Am I in the City?
Riding the Tanyeshen Green Bikeway in Taichung City
28th July 2024
I have often seen this trail on the map, but I usually passed it without giving it much thought. The city has many bikeways like this one, converted from old railway lines. Some are interesting, while others are not.
However, on one sunny Sunday, I decided to give this trail a chance. Looking at the map, I anticipated it would just offer city views, involve dodging traffic, and waiting at traffic lights. I was pleasantly surprised
Arriving at the starting point in Tanzi District, I felt a surge of excitement as I prepared for the morning’s ride, even though my legs weren’t quite ready to jump into action.
What got me in the mood was the lively atmosphere at Tanzi Station. There was a lot of commotion — people cycling, kids running around, and others relaxing with their iced teas in the shade of the railway tracks overhead.
I applied sunscreen to all my exposed skin and massaged my calves and thighs. I didn’t know exactly how long the ride would be, but I knew it wouldn’t take all day, which was a relief. As I mentioned in another blog, I’ve been feeling a bit sluggish lately due to the extra work I’ve been doing these past two months.
Tanyeshen Green Bikeway
I first set off on the 1–2 trail, the same one I had cycled before when heading towards Fengyuan, as I mentioned in a previous blog. The Tanyeshen Green Bikeway branched off from that route via a slip bridge.
After passing a cluster of buildings and crossing a main road, the sense of being in the city gradually faded. Greenery took over, and the pleasant sounds of nature replaced the gurgling noise of fuel escaping through exhaust pipes. Although I wasn’t far from the city’s heart, it felt as though I had ventured into the countryside.
Birds began to flit between the trees, and butterflies fluttered around the grass and shrubs nearby. The trail was busy, with cyclists passing by, nodding and smiling as they went in the opposite direction. I returned the friendly gestures.
The trail occasionally crossed over main roads via bridges, and it was only at these moments that you were reminded you were passing through one of Taiwan’s largest and busiest cities.
As I approached the bridge, I tried to ride up it quickly to make the incline easier to manage. My plan was to get over it as fast as possible. However, in front of me were two people — a man in blue and a woman who was learning how to ride a bicycle. I remained patient, recalling my own childhood when my mother taught me to ride in the small green space behind our home in England. I vividly remember falling onto the grass the moment I realised she had let go of the back of my seat.
The woman was doing well that day, until she reached the decline on the other side of the bridge. The sudden increase in speed seemed to startle her, causing her to lose control and crash into the central plastic poles before falling to the ground. The man immediately got off his bike to help her up. She seemed fine, brushing off the dirt that had found its way onto her trousers, and she even had a smile on her face — a reassuring sign.
This trail isn’t known for its great views — in fact, that’s more of a fact than an opinion. Most of the time, trees enclose the path, likely hiding the nearby residential and commercial blocks.
However, every now and then, when crossing over one of the small bridges, you’re met with a view. I particularly liked one of these views; it wasn’t anything spectacular, but I loved that I could see the Taichung mountains in the distance and a temple just down the road.
Before long, the hum of traffic grew louder, gradually drowning out the pleasant sounds of nature. I was nearing National Freeway 1, also known as the ‘Sun Yat-sen Freeway,’ named after the country’s founding father. This road stretches the length of the island, from Keelung City in the north to Kaohsiung City in the south.
I took shelter under the freeway, enjoying the shade from the steadily warming sun. Paintings decorated the brick wall, and I couldn’t resist taking a photo next to a bicycle with the message ‘ON THE WAY’ boldly painted in white.
According to the map, reaching National Freeway 1 meant one thing: I was nearly halfway done. ‘This trail isn’t as long as I thought,’ I said to myself, zooming in on the map on my phone. Before setting out, I had planned to head further west, over the Dadu mountains to either Qingshui or Shalu District, just so I could catch the train home.
The trail occasionally featured small vendors, mostly elderly individuals who likely operated these stalls as a side activity in retirement. I spotted one old man selling ice cream, and with the Taiwanese summer being what it is, I couldn’t resist having an ice cream in the morning.
As I pulled up next to him, he didn’t even ask what flavour I would like; as soon as I greeted him, he returned the greeting and started scooping. I accepted without hesitation, paying an exceptionally high price of 40 NTD, which, given the portion, I felt justified calling expensive.
