Hiking Stone Bamboo Shoot Peak (石筍尖) and Shulang Peak (薯榔尖), Jingtong (菁桐)

I haven't gone hiking yet this month as I've been behind in my Mandarin studies and my kindergarten class has been passing a cold back and forth for a couple weeks now. For awhile every time one of them sneezed their hand would be covered in snot, and though I finally got them all in the habit of asking for permission to get a tissue (mostly to get them speaking more English), I've since had to teach them that if their hand is dripping in goo they don't have to ask first. Rewarding participation with high-fives is too contagious so I've switched back over to "pounding it," also teaching them to pretend to miss hitting each other's high-fives, all as covert ways to decrease the spreading of germs. Nevertheless, I've been coughing up phlegm balls for two weeks now and some days my voice is on the verge of going out.

The Pingxi Rail Line, east of Taipei, has a plethora of trails that I often use as a backup when I'm too lazy to investigate other more obscure options. Saturday was one such day, as I was deciding around one in the morning after a busy Friday where to go. From my abode it takes a good two hours by train to get there. Unusual for Taipei there was a zero percent chance of rain and the new fall weather was making it look like an ideal day for a hike. I took a local train from Banqiao to Badu, then hopped on the single-track Pingxi Line to the terminal stop, Jingtong. This line, formerly used for coal transport, remains open for tourist purposes as many of the old coal mining towns in northern Taiwan have been converted into tourist destinations selling various snack foods and tchotchkes.

Jingtong Station

wishes written on bamboo

Jingtong

Jingtong

Heading back towards Pingxi station by foot, following the tracks, it was a short walk through some of the town toward the trail up to Stone Bamboo Shoot Peak.

walking along the Pingxi tracks

Jingtong

Jingtong

Much of the ascent consisted of stone steps, but after I got a bit lost on my last hike, I wasn't feeling as bothered by them as I might have otherwise. As I neared the peak though, the staircase ended and soon enough I was using fixed ropes and footholds to climb my way up some of the rougher terrain. The views along the way were mostly obscured by trees, and I missed the one lookout point mentioned in my guidebook because I got mentally distracted.

start of the trail to Stone Bamboo Shoot Peak

end of the stairs and approaching the peak

more challenging ground up to the peak

a small overhang

At the top there was a rock shaped like a small chair, along with a small, rather weathered flag of Taiwan. I anticipated having a leisurely lunch there since the weather was so nice, but there were also a number of brown paper wasps sharing the spot, and I yelped every time one got too near for comfort. I debated heading back down but an older Taiwanese couple soon approached so I stuck around, noshing, having not finished taking photos before they arrived.

a seat at the top, Stone Bamboo Shoot Peak

Stone Bamboo Shoot Peak

Heading down was a little tricky as some of the vertical parts were simple to climb up, but I had to take a moment to find the right footing to get down. Further from the top, the path got much easier and scenic, soon reconnecting with another set of stairs down to the bottom, where it also connected with the start of the trail to the next peak, Shulang.

descending, Stone Bamboo Shoot trail

descending, Stone Bamboo Shoot trail

The trail up to Shulang Peak was not so long ago destroyed by the construction a set of stone stairs leading all the way to the top, which makes it a very dull, tedious climb, and I found it especially tiring for some reason. Perhaps it was a combination of lack of sleep, food, and the utter repetition in footwork. It took about thirty minutes of non-stop steps to reach the top, where I was able to see Stone Bamboo Shoot Peak (the peak I just climbed), the Pingxi crags, and surprisingly enough all the way to Taipei with Taipei 101, now fifth tallest building in the world, visible in the distance.

the dull stone staircase that is Shulang Peak trail

almost at the summit

view of Pingxi from Shulang Peak

view of Stone Bamboo Shoot Peak from Shulang Peak

view of Taipei 101 all the way from Shulang

Near the top was a friendly group of botany hobbyists, the only other people I'd see on Shulang. They, being more mixed in age and ability, went back down the stairs while I took the barely noticeable path to the left that was rather narrow, overgrown, and steep at first but opened up a bit later on. It, however, remained extremely slippery and narrow the whole way down, and I had to tread more carefully than usual, as most of the rocks were covered in an incredibly slippery green moss and the blanketing of fallen leaves on the trail was only slightly less slippery. Luckily a number of tree limbs were perfectly placed to assist my stepping, to the point where my arms were actually a little sore the next day from bracing my weight so often. Often the path would run right along a steep vertical drop down, so that if I did slip I'd surely fall quite a ways and be stuck in utter wilderness (or dead). I took my time on these parts and didn't fixate on what was, or wasn't, below. There was no one in sight the entire way, and I spent most of the hike down in wonder of the scenery and happily singing aloud to the Twin Shadows album I recently acquired.

