Jade Mountain (玉山) — Taiwan’s highest peak — is the ultimate goal for those attempting a through-hike of the Mountains to Sea National Greenway (山海圳國家綠道), and that’s precisely where we’re headed in this final installment of a quartet of articles covering the Greenway.
Picking up the trail at the Tsou tribal villages of Dabang and Tefuye, it’s worth stocking up on provisions before setting off, since — aside from the scant offerings available on the mountain’s Dongpu Lodge (東埔山莊) and Paiyun Lodge’s (排雲山莊) meal service — there’s nowhere to get food from here on out.
TEFUYE HISTORIC TRAIL
Photo: Ami Barnes
The journey recommences with a stiff climb up agricultural tracks to Tefuye Historic Trail (特富野古道), the final leg of the Greenway’s Tribal Trail (原鄉之路) portion.
A former Indigenous trading and hunting route, Tefuye Historic Trail is much loved among the retiree hiking set on account of its picturesque combination of railway relics and mist-shrouded forests — and because a good chunk of it is near flat.
Approaching from the Tefuye side, steep steps pass through a cathedral-esque corridor of cedar trees before leveling off to follow the preserved remains of Shueishan Branch Line — part of an extensive network of logging railways that once hauled highly coveted lumber from Alishan’s old-growth forests down to the sawmills in Chiayi.
Photo: Ami Barnes
The Greenway’s penultimate passport stamp is kept in a box beside Tefuye Historic Trail’s Zizhong (自忠) trailhead — a spot that marks the route’s transition to its final fourth, the Sacred Mountain Trail (聖山之路). This location also bears a certain symbolic weight, since it offers the Greenway’s first view of Jade Mountain.
Here, walkers are presented with a choice: turn right onto Provincial Highway 18 and commence the roadside slog to Dongpu Lodge, or find a secluded spot to camp before embarking on an alternate route that takes in Dongshui (東水山) and Zizhong mountains (自忠山).
This alternative route is undoubtedly more challenging than the road, but it is also orders of magnitude more interesting.
Photo: Ami Barnes
The trail is a messy mass of knotted roots, dark and quiet under the trees. Here and there, shafts of sunlight pierce the canopy to illuminate fern fronds or dew-studded spiders’ webs. The going is tough, but it’s so pretty that you won’t want it to end.
A tunnel of moss-draped oaks descends from Zizhong Mountain to Xinggaokou (新高口), where the alternate reconnects with Provincial Highway 18. From here, it’s 7.4 kilometers of road walking to Lulin Mountain (鹿林山) trailhead.
While mostly uneventful, the road does have some points of note. There’s a brief side-trip to see Lulin Sacred Tree — an ancient behemoth with impressive height and girth — and the monkey gauntlet by Shishan Visitor Center (this writer learned the hard way that you must ensure there’s nothing on the outside of your pack before passing this spot).
Photo: Ami Barnes
LULIN MOUNTAIN TRAIL HEAD
Just beyond the 106-kilometer marker, Greenway signage directs hikers up the trail leading to Lulin Mountain via Lulin Lodge (鹿林山莊).
Constructed during the Japanese colonial era using Alishan lumber, this was once the base for hikers challenging Jade Mountain, but these days the renovated structure is closed to the general public.
Photo: Ami Barnes
The climb to the summit of Lulin Mountain takes roughly an hour, and from here, it’s an easy stroll to Linzhi Mountain (麟趾山) through a subalpine landscape of meadows and small pools punctuated by hardy pines, bright fox gloves and the Yushan thistle.
This section is popular with day-trippers since it’s one of the few places you can enjoy Yushan National Park’s grand scenery without needing a permit.
It’s also a great spot for bird-watching. White-whiskered laughing thrushes, Taiwan yuhinas, flamecrests, Taiwan rose finches — all endemic to Taiwan — can be observed on the Lulin-Linzhi trail with varying degrees of ease.
Photo: Ami Barnes
The descent from Linzhi Mountain to Tataka Saddle (塔塔加鞍部) is tiringly steep for trail-weary legs, but thankfully, Dongpu Lodge is nearby, promising warm lodgings and a hot shower. (NT$400 per night for a shared bunk, bookable at: dongpusky.tw — Chinese only.) Here, hikers can rest as they steel themselves for the final push.
ON TO JADE MOUNTAIN
Standing at 3,952 meters above sea level, Jade Mountain is undeniably special.
