Just far enough out of reach to keep big crowds away, but not so far as to make a day-trip an exhausting affair, Jinhuang Hot Spring (近黃溫泉) is a nice winter escape for your next visit to Taitung County. The pools are numerous, the water is the perfect temperature and the walk in is not too challenging, though you will have to get your feet wet.
The adventure starts in the county’s Jinlun Village (金崙), which is accessible by train, but you’ll want to have your own car, scooter or bicycle for this trip. If you arrive by train, walk up to the main road and rent a scooter from one of the shops near the 7-Eleven. Head west past the red bridge (do not cross it) and out of the village. Right after the next village, called Liciou (歷坵) but signs for it are hard to find, take not the first left down to the Rulakes Suspension Bridge, but the second left down to another bridge. On the other side of the river, continue parallel to the river until you encounter yellow plastic road barriers and then park wherever you can.
If you have a scooter and good insurance, you can possibly skirt the barriers and continue further down the road, but get off and look first. When we visited, the soil underneath the concrete surface of the outer half of the road just beyond the barrier was completely washed out, leaving just a slab of concrete hanging in mid-air. That still didn’t stop one brave driver from taking his car across it when we visited.
Photo by Tyler Cottenie
AN EASY RIVER WALK
We continued on foot to the end of the road, which used to descend all the way to the riverbed. Now, one switchback has disappeared in a landslide, so we took a shortcut down to the lower level and then walked down the landslide itself to the riverbed about 5 meters below.
The walk to the hot spring is quite straightforward from here: follow the river upstream for about two hours. In rubber boots, I was able to make it all the way to the hot spring, having only removed my boots to cross deeper water once. My friends wore river-tracing shoes and crossed 10 to 15 times, but the current was slow and the water only knee-deep. As far as river walks go, this one was quite tame. Erosion and the ever-shifting course of the river have also created some stunning scenery that made this a very pleasant stroll.
Photo by Tyler Cottenie
After about 2km, you will pass a spot marked as Jinhuang (近黃) on Google Maps just before a fork in the river. This is not the hot spring, but rather the location of an abandoned village of the same name settled in the Japanese era. Continue along the main river (left at the fork) for another 2km until the riverbed widens before another major fork. There is an unusual “false island” of treed higher ground surrounded by stony riverbed, the result of erosion by the river at a time when its course ran nearby.
HISTORY NEARBY
As we took a short break at the false island, my friend indicated the stream approaching from the left side of the fork. He said that this is where he came out from a cross-island hike on the Qing Dynasty-era Kunlunao Trail (崑崙坳古道) a few years ago, and that there were traces of the trail and a Qing military encampment just a kilometer up the river.
Photo by Tyler Cottenie
It had been less than two hours of easy walking in cool weather and we were almost at the hot spring. There had been hardly any challenge at all, neither physical nor technical. After listening to my friend’s description of the remains, I decided to make a quick side trip to look for them before going for a soak. Surprisingly, no one else wanted to join.
Fifteen minutes up the left stream, the river forked again. I took the right fork, then immediately headed to the left (southern) edge of the riverbed and up into the forest. Right on the ridge, I found a square, meter-high stack of stones, purpose unknown, but certainly manmade. Further uphill and a bit to the left, I entered a large area where the trees were sparse and the ground appeared artificially levelled. The presence of two stone walls in an “L” shape — and the fact that neither the stones’ shape nor their arrangement resembled those of typical indigenous stone houses — confirmed that I had likely reached the site of a Qing encampment on the trail.
Behind the flat area, I came across an obvious raised trail with stone reinforcement along the edge, ending at a stone staircase that went straight up a hill, a clear sign of a route designed by the Qing, not the Japanese. Having found what I had been looking for and not wanting to delay my hot spring arrival any longer, I headed back downriver to the false island. From here, I turned left and followed the main riverbed for 10 more minutes until I reached Jinhuang Hot Spring.
