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Sampling some of the great cycling central Taiwan has to offer.

Before going to Taiwan, I had a vague awareness of its mountains and factories, but not much beyond that. With hopes of jump-starting my trip planning, I watched a few short travel documentaries, but alas, I didn't get far doing so. The narration of the first went like, "When you enter the forest, you will see the artistic side of nature." I have an appreciation for expressive language, but here I wanted to find out what to see and where to go, not what my impressions will be. I wanted to form my own emotions and didn't need a video to serve me those. I turned it off and started watching another. "On the beach, you get to feel like you entered another planet," the narrator said, and I thought, "Which one?!" Imagining that hiking on Venus, for example, wouldn't be quite ideal, I realized I wasn't the right audience for these types of videos. I had to do my planning the old-fashioned way. But the weeks leading up to my trip were busy, and so when I went to the airport, I didn't have anything arranged beyond the work-related matters.

Taipei was hotter than expected, which, combined with the time zone shift, meant I didn't sleep much during the first couple of nights. While taxing on the body, it gave me the time to look up where to go next. The first night of reading was a bit overwhelming. Taiwan has a similar area to the Netherlands, but a much more diverse geography. It encompasses everything from tropical beaches to alpine zones. It has over 150 mountains higher than 3,000 meters, and yet, a higher population density than that of the Netherlands, which is already about 10 times above the world's average. Together with Taiwan's rich cultural history, I could see spending a lifetime here and not running out of fascinating things to explore. It was clear that I'll only get a microscopic taster. Still, if you enter a pastry shop with hundreds of cakes, trying one or two is better than no cake, right?

The next night, I focused on combining mountain views with cycling to narrow down the options. It seemed like MTB isn't much of a thing here. Instead, my search led me to find Sun Moon Lake, a place surrounded by prominent mountains and a path along its shores, which CNN reportedly listed among the world's most beautiful bikeways. I didn't search for that article, but thought that if there's one place to start, this might be it. I also found a direct bus from Taipei, so when my work program ended, I headed to the station. There, I was surprised that two people who came with road bikes were allowed to take them on the bus; this was cool, and encouraging of what was to come. The bus was comfortable, adding to the positive vibes, and they only magnified when I looked out my window and saw the lake. Its bright body of water was crossed by multiple ferries and yachts, and the opposite shore was full of hazed but spectacular peaks. It got me thinking of the lakes Garda and Como, and we reached our end station in no time.

Just a block from the station is a Giant store, offering rental service. Giant, the world's largest bicycle manufacturer, is from Taiwan, so it felt appropriate to go there to get me sorted. The salesperson was very friendly and got me a good-looking bike of a decent size. Then he showed me a map of the lake and asked where I wanted to go. Now, during the sleepless nights, I found a few mountain passes around that lured me in, but those were outside of the map he had. So, I opened a map on my phone. "Here, here, and maybe here..." I pointed, and suddenly, the guy's smile went away. "Oh," he said, and went silent. I thought if I did something wrong. "Do you have other suggestions?" I quickly tried to save the situation, but the guy remained quiet for another moment. Then, he said, "I think it might be possible." It didn't entirely reassure me, but then he handed me the bike and wished me good luck. All right then, let's go!

First, I went around the lake, and the paths delivered as promised. However, the cycleway doesn't go all the way around; one has to join a road at a few places, which I thought would be the low point of navigating around the lake. But nope! The local drivers were respectful, and the road was in top shape and good fun to ride. There wasn't really a low point.

I stopped by scenic areas around the lake, but that is another post. Here, I'll focus on how I crossed the mountains into the valley of Taiwan's longest river, the Zhuoshui. It wasn't a signposted route, but figuring out my own way, rather than simply following a guidebook, always serves as an adventure, and the trip feels more earned. I saw that in or near the valley, there should be multiple suspension bridges, including the longest and deepest suspension bridge in Taiwan. It looked like a nice theme for the trip, and the contour lines on the map promised interesting landscapes along the way. With that, I went towards the first pass.

The weather played along, my bike had decent gears, slick tires, and the prime road surface meant that climbing up went with ease. Even better, the road was narrow, closed for big buses or trucks, and with hardly any traffic at all. The solitude was good, so nobody could judge my exhales "Wow!" "Yeees!" "So good!" and similar. And still, when I got to the other side of the saddle, the excitement went off the charts. What followed was a nine-kilometer descent down a winding mountain road with fabulous views.

