Closely paralleling the Tropic of Cancer, we traveled to greet the sunrise - across miles of lush tropical plain, then through sub-tropical jungle forest blending into a temperate zone of broad leafed hardwood trees and mountain conifers, and finally to the edge of a zone definitely frigid yet not quite Arctic.
All of this was within less than four hours aboard a narrow gauge train right out of a railroad buffs dream. My wife, Elinor, and I found this trip to Alishan in the rugged Central Mountain Range of Taiwan one of the most fascinating and rewarding we have ever made - and also one of the most beautiful.
Since the Japanese built the forestry railroad, early in this century, it has been the only means of transportation into the Alishan area. An isolated location has put Alishan beyond the reach of most short-time visitors to the island. The mountain is barely accessible in a two-day trip from Taipei. At least three days is preferable.
There will be changes when the highway now under construction reaches Alishan. The road was planned and begun by the government of Chiayi hsien (county). Then the Forestry Bureau of the Taiwan Provincial Government took over the building of the last 15.6 miles. Completion is near. The Provincial Highway Bureau will supervise and maintain the route, which will open Alishan to motor vehicles. Presumably there will be bus service and the chance to see more mountain scenery by taking the road one way and the railway the other.
I can only hope that the increase in visitors will not spoil the splendor of scenic isolation.
On our trip to Alishan, we traveled south from Taipei on one of the Republic of China's modem express trains to the medium-sized city of Chiayi. The journey took about four hours and included a leisurely lunch in the dining car. We rolled smoothly through the brilliant green of the Taiwan countryside, passing neat towns, modem schools and large industrial plants.
Chiayi is called the capital of Taiwan's timber country. Many of the city's industries are connected with lumber, plywood and woodworking. This is a more leisurely place than Taipei. Just outside the Chiayi railroad station is a long line of pedicabs waiting for customers. These little vehicles have high hooded seats wide enough for two passengers at the back of a tricycle pedaled by an energetic driver. Pedicabs were phased out in Taipei some years ago, victims of increasing motorized traffic, but still operate in many towns and cities down island, offering a convenient service for short journeys, sightseeing and shopping.
Also in view of the Chiayi station is an equestrian statue of one of the heroes of Taiwan and especially of the mountain country we were about to enter. In the early years of the Ch'ing or Manchu dynasty some 250 years ago, Wu Feng was appointed regional administrator of the aborigines - native peoples of Polynesian origin who lived on Taiwan long before the Chinese arrived. Some 10 miles out of Chiayi an announcement in Chinese on the Alishan train's public address system pointed out that we were passing near the temple built on the site of Wu Feng's home.
According to Taiwan historians, Wu Feng was concerned about the welfare of the aborigines and lived among them. The natives liked and respected him. He tried to induce them to abandon their ancient practice of ceremonial headhunting, which they thought appeased their gods. For a time he was successful. Then came a lengthy drought. Tribal priests maintained the rain god was demanding a human sacrifice.
As the superstitious thirst for blood mounted, Wu Feng told the aborigines that if they would go to a certain place the next evening, they would see a man on horseback wearing a red head covering. To take his head might appease their rain god. The next night they saw such a figure, killed him with an arrow and decapitated him. When they removed the head covering, they found that they had killed their friend Wu Feng. It is said that these particular aborigines never again hunted heads.
Some aborigine leaders of today dispute the story. They say their ancestors did not kill Wu Feng. Whatever the truth, the temple built in 1770 bears in Chinese characters the inscription: "One Who Sacrificed Himself for Justice."
Aborigines living in the Taiwan mountains have not hunted heads for many years. But during their occupation of 1895-1945, the Japanese were worried enough to build an electric fence around a large area to protect a camphor logging operation - just in case tribesmen were tempted to add Japanese heads to their collections.
The bright red trains of the Alishan line were built in Japan. Each car of the two-car train seats 50 and has its own Diesel power unit. Both units are in use at times. A hostess on each car takes tickets and serves tea. There is no food service but vendors offer their wares alongside the train at several village stops.
