We were up early to enter Taroko National Park. Because of the earthquake last year, the road is undergoing major repairs. There is a single tunnel to enter and exit and they are working on it, they only allow a few cars at specified times—6 am, 10am and 12pm were our choices. We took a quick look around the visitor center, then got in line behind a half dozen other vehicles—no trucks or large buses are permitted. It was quickly obvious why.
The landslides from the earthquake ripped off whole sides of mountains, pitted the road, and turned guardrails into twisted spaghetti. The road hugs the sides of mountains and tunnels bore through them. With steep grades and hairpin turns, it was an exciting ride. I was glad Danny (our guide) is an excellent driver and a former military pilot. I felt very safe and relieved not to be driving.
The eastern portion of the mountain range is primarily granite and marble; the west is sedimentary rock. It was easy to see the difference. When we arrived past the major destruction zone, we stopped to stretch our legs.
Then it was back into the car for the next segment. This side was lush with trees, grasses, “chopstick” bamboo (very thin short bamboo), and wildflowers. There were loads of pink mountain rhododendron, foxglove (digitalis), daisies, and others I couldn’t identify. However, even in this vastly different environment, road crews were everywhere. Rockslides are a constant problem. We stopped to admire a massive Bilu tree, said to be 3,000 years old.
One stretch is a major outdoor recreation area—loads of people were cycling and hiking. The road had brought us to 3,000 meters (almost 10,000 feet). The air was thinner and cooler. A lot of the cyclists looked as though they were wondering what had possessed them to undertake the arduous ride. There is an easy answer to that—the views are breathtaking. There are mountains, after mountains and more mountains stretching as far as you can see. The clouds swooped down then dissipated, sometimes obscuring part of the view. I became fascinated watching the shadows, play of light and dark, and the clouds obscuring then revealing scenes.
The clouds / fog made driving difficult. The two-way, winding road is narrow, requiring cars to pull over to allow others to pass. With the road crews, terrain, and fog, this is a slow drive. Tristan and I didn’t mind. We were both mesmerized by the views.
Our final destination for the day was a B&B in Qingjing Farm Area. After a day in nature, it was something of a shock to enter a hotbed of tourism. There are activities for kids, a million signs, people walking along the narrow roads, shops, and weird architecture (replica castles, windmills, and such). Fortunately, our B&B is secluded and beautiful. The gardens are lovely, the host a charmer and our room comfortable.
A few minutes after we arrived he delivered a tray of flower tea and sweets. We ate it on the balcony overlooking the mountains.
I had admired the flowers on our way in. The B&B owner, Frank, invited us to see his friend’s garden. I, of course, said yes. The garden wasn’t at all what I expected, but it was striking, filled with colorful annual flowers in pots. We got a thorough tour. The owner joined us, and I told them the English name of most of the flowers. They were delighted to learn them. They insisted on taking endless photos. When we arrived the sun was shining, by the time we left the fog had rolled in. It was a treat to see the garden under both conditions.
On our way back to the B&B Frank asked if we’d like to see the purple restaurant. I had no idea what that was, but I said yes. The purple house is a testament to love from a highly creative, dedicated, whimsical man. His wife likes purple, so he painted EVERYTHING that color. He collected items and placed them strategically in the magic purple environment. It is like a living, breathing artwork. I absolutely loved it.
We returned to the B&B just in time to meet Danny and head off for dinner. The restaurant is a popular chicken barbecue place. But it wasn’t like any I’ve ever experienced. The food is served family style. A whole chicken and a selection of sides. When I say whole chicken, that’s what I mean. It came complete with head and feet. A server came by and with plastic gloves on his hands, ripped the chicken to pieces and set the dismembered bird in front of us. The sides included broiled bamboo shoots, pumpkin and baby corn, tofu in sauce, boiled cabbage with herbs (delicious), a pork dish, rice, and soup. Given the quantity of food, it is nothing short of miraculous that we ate most of it, but then Tristan is eighteen.
As we were finishing the meal, it started pouring. Then we heard thunder and saw lightening. We waited until it dissipated a bit, then set off back to the B&B. The ride took forever because the fog was so thick it completely obscured the road. There are no streetlamps, nor particularly good road markings. I said to Danny that we called this type of weather pea soup fog. In China it is called porridge fog. Good name!