Randonautica Cycling Five — Dadu Mountain, Wuri District
7th July 2024
It was a warm Sunday, and I had spent most of the morning at home, watching random videos on YouTube. Like most of these adventures, it started with me feeling restless. I didn’t want to waste the day and its glorious sunshine. Though the air conditioning was nice, I felt rather bored and lazy.
I picked up my charged phone and opened the Randonautica app again. This time, the coordinates took me across the county border to Wuri District in Taichung City, right on the edge of Dadu Mountain. I decided that was good enough for me.
The ride over was nothing exciting. As I left Changhua City, I could see Dadu Mountain from one of the many intersections. It isn’t a big mountain, but it’s big enough in the Taiwanese summer heat.
I had a quick pit stop at a convenience store near Chenggong Railway Station. The ride from Changhua had already made me feel dehydrated, and I had probably lost a lot of body salt and energy from the sweat. I tried not to stay too long, just in case my mind decided to change and jump on the next train back home.
I don’t really know too much about this temple.
The coordinates took me to a random road shaded by trees. I passed some Filipinos relaxing under the shade. One of the women stared at me as I went by.
Reaching the coordinate, it was too soon to turn back. I knew of a hiking trail very near the coordinate that offered a more thrilling adventure and better views.
The trail is called the ‘Zhi Gao Zun Walking Trail.’ I had to push my bike through it. The trail follows a water structure built to distribute water throughout the area. The flowing water was rather relaxing, with leaves gently drifting like mini boats on the current, which calmed my mind.
One of the star attractions of this trail is a large tree with exposed roots due to fallen dirt. I have always found plant life interesting, especially trees.
Seeing its roots left me fascinated by how far they can travel and their size. The roots snake down the mound of dirt towards the water source, attracted by its refreshing goodness. The tree is in a lucky spot with its own water supply right on its doorstep.
The trail was beautiful, and I greatly enjoyed the shade provided by the trees. The rustling leaves above my head gave me early signs that a warm breeze was on its way. The sounds of birds tweeting and branches creaking offered a moment of relaxation in my rather hectic life. I tried to sit on the wall next to the water, but an ant nest was rather dominant throughout the whole trail. The water looked very inviting for me to put my feet into, but I had no idea where the source of the water was or what might have gone into it upstream. I am very sceptical of water close to built-up areas.
I had to cross a wooden bridge, which provided a perfect example of how the water is carried over large drops, like the one below my feet. A water bridge allows the water to continue its flow. It reminded me of the Roman structures back in Europe, but on a much smaller scale.
As my bike chain ticked along, the wheels bounced on the wooden slabs and stones. I noticed a rope tied to a tree. I have a thing when on walks in Taiwan: if I see a rope, some trees, and a steep hill, I have to climb up it. I don’t know why — perhaps it’s my inner child wanting to be let out. I grabbed hold of the rope, feeling it sway as I tried to find stability. I pushed myself up the hill, slipping on the dry, dusty mud beneath my feet.
It didn’t take long to reach the top. There was no view, just trees and another small trail that I had no idea where it led. I couldn’t explore it that day anyway, as I had the bike with me and didn’t fancy pushing it up what I had just climbed. It would look ridiculous to anyone passing by.
At the end of this trail, I knew of a second trail that takes you further up the small Dadu Mountain. To reach it, I had to pass a construction site where a large building was being constructed. The mud had been churned up by the constant traffic of construction vehicles. As I rounded the corner, a truck was driving up, causing me to lean to the side and duck as whatever was dangling off the back nearly touched my head.
Being a Sunday, the construction site was rather quiet, so after that one truck, I pushed on.
The way up the mountain is easy if you don’t have a bike. The first section is just a normal concrete path, the middle section is wooden steps, and the third section is mud, rocks, and tyres.
I wanted to carry my bike up, though. I knew it would be fun to ride off-road at the top of the mountain. Also, the road I wanted to take to get back down was on the other side. So, up the bike must go.
It didn’t take long for the steps to appear before me. They took a lot of my energy as I had to carry my bike up each step, resting on the flat sections. If it weren’t for the growing breeze and the rather wonderful sight of swaying grass, this part would have probably been soul-destroying.
But I took it a bit at a time. I was in no rush to get to the top, allowing the breeze to touch my neck and brush my hair. I let one person make their way down the steps; he eyed my bike, most likely wondering what the hell I was doing. I was beginning to ask myself the same question.
At one point, I sat on a bench shaded under a small tree. But I only sat for a few seconds before I noticed the number of ants growing by my side. I stood up and watched as, after a few more seconds, the whole bench was in a flurry of ants, mostly where I had been sitting. I checked my shorts for any wandering ants, but there were none. It was a good thing I moved; I would have definitely had ants in my pants if I had sat any longer.