Alishan train stops beside the "Sacred Tree". (File photo)
Railroad devotees find the Diesel trains a joy. Even more captivating are the half dozen coal-burning steam locomotives, huffing and puffing as they work at higher elevations. They now serve mainly as switch engines or on spur tracks, carrying flatcar loads of logs to the mainline. These little Lima locomotives were built in the United States for the Alishan line more than 65 years ago. There are two types of two and three cylinders weighing 18 and 28 tons, specially de signed for mountain work. They long were used exclusively to haul logs to sawmills. When a locomotive is working hard on a grade, it moves at a speed not much faster than a man can walk. But it gets there.
The Alishan railroad is operated by the Taiwan Forestry Bureau. Its main purpose is to exploit the vast timber resources of the island's great Central Mountain system. The mountains, with more than 30 peaks above 10,000 feet, occupy about three-fifths of the land area of Taiwan. They are so rugged that roads penetrate only a few areas. Most upland inhabitants are aborigines who moved out of the fertile plains when the Chinese started coming from the mainland about 1,400 years ago. There are now about 265,000 of these handsome aborigine people in Taiwan. They once were hunters and are now farmers and workers in many other occupations. Their children attend school and learn Chinese but many ancient tribal customs are preserved. Several aborigines are members of the Republic of China's National Assembly.
Although development of forest resources is the primary purpose of the Alishan railroad, the Forestry Bureau is aware that the mountains are becoming increasingly popular with visitors. This is especially so in summer months when it is hot and humid in the lowlands.
We boarded the Alishan train just across the Chiayi station platform from the trunk line on which we had traveled from Taipei. As we crossed the Chiayi Plain toward the mountains, we passed through the verdant green rice paddies that feed the people of Taiwan so well. In some rice fields patient water buffalo were at work. In others growers were using power tillers and other mechanized equipment. In between we saw fields of tall sugar cane and patches of banana trees with. their huge ragged leaves. There were many small three-wheeled trucks, strange to American visitors but common in rural Taiwan.
The vista changed to orchard country as the plains blended into the foothills - groves of citrus, guavas and other fruit, including papayas that grow so large it is hard to believe they could be borne by trees. They grow from the trunks, just below the branches.
Then we were passing through a tropical jungle - a massive growth of trees and shrubs of many kinds, many in bloom. Flowering vines climbed over everything, draping themselves in great loops. All was green thanks to Taiwan's heavy rainfall. Moss, ferns and other vegetation have spread over the banks of cuts made for the railroad tracks.
From time to time at lower levels, the Alishan train passes through massed stands of poinsettias. These shrubs native to tropical America are aflame during the late fall and winter months with the brilliant scarlet flowers associated with Christmas. Those of Taiwan are larger than the blooms commonly seen in the United States.
Above the tropical forest the railroad carried us through great forests of bamboo, which is actually a grass and one of the world's most useful plants. The strong hollow stems of bamboo are no mere dart tubes at this latitude and in this climate. They grow to 50 and 60 feet and are as thick as 6 inches at the base. But like blades of grass, they sway in the wind. Some grow at an angle, yet the bamboo is straight.
At sidings we saw great piles of bamboo cut for market and waiting to be loaded on flatcars. The bamboo stems, or poles, are extraordinarily strong. They are used in small building construction - and in Taipei and other cities of Asia for the scaffolding of large multistory structures. Bam boo poles make substantial ladders. Smaller poles split in half and laid alternately form durable rainproof roofs. Bamboos split into smaller pieces are woven into screens and shades. Bamboo is made into fishing poles and walking sticks. Artisans fashion sections of larger bamboo into furniture, vases and dishes, toys and a large variety of novelties and other items - including musical instruments. Not long ago an ancient pipe organ with bamboo pipes was shipped from the Philippines to West Germany for repairs, then returned. Tender bamboo shoots provide a tasty ingredient in score of Chinese dishes and are canned for export. Broad and tough bamboo leaves are woven into lightweight inexpensive hats widely worn by working people for protection against sun and rain.
