The trip to Mt. Hehuan did not carry off without a hitch.
At 3,416 metres high, this is the main mountain in Taiwan’s central range that draws crowds and jams up the narrow mountain road every winter – due to its accessibility and winter snow. Located within the Taroko Gorge National Park, Hehuan is a must-do, a rare experience and pilgrimage for the Taiwanese to be able to see and touch snow, which only occurs on high altitudes in this subtropical island.
The plan was to drive through the 5th longest tunnel in the world (at the time of its opening), bypass Yilan towards Shei-Pa National Park and spend the night in Wuling Farm – a popular tourist attraction renowned for its cherry blossoms – then continue on to Mt. Hehuan the next day
The 3-hour tortuous winding drive up the mountain ranges – away from the manic towns and cities – appeared to rewind the clock to a time when the world was near new. It wasn’t just the pristine air, sparkling greens, and incredible views of distant mountains and valleys around every bend. The hills were alive – ripe with spirit, an essence of je-ne-sais-quoi, and...watermelons.
There were rows and rows of watermelons taking up every plot of the valley floor extending as far as the eye could see, for at least two hours of the ride. Millions of watermelons must’ve been growing in the valley, millions of green dots in neat parallel lines, awaiting harvest.
Watermelons thrive in temperatures between 25-30°C, and in Taiwan, approximately 11,715 hectares are used to grow watermelon, with an annual average output of 260,000 tonnes. Statistics regarding watermelon or any other commodity may induce yawns – our brains unable to imagine the scope and breadth of the trade. However, when an industry is spread out far and wide before the eyes in vibrant 3D, embedded into spectacular scenery, it becomes a jaw-dropping, epic tale.
I couldn’t help but ask: how much manpower and time went into this remote mountain range of watermelons? How many whole watermelons does a person eat in their lifetime? Was this production for the whole world?
The next day, another 2-3 hours were spent navigating the twists and turns of the narrow mountain roads. Despite the mesmerising rustic countryside scenes, complete with laundry hanging on the roadside to air-dry, nausea was slowly but surely setting in. The relief was palpable when we finally reached Mt. Hehuan.
3,100m above sea level, a panorama of multiple ranges and peaks unfurled before us, positively alpine, each calling for a pro climber to mount its virgin apex. It was sunshine and blue skies, comfortably cool, with crystal clear clarity of distant ridgelines. Mt Hehuan and its surrounding ranges were a glistening vision, perhaps on par with the majestic ’scapes of New Zealand’s Remarkables, or even Europe’s Alps.
The moment the vehicle pulled into the carpark, however, a fellow traveller suddenly gasped with sickening realisation: left behind at a pit stop an hour’s drive back was her bag, and lost with the bag – a brand new iPhone 8 Plus and a large sum of cash.
I needed a coffee.
There was no choice but to leave behind the scenery from the Sound of Music. We rushed through the sightsee, speed posing at prime photo-op spots. Then off we went to retrieve the iPhone 8 and wad of cash left behind in the public toilet an hour’s drive back. Travelling along the same route, tediously rewinding our way back, we finally reached the toilet in the remote outpost an hour later. Again.
To everyone's huge relief, the rural villagers of Taiwan had passed the bag and its contents to the police station which was just across the road from the public toilet.
There were 3 or 4 officers in the police station– friendly, gregarious, eating watermelon. The contents of the bag were intact, not a cent lost. Please have some watermelon with us, the police invited with wide open smiles. Was there any place in the world where the locals could demonstrate such unerring honesty and friendliness?
We declined the offer, heaved a sigh, and retraced our way back to the peak of Mt Hehuan. 2 hours later, we were beaten, weary, ready for the crisp, high altitude air to revive us. The weather had turned during our two hour drive. Clouds were rolling in, spilling across greenery, and enveloping the landscape like waves inundating ships at sea during a storm. It was no longer sunny blue skies, but the dramatic scenes were possibly well worth all the trouble.
At 3,100m above sea level, the hills were most definitely alive.
For more information on the main peak trail, please click here.
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