With a degree of relief, I noticed that not a single bat seemed to be roosting inside Taiping Bat Cave (太平蝙蝠洞), half an hour by car from central Taichung.
I wasn’t scared of catching COVID-19, even though many scientists think the disease originated in bats. I was more worried that one of these nocturnal mammals would defecate on me. They’re as likely to loosen their bowels when resting during the daytime as they are when flying around at night.
Before driving to this spot, I’d not seen a need to confirm the presence of bats. My research had focused on practical issues, like distance. In fact, I’d set off with a strong suspicion I’d find no bats. Local toponyms aren’t always literal, and elsewhere in Taiwan there are “bat caves” without bat populations.
Photo: Steven Crook
The reason for this is simple. While some Westerners associate these creatures with vampires, or are repulsed by their fur and tiny teeth, Chinese tradition holds the bat in high esteem.
In his 1941 book Chinese Symbolism and Art Motifs: An Alphabetical Compendium of Antique Legends and Beliefs, as Reflected in the Manners and Customs of the Chinese, C.A.S. Williams explains that the bat “is emblematic of happiness and longevity [and so] frequently employed for decorative purposes.” This is because the second part of the word for “bat” (bianfu) matches the word for “good wishes” or “blessing” (福, fu).
Having scanned the cave’s ceiling for sleeping bats, and reassured myself that none of Taiwan’s 37 chiropteran species makes a home there, I ventured as far in as was possible. The cave is neither especially wide or deep; during the day, no flashlight is needed.
Photo: Steven Crook
The most curious feature was the rectangular slot, big enough for a slim adult to climb through, halfway up one wall. This, I could see, provided access to a passageway which soon turned 90 degrees, then exited the hillside less than 20m from the cave entrance.
A broken rope at my feet suggested that it used to be possible to clamber up into the slot from inside the cave. If you really want to explore the passageway, you can do so from the other end. I thought of doing that, but when I stuck my head inside, an awful odor caused me to change my mind.
An information panel near the cave explains the passageway’s origin. It was cut through solid rock more than 70 years ago at the behest of local landowners, to divert water for irrigation purposes. However, destruction in the wake of 1959’s Typhoon Billie, which caused the 8-7 Floods (八七水災) in central Taiwan, left it redundant.
Photo: Steven Crook
Taiping Bat Cave may not be an attraction of national significance, but just down the road, closer to central Taichung, there are better reasons to visit this area.
Less than 200m from the cave, the local government has built a bat-themed footbridge across Toubiankeng Creek (頭汴坑溪). On the other side, a user-friendly trail climbs up through the forest, down toward and over a stream, then up to a viewing platform.
The path, officially dubbed the Bat Cave Extension Trail (蝙蝠洞延伸步道), is short but delightful. I’d covered barely a quarter of its 420m length when I noticed that the noise from Road 136 had given way to a forest soundtrack.
Photo: Steven Crook
If anything, the woodlands here are more appealing than those I’d hiked through earlier in the morning. And soon it’ll be possible to get deeper into nature. When I visited on April 22, workmen were putting the finishing touches to a branch trail.
CAOLINGSHAN HIKING TRAIL
I’d begun the day by taking Road 136 through the built-up part of Taiping District (太平) and into the foothills. I turned left when I saw a large sign for Beiji Temple (北極殿), and a far smaller one for Caolingshan Hiking Trail (草嶺山步道). Neither sign featured any English.
Photo: Steven Crook
Having no interest in the temple (which has been under construction for almost five years, but looks some way from completion), I parked at the base of Caolingshan, around 175m above sea level, and set off on foot.
I’m glad I didn’t try to drive further up the hill. The road is steep, and there are few places where two vehicles could pass. In dry conditions, you’d have no problem getting an ordinary car to the Caolingshan trailhead, but there’s nowhere to park once you get there. What’s more, walking from where I’d parked took barely a quarter of an hour.
