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Another guide-cooked supper went down like rain on a giraffe's
neck, though something was not right. Three of our group plus a
guide (the same guide that had earlier helped me to the peak) still
haven't returned. They should have returned from their final peak
ascent a few minutes before me, but haven't. Missing are the most
experienced climber of our group, and two less experienced but capable
hikers. Though uncomfortable with their absence, I still found it
in myself to eat well. First one, and now a second of the guides
head back up the mountain in the dark, in search of their colleague
and his charges. Eventually a call comes through on the radio that
the hikers had been found and that all was all right. It turned
out that their choice of taking a secondary trail to save some time
had not panned out - tired, thirsty and hungry, they return safely
a few hours after the rest of the group.
I am confident that my second night at 2699m would offer a better sleep
than the first - after all, how could it be worse? Even with a full
day of hiking under my feet, I feel my confidence quickly fade as I
see that nearly all forty of the beds filled with potential snorers.
Another headache begins and steadily grows in intensity throughout the
night, only worsened by a chorus of snores coming from left and right,
near and far. Knowing that our wakeup call won't be delivered until
6am, I accept the night for what it is and eventually find some sleep.
A morning Advil and some warm water eventually help me shake my headache.
Sunday morning brings cloudy and cool weather, perfect for our steep
descent back to the trailhead. The highlights of the previous day more
than washed away the memories of the first day, making our return down
the same trail feel like a first look. I am again impressed by the diversity
of the forest and the abundance of rock. One of my favourite aspects
of hiking in the tropics is the power that altitude has - it can render
latitude irrelevant. Around 1500m I am walking through a forest similar
to those I've walked in western Canada, with the exception of a few
hardy ferns and other tropical peculiarities.
My worn-out feet and legs lead me down the trail, and happily guide
me through the final steeps of the trail, back onto flat ground again.
I reward them with fresh socks and foam slippers. Full of joy, I once
again prepare my pack, this time for the trip home. Talk bounces throughout
the group of personal highlights and memories … anticipation of
photos to come for the film users among us. The only interruption on
the trip home is a brief stop at a mountainside restaurant, where the
Taiwanese rite of food on the mountain is fulfilled. By sundown we are
back in crowded, rainy Taipei, ready for another week of life in the
big city. But before we allow life to resume its regular pace, we stop
at Tapas, a favourite hangout for some Belgians and reminiscence. We
are thankful for the healthy legs, backs and eyes that helped us enjoy
a truly remarkable piece of Taiwan.
The very professional guides that led this trip
have a Chinese-language
website, and can be emailed here.
One of the guides is able to speak and read English -- please don't
contact them if you are expecting fluent English guiding from all
guides from the bottom of the trail to the top and back. Please do
contact them if you'd like help in getting into Taiwan's big mountains,
the same mountains that require guides and the sometimes elusive "Class
A" mountain permit.
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