Bamboo forests such as the one we passed through are among the more valuable resources of the Taiwan mountains. Millions of seedlings are planted annually by crews of Forest Bureau workers. Bamboo and trees will grow into marketable products of the future. "Afforestation" and "re forestation" are aspects of an overall plan to let no land be wasted and put all land of the island to the best possible use.
Bamboo blended into stands of evergreens of the temperate zone as the "little Diesel that could" gained altitude. Taiwan has forests of pine, fir, cedar, spruce and cypress similar to the same species of North America and Europe.
The train labored harder as the ascent grew steeper. "Clicks" in our ears reminded us of the increasing altitude. We frequently passed through tunnels, some quite long, and over bridges that spanned ravines cutting into the mountainside. Before our train reached Alishan Station at an altitude of more than 7,500 feet, we had gone through 49 tunnels and crossed 114 bridges - all within a distance of about 45 miles. At one point the railroad is built in a spiral which includes 10 tunnels to gain 600 feet altitude in a distance of a little over two miles.
One of Alishan's easy hikes is through big trees to the quiet of the "Two Sisters Pond." (File photo)
Along the line from Chiayi to Alishan villages bear such names as Pemen, Lumachan, Changnaliao, Fenchihu, Shihtzulu, Ehrwanp'ing and P'ingchena. At several we saw lumber mills. Waiting on sidings were flatcars loaded with logs securely tied down with cables to prevent shifting on the steep grades. The large logs were mainly cedar, some 4 to 5 feet in diameter. Villages were not unlike small lumber towns in the timber country of Oregon and Washington, with the forests reaching to their edges. But this country is greener, I think.
The ruggedness of these mountains has been compared to the Grand Tetons of Wyoming and the Sierras of California. We thought of the inscription on the Statehouse in Sacramento: "Give Me Men to Match My Mountains." In Taiwan's mountains even the faces of perpendicular cliffs may be green.
At two points our train ran onto spurs, then backed out to head for a higher level beyond a curve too sharp for turning. The trip from Chiayi to Alishan Village took a little under four hours for 45 miles, 7,000 feet and a spanning of climatic zones from tropical to frigid.
For a time in the spring the Alishan area is brilliant with pink blossoms of flowering cherries. Among many other flowers are spectacular growths of rhododendrons, some of a rare white variety. There are also groves of pear and apple trees.
This is a great place for hiking, although some visitors may be discouraged by the thin air. There are many good trails in the vicinity and guided walking tours twice daily. Guides take hikers on leisurely strolls past the village, through wooded areas, across and along a tumbling little stream and beside a scenic little lake let with twin pavilions called the "Two Sisters Pond." In the morning the weather is likely to be foggy and misty. There is a good chance of showers in the afternoon. The conducted hike ends at a colorful temple back in the village.
I enjoyed exploring other trails on my own. One led to the "Sacred Tree," a Formosa cypress of immense size and age we'd seen from the train. It isn't "sacred" for any particular reason, I was told - but it is the Chinese nature to show respect for antiquity. Cypress of Formosa bear close resemblance to the California coastal redwoods and their relatives, the High Sierra Sequoias. The "Sacred Tree" stands beside the railroad track, leaning like the Tower of Pisa. At first glance, the weather-whitened trunk appears to be dead. Then you can see new growth from skeleton-like, almost bare limbs near the top. Like the redwoods, cypress trees die hard. This one stands about 150 feet tall and is close to 20 feet in diameter at the base. Its age is estimated at 3,000 years - meaning a life span which antedates Jesus, Confucius and Buddha. A protective fence encloses this ancient tree. Befitting something deserving of veneration, if not actually "sacred," a small shrine has been built alongside.
Not far away, near a small museum, is a Formosa cypress "Three Generations Tree" that parallels phenomena found in the California red woods. The roots of a massive stump straddle and grow out of a log that probably fell before the start of the Christian era. The second cypress was felled by loggers about three quarters of a century ago. Two thriving fair sized saplings now grow out of the stump as twins that seem likely to unite their trunks in a tree to match their mother - in another thousand years so.
