Taroko Gorge the Hard Way

(This post was written a week ago and left unfinished until now. I hope you forgive the fact I didn't edit it to account for time.)

Sore doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling. A more apt description would be a bit of an idiot. Poor Choices, thy name is Clara.

In the past year I have made countless decisions. Sadly, a lot of them have had unexpectedly unpleasant results, even if they were carefully considered. Laos is a shining example of this. ("Oh, hey, what did you and Emily do in Laos?" Answer: pretty much nothing.) Or the fact that I worked a horrible job for eight months that I hated. Those are the two worst examples but there have been many other--too many other--smaller, less troublesome decisions that haven't turned out as I would've liked, to say the least. For instance, leaving Singapore on Chinese New Year's Eve only to wind up doing absolutely nothing exciting in Kuala Lumpur. That was a major bummer. Or taking the bus from Hanoi to Vientiane. While it makes a good story now, it was a terrible decision that I will never repeat. I'm shuddering at the very mention of that trip.

Don't get me wrong--I've made a lot of decisions that have ended up for the better and had all-around amazing results. (Hello, South Korea. It was a pleasure.) And, despite all this poor decision making, I can't find myself regretting any of it. However, Wednesday's unthinking choice was pretty awful.

I've been in Taiwan for a week visiting family friends in TienMou and catching up with fellow English teachers in Taipei. On Tuesday I decided to head out to the quiet eastern coastal town of Hualien. I had no plans for the town other than to use it as a gateway to Taroko Gorge, which came highly recommended as one of the most magnificent and beautiful places in Taiwan. So, Wednesday, I got up early with the intention of doing a little hiking, some picture-taking and spending some time enjoying a natural wonder. All went to plan for the first few hours.

And then it didn't.

One of the lovely staff members at my hostel had recommended walking a small section of the gorge. He said it was a popular way to see the national park, gave me a map, outlining the path and quoting the appropriate bus times. As I've done little exercise in my year abroad, I thought walking sounded wonderful. The weather in Taiwan had been beautiful and the path the hostel worker had indicated was only about 6 kilometers (3.75 miles) which is an easy distance.

After an hour and a half on a bus, I arrived in the middle of the national park all set to start walking. I had a map, a sandwich, some crackers, three small bottles of water and my tunes. The sun was scorching but a strong wind kept the heat from becoming overpowering and the gorge was just as stunning as my friends had said. It was looking to be a great day.

Both the guy at my hostel and my guidebook had mentioned that a lot of people choose to walk the gorge, so I was under the impression that there was a nice, winding path to follow back down to the park entrance. I was wrong. While there are a few paths that diverge from the road, snaking around the outside of long tunnels, all of them were closed due to falling rocks. I was left to hazard the narrow mountain roads, no sidewalk or shoulder to safely distance myself from the multitude of cars, tour buses and motorbikes and only short guardrails to prevent me from plunging into the rocky gorge. Luckily, there were frequent pagodas atop steep outcroppings to wander up to and one open, woodsy path that meandered along above the road for a few kilometers. I happily availed myself of these diversions, taking a few pictures here and there, for the next few hours.

Taroko Gorge is the kind of place that makes you wonder why fantasy and science fiction authors pull from their minds new, fantastical places when the Earth is full of incredible, often unbelievable, natural beauty. It's the kind of place where your jaw drops of its own accord and you can hardly believe it's real. Looking down you see a brisk, running river and enormous, impossibly smooth rocks all swathed in swirling slate blues, warm grays and shocking whites. Tilt your head up and the view jumps to looming mountains, covered in dense, dark green forests that disappear into low-hanging, wispy clouds. And the whole places sings with life--the low hum and buzz of the countless crickets, the high twitters and shrieks of the various birds, the steady rush of the the water, and the whoosh and whistles of the wind. It all comes together in a constant, rhythmic song that soothes the harried souls of wayward travelers (or, at least, it did for this wayward traveler).

After peacefully making my way down the park for a few hours I came to the place where I was told I could catch a bus back to Hualien. Only I couldn't find the bus stop. I'd passed a few on my journey and knew what to look for but still I couldn't find one. It was early yet, so I decided to keep walking, hoping to stumble upon the next stop.

There wasn't one at the next tourist pull out. As I said, they day was bright and beautiful and it was still early afternoon, so I kept on walking. Eventually, after several more kilometers, I came to a bus stop. When I asked a park worker when the next bus going to Hualien was she told me not for another two hours. Again, I kept on walking. And walking. And walking.

The gung-ho attitude and sunny energy that I'd started with soon fled me with each added kilometer traversed. My stride slowed and my interest in the park waned. I quickly grew weary of all the cars speeding along within inches of me and the long, dark tunnels where the wind and vehicles sounded as if airplanes were zooming toward me from all sides.


Both the guy at my hostel and my guidebook claimed that this walk from the center of the park all the way back to the entrance, which was around 19 kilometers (roughly 12 miles), was a popular way to see the gorge. All lies, I tell you. There was no one walking except for me. I began to notice people giving me looks of disbelief and then, strangely, lots of grins and thumbs up. Somewhere along the way I had lost track of where I was and how far I had walked.

The day grew longer and then I began to see signs for the park entrance. I hadn't set out to walk 19 kilometers (or anywhere near that distance) so those signs, clear evidence that I had no choice but to continue the journey as I had to be almost done with it (right?), shocked me a little. All I could think about was why was I still walking? Where were the bus stops?

About six hours after I'd started walking, I stumbled out of the park, feeling stupid, ridiculous and not a little exhausted and dehydrated. How do these things happen to me? Really, somebody please tell me. I set out to walk maybe four miles and end up walking more than 12? Not cool. My legs ached and the rubber soles of my shoes had started coming off. To make it worse the park headquarters were on top of a steep hill, so I slowly made my way up, hoping to catch the next bus out only to be told that the bus stop was in the little town at the bottom of the hill.


I still feel silly and I'm not sure I'd do it over, but the first half of the day was exceptionally pleasant, so, again, I can't really regret the day. Plus, I now get to say I survived the trip and experienced Taroko Gorge from a perspective most people don't even consider.