penghu: ugly island

I recently dragged my menopausal mother to the PENGHU Islands in the Taiwanese Strait. Lonely Planet claims Penghu is a ‘popular summertime destination for its white sandy beaches, swimming, camping, windsurfing and beautiful coral beaches,’ and ‘a trip through history with its preserved fishing villages and beautiful temples.’ Other claims are the islands have a beautiful, windswept landscape contrasting from Taiwan’s mountainous tropics.

After a four day sentence we have renamed Penghu UGLY ISLAND, primarily for its barren landscape of debris and trash, but also for its devastating lack of trees and geographical contrast. Flat, empty, and covered in mutilated pine tree stumps. Contrary to Lonely Planet’s claims that camping is permitted, Penghu is a strategic and contentious military base located between Taiwan and China. Military training programs mean no beach access, so we spent the first night in a fluorescent-lit, mosquito-filled, white-tiled room. To escape impending claustrophobia, we ventured to the annual Fireworks Festival/Mother’s Day Variety Show with a crowd of 30,000 (great for my Australian mother who thinks Mother’s Day is a day for everyone else to piss off and give her some long deserved peace). The event coincided with the birthday of a very important god (obviously), because he was made entirely of glowing plastic, with a green laser-beam coming out of his third eye, fire and bubbles shooting out of his hands, and a stand adorned with flashing blue-diamond bonsais. The nearby river glowed with the reflection of a neon rainbow bridge, and we were privy to wannabe rock stars, school choirs, nonsensical English ballads, and divinely, crackling fireworks. I eventually realised however that I was the local freak show, finding myself surrounded by TV cameras, bright lights and Chinese questions. Luckily my mother jumped in front of me (in true Leo style), and yes, we made National Taiwan News - the crazed white woman and the gypsy mute.

The next day we left Penghu’s ‘civilization’ for the nearby island of Chipei. Arrival brought the vision of a true nuclear landscape - flattened plains of landfills and dust, intense winds, scorching heat, heavy smog, few surviving plants or buildings, and a coastline littered with the debris of destroyed tombs (which I later found out is intentional – after drying out the bones of the ancestors, they should be kept closer to home). Forget about campgrounds with running water, beach-front cafes, swinging hammocks, tropical cocktails, and ripples licking golden sands. Chipei meant camping alone in a small, solitary patch of pine trees and rubbish (with no books, music, games or extended company), severe sunstroke and headaches, violent sandstorms, and shores littered with hissing, twisting sea snakes.

We were facing three days of utter abjection and each other. My mother began by blaming me for the geographical deficiencies and lack of ‘Keep Penghu Beautiful’ campaigns. She informed me I had some “hare-brained ideas,” partnered by the more vehement “when you reach my age, you are going to regret the suffering you put me through.” To ensure her prophecy comes true, I made her ride on the back of a 100cc scooter, strung in handbags, travel-packs, sleeping bags, a 4-man tent and an IKEA mattress.

The lowest points however were our mealtime tensions and conflicts. Chipei is incredibly remote and survives primarily on a staple of rice and fish - my mother is allergic to both, and my Chinese is seriously limited. Somehow we ended up on a diet of giant snails and sea-urchin pancakes, which I have discovered to be the most effective laxatives after magic mushrooms. Great for camping without a trowel, without toilet paper, and without bathrooms or running water for miles.

.my overall feeling about being trapped on penghu


.my mother's overall feeling about the landscape


.a very important god, and his very important birthday


.punters snapping shots of the god!


.the neon rainbow!


.enjoying the mothers' day festivities!


.overview of ugly island


.enjoying a scenic, coastal ride!


.debris from the opened graves!


.enjoying a bit of nature at the campsite!


.torching shells for a delicious snack!


.mum is all ready for pie, pie, pie, gobble gobble gobble!


.a good reason not to go swimming or barefooted in the sand!


.some small treasures amongst the trash


.a walk along the beach!


.enjoying a bit of quality mother-daughter time ...


.filling the hours with as many facial expressions as possible!
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stake out at hi-life

The next scooter-less trip Miss Canada and I took was to ALISHAN NATIONAL PARK, which hosts Taiwan’s highest mountain peaks. After working a full day Friday, we took a night bus down to the park, arriving to minus degree temperatures at around 2am. After about an hour of wandering through the dark and abandoned streets of the Alishan Forest Recreation Area, searching at first for a Catholic Hostel, then for anything, we realised not a single accommodation option was open - let alone available.

We decided to STAKE OUT AT HI-LIFE, a convenience store along the lines of 7-11. We settled in with a couple of beers, and some kindly donated fish-ball-soup take-away delights, which are great for vegetarians like Miss Canada. A couple more beers and it was 5am, and time to take the sunrise train. We stood on a mountain peak over deep gorges, as whirls of mist and powder-pink clouds, turned shades of gold and burnt orange beneath us. We stood on that mountain peak with five-hundred other tourists wearing 3D heart-shaped glasses, and a sunrise commentator with a megaphone, who gave a thirty-five minute monologue.

