Bikepacking Taiwan

“Battery low. Please charge now,” the robotic voice coming from my Bluetooth headphones announced. “Yep, me too,” I responded, in my head. Or maybe I said it out loud, I can’t recall. I might have slightly overextended myself on this day’s ride, and I had about another ten miles to go to my destination.

My eventual arrival at Jiaoxi, a resort town famous for its hot springs, would conclude what was probably the most exhilarating but also mentally and physically tiring day of my bikepacking adventure around the self-proclaimed “Heart Of Asia,” Taiwan.

I had not planned on cycling the infamous, while dangerous, Suhua Highway, a stretch of 118 kilometers connecting Hualien with Su’ao in the northeastern corner of the country. The official “Cycling Around Taiwan” guide booklet, published by the Tourism Bureau, strongly recommends avoiding this winding and narrow road, seemingly carved into the hillside of this part of the coast. Instead, one can hop on a local train for an hour and twenty minutes and enjoy coastal views from a train car. With the weather situation quite fluid, rain and some wind in the forecast, it made that option all the more appealing in theory.

My experience taking local transportation in that part of the country, however, made me change my mind relatively quickly. Not because of the quality of service by Taiwan Rail, but because of my fellow travelers. Hordes of, what I can only assume, Chinese tourists, retirees seemingly on a Taiwan trip, flooded the train before its departure from Hualien Main Station. They were loud. They were obnoxious. They kept touching and holding on to my bicycle and bags as if they were part of the train holds. They kept bumping into me as if it were the most normal thing to do. Oh, and the train car quite rapidly started reeking of fried meat as soon as, almost in unison, the whole group unwrapped their lunch bags.

At the third stop out of Hualien, my patience was exhausted, and I couldn’t stand this any longer. The prospect of cycling a dangerous coastal route with little to no shoulder, negotiating trucks, buses, and other tourist vehicles, as well as riding through multiple tunnels, all of a sudden seemed way more appealing than being stuck on this train for another hour.

So I got off at the next stop, breathed a sigh of relief and started cycling.

Departing from the Tamsui District in New Taipei City, on well-marked bicycle paths along the Tamsui river

Wide and paved cycling paths took me west out of Taipei

Taiwan might not be on most people’s radar as a cycling destination. If you, however, take a good look at your own bicycle, I am willing to bet that many of its parts are manufactured in Taiwan. If not the whole bike. The national tourism bureau published a cycling guide detailing how to do a loop around the country, something that seemingly every local cyclist aims to accomplish at least once in their lifetime. For all that, the main route, National Cycling Route No. 1, regrettably avoids what makes Taiwan interesting: 286 mountains over 3,000 meters.

During the first few days I spent in Taipei, as well as on the days that followed on the bike, it became clear that daily life in Taiwan seems to stay busy and lively until late at night. This becomes most apparent by observing the opening hours. Many businesses do not open their doors until around noon but staying open until nine or even ten in the evening. I saw an excellent example of this in Wufeng, where I walked past the large windows of a street-facing, modern-looking dental office still seeing patients at 8:30 pm. Those business hours, as well as 24/7 convenience stores, certainly help the bicycle tourist, having access to goods until late in the day.

My initial plan was to incorporate as much of the mountainous terrain into my route as possible, hoping to avoid some of the more densely populated areas in the southwest, taking inspiration from events like Bikingman Taiwan and the Taiwan KOM Challenge. I left Taipei early morning on well developed and signposted cycling paths through the city and along the Tamsui River in a westward direction. The environment transitioned from dense city and suburbs to rather remote mountainous terrain as I was aiming for the first highlight of the trip, Sun Moon Lake. The country’s largest lake and a popular tourist destination, the climb up was a first taste of what cycling the hilly terrain towards the center of the island would be like.

Passing an impressive temple structure in Nantou County, on the way to Sun Moon Lake.

The refreshing sight of Sun Moon Lake, after a steady 60km climb in up to 35C heat.

From the research I had done before my arrival, I had learned that, from a cyclists perspective, the eastern side of the island, with its rugged mountains, had way more to offer than the densely populated west. In hopes of upping my daily mileage a bit and avoiding spending too much time in industrial and urban centers in the west, I opted for taking a marked cycling route through Yunlin, Chiayi, and Tainan, across the Chiayi–Tainan Plain. In hindsight, that might have been the wrong choice. Urban sprawl was on full display, and one city was seemingly transitioning into the next, with a mix of manufacturing complexes and residential areas. Riding on roads four to six lanes wide and plenty of traffic was, as one can expect, not that much fun. The incredibly high amount of traffic lights encountered slowed down progress even more.

Multiple cycling routes are marked on road surfaces throughout Taiwan, making use of the rightmost lane, usually reserved for slower traffic like scooters and bicycles.

Cycling through the flat, but heavily populated and, in parts, industrial areas of the Chiayi–Tainan Plain

“Cycling in Taiwan has been great so far,” Jure told me. I bumped into him and his friend Sascha, both from Berlin, at a convenience store on the outskirts of Kaohsiung. They made use of their Easter holiday to cycle around Taiwan, on a route very similar to mine. “Taiwanese people just let you be, however, if you need help or assistance with anything, they are there for you,” Jure reported on their experience with the locals so far.