descending Shulang Peak trail

the rope is more protection against vertigo as to the left its a straight shot down

descending Shulang Peak trail

slippery green moss-covered rocks

After maybe forty minutes of careful footwork, I trampled my way out of the woods and reached the small town of Yikeng, only about a fifteen minute walk away from Jingtong, where I started. As little as an hour outside of Taipei's city limits Taiwan becomes a much quieter place, where dwellings and ways of living look like they haven't changed in decades. Arriving back at the train station, I saw that the next train wouldn't be arriving for almost another hour so I walked around a bit more, bought a paper bowl of stinky tofu in a sweet sauce, topped with pickled cabbage, and sat on the ledge of the platform waiting for the train. It arrived after only twenty minutes, and being the first/last stop I was able to get a seat and nap for thirty minutes before its departure back to Badu.

approaching the town of Yikeng

Yikeng

Yikeng

Yikeng

Yikeng

walking back to Jingtong, Yikeng

Something in the Air

[I'm posting this about a month later, not that it makes all that much difference.]

I finally got burned by this month's calendar, which listed SOMETHING IN THE AIR as having English subtitles, but a few minutes into the film I realized it didn't. The monthly calendars get printed well before the films arrive, so sometimes the print that shows up isn't what they expect (and Mandarin takes priority). I almost missed out on two Midi Z films months earlier because the calendar said no English subtitles, but I read an online review of the mini-retrospect that said otherwise. I guess from now on I'll have to ask before paying.

Assayas' SOMETHING IN THE AIR

I was ready to walk out once I was sure there was no English, but couldn't tear myself away (possibly fatigue from biking all day). I sat through the initial protest scene, which contained little to no dialogue, but then continued to watch, waiting for a point where language would become necessary. My skills in understanding spoken French are about equally as dismal as my ability to read Chinese, but I felt that I was able to pick up enough from how the dialogue was given: context, body language, facial expressions, tones, and what little I could decipher from both languages. I found that with the exception of a few scene, knowing the actual words spoken wasn't all that necessary, and in those exceptions I was making up my own dialogues between the characters (I'd be curious to watch the film again and see how close they parallel what they actually said, if they do at all). Maybe this is a layer of the film I was missing out on, but then it was also an experience to watch a film without focusing on the dialogue, which I tend to put too much emphasis on when reading subtitles versus listening to spoken words. In the past I've enjoyed re-watching films on mute to appreciate the images better without the distraction of sound, language, music, etc.

I had never much cared for Assayas' films, having seen BOARDING GATE, CLEAN, and IRMA VEP, the latter two at the behest of a sort of friend with largely respectable taste. Coincidentally when I was visiting New York City, not long after he had moved to Brooklyn, BAM was hosting a retrospect on Assayas' work (in conjunction with the release of CARLOS, which I had skipped seeing at Telluride, prioritizing other films instead). We met to see COLD WATER (and later HHH), which honestly I didn't know anything about but my friend had been anxious to see it for some time. I adored the film, a wondrous surprise, and finally felt I understood, or saw, what my friend liked so much about Assayas' work: nostalgic but not sentimentalized, long wandering takes on youth's earnest but almost nihilistic blend of ennui and rebellion. Assayas' admiration of Bresson was visible but without forgery.

So having skimmed some initial reviews I was eager to see Assayas do another take on post-'68 malaise. Maybe because my viewing lacked dialogue, I focused too much on how overtly glossy and pristine the images were with the mise en scene often looking like it was flipping through the pages of a J.Crew catalog. Hair was too perfectly disheveled and clothes were more runway than rugged so that the characters looked more like models (and not in the Bressonian way) than wayward youths.

