Cycling Through Taichung: Exploring Three Scenic Bike Paths

Discover the beauty and charm of taichung on two wheels

6th July 2024

Taichung City, with its vibrant culture and stunning landscapes, offers an unparalleled experience for cycling enthusiasts. I had the pleasure of exploring three of its scenic bike paths on my latest adventure.

The Route. The yellow line is the 1–2 Bike Path. The orange line is the Dongfeng Green Bicycle Way. The red line is the Hofung Bicycle Green Way.

I left home early and made my way to Changhua Railway Station, a fitting start since all the trails I had planned for the day were once old railway lines. My journey was set to begin in Taichung’s Central District.

Upon arrival, however, the attendant informed me that I needed to catch a different train, which wouldn’t depart for another hour. Reluctantly, I accepted the delay, briefly considering if cycling directly to Taichung might have been faster.

Deciding against it, I wandered to a nearby coffee shop and enjoyed an Americano as the early sun warmed the city. What some might see as an inconvenience, I viewed as a chance to savour my coffee and relax. With no pressing deadlines or expectations, it was simply a leisurely ride — just me and my bike.

Part 1 — Cycling Through the Heart of the City. The 1–2 Bike Path

I stood near the ticket machines at Taichung Railway Station, the bustling hub of the city alive with a flurry of people. I took a moment before starting my journey, enjoying the station’s free air conditioning. Outside, the warm day awaited. One of my favourite pastimes in big cities is people-watching, trying to guess the lives of those around me. That day, I saw elderly couples in summer clothing, Indonesian carers on their day off meeting up, teenagers in fashionable attire, and the occasional person smartly dressed for work.

Then there was me, standing in my shorts with a bike by my side.

I wasn’t entirely sure where the trail started from the station, but I knew it was a little further up the road, away from the traffic-riddled mess near the train station. I pushed on, carrying my bike down the steps instead of taking the lift, which was being used by wheelchair users and the elderly.

I decided to take a shortcut, but it quickly proved to be a mistake. The only time I had ever used this road in the past was during the evening and night; I hadn’t realised that in the mornings, it transformed into a bustling market. It was jam-packed with people and scooters, with stalls selling an array of food from fresh fruit and vegetables to other items I didn’t take much notice of.

I did my best not to bump into the scooter in front of me. I wanted to turn around, but as I tried, a fresh wave of people filled the road, making it awkward for me to leave. I realised I just had to push through and reach the other side.

One annoying thing about these morning markets in Taiwan is that many older Taiwanese use their scooters as if they were their legs. They ride at a walking pace, glancing at the offerings, and sometimes they suddenly slam on the brakes when something catches their eye. This is why you need to keep your eyes peeled at all times. I suppose that’s what adventure is: expecting the unexpected.

I finally found the trail, guided by the brown signage pointing the way. As I joined, fitter cyclists in their tight clothing, orange shades, and pointed helmets zoomed past me. Dog walkers, joggers, and the occasional child running around without a care in the world also shared the path.

“Fengyuan, here I come,” I whispered to myself, as if I were about to embark on something epic.

I had used the cycle path once before. I work in Fengyuan and usually commute there by train, which takes around 30 minutes on the faster service. One Friday, I decided to take my bike to work and cycle home to see what it was like. It took me three hours to cycle back to Changhua, though I did stop at a night market. It was an enjoyable ride, and now I wanted to experience cycling during the day.

The 1–2 cycle route is incredibly useful. Taichung is known as one of the worst cities in Taiwan for cycling, with a high number of accidents involving cyclists. In 2023, Taichung had the most bicycle accidents leading to injury or death in the entire country.

According to Taiwan Plus, there were around 3,500 accidents leading to injury and 22 cycling deaths.

So you can imagine how relieved I felt to have the opportunity to ride on such a safe path.

I see this temple every weekday as I pass it on the train, but from the elevated tracks, I’ve only ever glimpsed the large statue on the temple’s roof. This was the first time I was seeing it up close. The temple is called Nantian Temple and it is the first and largest temple in Greater Taichung dedicated to Emperor Guan, also known as Guan Yu or Lord Guan.

The statue of Emperor Guan, sitting prominently on the roof, stands at 146 metres tall. Celebrated for his righteousness and trustworthiness, Emperor Guan is also revered by businessmen as the ‘Martial God of Wealth.’ Consequently, Nantian Temple is also known as the God of Wealth Temple. Inside, the temple houses other deities of the Buddhist faith, but I did not go in to see them. I needed to continue heading north.

