Taiwan Rocks

Taiwan, laying astride the Eurasian and Philippines Plates, boasts some stunning scenery of both volcanic and tectonic origins. The moving earth has also yielded up some of its mineral riches. Our trip to the north coast on Day 2 was intended to explore both Taiwan's natural wonders and what people have done with this inheritance.

Before our trip, we looked up the Taipei weather forecast for the duration of our visit. It made for some grim reading. There was almost always a line of five grey clouds - yellow circles peered out from behind some, yellow zigzags issued from others. Their only common mark were the blue droplets that flowed from beneath them. Every other day, we would check it again, switching from one website to another in the hope of getting a more favourable forecast. We made an art of clutching at straws. Day 2 would have been one of those predicted grey days. We were never happier to be disappointed. The only way to learn that 'weather forecast' is an oxymoron would be to actually check them.

We met Mr L, our driver for Days 2 and 3, at eight in the morning. The cheerful, avuncular Mr L hailed from Taichung, and confessed that he hasn't been to Taipei and its environs for nearly twenty years. He  then confidently produced his GPS, and announced that he had, however, done his homework the previous evening.

We spent the next forty minutes going around in circles.

Nearly two hours after leaving our hotel, we arrived at Yehliu Geopark (野柳地質公園). Here wind, water and the weekend have all combined to bring together a collection of fantastically-shaped rocks and an unceasing stream of visitors. We don't recall seeing this many tour buses (two full carpark-loads) gathered together at a single place. Many came to see the Queen's Head, a particular formation that resembles, well, a queen's head. Nefertiti's, to be more exact.

Yehliu Geopark reached into the East China Sea on a narrow, rocky cape which rose at its northern extremity to a turtle-shaped headland. A lighthouse stood atop this headland, but most visitors don't make it so far. Many are content to jostle for photo-spots within the two clusters of formations closer to the entrance. A thin red line ran along the seaward perimeter of these two clusters, beyond which visitors are not allowed to venture. These precautionary measures were policed, literally, by whistle-blowers - park staff in yellow vests who used their whistles liberally to alert any transgressors. It gave the area the atmosphere of what amounted to a cross between a training ground and a riot scene.

Below: Yehliu rocks, honeycombed rocks, crowded rocks, over-rated rocks. Can you spot the Queen's Head? No, that's not a pub.

When we had our fill of sun, sea and swarm, we headed for the old mining townships of Jiufen and Jinguashi. Jiufen was strung out along a single winding road which switchbacked its way up a steep hillside - great news for coastal vistas, bad news for knees. Settled in the early Qing period, the village was named after the number of portions needed, whenever supplies arrived, to sustain the original nine families who dwelled in the village. It played host to an influx of prospectors from 1893 when gold was discovered the area, and developed into a prosperous little town under Japanese supervision. As with nearly all Japanese-influenced economic activities, the mining industry declined after the Pacific War. The kiss of life which resuscitated the flagging economic fortunes of the area was subsequently provided by a late 1980s film shot in the vicinity.

We thought we had left most of the tour buses behind when we left Yehliu. Little did we expect to wade right into yet another metal morass, this time comprised mostly of cars and taxis. After lunch, Mary and her mother went off to explore the Old Street, while I set out to tackle the pyramidal 588-metre Mount Keelung. A half-hour slog up the extinct volcano was rewarded with sweeping 360-degree panoramas - northwards, the confluence of sea and sky; both eastwards and westwards, the craggy northern Taiwan coastline; and finally southwards, rows of serrated blue shadows which represented distant mountainous ridges. Most of those who attempted the stiff climb were locals, of whom a surprising number looked middle-aged and above.

Below: atop Mount Keelung, even the seven dwarves were blown away by the views.

Once I rejoined Mary and her mother, we proceeded eastwards to Jinguashi, the heart of the gold mining industry up to the 1940s. A quick walk around the Gold Ecological Park took us through the impressively spruced up mining village, complete with the former Japanese residences, the chalet of the Japanese Crown Prince, abandoned rail tracks and one restored tunnel. There also stood the customary neo-classical, left-leaning miners monument - showing three muscular miners helping up their stricken counterpart - which commemorated their (read: socialist) solidarity in the face of toil (read: capitalist-imperialist exploitation).

Below: Going for gold in Jinguashi.

Jinguashi's chief draw for us (definitely for me) was Golden Falls (黄金瀑布), so named for the appearance of the riverbed beneath the falls. However, it is the more unremarkable iron hydroxide in the soil and not gold which gave rise to such colouration. The same river stains the bay into which it empties a pale yellow. The contrast with the deep blue of the surrounding sea begets the name Yinyang Sea. It was easier to see the phenomenon from further up in the hills than from the seaside promenade, where it took on a more diluted aspect.

Below: the grim, Dickensian charm of an abandoned copper smelting facility near the Jinguashi coast.

Daylight ran out by the time we were done with Jinguashi, and we returned to Taipei. It was a good first day trip. We never doubted Mr L's sincerity, his local knowledge notwithstanding. That is one thing which has always impressed us about Taiwan. Step into any shop or restaurant, and you'll invariably be greeted with a 欢迎光临 (welcome) that seems more often sung than said. Smiles do not turn into scowls when you walk out not buying anything. But we were concerned for our next day trip on the following day, which would take us south into the mountains - we only hoped to get out of Taipei at the first attempt.