casual button-up Dream Jean Genie dress, $149

About halfway through the film I was reminded of Cameron Crowe's glossy semi-autobiographical film, ALMOST FAMOUS. Much like Crowe's fairy tale account of rock music in the U.S. circa 1973, Assayas' take on French youths trying to carve out their place in 1971 society seemed too idyllic. I'm not saying that I didn't find both films enjoyable (THE DREAMERS they are not), but they felt more like entertaining romps through turbulent youth-centered moments in modern history than works that really questioned or dug into the psyche or inevitable breakdowns of their time (though SOMETHING IN THE AIR at least seemed to be trying to do so). Maybe my expectations were inflated to begin with because somewhere in those opening May riot scenes I was brought back into the opening shots of Garrel's REGULAR LOVERS, of which maybe no other film portraying that time can compare. (And I do realize that the cinematography for that film can be described as equally as lush but its style was more reminiscent of French New Wave than consumable fashion, though maybe even that too can be considered part of consumerism's insatiable ingestion of everything these days.) The characters in SOMETHING IN THE AIR and their relationships felt woefully two-dimensional, paper thin, too sweeping in their coverage of archetypes to be anything more than vague. I kept anticipating something more to come of their perambulations than just their pouting looks. Maybe the film was too subtle to catch, but likely not.

* * *

Update: I watched SUMMER HOURS last night, and though I'm not in the mood to type up a lengthy account of the film, I will say that I found it endearing. Assayas himself described it as a lighter film, a return to the simplicity and the familiar territory of his childhood, but it nevertheless throws the viewer off with its seeming simplicity. Broken into three parts and an epilogue, the film tackles the separation of three different generations through the loss of one, and it really isn't until the epilogue that this becomes surprisingly clear, and magical. Don't get me wrong, its nothing like a twist ending, just a good one to a good film.

Happy Mid-Autumn Festival

Working six days a week, I was looking forward to a four-day holiday weekend. My area has been drastically understaffed for the past two months so I've been teaching an extra ten to twenty hours a week, leaving not much time to do anything else but sleep. My morning class starts at 9:30am and I don't get home from grading my last class' homework until around 10pm, spending the off-the-clock hours doing paperwork, lesson planning, or preparing craft projects for my kindergarten class. With this ill-timed typhoon in the area, any plans for traveling or exploring have been rained out. Instead, I've been able to catch up on movie watching and studying Chinese while plumping up on the two boxes of moon cakes I received. Maybe I'll try to blog some more as well, or perambulate a museum or two. Mostly this note is here to somewhat explain why I haven't been posting.

Taipei, or how I learned to co-exist with cockroaches, then didn't, and then did

With varying degree, I have always been scared of bugs. As a child I would sometimes be paralyzed imagining that my darkened bedroom was blanketed in ants. (I think this fear came from a B-horror film cover I'd always see at the video store.) I was especially terrified of centipedes and seeing one in the basement was the only way I'd be pulled away from my video game binges. Even in adulthood, I stopped doing laundry after dark in one apartment because of cricket spider infestation.

But I've become increasingly more conscientious, and for some years now I've followed a capture-and-release policy (mosquitoes being the exception). When living in one place swarming with giant centipedes, I became very skilled at catching them in glasses, but before I'd release them outside I would force myself to look at them close up to help overcome my fear.

Asia however has been a bit trickier. Last weekend while hiking, I shrieked at what I thought was a bat swooping down at me, but it turned out to be an unusually large black butterfly. Later on that same hike, there was a four-foot snake blocking the path. I waited a little while for it to move, but when a local angered it by whacking at its tail with a stick, I turned around not wanting to see what would happen next. (Yes, I know these aren't bugs, but these incidents just show my general unfamiliarity/aversion to the animal world.)

When I was backpacking, I'd stay in places infested with ants, where I would lay in bed reading and every few minutes feel one crawling along one of my limbs. I couldn't help but flick it off, and seeing another one approaching, I'd only want to do it harm. I also had bedbugs in one place, but luckily the room had wifi and I was able to do a picture comparison to confirm my suspicion before I tried to tell myself to stop being a wuss and just accept all the little red mites under my pillow. If I accidentally discovered a giant cockroach in one of my guesthouse rooms, I would yelp in fear, but learned to calm myself down by repeating, "it's just Lee Kang-sheng, it's just Lee Kang-sheng." I had one rundown bungalow where before entering the bathroom, I would close my eyes, feel for the light switch, and wait fifteen seconds so as not to see all the roaches scurrying away.

In Taipei, cockroaches are seen as more of a common insect, much like ants in the States, and in my current apartment there are too many roaches (at least they're the small ones) to convincingly calm my nerves by naming them Lee, or even Kafka 1, Kafka 2... Kafka 16, etc. I live in an older building where they've been crawling behind the walls and underneath the floorboards unabated for decades, and the humidity of the summer months has only increased their visibility. So though I've taped up holes in the tiles and cracks in the walls, cleaned surfaces, and sealed up all my food products, I've also resorted to chemical warfare, spraying the perimeters with cancer-inducing Raid. Earlier in the summer I was squashing them in the kitchen, and suffocating the larger ones in the bathroom on sight with a solution of soapy water (they breathe through their skin), but since then I've given up, instead tending to stomp my foot beside them so they'll rush away. They dominate the kitchen and bathroom at night, but for the most part are only occasionally seen elsewhere.

