Hiking DaBaJian Shan (DaBaChien Shan) in ShueiBa National Park, Taiwan

I reluctantly heed my second alarm's 5:13 call. I peer out the window to check the weather … clear. Clearly black that is - sunrise is still at least an hour away in Taipei. Tired from a late night of preparations, I'm at least happy that my oversized underpacked pack is ready to go. Other than a leaky Camelbak and an unsettling feeling that I'm not really ready for extreme weather, I feel well prepared. The challenge … the 3492m peak of DaBaJian Shan (also written DaBaChien Shan, meaning Big Chief Mountain) in ShueiBa National Park, Hsinchu County.

The taxi ride to Taipei Train Station is fast as traffic is light. A pink sunrise looks great, but the old sailor's adage keeps me second-guessing my gear. Before long, we fourteen hikers and three guides are on our mini-sized, mini-amenity bus - aside from televisions and microphones for karaoke, it isn't well equipped for anything. Not even a bathroom for passengers who should be trying hard to hydrate.

An hour on the BeiErGao Freeway brings us to ChuDong, the northern gateway city to ShueiBa and DaBa. The last 7/11 we will see for three days does brisk business from ours and likely other hiking groups. Though the drive from ChuDong to the DaBa trailhead isn't geographically far, we need more than three hours to cover the steep, narrow, winding road leading us there. My earlier concerns about the weather were looking like a waste of energy, for now at least - clear crisp autumn skies painted the forests beautiful shades of green with flashes of orange and red highlights.

With XiaoHei (Little Black), our more than qualified head guide, leading us up the trail, the hike begins. I am impressed with both the size of his pack, and also the slow but steady pace he sets. Some thought the pace was too slow, but having successfully climbed Everest twice, nobody in the group dares challenge his decisions. The steep trail quickly progressed through different forest types. Unlike many other trails I've hiked in Taiwan, this trail actually offers great views along the way of forest AND distant valleys and mountains. Rest stops along the way are well spaced, allowing us to keep a steady pace and rest, renourish and rehydrate when necessary.

After four hours of steady climbing, we reach Hostel 99, situated at 2699 metres above sea level. The distance is only about 3 1/2 kilometres, but the steep grade takes its toll on legs and lungs. The clear blue sky was beginning to change its hue, indicating the fast approaching sunset. This high in the mountains, it doesn't take long for the sun to drop behind a distant wall of mountains.

While we familiarize ourselves with the basic offerings of 99, namely a warehouse style bunker for forty sleepers and a very rustic outhouse, the guides prepare our meal. Though we all shared the weight and bulk of the food heading up, the guides were responsible for lugging all of the cooking gear and other necessary precautions our remote location necessitate. Soon after sundown a hot nutritious meal warms our bellies and helps convince our tired bodies it is indeed time to rest. With a two AM wakeup call not far away all hikers are in bed well before any Taiwanese city might fall asleep.

Good intentions weren't enough though, as the effects of mild altitude sickness and the very real effects of echoing snores kept me and many others awake throughout the night. To me, the very early wakeup call came as more of a relief than a burden.

We were now standing on the final lookout, DaBa now looking much more dominant and impressive than any photo I've ever seen suggested. A steep burst of shale rock, with equally steep shale cliffs giving away DaBa's secret that he is breaking apart bit by bit as each day passes. Down a narrow spine of a ridge, DaBa's smaller brother sits, just as majestically, just as steep, but not quite as tall. Due to the extensive mountaineering experience of our guides, we are given the option of climbing the smaller peak, the larger, or both. After the obligatory photos at the lookout, I made way for the second peak. Even in full daylight it wasn't totally apparent how one would actually climb DaBa, or even get to XiaoBa for that matter.

The metal frame walkway extending across a dangerous, windy col (high pass between two peaks) separating the lookout and DaBa's peak, made this walk a little safer. A fall to either side of this narrow ridge would be painful to say the least. Beyond the safety of this frame, I found myself on a path, barely the width of my foot in places, directly under the main peak. With a bottomless, steep shale slope to the right, and drops of water oozing out of the mountain above, this was not a place to linger. Shale slopes happen because rocks fall down from the peak - I was in prime position to get 'rocked.' Fortunately I and the others all crossed this section safely - it was likely easier than it appeared, but I feel relieved to be across in one piece.

