really brought me home … or maybe that was just the endorphines kicking in.
Wrong way, Mark!
PS. I would like to state that the formatting on this blog is all over the place because Blogger decreed that this should be the final layout. Note to self – do not use the automatic image upload system again.
The ride of the year … 2 weeks of planning and avoiding bad weather were very nearly ruined 100 metres off the first climb when, losing a touch of balance / direction / control I veered off a cliff, landing 15 foot from the path, downwards.
Luckily, the sound effects of splitting bamboo helped break my fall and I landed, frozen in motion with my bike suspended 7 foot in the air, caught on the branches. Luckily – very luckily – I escaped with little more than an hour of mild shock and a rational fear of going near the edge again. Several handfuls of peanut M&Ms; later, however, and I was feeling a bit better.
This improvement was sadly checked by three and a half hours of the hardest, most gruelling, demotivating hike-a-bike that I have ever endured, the slippery singletrack only broken by trees pushing into the queue in front of us.
To cut a long and cold story short, we made it up to 8 Km by 12:00 (our designated cut off point) and started on the tough walking descent … but how much psychology is important! Our spirits returned with our energy and we were hopping over the trees without looking back once.
7 Km of epic singletrack descending through Bamboo forests, with the distinct feeling we were in land of the giants, and being watched by bands of lycra-clad ogres.
And with steam whisping off our disk brakes as we return to the final bridge, there was no question we will be back next year. But time with better weather, felled trees, and a nice parking spot at the top of the trail with 16Km of some of the best descending available snaking out in front of us.
We had initially planned an easy Friday, taking in the more touristy trails while it was quiet, and then a harder Saturday when the trail we wanted to do was still likely to be quiet. It worked out to be the same, since the whole place was deserted and the weather reports were poor, falsely.
The trail we did went up to Bamboo Village via several trails hanging to cliffs and across more suspension bridges. The weather was okay, managing a light, cooling drizzle for much of the day. It gave the hills an atmospheric hue though, which added to the kung fu movie fantasy.
The early section of the trail gave us the jitters, somewhat. All the railings dividing the walkers from touching the void were bent into bizarre shapes by the intense rock fall from above. Bearing in mind they were made of steel, and the fact that we saw a live land slide the previous day, we kept our heads down and passed the section and reached relative safety (or at least the end of the railings – we just had a big cliff, but less reminders of the rock fall).
Rock Fall
Dad and I played monster poo sticks on the way back, but were soundly beaten by Mum when she arrived with a 30 ft bamboo monster. I was asked to remind everyone that it was her poo stick, and not anyone else’s.
Mum’s Poo Stick