Photo by Tyler Cottenie
A SOAK IN NATURE
The river itself is on the far right (north) side of the riverbed, while the hot spring is tucked up against a steep slope on the far left (south) side. Hot water bubbles up from the ground and flows along the rocks for around 300 meters before disappearing underground again. We measured the temperature at a very comfortable 39°C.
All along this hot spring river, there are several pools that have been dug deep enough to lie down and soak in, and if you have time, it would be easy to make these even deeper or make a new pool of your own. At the lower end of this hot river is the biggest pool of all, easily 5 meters across by 10 meters long and waist deep, making it suitable for 20 or 30 people to soak all at once if needed.
Photo by Tyler Cottenie
When we arrived, there were eight other people in three groups there; an hour later, we were the only ones left. As it was a weekend and a cool, cloudy day perfect for hot springs, we wondered why there were so few visitors. Perhaps it’s the access road that turns some people off, or the two-hour hike. Perhaps Jinlun is just a bit too remote for city folk from the west or the north. Or perhaps people can’t be bothered to apply for the required permit, though the process is quite simple.
To apply online, go to: hike.taiwan.gov.tw/en/apply_1.aspx and select “Natural Conservation Area,” and then “Dawushan Nature Reserve.” Set the trip duration to 1 day, write “Jinhuang Hot Spring” for “Application Area” and “Jinlun” for both entrance and exit points. Choose the second of the black text options for “Application Purpose,” which have not yet been translated. Skip the Upload Files section, confirm, and submit. Apply at least 5 days in advance: for a Saturday trip, apply on Monday at the latest. The fine for entering with no permit is a minimum of NT$30,000.
We would have loved to spend the night there next to the hot spring, but the permit system only allows day trips, so we reluctantly packed up and began the two-hour walk back to the car. We will likely be back again next year — if the spring is still exposed, that is. Hot springs are frequently buried by landslides or flooded out by rivers that change course, so it’s always wise to get in some soaking while the soaking is good. And this year at Jinhuang, it’s very good.
If one asks Taiwanese why house prices are so high or why the nation is so built up or why certain policies cannot be carried out, one common answer is that “Taiwan is too small.” This is actually true, though not in the way people think. The National Property Administration (NPA), responsible for tracking and managing the government’s real estate assets, maintains statistics on how much land the government owns. As of the end of last year, land for official use constituted 293,655 hectares, for public use 1,732,513 hectares, for non-public use 216,972 hectares and for state enterprises 34 hectares, yielding
The small platform at Duoliang Train Station in Taitung County’s Taimali Township (太麻里) served villagers from 1992 to 2006, but was eventually shut down due to lack of use. Just 10 years later, the abandoned train station had become widely known as the most beautiful station in Taiwan, and visitors were so frequent that the village had to start restricting traffic. Nowadays, Duoliang Village (多良) is known as a bit of a tourist trap, with a mandatory, albeit modest, admission fee of NT$10 giving access to a crowded lane of vendors with a mediocre view of the ocean and the trains
Traditionally, indigenous people in Taiwan’s mountains practice swidden cultivation, or “slash and burn” agriculture, a practice common in human history. According to a 2016 research article in the International Journal of Environmental Sustainability, among the Atayal people, this began with a search for suitable forested slopeland. The trees are burnt for fertilizer and the land cleared of stones. The stones and wood are then piled up to make fences, while both dead and standing trees are retained on the plot. The fences are used to grow climbing crops like squash and beans. The plot itself supports farming for three years.
For many people, Bilingual Nation 2030 begins and ends in the classroom. Since the policy was launched in 2018, the debate has centered on students, teachers and the pressure placed on schools. Yet the policy was never solely about English education. The government’s official plan also calls for bilingualization in Taiwan’s government services, laws and regulations, and living environment. The goal is to make Taiwan more inclusive and accessible to international enterprises and talent and better prepared for global economic and trade conditions. After eight years, that grand vision is due for a pulse check. RULES THAT CAN BE READ For Harper Chen (陳虹宇), an adviser
RSS