The trail forks, leading to each of the separate peaks with nearly 1km of trail separating the two peaks. With about seven others, I take the right branch towards XiaoBa, leaving the others to challenge the main peak. The ridge was an interesting, certainly more challenging than the rest of the hike, though with care we all cross successfully. As we near the peak a vertical rock face, with a few thousand feet of nothing directly below, confronts us. A single rope dangles as the sole means of support, not enough to inspire confidence in my weakening knees. The hiker in front has some serious misgivings about taking that step … that step that must be taken confidently … that step that you take hundreds of time in a hike … that step that is a lot more difficult for the weekend hiker to take when it is on a cliff than on the flat. Eventually the stern encouragement (and strong hand) of our guide leads her into taking that step and the few following ones that were required to get her into the next wedge. With a little help from some other hikers I take the same steps shortly after. Though the moments of sunrise are the scenic memories of the hike, these steps are the steps that I won't soon forget.

Finally past, I am alone on my way to the top. Though others from the group had already reached the peak and were now heading across to the big one, I am alone, with nobody in sight as I am about to reach the highest place that I will have ever stood on Earth. Exhilaration? Relief? No. Nervous and uncomfortable would probably describe my emotions better - maybe even strangely disappointed - ever since I was a young child, I had heard and read stories of people reaching mountain tops, figuratively and literally. It always sounded so good … so exciting. Yet as I scramble from rock to rock up to a peak that I can't yet see, I feel legitimate fear. Even after reaching the narrow tabletop of a peak at 3418m, I still don't have that "on top of the world" feeling that I have been told so much about. Is it because the taller DaBa peak was less than 1km away? I don't think so. I don't even feel comfortable standing up in the most central, "safe" part of this shale mountain peak. The view seems just as good, if not better back at the lookout. What I consider to be my first true mountain ascent, from bottom to top, now feels a little disappointing. After a few more photos (maybe not coincidentally some of the worst on the trip) are snapped, I am ready for the descent. Happy to be heading for lower ground, I move confidently over the same rocks that I hesitated on during my ascent.

Part of the reason that I opted out of the DaBa group was that I had been told that there were some very difficult, time-consuming parts of the climb. However, after ascending and descending the smaller peak, I still have to wait nearly two hours for the bigger peak summiteers to finish. A steep cliff and a large overhanging rock necessitate ropes and harnesses as a safety precaution. I watch number of these climbers drop down, rappelling past the overhang and back down to the trail with mixed feelings about my choice not to climb this peak. Would I have felt better if I had gone for the big one, or would it have been just as unsettling? Maybe I'll never know. I try to shake these thoughts and enjoy the view.

With peaks climbed and goals achieved, it is time to congratulate each other, and contemplate the return trip. Thanks to our early start, I had finished my ascent by 9:30am. After a long wait for the other group, we finally return to the upper mountain hut, just below the lookout ridge, in the early afternoon. Hours earlier I had dropped off my pack here - though I enjoyed simply carrying my camera bag, I would have been well served by the hat, sunscreen, food and water that were left behind. (Altitude impaired judgment?)

As I walk away from the peaks, I begin to realize just how special the view from the top was. The photographer in me was disappointed with the quality of the light, but I was thrilled with the clarity of the air, and the fact that I could, in daylight, see virtually the entire trail that we walked in the dark of night. Though the mere 7km doesn't sound like much, seeing the trail being passed from ridge to ridge in front of my eyes, I gained a heightened appreciation for my vantage and good fortune. I reflect that in my extensive travels throughout Taiwan, I have never seen a view that could compare.

The experienced guides again set a controlled pace, realizing that more than four hours still separate us from our temporary home at 2699m. During the coming hours we climb and descend many metres, making the gross elevation change more significant than the net change. Tired legs and bodies begin to make noise … the unrelenting final climb of the return trip, which had been the first relief-offering descent only hours earlier takes a serious toll on energy levels throughout the group.

With each step away from the peak I gain more and more satisfaction with my accomplishment, and am happy to be nearing home. For others, there were more peaks to be had, as the opportunity to bag up to four of Taiwan's 100 Peaks, a treasured group of mountains that break the 3000m mark, was one that couldn't be easily cast aside. Some are willing to expel the extra steps and energy to make these additional peaks, but I am not.

In the end, I relearned a lesson that I didn't need to learn again - mountains are generally more fun to climb than to descend, especially when the descent is steep and rocky. With legs and ankles tiring after more than twelve hours of mountain walking, the final hour is very challenging. The weather that I had worried about so much before the hike proved a non-factor, even sporadically offering glimpses of magical mountain light throughout the late afternoon. Long after leaving it, I finally return to Hostel 99 at about 4:30 on Saturday afternoon. A change of clothes and a slow, deliberate stretch later, I head to the easily reachable sunset point. Though twenty four hours earlier I had avoided this crowded point in (successful) search of a quieter, more open view, I am satisfied with watching the sun drop over the distant peaks along with the crowd of digicam toting others. The same sea of clouds that had been festering in the valleys below all day long was now boiling out of control, swirling winds painting an ever-changing picture in the last minutes of light.

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.