I couldn’t quite determine the flavour — it seemed to be red bean, a popular choice among the Taiwanese. They put red bean in nearly everything, which isn’t as well received by the expat community.
There’s nothing worse than biting into a cake expecting chocolate only to be surprised by red bean. Anyway, back to the ice cream: I didn’t particularly enjoy the flavour, the portion size was too small for the price I paid, and the cone was too soft, depriving me of that satisfying crunch as I bit into it.
A little disappointed, I quickly finished the ice cream and went on my merry way. I often like to support these small vendors along the trails; it’s always a hit or miss whether what you buy is good or not.
The trail was starting to get busier, with more cyclists and joggers enjoying the green space that the city provided. I needed to remind myself that all around me were entire neighbourhoods bustling with life; it was just that, at that moment, I couldn’t see any of it. The trail was designed perfectly to make me feel as though I was far away from all that noise.
Like most green spaces in built-up areas of Taiwan, you can almost certainly hear the loud music blaring from stereos. If you follow the noise, you’ll typically find middle-aged to elderly people enjoying their time. On this occasion, they were dancing — swinging their arms, twirling, and kicking up their legs. Other activities you might see include morning exercises or karaoke.
I stood under a tree for a moment, watching these people enjoy themselves. An elderly man was laughing as he twirled around a woman; it was adorable.
Just a little further down from the dancers, I sat on a bench surrounded by a small forest behind me. I was far enough away not to hear the music but close enough to hear the rustle of leaves above my head. The sun warmed my skin while a gentle breeze cooled it down.
I listened to the tapping of leaves as they fell and hit the ground, accompanied by the faint sounds of insects hiding in the bushes, though they weren’t making much noise. Occasional cyclists passed by without greeting me; I felt somewhat hidden behind the bush, with my only indication of presence being my bike left on the trail.
I could sense that I was nearing the end of the Tanyeshen Green Bikeway; more buildings were starting to appear, and the areas connecting to the main road were busy with crowds of people hanging about.
One thing caught my eye, leaving me with two conflicting emotions: amazement and sadness.
On the 24th and 25th of July, Taiwan was hit by a particularly dangerous typhoon named ‘Typhoon Gaemi.’ The typhoon caused significant damage across the island, and I had even seen evidence of its destruction on this very trail, with fallen branches and a litter of leaves scattered across the path.
This rather large and healthy tree had been uprooted, its roots exposed, and it had crashed down onto the old railway tracks adjacent to the bikeway.
I couldn’t resist getting closer.
Feeling a bit sorry for the tree, I thought about its bleak future; as a tree lover myself, I feared it would likely be chopped up eventually — perhaps it had already been done by the time I wrote this blog. It looked like a tree that had stood on this ground for a long time.
I walked around the tree, examining its branches, vines, and the roots that once absorbed underground water.
One amusing thing happened while I was examining the tree. A worker who appeared to have been doing some maintenance on the trail approached me. I thought he was going to tell me to be careful — something many Asian people do, which I find adorable — but instead, he tried to explain how a tree works and the purpose of its roots.
I stared at him with a raised eyebrow, nodding my head occasionally. In the end, I simply had to say, ‘I know,’ and he smiled, nodded a bit more, and continued with his day.
This was the last bit of greenery along the trail. Something inside me urged me to jump into the grass and explore the forests on the far side, but I pushed that inner child feeling away.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to; I simply wanted to keep going on the trail. Plus, Taiwan has some venomous snakes, and I didn’t fancy getting bitten in the middle of the field — that would have ruined a perfectly good Sunday.
This final bridge signalled that the trail had come to an end, but I didn’t want to stop there. I carried on a little further to a tank park near an army base. I love tanks and find them to be fascinating pieces of battleground machinery.
I discovered that these tanks were, in fact, American. I know the Americans were here in the 1950s, and U.S. military, technical, and economic aid to Taiwan increased further after China entered the Korean War in late October 1950.
As I walked closer to the tank, I couldn’t resist touching its metal body, giving it a rattling knock and listening to the echo of the metal. I do the same thing with trains; I don’t know why — it’s just a little habit of mine. I tried to imagine the tanks moving around, heads poking out of hatches and cannons firing at targets. Who knows if these tanks ever saw any action, but I still thought they were pretty cool.
This was the final view I had before making my way towards the smaller Dadu mountains.