I started thinking of Danny Hart's 2011 World Champs run, so you know the stoke ran sky high. Also, I was grateful that my bike had hydraulic brakes, that's for sure!

I passed through a few scenic villages, with the one at the end of the descent involving the kind of adventure that sometimes happens when you embark onto unknown roads:

It was only a brief interlude, though, so no bother at all. Then, I started following the Zhuoshui River, which was just spectacular.

Besides being picturesque, I thought that it would be grand with a kayak, but I was also happy with my two-wheeled means of transportation.

The road that followed the river had even less traffic than the pass earlier, and unlike my expectation, it went constantly up and down. There was also hardly any shade, and the sun worked pretty hard by now. Thankfully, a few cold water pipes ran parallel with the road, and they had a leak every few kilometers that I could use to cool down a little.

During one of the many panoramic stops I made, I met a young Taiwanese man on a scooter who toured the valley just like I was, and we had a friendly chat. He was impressed that I came on an analog bike, while I found it puzzling to see him wearing a puffer jacket. I was nearly boiling in just a T-shirt! It's one thing I cherish about traveling: it puts things we (don't) consider normal into a different perspective.

I thought about how a motorcycle could get me around much faster and with less effort than the bike I was riding. At the same time, I appreciated the opportunities the slower travel provided. I could take in the views and listen to what was going on around me. As such, I heard some noises from the forest near me. I stopped, observed, and spotted a few monkeys. They were shy and ran away, but still, I saw them. "That wouldn't be the case if I traveled faster," I concluded, and arrived at the first suspension bridge soon.

Surprisingly, there was another one right beside the first one, longer and more impressive.

The name Zhuoshui River means 'turbid water' in English, which fits quite well, as the sediment content in the water was high. Still, I thought about taking a dip. While the riverside from which I came had a cliff going straight to the water, the other side looked like the access could be easier. However, I wasn't willing to look around in the sun for too long, so I didn't find a reasonable entry point. Instead, I scored a place in the shade with a view and had a picnic lunch.

After the break, I set off again, and the next bridge came into sight not too long later.

Like the previous ones, the bridge was neat, and so were the views around.

From there, I saw what looked like another suspension bridge downstream, so I went to check it out as well, but it turned out to be a small cable car system, not an actual bridge. And so, I pressed on to get to the Shuiyuan Bridge, which started popping into view:

It didn't look very far, but to get there, I still had to cross the Zhuoshui River again. This time by a beam bridge, here:

The road from the bridge in the photo above to the Shuiyuan Bridge had, according to GPS, a 20% incline in places — quite a climb. Still, the bike and grippy concrete delivered once again, so it went all right. Coming by bike had another perk: I could cycle all the way to the entrance, whereas those who used motorized transportation had to walk the last kilometer or so.

Well, and there I had it. Shuiyuan Bridge, also known as a rainbow bridge, is 342 meters long and reaches a depth of up to 110 meters. Remarkable, no doubt!

The site also has another bridge that carries pipes for drinking water, a little engineering bonus. Finally, it leads to yet another point of interest, the Shuanglong Waterfalls. I loved them, too.

There was a nice viewing platform, and somewhat surprisingly, I could count all the other visitors on my fingers. There was plenty of room for everyone, and it was super chilled. Yes, please! I took my time and then left to cross the Zhuoshui River for the last time, returning to Sun Moon Lake. That, of course, meant absolving the long descent I took in the morning in reverse. Yet, as it has been a rule today, it went fine, even with some gravel detours.

Somewhere around two kilometers before reaching the saddle, I found a place with a pretty outlook, so I stopped to have the last picnic of the day. After resting, eating, and gazing down the valley, I went back to the road and the bike, when suddenly, a dog stared at me.

It felt as if the dog appeared out of nowhere. The canine didn't bark, didn't try to attack, or try to get some food out of me; it just stared. Under this supervision, I began climbing again, and the dog followed. Silently, not getting too close to my wheels or legs (I appreciated that), but keeping well in reach. The longer the companion lasted, the more I grew to like the dog. However, when we got to the saddle together, I knew that it was over. I didn't have lights and wanted to get back to my hotel before sunset, which was slowly but surely approaching. And while those small legs were well sufficient to keep up with me as I crawled upwards, going down would be a different story. So, I said goodbye to my new friend and enjoyed the last descent of the day.

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