To the Tsou, who know it as Pattonkan, it is sacred. It’s where their ancestors were brought into existence, where their gods imparted knowledge of rituals and where their kinsfolk sought refuge during the great flood.
Even to the average Han-descended Taiwanese person, the peak holds a totemic significance, with many drawn to scale its rocky flank at least once in their lifetimes.
Its popularity makes securing one of the limited daily permits a real challenge — although those attempting a single-day ascent, or foreign nationals who take advantage of the advanced booking quota will likely find it easier. (Permits can be obtained by applying at: hike.taiwan.gov.tw — in Japanese, Chinese and English.)
Hikers who succeed in getting a two-day permit are automatically granted one of the 116 nightly slots at Paiyun Lodge (NT$480 per person), but the reservation includes nothing more than bunk space, so those wishing to book meals and sleeping bags will have to do that separately (via: go17713.ego.tw — Chinese only).
After pausing to have permits checked and collect the final trail passport stamp at Paiyun Hiking Service Center, the climb from Tataka Saddle to Paiyun Lodge is a straightforward and spectacularly scenic 8 kilometers.
Along the way, the trail dips in and out of a fir and Chinese hemlock forest. Where there are no trees, there are dramatic panoramas, and for those staying at Paiyun, this is likely to be the shortest day on the Greenway, so there’s all the time in the world to admire the view.
Considering it sits 3,402 meters above sea level, Paiyun Lodge is comfortable enough, but it could hardly be called luxurious — you’ll be warm, but you’re unlikely to get a good night’s sleep. Perhaps that’s why most hikers don’t mind getting up well before dawn to complete the final 2 kilometers.
Initially meandering through sheltered forest, the trail later zigzags up scree slopes before passing through a rickety caged section and approaching the steepest, most exposed part of the climb.
Then, after 188 kilometers and more than 8,000 meters of accumulated elevation gain, the Greenway finally reaches its summit terminus.
Of course, there’s no way of guaranteeing the conditions you’ll get. In my case, the anticipated picture-perfect sunrise turned out to be an anticlimactic soupy fog and an impenetrable white wall.
But — as any hiker will tell you — that’s kind of besides the point. Reaching the top is little more than an arbitrary goal, the catalyst that sets your feet in motion. The true joy is always found in the journey.
Taiwan’s English education system is being pulled apart by three opposing forces. Bilingual Nation 2030 pulls students toward English and global communication. Artificial Intelligence (AI) readiness pulls them toward digital judgment, verification and AI-mediated work. But Taiwan’s old exam culture pulls them back toward memorization, grammar drills, timed reading and correct answers. If the education system keeps using old exams to define success, it risks producing graduates who are neither genuinely bilingual nor genuinely AI-ready, but trained for tasks machines can already perform. The first force is Bilingual Nation 2030. Launched in 2018, the policy aimed to “help Taiwan’s workforce connect
It seems every few days one bumps into one of those “real man” comments in which Taiwan is urged to “face reality” or similar, and “make a deal,” with the speaker implying that soon it will be too late. “Deal” advocates always present themselves as having a superior grip on reality, and the manly ability to make the “hard choice.” Their testosterone-laden language often echoes that of Taiwan sellout advocates. Note that such commentary always specifies a process (“make a deal, work with, make progress”), never the end state of what occupation by a violent authoritarian colonialist state will entail. In
June 1 to June 7 "If all Taiwanese were as afraid of dying as you, then what would happen?” Physician Shih Chiang-nan (施江南) reportedly said this to his wife Chen Chiao-tung (陳焦桐) after she urged him to stop intervening on behalf of Taiwanese soldiers stranded overseas after serving in the Japanese Army during World War II. Shih had clashed with high-ranking officials over the issue, engaged in several heated arguments with Taiwan governor-general Chen Yi (陳儀) and allegedly shouted at general Ko Yuan-fen (柯遠芬), chief of staff of the Taiwan Garrison Command, over
“Taiwan’s Opposition Leader Comes to US With a Message Straight Out of Beijing” read a May 31 headline in the Wall Street Journal. Top US administration officials and members of Congress almost certainly read the WSJ, and if there was a bullet point takeaway that people in Washington should absorb ahead of Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chair Cheng Li-wun’s (鄭麗文) arrival in DC on June 9, that headline is it. The last few columns have discussed this very topic, and the timing is not coincidental. While those top officials likely do not read the Taipei Times, judging by the number
RSS