Climbing up the wooden stairways to the highest point on the trail (altitude: 306m) took me less than 10 minutes. After resting beneath a pavilion, I continued east along a ridge, from which I could look over Huguo Cingliang Temple (護國清涼寺), a sprawling Buddhist complex which is also visible from the bridge that provides access to the Bat Cave Extension Trail.
Within 20 minutes, I’d completed not only the rest of Caolingshan Hiking Trail, but also the conjoined and remarkably short Fongzihlin Hiking Trail (楓仔林步道). At the entrance to the latter, I found a bilingual mapboard, a notice asking people to not feed stray dogs, and enough space to park several cars.
If you’d rather start your hike from the Fongzihlin entrance, turn off Road 136 into Lane 245, Changlong Road, Section 3 (長龍路三段).
My final objective in Taiping District, a sign informed me, lay 8.1km beyond the Bat Cave. Several hairpin bends later, I reached Chikanding (赤崁頂) at 665m above sea level.
There’s no village or facilities here; it’s neither the highest spot in Taiping, nor the loftiest section of Road 136. I arrived close to lunchtime on a hazy day, so the view over the hills to the west wasn’t as fine as it sometimes is.
I’d rather not end on a negative note, but I have to say that I would’ve enjoyed the panorama more if there hadn’t been so many cigarettes butts around my feet, and so much trash on the hillside. I’ve lived in Taiwan since the early 1990s. Since then, the cities have certainly gotten cleaner. Not so the countryside.
Steven Crook has been writing about travel, culture, and business in Taiwan since 1996. He is the co-author of A Culinary History of Taipei: Beyond Pork and Ponlai, and author of Taiwan: The Bradt Travel Guide, the third edition of which has just been published.
Ajay Verma, a consultant gastroenterologist at Kettering general hospital in Northamptonshire, says our gut is a “complex machine.” “It is constantly providing us with the nutrition we need, initially to grow and develop, and then for us to survive, thrive and repair from injury and illness.” How can we keep it functioning well? Put simply: “Make sure what you put into it is balanced, and that you clear out its waste products adequately,” Verma says. “In a general gastroenterology clinic, the most common conditions we see are irritable bowel syndrome (IBS), gastroesophageal reflux disease, inflammatory bowel disease and constipation,” says Nisha
And so, in the wake of US President Donald Trump’s trip to the People’s Republic of China (PRC), all the experts on the Strait of Hormuz suddenly became experts on US-China-Taiwan relations. The Internet has certainly expanded human knowledge. Lots of these sudden experts made noise this week about Trump’s words after the meeting with PRC dictator Xi Jin-ping (習近平). Trump is going to sell out Taiwan! Longtime Taiwan commentator J. Michael Cole summed the situation up neatly in the Guardian: “We need to keep in mind that he has a tendency to say many things — sometimes contradicting himself within
Last week US President Donald Trump was asked by a reporter whether he would speak on the phone to the President of Taiwan. “l’ll speak to him. I speak to everybody. We have that situation very well in hand,” Trump said. This marked the second time in a couple of weeks he had said he would talk to the President of Taiwan. In 2016 he famously took a call from then-president Tsai Ing-wen (蔡英文), when he was president-elect. Despite warnings that the apocalypse was nigh because of a phone call, the world quickly forgot about the conversation between two democratically-elected presidents.
May 25 to May 31 Few believed that apples could be cultivated on a commercial scale in Taiwan’s high mountains. When horticulturalist Cheng Chao-hsiung (程兆熊) first proposed the idea in 1955, both American and Taiwanese colleagues dismissed it as implausible, arguing that temperate fruit could not be reliably grown on a subtropical island, especially on rugged terrain. However, it was this terrain in the Central Mountain Range where many Chinese Civil War veterans were resettled in the late 1950s. With limited job prospects and no family in Taiwan, they were placed on cooperative farms aimed toward self-sufficiency. Some say the conditions
RSS