The view of the Taichung mountains caught my eye at one of the crossroads. They are wonderful to see. It’s one of the amazing things about this little island: nature likes to remind you that it is never too far away. A part of me wanted to turn my bike in that direction and embark on a spontaneous adventure, but I knew that by the end of the morning, my body would be exhausted if I attempted to cycle up those peaks. Maybe in the future.

I usually see these mountains on my morning commute, with the tracks right above the trail. Now, I’ll probably view my commute differently, having seen how the areas surrounding my route look up close.

This was my view for most of my journey through the city. As you can see, the trail is easy to ride; it is practically flat and well-maintained. It follows the rail line, which you can see to the right of the picture, and goes right up to each station’s entrance points. I can imagine the 1–2 being more beneficial to commuters rather than adventure enthusiasts like myself, though it was still fun to ride.

I felt like I could relax and go into a sort of meditative trance, not having to worry about traffic approaching from behind. All I had to do was look out for children and dogs. Easy!

Behind me is Taichung’s only metro line, known as the ‘Green Line.’ You can catch it from Xinwuri in the south, all the way up to Beitun in the north. It began operations on 25th April 2021, so it is fairly new.

I have been living in Taiwan since March 2017, and I remember how much harder it was to get around Taichung using only the buses. Us expats like to joke that Taichung is a badly planned city, only now trying to bring in these services to an already densely packed area. There are plans to open another line, but that isn’t expected until the 2030s, and I have no idea how they will do it without disrupting businesses and people’s daily lives.

I also know they plan to connect the metro line to Changhua City, but who knows when that will happen?

Along the trail, you can catch glimpses of the past. Old houses slowly decay as the progress of time pushes on. I wondered what this house had seen, what stories it would tell if it could speak. I am quite sure that when it was first built, there would have been nothing but fields and trees around it. These days, it is right next to large, modern residential areas and the train line, being swallowed up by the city. I am pretty sure the house will stand for many years to come, just forgotten.

This was my first disruption on the cycle path. A small section was under construction, but it was no problem. I just had to take a little detour through the car park on my right. I eyed the machinery as a digger pulled up mounds of dirt from below.

This is something you see a lot of in Taiwan: scooters. They whizz around like a swarm of mosquitoes, so ingrained in modern Taiwanese culture that they have become part of everyday life. I used to enjoy riding my scooter, but I have given it up. I’ve chosen to ride a bicycle instead, to get fitter and be more environmentally conscious. Also, I find that riding a scooter in Taiwan can be rather dangerous, as road rules are often ignored, especially in Changhua.

I had many adventures with my scooter, venturing up into the high mountains where I can’t yet go with my bicycle. But I am working on myself to get fit enough to tackle those mountain roads using my lungs and legs, not unleaded fuel and an engine.

There are times when the trail can start to feel monotonous. I don’t think the 1–2 was meant to be completed all at once. As I mentioned earlier in the blog, it seems more useful for commuters. I found myself just counting down the miles to get to Fengyuan.

Suddenly, there was an opening to my right: an old house, a rice field, trees, and mountains. It felt like I was in the countryside, hard to believe there was a bustling city behind me. I stood under the shade of the railway line and took a moment to appreciate the view. The roof of the house had long since gone, but I imagined who might have lived there, perhaps they owned the field, tended to it, and harvested the crops when they grew. Those people are most likely long gone, but their patch of land remains.

To some, this road may seem insignificant — a main road with signs, scooters, and cars passing by. But to me, it holds meaning. I am nearing the end of Part 1 of my journey. This stretch is a small section of the ring road encircling Fengyuan District. Standing on the bridge, I looked down. As I approached, a small red sign suggested dismounting and pushing my bike up the steep incline. Like other cyclists around me, I disregarded it and cycled up, breaking the rules.

One thing about me: I respect rules that make sense, but I won’t abide by senseless ones.

It felt odd being in Fengyuan when I didn’t have to be there. Normally, this district is where I work, and you wouldn’t find me here on my day off. However, I needed to head north, and Fengyuan lay in my path. I decided to rest, reaching a stop as I concluded Part 1.

There’s a waffle cafe I enjoy visiting when time allows. I needed to refuel and relax in cool air. I ordered a tuna and vegetable waffle, with a honey waffle for dessert, complemented by an Amber Black Tea (though I’m unsure what ‘Amber’ refers to).

Sitting there was refreshing. The harder, more thrilling part of my journey lay ahead.