I'm no longer afraid of them, but I cannot get rid of my disgust. Yes, they have a bad reputation for carrying diseases (like mosquitoes) but I still have a guilty conscience for resorting to killing them occasionally instead of just letting them be. Seeing them in the streets, public restrooms, or even in restaurants no longer bothers me, but I don't want it to get to the point where they're crawling into bed with me (I've experienced this once before and it wasn't pleasant no matter how much I tried to play it off as Lee just being frisky). So though I've become more accepting of their presence, I still at times do them harm, shattering my delusion of living guilt-free in co-existence with animals.

Lee Kang-sheng in THE HOLE

The Crags of Pingxi (Cimu Ridge, Cimu Peak, Mt. Putuo, Xiaozi) 平溪 (慈母嶺, 慈母峰, 普陀山, 孝子山)

Xiaozi (Filial Son) Peak, Pingxi

This past weekend I headed back to Pingxi to scale the crags I didn't have time to hike when I first went to Pingxi. It took three hours from my front door to the start of the trail, so I was a little worried I wouldn't have time to complete the hike before dusk, but I managed to do it under the estimated time, including the time I spent just sitting on the various peaks enjoying the scenery (and breeze). 

map at trail entrances

The trail entrances are on the main road just off old street (tourist street, rather). The first time I was here I crossed the road and turned left, quickly reaching the trailhead leading directly up to the famous crags. This time I turned right, and after about a ten minute walk down the road came to the other trail entrance, which leads up to and along Cimu Ridge, taking me to the backside of Cimu Peak (the right-hand, highlighted loop on the map above). I found this backdoor route to the Pingxi crags through Richard Saunders' essential hiking guidebook, Taipei Escapes 1. (Also, Cimu is sometimes spelled Tzmu, depending on how old the signs are.)

a bamboo forest lines the first part of the trail

Pingxi is a popular destination for tourists to write their wishes on sky lanterns and release them to the heavens; however, what goes up, must come down, and their so-called wishes litter the forest

walking along a white cliff's edge before the ridge

The trail began with some concrete stairs, then a wide dirt path, until a left turn took me up more stairs to a large white cliff's edge that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Following this up, I came to a small rope-assisted vertical scramble to the peak. The trail ended there and I was confused for a moment, but retracing my steps (carefully) back down the vertical rock, where those seemingly superfluous ropes and footholds suddenly became useful, I saw the rest of the trail just passed a map board.

scramble up to Cimu Ridge's summit

Cimu Ridge

The ridge was covered in greenery, so it didn't look at all steep or intimidating. There was also an abundance of poles, ropes, and carved-out steps and footholds in the rock to make the path safe and accessible. Mostly, I enjoyed that I didn't see or hear a single other person along the entire trail (until I reached the popular crags). The path was sometimes obscure but there were plenty of trail tags along the way, so I never felt lost, and all the trail intersections had signs with English as well.

In less than two hours of hiking I reached the saddle between Cimu and Putuo, and decided to climb up Mt Putuo first, being the highest and offering views of the two more picturesque crags.

hiking to the summit of Mt Putuo

The path was safeguarded with rope railings and the bare rock of the crag made for an impressive sight. With three summits so close in proximity (four trails all meet at the bottom - one leading nowhere), it almost feels like a playground area for hikers. After reaching the summit of Mt Putuo, I headed down and up to Cimu Peak. On Cimu's summit there were three trails. The one at the back lead down a steep carved-rock staircase and an extremely narrow path along the side of the crag. This lead to the scariest part of all: crossing a hammock-like rope-bridge that didn't look as stable as it was. If it gave out, I would surely have slid down to my slow death, and though I felt a little tough for braving the crossing, I was followed a little while later by a middle-aged Taiwanese couple who didn't think anything of it.

