Taiwan in Time: Dec. 21 to Dec. 27
After a 17,000km journey having survived devastatingly strong winds in regions dubbed the “roaring 40s, furious 50s and shrieking 60s” in reference to latitudes, the 711-ton Hai Kung (海功號) trawler ship drifted in the Antarctic waters in the middle of a snowstorm.
It was Jan. 23, 1977, World Freedom Day for Taiwan and South Korea. The crew of more than 30 researchers, sailors and journalists watched emotionally as the Taiwanese flag slowly rose in the frigid wind, its bright colors punctuating the gray skies.
Photo: Tang Sheng-yang, Taipei Times
It had been almost two months since they left Keelung in Taiwan’s first expedition ever to the bottom of the Earth. After making several rally cries, denouncing communism, slavery and fascism and calling for world peace, the crew produced a glass bottle containing a copy of Confucius’ Age of Great Harmony (禮運大同篇), hand-written by Teng Huo-tu (鄧火土), head of the Fisheries Research Institute, and dropped it into the ocean.
The bottle was meant to be buried in Antarctica’s ice sheet, and the flag planted on land, but the ship, lacking icebreakers and other equipment to properly navigate the perilous glaciers, could only sail near the continent while hauling in massive amounts of Antarctic krill. There were an estimated 40 to 60 billion tonnes of the shrimp-like crustaceans in the ocean, which were seen as a potential protein source for Taiwan’s increasing population amid unsure times as the country’s international standing continued to falter.
Two months later, the ship returned to Keelung with 140 tonnes of the catch to great fanfare. They were heroes.
Photo: Weng Yu-huang, Taipei Times
Taiwan’s development of its new fishing sources and methods became an urgent issue after the 1974 Third UN Conference on the Law of the Sea, where a proposal was made for a 200-nautical mile exclusive economic zone for coastal countries. Fishing experts were worried that it would greatly reduce the country’s traditional fishing grounds.
Members of the Joint Commission on Rural Reconstruction (today’s Council of Agriculture) decided to act preemptively by exploring possibilities in the Antarctic, where no Taiwanese ship had ever gone.
Hai Kung was built under Teng’s supervision for this purpose, completed in July 1975. Without icebreakers, it relied on sonar technology to avoid icebergs. It embarked on its maiden voyage on Dec. 24 that year, testing different equipment in the fishing grounds north of Taiwan in the East China Sea.
One year later, Hai Kung was deemed ready to make the big trip. It departed Keelung on Dec. 2, reaching Cape Town on Dec. 28, where it underwent more reinforcements and repairs before heading further south a week later.
Journalist Lu I-ming (呂一銘) recalls in his book about the journey passing through the various storm zones, where waves as high as mountains would hit the ship relentlessly, tilting it as much as 40 degrees. On Jan. 10, 1976, the crew shed tears of joy as they finally reached the Antarctic Ocean.
Lu writes that the ship almost got turned back at one point because of a telegram sent from Taiwan ordering the crew not to go further south than 50 degrees, which was revealed later to be a typo, as the officials actually meant 70 degrees.
The return journey was just as perilous, but the crew made it safely back to Cape Town on Feb. 17. Here, the ship reportedly received a mysterious crate from Taiwan’s ambassador to South Africa to bring back home with them. Several crew members later reported that they felt that the ship had a secret mission, especially when they were ordered to depart straight for Taiwan, without stops, before the sun even came up. Even the journalists, who had planned to visit England, were ordered to return home immediately.
A crew member said years later that the crate was delivered to the National Chung-Shan Institute of Technology and Science, prompting them to suspect that it was a missile. The book, Mission Antarctic (極地任務) published by the Taiwan Fisheries Economics Development Association and Chung Cheng Agriculture and Social Welfare Foundation states that indeed it was a military purchase, and suggests that it was a “type of radioactive heavy metal element,” prompting speculation that it was uranium.
There has been no definite conclusion yet.
Hai Kung would make several more expeditions to Antarctica before it was retired in 1993. Alas, the krill never became a food source reportedly because of its putrid smell and lack of meat, and is used today mostly as fishing bait. After its years of service and groundbreaking achievements, Hai Kung was moved ashore in 1998 at Keelung’s Bisha wharf (碧砂), where it sat mournfully, rusting and falling apart until it was recently restored.
Taiwan in Time, a column about Taiwan’s history that is published every Sunday, spotlights important or interesting events around the nation that have anniversaries this week.
Growing up in a rural, religious community in western Canada, Kyle McCarthy loved hockey, but once he came out at 19, he quit, convinced being openly gay and an active player was untenable. So the 32-year-old says he is “very surprised” by the runaway success of Heated Rivalry, a Canadian-made series about the romance between two closeted gay players in a sport that has historically made gay men feel unwelcome. Ben Baby, the 43-year-old commissioner of the Toronto Gay Hockey Association (TGHA), calls the success of the show — which has catapulted its young lead actors to stardom -- “shocking,” and says
The 2018 nine-in-one local elections were a wild ride that no one saw coming. Entering that year, the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) was demoralized and in disarray — and fearing an existential crisis. By the end of the year, the party was riding high and swept most of the country in a landslide, including toppling the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) in their Kaohsiung stronghold. Could something like that happen again on the DPP side in this year’s nine-in-one elections? The short answer is not exactly; the conditions were very specific. However, it does illustrate how swiftly every assumption early in an
Inside an ordinary-looking townhouse on a narrow road in central Kaohsiung, Tsai A-li (蔡阿李) raised her three children alone for 15 years. As far as the children knew, their father was away working in the US. They were kept in the dark for as long as possible by their mother, for the truth was perhaps too sad and unjust for their young minds to bear. The family home of White Terror victim Ko Chi-hua (柯旗化) is now open to the public. Admission is free and it is just a short walk from the Kaohsiung train station. Walk two blocks south along Jhongshan
Francis William White, an Englishman who late in the 1860s served as Commissioner of the Imperial Customs Service in Tainan, published the tale of a jaunt he took one winter in 1868: A visit to the interior of south Formosa (1870). White’s journey took him into the mountains, where he mused on the difficult terrain and the ease with which his little group could be ambushed in the crags and dense vegetation. At one point he stays at the house of a local near a stream on the border of indigenous territory: “Their matchlocks, which were kept in excellent order,
RSS