M
R LIAO AND MS YANG,
a young couple from the
city of Taichung, have
staked out a corner of
Baisha Beach. A line of
seashells stuck in the sand marks the limit
of their miniature kingdom, and just beyond
it is an awning covering two beach chairs,
two coconuts stuck with straws and two
Pomeranians on supposed guard-dog duty.
The beach covers a quarter-mile stretch of
the Hengchun Peninsula – the southern goal
of many weekending Taiwanese. ‘We come
here twice a year,’ says Ms Yang. ‘We like
this beach as there are fewer people here
than the others.’ She joins her boyfriend in
a sea painted several shades of beckoning
blue, while the dogs blink their way to sleep.
The peninsula is centred on the small
town of Kenting; lying 100 miles into the
- Kenting
Finish off where Taiwanese go to unwind, where the island tapers to a point among
beaches, forest parks and a few oddities, manmade and natural
tropics, its beach season lasts for most of the
year. The coastal road passes resorts where
surfers and scuba divers suit up in front of
houses painted in eye-popping colours. The
novelty architecture that seems ever-present
is matched by nature’s own quirks: the
flames of Chuhuo are an eternal fire fed by
natural gases, while on the southern shore,
the giant boulder called Sail Rock is also
known as Nixon Rock – its stubby-nosed
shape appears to show the former US
president glowering at the South China Sea.
Most of the land here has been listed for
the past three decades as Kenting National
Park. For every stretch of development,
there are more untouched tracts. At the
Longpan Cliffs, a path leads to a lookout
over a wild shore where the wind comes in
from the Pacific full in the face. Back inland
are meadows grazed by sika deer, andforests home to Formosan rock macaques,
wild boars and endangered pangolins.
The jungle is largely inaccessible to
visitors, but at the Kenting National Forest
Recreation Area, trails and boardwalks make
matters easier. Today, forest specialist Davie
Chen is driving around, checking for storm
damage after a recent typhoon. He stops by a
venerable weeping fig that’s passed through
unscathed. ‘We call these walking trees
because they look like they’re moving,’ he
says. Spindly air roots hang down from the
branches, gathering ambient moisture, but
when they touch the ground, they become
rooted and turn into new supporting trunks.
Further on, Davie points out a looking-
glass mangrove with giant buttress roots that
resemble flags waving in the wind, and a
hefty bishopwood that is slowly enveloping
another tree. These are the superheroes – orMs Yang and Mr Liao test
out the shallows of Baisha
Beach – the name literally
means ‘white sand’