Part 2 — Cycling Fengyuan District

I have a soft spot for Fengyuan — it’s about the same size as Changhua City but offers more to do. Despite being part of Taichung City, it feels like its own distinct place. After leaving the waffle restaurant, I briefly rejoined the 1–2 trail on the outskirts of the district.

In my day-to-day life, I realize I haven’t explored much of Fengyuan beyond the train station and the schools where I work. Heading north toward the district’s edge, from the top of a small incline, I caught a glimpse of the distant mountains. I thought about how later that day, I would be cycling through those mountains, using an old railway tunnel. The anticipation thrilled me.

As I admired the mountains, I was startled by a man’s joyful scream. Glancing over, I saw him speeding down a steep hill on his scooter. You wouldn’t expect someone his age to embrace such exhilaration, but it was heartening to witness his zest for life. Soon, I too would descend that hill. While I didn’t scream, a smile spread across my face. I felt the wind against my face, reaching that exhilarating moment where control feels both tenuous and absolute — an indescribable sensation where you flirt with danger but remain in command.

At the bottom of the hill, the scene transformed into a tranquil, verdant residential area. A small river meandered by, and trees swayed gently in the warm breeze. I have always found the sound of trickling water incredibly soothing — it’s one of the few natural sounds that can instantly relax me. I watched the aquatic plants sway gracefully against the current. The water appeared fresh, though being this close to the city, I had doubts about its purity. It likely wasn’t suitable for swimming.

Through the gaps in the trees, I glimpsed the railway bridge. I waited for a passing train to capture a photo, but it was taking longer than expected. Uncertain about the next train’s schedule, I eventually moved on.

Before long, I reached the start of the cycle trail. I had to cross one of the larger main roads, but following the lanes and traffic lights, everything went smoothly without any hiccups. Immediately, I noticed a difference: there were many more people out enjoying their day. Small rental businesses had sprung up along the beginning of the trail, offering various bicycle rental options. You could choose from regular push bikes to e-bikes and even tandem bikes. However, as you know, I had brought my own bike along.

Part 3— Dongfeng Green Bicycle Way

The trail began in a familiar way — a straightforward path, well-maintained and shaded. People zoomed past me on their e-bikes, their smiles wide and carefree. As tempting as it was to jump on one of those bikes, throttle back, and go, I knew I’d appreciate the ride more if I relied on my own energy. It felt like earning the views I pedaled towards.

Along the bike lane, glimpses of the surrounding area unfolded — houses nestled against the backdrop of mountains. I often paused to admire the scenery, taking short breaks to soak in where I was. Insects chirped their usual melodies, and the sun warmed my face. I was becoming accustomed to Taiwan’s climate and challenges.

Watching others speed by, focused solely on the trail ahead, I wondered, “Why wouldn’t they want to stop and take in this view?” It felt like this moment was meant just for me.

I rejoined the trail, mindful of the e-bikes zooming past. The last thing I wanted was to accidentally collide with a family out for a ride, full of kids and grandparents.

I noticed a small petting area with geese, other birds, and a guard dog that seemed content in the shade. However, what caught my attention most was a large cow. I was tempted to approach and pet it, but the area appeared closed and I didn’t see the owner nearby. Besides, I didn’t want to risk upsetting the guard dog or getting bitten.

I had reached Shigang District, nestled between Fengyuan and Dongshi. At a small stall, I enjoyed refreshments from a man who indicated the drink’s price with gestures and grunts, though using Chinese would have worked just fine. Nearby, other stalls offered mainly food items. Not hungry myself, I observed a father and child enjoying sausages on sticks next to me.

Shigang Reservoir was nearby, so I decided to visit — a must-see when passing through. However, I found the reservoir quiet, with little gushing water as I had hoped. In Taiwan, many rivers are tame unless influenced by a typhoon; only one chamber was flowing, trickling down steps into the river below. Amid selfies and a man losing his hat in the wind, I checked off Shigang Reservoir from my list of sights.

Later, I learned that the reservoir, constructed from 1974 to 1977, serves flood control and irrigation purposes, and endured damage during the 1999 921 earthquake. Beyond this, I didn’t delve into technical details like water volume and flow rates — do you really want to know?

Continuing along the bikeway, I kept close to the Dajia River, once a railway line. Established in 1959 to transport lumber from Dasyueshan Mountain, the single-track line included a loop in Shigang and served passengers, mostly students, alongside freight. Declining use post-lumber industry closure led to its closure by the Taichung County government on September 1, 1991.

Recognizing tourism potential, the local government transformed the former railway into a bike trail, opening it in 2000.