Dadu Mountains
I made my way off the trail and onto the main road, ‘Highway 10,’ which circled around Taichung International Airport. The imposing gray wall topped with barbed wire made it clear they didn’t want anyone crossing over. I watched as a plane landed, but by the time I noticed it flying overhead, it was too late to capture a picture.
The main road around the airport was long and dull. It was particularly busy, with traffic coming far too close for comfort, and there was a slight continuous incline that was rather annoying in the midday sun. I had to stop on two occasions just to catch my breath, already feeling a bit sluggish that day.
Upon reaching the top of the hill (not realising I was already cycling over Dadu), I was greeted by a rather welcoming view: Shalu District.
Shalu is a rather busy coastal district of Taichung City. From the main road leading in, I could see the mass of buildings below, as well as Taichung Port in the far distance, sitting on the coastline along the Taiwan Strait — a bustling stretch of water that separates us from China to the west.
Bicycles are allowed on the main road, but there is one section where we aren’t permitted: where the cars join National Highway 3. There is a secondary road for us, which is also used by scooters. Sometimes, these secondary roads can be frustrating, as they take you on a rather large loop before you get back on track.
Occasionally, I look at these loops and think there’s no point in them, as it still feels safe enough for cars, scooters, and bicycles to travel together down the road. However, this was not one of those occasions; I was quite glad for the loop, as the intersection was mayhem.
One thing I love about the Dadu mountain area is the change of colour in the mud. It has an orange tint that always makes me feel as if I’ve travelled to another country. Most people probably don’t notice this, but I have peculiar interests, and the mud fascinates me. Don’t judge!
As I crossed Highway 10 to get to the other side, I had to decide whether to follow the more direct main road down into Shalu or take the route over the hill through the cemetery. I chose the cemetery route, thinking it would be more interesting.
The road offered some lovely distant views of the Dadu mountains and a sense of nature buzzing all around me. For a place meant for the dead, there was certainly a lot of life.
This particular grave really intrigued me; it was filled with water from the recent rain. I could have easily dipped my feet into the water, but that would have been disrespectful to those laid to rest.
Another observation I have about graves in Taiwan — this is purely my opinion — is that they tend to be quite large. Considering that Taiwan is an island with limited space, the graves for individual people can take up a considerable amount of land. It got me thinking: where do people get buried when a cemetery is full, and what happens when there is no more room?
With Confucianism being one of the main branches of Buddhism in Taiwan, cremation is often forbidden as it is considered disrespectful to the dead and unnatural.
Shalu District
Before long, I was heading down the mountain. The road was rather steep and quite dangerous, with little room for a car to pass if it wanted to travel up. I decided to get off my bike and push it down the mountain, as I didn’t want to wear out my tyre like I did on the 1–25 adventure.
I stopped at a convenience store, where I enjoyed a refreshing drink of grape juice. A man who didn’t seem quite all there kept laughing and telling me what I presumed was a joke about the heat. I just smiled and pretended to laugh, wishing he would go back into the shop while I sat at the table outside. I wanted to be left alone to think about my plans for the rest of the day, as I wasn’t sure whether to join my friends at the cinema to watch the new Deadpool & Wolverine movie or just head home.
I made my way to Shalu Railway Station, following a market road lined with stalls on either side. I often forget how busy Shalu can get, as it is a district quite far from the main part of the city. I really should explore these coastal districts more, but I often find they are just filled with main roads, trucks, and large industrial areas. Still, I am willing to be proven wrong.
I’ll save that for another time.
This adventure turned out to be a lovely surprise. I had expected it to be rather dull, as the map indicated I would be cycling through the city. I originally thought the trail would resemble a park, like the 1–24, but I’m glad I was proven wrong.
It felt nice to experience that sense of escape while still in the city — a place to touch grass and be surrounded by trees.
I’m also glad I included the Dadu Mountains on this trip into Shalu; the main bikeway wasn’t as long as I had hoped, and by the time my sluggish feeling had passed, I wanted to do more.
For those wondering, I did go to see Wolverine & Deadpool. It was a great movie that I didn’t expect to enjoy, but I only watched it because I like the actor, Ryan Reynolds. However, it did feel strange heading back into the Central District of Taichung after spending what felt like most of the morning in a forest.
I have had more adventures since this one, so expect more blogs to come soon when I have time to write them.
Happy adventuring!