After the sun was well and blaring in the sky, and the temperature had risen to six degrees, our sleep-deprived desperation was starting to dominate. After another hike around ‘no accommodation village,’ we arrived to the Tourist Information Centre. Helpful as ever, they informed us all the accommodation options were booked, but if we wanted to pay 500nt an hour (about $20) we could check in for a few hours at the love hotel – they always had openings. By this time we were bleary-eyed, ready to cry, and beyond all point of caring - so when they offered to let us sleep in the Information Centre is seemed an un-divined luxury. We curled up under tablecloths on the floor, in every item of clothing we owned, and shivered for the next two hours.

Feeling there had to be a better option we made plans to travel to another village, but not before a hefty three hour mountain hike with our luggage. It was invigorating and surreal, and I somehow managed to obtain a beautiful batik of a flute-playing woman with two cranes. After a two hour nap on the train, and a fifteen hour siesta in a real Catholic hostel (which took us through Sunday morning mass), we were back!

Let me reiterate at this point that Lonely Planet Taiwan should be burnt along with other texts of vile mind and raging propaganda. This time it claimed: for many people, taking the train up to Alishan is the peak experience of their entire trip. Oh, was that just a clever pun on words? A great literary achievement there guys. They do however accurately claim it is: one of the only three remaining steep-alpine trains in the world … with a unique system of switchbacks allowing it to traverse slopes ordinarily too steep for trains.

The following is my appendage for Lonely Planet. Don’t forget, you will only be able to see out the window of the Alishan Forest Train if you manage to secure one of the twelve existing seats. The effort the train needs to navigate the steep track ensures every carriage (with its locked windows) fills with stench of diesel. Paired with the see-saw curves, the diesel scented air-freshener makes a lot of people high, then nauseous, and finally vomit. Sometimes they make it to the bathroom, which also stinks of warm shit, and you will probably have to sit by it, because you are an ignoramus to the Taiwanese custom of pushing, and will definitely not have one of the twelve seats.

One hour into the proposed three hour train ride, we found ourselves on the platform of a tiny station in the middle of the forest – oh, fresh mountain air! In these special travellers’ moments, I can assure you hitch-hiking is perfectly safe, and a far more sanitary option!

.5am and still awake on the alishan mountain train


.3D glasses to give real life that extra dimension!


.the alishan sunrise crew



.phoenix detailing on one of the temples


.the middle of nowhere - finally free from the train!
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taroko gorge: stalk the betel-nut conductor

Taiwan is not a haven for backpackers or happy campers, and Taiwan’s Lonely Planet was clearly written in absentia. The only guarantee is that if it is written in Lonely Planet it is: long gone, only part of the story, or a wild, unsubstantiated claim. In a slow and painful way I have learnt (but not accepted) that spontaneity reaps only trouble, and travel in Taiwan requires: careful planning, booked hotel rooms, and tours or advance scooter rental.

My first adventure took me to TAROKO GORGE on Taiwan’s east coast, with my space-cadet sister and Miss Canada. We took a late afternoon train, a later afternoon bus, and arrived around 8pm to the gates of the National Park, in other words nowhere. Finding no options to get into the park but a taxi, we decided to jump in. We swerved around Taiwan’s most dangerous and twisted highways at breakneck speed with a highly inebriated driver who couldn’t stop gazing in the rear-view mirror and proclaiming “auzhou xiaojie, wo AI ni!” (“Australian girl, I love you!”)

The next day we found ourselves without transport, and hiking back down the same highways, as a result of our first, very important, travel Taiwan lesson. Tourist Information Centre staff don’t know. They don’t know about: public buses, national park buses, pricing of anything, or where to go. After four hours of highway hiking, we stopped for lunch in a road-side shop, and decided to wait for a bus we were told would come in an hour. After an hour and a half the bus finally came. When the conductor saw us hailing him down, he smiled his big betel-nut smile, waved vigorously, and went right on past. Clearly the Information Centre staff hadn’t told him driving a public bus has more to it than going in circles. Miss Canada I were furious, so we hitched a lift to STALK THE BETEL-NUT CONDUCTOR, with all intention of hurling sticks, stones and clumps of grass. We found the bus, but not the driver, luckily for him.

Luckily for us, our rage had taken us to the gates of heaven. We weaved up a steep mountainside, through hanging mist to the top of a spiralled temple. Blissful sleep as we floated in drifting rain-clouds and our dreams filled with the haunting chants from a nearby monastery. We realised later that the chants were not in fact from the monastery, but from a large, antiquated, road-side amplifier, which for the record, can only be found in Taiwan.

At this point we could have accepted that transport and accommodation would never be in great availability, that backpacking was not the way to the light, but we never changed - and in fact went on to greater error.


.sitting in the clouds


.nic, me and anna walking the gorge's highways


.vertigo inside one of the towers
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