Crossing the Dajia River via the bridge on the bike path, I gazed at the imposing mountains in the distance. They loomed dark and formidable, almost forbidding entry into their realm. Though I had no immediate plans to venture into those mountains, the idea intrigued me for the future.

Nearer to the mountains, the river flowed stronger and looked refreshingly clear. I paused to observe fishermen standing waist-deep in the water, patiently awaiting a catch. Their patience tested mine.

I entertained the idea of cooling off in the river, imagining the relief of its cool water against my sweat-drenched, overheated skin. But from my vantage point, I couldn’t spot an easy path down to the river’s edge.

I arrived at the first train tunnel on the outskirts of Dongshi. With little to see in Dongshi District, I was eager to continue towards Houli District in the north. Entering the tunnel, I immediately appreciated the cool shade it provided, a relief I desperately needed. I watched as other cyclists, on their electric bikes buzzing like large mosquitoes, swiftly passed me at speeds I couldn’t match.

Content with what I had seen along the trail, I didn’t feel compelled to venture much further. During quiet moments, when no one else passed, I imagined the trains that once traversed this tunnel. The line likely used fuel or coal, as it wasn’t electrified — an aspect of its history that intrigued me. Standing in a place previously inaccessible felt surreal.

Inside the tunnel, the sound of flowing water from the drainage system on either side filled the air. I lingered, reluctant to resume cycling. The tranquil atmosphere, coupled with the soothing shade, kept me at ease.

Part 3— Hofung Bicycle Green Way

Pedaling back to the starting point where the two bike lanes diverged was surprisingly enjoyable without the distraction of taking pictures. Heading back felt smoother, aided by the sun dipping behind clouds that cooled the air around me.

Skipping the beginning of the trail, which mirrored the last leg, I stopped at a small shop for a Sprite — a craving I often have on long rides. I downed the drink eagerly, as if it were the most vital refreshment in my life at that moment.

This trail was noticeably shorter than the previous one. Almost immediately, I reached the famous bridge over the Dajia River, marking the old railway line. Below, the river flowed energetically over rocks and formed serene pools, evoking a sense of wilderness. Enjoying the quiet on the bridge, I paused to admire the scenery. I couldn’t help but envision living in Houli District and cycling here regularly as part of my commute — it would be a refreshing start to any day.

The tunnel through the mountain awaited just beyond the bridge. Unlike the previous one, this tunnel was much longer, taking several minutes to cycle through.

This trail ranks among my favourite in Taiwan. There’s something uniquely satisfying about cycling through a long, cool tunnel, especially in a hot climate.

Echoes bounced off the walls, heralding the approach of others before they came into view. A group of teenagers on e-bikes zoomed past, their laughter and shouts echoing through the tunnel — a refreshing sight of youthful enjoyment.

Inside, the air was cold and slightly damp, a welcome contrast to the outside heat. A cool wind swept through the tunnel, instantly cooling my overheated body. The tunnel featured alcoves where one could pull off the trail into the wall. I took advantage of one, relishing the sensation as if I were cycling on a windy day back in the UK.

Surprisingly quiet after the initial clusters of people passed, the tunnel grew serene and relaxing. I found myself slipping into a meditative state, captivated by the faint wail of the wind squeezing through the narrow space. Reluctantly, I pressed on through the tunnel and emerged on the other side.

Instantly, the warmth enveloped me again, a stark contrast to the cool sanctuary of the tunnel.

The ride towards Houli was pleasantly straightforward. Following the serene bike trail, I meandered closer to the town centre. Trees enveloped me, their leaves gently cascading to the ground and occasionally brushing against me. I caught sight of a lizard darting up a tree trunk and passed the occasional cyclist along the way.

As I entered Houli, a sense of tranquility enveloped me. It felt as though I had ventured into a quiet oasis amidst Taichung. Within moments, I reached the train station, marking the end of my journey.

The railway station was eerily quiet, save for the bike rental attendant whom I unwittingly startled upon entering. Positioned at the back of the station, the ticket counter stood unmanned, though the ticket machine hummed to life as I purchased my fare. The next available train wouldn’t depart for another hour and a half. Wondering what activities Houli had to offer, I was already weary from the heat and eagerly anticipating some air-conditioned respite.

I have plans to return to Houli soon and explore the coast, particularly Daan Beach. On this day, however, I settled for a Family Mart where I purchased the coolest beverages available. Inside, every seat was taken, so I opted for an unoccupied outdoor table shaded from the sun. There, I relaxed and passed the time, observing the unhurried pace of life in Houli. Despite the leisurely atmosphere, it felt refreshing to sit and unwind.