I will let a few more pictures speak for themselves. Scaling all three didn't take more than an hour including relaxing at the tops. I definitely recommend this longer, less-traveled, route to reach the crags.

view of Cimu (Loving Mother) Peak from Mt Putuo

Cimu Peak

a steep descent, Xiaozi Peak

view of Pingxi from Xiaozi Peak

atop Xiaozi Peak

Guanyin (Goddess of Mercy), in the open area where all the peak trails meet

Getting there: take a "local" TRA train from Taipei to Badu (or Ruifang), and then switch to a Pingxi Line train and get off at Pingxi. Local trains leave Taipei every 10 to 20 minutes, but the Pingxi trains are every 45 minutes, so try to catch a local train that won't leave you waiting too long in Badu (you can search train schedules easily via the Taiwan Railways Timetable website).

Returning, try to catch the Pingxi train as it heads in the opposite direction of Badu, the next stop being the end of the line. This way, you get to wait in AC and have a better chance of getting a seat, as the train just heads right back towards Badu.

Erziping (Yangmingshan National Park) 二子坪 (陽明山國家公園)

Erziping Recreational Park

Erziping is one of the more popular destinations in Yangmingshan National Park. The 1.7 km Erziping Trail (二子坪步道) to the recreational park, is both stroller and wheelchair accessible, making it a pleasant escape from Taipei for families on weekends.

Erziping Visitor Center (trail entrance)

Erziping Trail

Erziping Trail

Being so, the trail is far from challenging, but seeing as it was the day after a major typhoon, with rain in the afternoon forecast, I figured it was a good day to check out an easier, scenic route. Plus, in Yangmingshan NP, there's no lack of trails to get lost on. It's also the tail-end of butterfly season, so I was keeping my eye out for small movements more so than I usually do when sweating my way along more arduous hiking routes.

butterfly season

Erziping Recreational Park

My friend and I quickly reached the recreational park and, having left our non-existent spawns at home, only spent a few minutes there before we were anxious to see what other trails we could find. So we headed toward Mount Miantian (面天山). 

hikers, Mount Miantian

amazingly huge dragonflies

a hungry caterpillar

The first part of the hike was much like Erziping Trail: flat forest trails, canopied by trees. But when we turned up the path toward the 979m-high summit we encountered a seemingly endless, twisting ascent of stone steps. Hiking dehydrated, on five hours of sleep, with only a small bowl of cereal in my belly was not exactly ideal, and as the shade of trees gave way to uncovered paths of overgrown silvergrass whipping us in the face as an unhindered sun baked our skin, we started grumbling and slowing down, caked in sweat. The unusually clear day did yield an impressive view of Taipei (from near the top) and of the entire northern coast of Taiwan (from the summit). Under other conditions the path is fairly easy if you set a good pace, and only took about thirty minutes of climbing.

hiking up Mount Miantian

microwave reflector antennas atop Mount Miantian 

Remembering the map at the shuttle bus stop we both knew there was another mountain we had to climb if we wanted to do a loop instead of turning back. But luckily Mount Miantian and Mount Xiangtian (向天山) are connected (earning the nickname, the camelback peaks) with only a relatively small dip between their peaks.

view of Mt Miantian from Mt Xiangtian

The striking difference in vegetation between the silvergrass on the northern face of Xiangtian (at the bottom of the above picture, where I'm standing) and the broadleaf forest on the southern face of Miantian (that I'm facing) is caused by the northeastern monsoon winds, which makes growth difficult on north slopes. This contrast is common among the many volcanic mountains in Yangmingshan NP. And this also meant that our descent down Xiangtian's southern slope would be shaded in forest!

one of MANY intimidating spiders

forest on Mount Xingtian

forest on Mount Xiangtian

At the bottom of Mount Xiangtian is the cleverly named Xiangtian pond, a crater lake that is normally quite shallow, if not dry, because of the highly water-permeable ground it rests on. But because of the typhoon earlier in the weekend, we got to see it in one of its deeper states.

Xiangtian Pond

The pond and its immediate surrounding area reminded me of Tarkovsky's STALKER for whatever reason.

a tiny frog resting on a blade of silvergrass, Xiangtian Pond

From here we were able to loop back around to the start of Mount Miantian's ascent path and head back to Erziping, catching a wild shuttle bus ride back to the park's entrance just as the clouds began to darken.

* * *

Getting there: from Taipei Main Station take bus 260 to the end of the line (Yangmingshan National Park), then shuttle bus 108 to the Erziping stop. Alternately, 小 15 bus from Jiantan or Shilin MRT runs on weekends(?) to various stops around the park, but not directly to Erziping (transfer to 108).

There are maps with English, showing various routes, distances, and estimated hiking times near the visitor centers. I usually take a photo of these in case I want to check back or change routes, but there are also plenty of sign posts at trail intersections with English and distances to the nearest destination.