DAY ONE It is late spring when my
motley band of companions and I arrive
at the foot of Xueshan, Taiwan’s second
tallest peak, after a half-hour drive along
narrow, winding roads from Wuling Farm.
The morning of our climb is a cold,
wet one, with white, unrelenting fog.
My backpack already feels like a
deadweight on my shoulders, immovable
and solid against my spine.
The climb begins with blocks of stone
paths that soon disintegrate into moist,
zig-zagging dirt tracks that squelch
underfoot. The rising altitude quickly
begins to squeeze my lungs dry.
The ecology in the lower parts of
Xueshan is abundant: soft green moss
encapsulating rock faces, mini waterfalls
flowing through mounds of leaves and
gravel, alpine slopes peppered with loud,
purple blossoms, beautiful networks of
tree roots woven into the dirt.
Two kilometres and about an hour in,
we pass Qika Lodge - the first of Xueshan’s
sparse accommodation - a white, woodenhut outside which a small congregation of
hikers have gathered to rest.
At the four-kilometre mark where the
sharp rise of Crying Slope begins, I can
see how it derived its ominous moniker.
The short but intimidatingly precipitous
stretch is a craggy, winding path strewn
with branches and crumbling gravel,
making for a tough upward scramble.
Soon, I am huffing and puffing onto
the 3201-metre East Peak, atop which a
glorious wooden plaque announces my
very first mountainous achievement.
Struck by the breathtaking view before
me, the tough hike seems worth all the
effort now. Rolling green plains rise and
fall before us as far as the eye can see,
fading into the wall of fog. Yonder, the
mist-shrouded tips of mountains beckon.
Along the gradual, easier descent, I
soon glimpse 369 Lodge, a cluster of
three huts nestled in a dip in the slopes:
a pungent outhouse, a long rectangular
main hut and below a flight of wooden
steps, a little cookhouse.I step into the living quarters, leading
off to two gloomily lit rectangular rooms,
with patchy, stained ceilings and small
windows. Two wooden platforms, above
and below, line each side of the room,
with numbered sleeping spots and small
notches in the bed frame to clamber
onto the upper deck.
At dusk, the toasty kitchen below is
thick with the aroma of hot dinner: a
clear pork and bamboo broth, simmering
pumpkin stew, fried home-grown long
beans, cubes of greasy Chinese sausage
and freshly-brewed sweet ginger tea.
The foggy blackness at night is all-
encompassing; headlamps only afford
barely a few feet of visibility. Sleep is
futile for me as a cacophony of snoring,
coughing and rustling erupts.DAY TWO Our mission the next day is
Xueshan’s mighty Main Peak.
The trail seems less strenuous
today, forging a meandering path up
that helps strip away the strain of theDay 1: 0815 Day 1: 0830
Day 1: 0930 Day 1: 1000 Day 1: 1415