Things on the road turned for the better at the southern tip of Taiwan when quiet, rural Route 199 took me across the Southern Taiwanese mountains and onto the east coast, with breathtaking views of the shoreline. That day’s ride ended in Taitung City, one of the major cities on the east coast of the island.

Climbing up and over the mountains on the southern tip of Taiwan on Route 199, the Shouka Incline.

Lush green and incredibly dense vegetation as far as the eye can see. Route 199, Southern Taiwan.

View from a highway bridge towards Jinlun, Taimali Township.

The expansive views of the Pacific were a welcoming change from the densely populated areas in the west.

I had heard great things about the East Rift Valley, located between two mountain ranges in the east. The valley, spanning about 180 kilometers in length, beckoned with the sight of paddy and rapeseed flower fields, stretching on for tens of kilometers, as well as encountering examples of aboriginal cultures. The route along the coast, on the other hand, with uninterrupted ocean views, seemed equally attractive. So I decided to do a bit of both. For about half of the following day, I followed the shoreline, the sun beating down from mostly cloudless skies. At the surfer town of Donghe, I then took a left turn onto Route 23, heading for the valley, hoping to get the best of both worlds.

Taking in the views along the east coast. Jialulan, Taitung County.

Cruising along next to the shore of the Pacific, a bit reminiscent of parts of Highway 1 in California.

Turning away from the ocean on Route 23, on my way to the East Rift Valley.

But, oh my, I almost had bitten off more than I could chew on this road. The uphill seemingly never ended and the heat got virtually unbearable. Reaching the steepest part in the middle of the day, I had to seek shade from roadside trees and take a break for an hour. Amazing views that my legs and body paid for dearly.

A much needed break in the shade around noon. The heat during the climb had become almost unbearable.

Climbing up on Route 23 over the mountains in the southeast in up to 36C heat.

In situations like this, it helps to remember that even the longest uphill eventually ends. The downhill on the other side into the valley was exhilarating, yet the promised scenic views of lush green rice fields only partially materialized. There were fields aplenty, mind you, the cloudy conditions, however, covered most of the landscape in a monotonous veil of grey over the following two days.

The veil of grey, caused by rainy conditions lifted somewhat during the evening hours. Route 193, Yuli Township, East Rift Valley.

Passing through smaller towns for most of the route through the valley, reaching the city of Hualien, with a population of over 100,000, was a welcoming change. The day I was scheduled to arrive, it saw me cycling through moderate to heavy rain, starting at ten in the morning and only stopping towards my arrival in the city late afternoon. I used a rest day there for some off-the-bike downtime and to dry out myself and my equipment.

A bus shelter providing cover from a downpour. Guangfu, Taiwan.

Foreboding rain clouds over the mountains, overlooking a rice paddy field. Route 193, Fenglin Township.

A piece of artistic work in Hualien City, where I stopped for two nights.

What should have followed was the train ride to Su’ao, but what happened was close to six hours and 113 kilometers of coastal road cycling, with all the stresses that come with sharing the road with local, tourist as well as truck and construction traffic. Interestingly enough, for the final bit of the day, making my way towards Jiaoxi, the majority of the traffic dropped away, and I soon found myself on the old coastal route, now seeing little use. As I climbed up, higher and higher, with almost no traffic, the views of the coast were stunning, revealing the characteristic crescent moon shaped bays strewn along Taiwan’s east coast.

Passing the entrance to Taroko National Park, however not cycling the scenic Taroko Gorge route due to inclement weather.

Traffic congestion in a tunnel due to road construction along the Su’ao Highway.

The winding Su’ao Highway, twisting and turning along the eastern shore, being replaced by a more direct route through the mountains using tunnels.

Away from the main highway, climbing up to expanding views of the crescent moon-shaped coastline of Dongao Bay, Su’ao Township.

Favored by locals for its hot springs, the resort town of Jiaoxi felt cleaner and less hectic than many of the other places I had visited in Taiwan thus far. Dipping my tired feet into one of the public pools with warm water was as much of a treat as sampling local food from the many establishments along the main road in the evening.

The only thing separating me from completing the circumvention and making it back to Taipei was a final mountain range in the northeastern corner. Unexpectedly I also had to watch out for reckless drivers in overpriced sports cars, racing up and down the switchbacks I was laboring up in the morning. Sitting out some more rain at a FamilyMart convenience store in Pinglin, the afternoon saw me inching up a narrow and steep back street, dubbed the “Buddha road.” The name stems from the fact that it culminates at a temple area with golden Buddha statues lining a stretch of the roadway.

The last big stamina test on the steep Route 106乙, dubbed the “Buddha Road”, leading me back into the Greater Taipei Area.

View from up high on Route 106乙, where Highway 5 snakes its way through the mountains towards Taipei.

The exhilarating descent on the other side brought me into an area east of Taipei, New Taipei City, before reaching my virtual finish line at the Taipei 101 skyscraper the following day.

Back on cycling paths in Taipei and almost at the finish line

At the virtual finish line, Taipei 101, the iconic skyscraper in the Xinyi district of the city

While still a fascinating experience, with a bit better planning and slightly more time on my hands, I could have turned this journey into an even more interesting one. The days I spent in the population centers of the southwest could have been substituted with a route further inland, extending my time in rural areas. Because, from my experience, the magical moments on any cycling journey do not happen at a traffic light in a big city, but rather on a rural, quiet road, immersed in the peaceful sounds and smells of the environment around me.