Taiwan on Two Wheels

Standing amid a sea of fish farms on Taiwan’s west coast, cornered by a dozen-odd angry stray dogs, I began to question what I was doing.

I was just four days into an 800-mile bicycle journey around the island, armed with only a bicycle, a couple of sets of cycling Lycra and some basic supplies: jeans, two T-shirts, my iPhone, and a spare inner tube. I’d expected this solo trip to be a challenge, but I’d never imagined this.

Before setting out from Hong Kong, where I live, I had scoured travel blogs for tips and jotting down a few must-see places. The plan was to take 11 days to ride anticlockwise around Taiwan’s coastline, first down the west coast, hitting Tainan, Kaohsiung and Kenting, then back up the east coast via Taitung, Hualien and Keelung.

Apparently it would be easy to find accommodation along the way, so I decided to stay flexible and not book anything in advance. I also found out that Taiwan police stations doubled as cyclist pit stops, offering free water, tools and a helping hand to change a tyre. This was reassuring news.

Hiring a bike in Taipei was a breeze — there was even a friendly dog to pose with at the bike shop — and it was easy enough to navigate out of the city to the first cycle path in the northwest suburbs. As my legs eased into the rhythm of the ride, any anxiety I’d had about the trip dissolved.

For the first five days, I explored the west coast’s industrial and farming landscape, alternating between broad, coast-hugging cycle paths empty of people to long stretches of highway. An ancient temple or stunning sunset was never far from the main route, and I stopped at the nearest town or city whenever my legs gave up (usually around 80 miles into the day).

The riding was perfect: clear, cloudless skies above, the wind on my back propelling me forward, and the riffs of the Strokes’ first album playing through my headphones during sections of no-handed cruising. Getting lost was almost impossible thanks to strong 3-G coverage, except when Google Maps invented roads and bridges that didn’t seem to exist in reality.

Early one morning, I did get lost. Cycling away from Budai, a small fishing village in the southwest where I had stayed overnight, I could see a distant highway, but trying to reach it left me stranded at multiple dead-ends. I finally spotted a man with a scooter by the side of a dusty track; he was talking on his cellphone while enjoying a beer. Using my best pointing skills and limited Mandarin, I communicated where I needed to go.

With a smile he hung up his call, started his engine and led me three miles to the right junction.

Back on track, I pedaled away wondering if there was anywhere else in the world you could ask a man drinking a beer for directions at 7:30 a.m. and get such reliable service.

After a long night out in Kaohsiung and an even longer fifth day of cycling, I checked into a guest house in Kenting. The next morning, I temporarily traded in my bike for a scooter, taking in the south coast’s lush national parks and turquoise-water-fringed beaches using no more effort than a flick of the wrist.

Hopping back on my bike the following day was painful – I had grown used to the scooter’s engine – and as I rode out of Kenting National Park, the weather took a turn for the worse. Fighting against head-on wind and rain, my speed slowed down to a 5-mile-per-hour crawl.

My spirits also reached a new low, but thankfully one of the joys of cycling is that 20 miles down the road, you bounce back. Sometimes it’s through an inspiring new sight, or in this case by meeting a large flock of local cyclists doing the island loop. Everyone in the group was over 40, but one person stood out: a 74-year-old woman from Taipei called Lin Shu-hui. Her youthful smile and radiant energy seemed to serve as proof that cycling in Taiwan can be for anyone.

For the next day and a half, she and the other cyclists took me under their wing, sharing tricks to ease weary legs, leading me to nearby hot-spring accommodation, and pointing me to local delicacies for energy – including the 58-proof Taiwan liquor Kinmen Kaoliang, not advisable while riding, but perfect for afterward.

They invited me to continue traveling with them on their 15-day circuit, but my 11-day schedule meant we had to part ways after lunch in Taitung. I posed for some final photos and pushed north.

With the vast Pacific ocean to my right, towering mountains to my left and car drivers on the road cheerfully yelling jia you! – “add oil!” or “go, go!” – I was able to avoid focusing on the burning in my legs for the remainder of the east coast.

Arriving at the charming city of Hualien on day nine after a rainy ride up from Chishang, I decided to dump the weight from my bike and cycle up into the mountains of marbled Taroko Gorge. This turned out be the best decision of the trip: I cruised up and down the gorge, passing temples nestled in the clouds and suspension bridges traversing deep ravines. There was no better place to be than on a bike.

The detour cost me a day, so to avoid some unlit narrow tunnels I jumped on a train for 60 miles up to Yilan, and from there cycled in the rain along the coast to the harbor town of Keelung, famous for its night market.

The following day was my last, and I counted down the miles back into Taipei.

In all, I learned three things from cycling in Taiwan. First, it’s no coincidence that the island was formerly known as Formosa, which translates from Portuguese as “beautiful.” Second, cycling around its coastline is a great way to take it all in — you just need average fitness and a sense of adventure.

Third, and most important, is something I discovered early in the trip: angry-looking dogs are more afraid of a screaming man in Lycra than you might think.

Source: Wall Street Journal