Because Alishan House is built on a hillside, all but one of the floors is at ground level. (File photo)
There are massive moss-grown and sprouting stumps throughout the area - and in the museum some of the tools used by loggers of bygone days. These tools include two-man crosscut saws with blades all of 20 feet long used in felling and cutting up the forest giants. The "Sacred Tree" probably escaped the saw because it was too big.
The museum also includes mounted specimens of birds, animals, snakes, butterflies and other life forms of the Taiwan mountain country - some unfortunately now very rare. Among the animals are two species of leopard cat, monkeys, a small bear, deer, wild pigs, a large civet - an animal resembling a mink - and the Formosan flying squirrel, which is almost as large as a domestic cat. Taiwan wildlife is supposed to be protected by a strict ban on hunting - regrettably not strictly enforced.
We spent our two night on Alishan at the up-to-date Alishan House, a hotel owned by the Forestry Bureau. It is downhill from the village and very quiet. A bus transports guests back and forth. Older hotels are located in Alishan Village, a bustling spot with many small eating places and souvenir shops. Alishan can be crowded at times. The most popular seasons are March and April, when the cherry blossoms are out, and July and August, when the weather is at its most uncomfortably down below. There are long-range plans for three new hotels and sites have been allocated. Completion of the highway is expected to bring a sharp increase in the number of visitors.
Alishan House has 150 rooms and seven stories, six of them on the "ground floor." This is because the hotel is built against a steep hillside. Many of the rooms have spectacular views. We looked across green treetops on the hillside below to a rugged, piled-up mountain with a green cliff face. For a time each morning Alishan's famous "Sea of Clouds" moved in to blot out everything below us and between us and the mountainside, which now appeared to be an island across the waters.
(File photo)
Alishan is the name of both the village and a sub range of eight mountain peaks paralleling the summit of the main Central Range. On our first morning we left a call to rise early in order to greet the sunrise. It was well before dawn when the call came. A hotel bus carried us (at NT$50) or US$1.32 per head through the darkness before the dawn. Our destination was Sunrise House, an eating place on the slope of Mt. Chu (Celebration Mountain) operated by the Forestry Bureau. Along the way we passed groups of hikers - mostly young people, children, teen-agers and young parents carrying bundled-up babies or small children on their backs - walking up from the village. The hike takes from 40 minutes to an hour or more, depending on the individual's energy. At Sunrise House we were served tea and sweet rolls, included in the price of the bus fare, as we waited in the chilly half-night.
Camera fans were setting up their tripods in the Sunrise House patio and focusing on a black saw toothed mountain range across a forest-covered valley some 25 miles distant. The white sea of clouds was moving in over the valley and soon obscured it completely. The highest point of the range was Yushan or Jade Mountain and known on many Western maps as Mt. Morrison for the Rev. Robert Morrison, an early Protestant missionary to China. The Japanese name is Nitaka Yama.
Jade Mountain, the name we liked best, thrusts itself to 13,110 feet, the tallest peak in this part of the world. The Japanese name Nitaka-Yama means New High Mountain to signify that Yushan tops Mt. Fuji. Three trails lead from Alishan to Jade Mountain, making the approach from different directions. Permits are necessary. The forestry people want to know who is undertaking the climb. Hundreds make it to the summit each year but occasionally someone doesn't. Mountain climbing at 13,000 feet wasn't for Elinor and me.
As the brightness behind the mountain range increased, the contrasting blackness on our side deepened. Those with cameras concentrated on adjustments. Suddenly there was a fringe of brilliant light behind Jade Mountain. Seconds later, it seemed, the fiery ball of the sun had appeared, amidst clicking shutters and the whirring of movie cameras. In a few more seconds the scene was too bright for the human eye.
This sort of thing has been going on for a long time over the mountain called Yushan, Jade, Morrison and Nitaka-Yama. We joined our fellow sunrise watchers in applause. The sun had risen again and that somehow seemed reassuring. All was right with the world on Alishan.