After the steps, the dirt track began. In some ways, it was easier than the steps, but in other ways, it was harder. As I pushed on, I awkwardly tried to find my footing in the ditches and lumps of the trail. Rocks slid under my feet, as did the mud. The bike was making its way up the mountain, but at a much slower rate. I could have carried the bike, but I was already feeling tired from the steps, the heat, and the previous cycling.
I took small breaks on my way up, but it was frustrating because I could see the top. I looked at the view of the bustling city below, where life carried on as normal while the world felt still and slow up here.
The last of the trail was behind me; I had finally made it to the top of this climb. I felt like a soaked sponge, absolutely dripping in sweat. My T-shirt clung to my back in an unsatisfying way. Another tree sat at the top of the path, and I stayed under its shade, feeling the breeze that had now picked up and turned into a wind. I must have stayed there for a good ten to fifteen minutes. At one point, a man joined me and also sat under the shade. He tried his best to speak English, and I did the same with Chinese, but our conversation was mostly hand signals and smiles.
Here are the views from the top of the mountain. On one side, there is swaying grass and more hills, a rather beautiful natural environment. It got me thinking about all the animals that hide under the blades of grass, such as snakes and mice.
The other view is looking down the mountain, back at Wuri District and the distant Taichung Mountains on the far side.
It’s amazing to see how flat much of Taiwan is. From the top of the mountain, I could also see the river I crossed earlier and Changhua County beyond that.
It was time to press on. I got on my bike and followed the rather rocky but nearly flat orange dirt that lay atop the mountain. That’s one of the interesting things about mountains — how things change the further up or down you go. I don’t know if you find that interesting, but I did.
I guess what I’m saying is that I like dirt and rocks!
I guess my nerdy side was starting to show; the changing geology of the landscape stood out before me. I could see how the mountain would evolve in the not-so-distant future. At the edge, rocks had rolled back down, and I wondered how many years it would be until this trail would no longer be safe to access. I did cycle a bit close to the edge, but I was in full control. Even if I were to fall off my bike, I wouldn’t have tumbled down the mountain.
Following the trail, with the view to my right and the swaying grass to my left, my wheel skidded on the mud as I attempted off-road riding. At one point, a big bump of mud caused my front wheel to stop abruptly, and my chest hit the metal bars. My wheels bounced along, and I did my best to avoid the rocks, some large enough to knock me off.
The pure enjoyment of off-road riding filled me with joy. I was well on my way to the road, having walked this trail before and thinking that in a minute or two, I would be descending the mountain. But then, I encountered a surprise.
A fence stood in my way. I could easily access the land beyond by carrying my bike up a rubble/muddy mound, over the fallen barbed wire, and down the other side. I didn’t remember seeing this fence before; it looked new.
I recalled there were other trails leading into the long grass from last time, enjoyable but difficult enough to walk, let alone ride. I wondered if there might be another way to the other side without risking my bike on the barbed wire or shards of crockery and rocks that could puncture a tyre.
I retraced my path to find the trail I had just passed. As I did, I started to hear distant sounds of thunder. Looking up at the sky, all I could see was blue sky and white clouds. It was only when I turned onto the secondary dirt track that I noticed the darkening clouds over the much larger mountains.
The thunder was constant, with barely a few seconds between each rumble. I caught glimpses of lightning strikes, which was rather cool to watch; I think I saw at least three jagged strikes, but struggled to capture them in a photo.
Looking up at the clouds above my head, I tried to discern their movement. I didn’t want to stay on Dadu Mountain if the storm was heading this way. The clouds seemed to be moving slowly, making it difficult to determine their direction, but it appeared they were heading eastwards, towards Nantou County. This eased my mind somewhat, yet the menacing sound of thunder remained a constant reminder of how quickly nature can change.
The trail was a bit of a challenge to ride; the overgrown grass would catch my handlebars on either side, forcing me to stop. Some of the grass grew so long that it would whip me in the face. Moreover, I couldn’t see the stones beneath me clearly. Twice, my wheels bounced over large stones, causing me to wobble, but fortunately, I had a soft landing.
At one point, I had to push my bike uphill, and the slope was almost too steep to manage. Gravity seemed intent on pulling me back down. Rocks and dirt slipped beneath my feet as I struggled to advance with my bike. At the top, I recognised an old bricked wall that must have been part of a forgotten building.
When I reached the end of the trail, I realised all that effort was for nothing. It led me back near the overgrown fence I hadn’t noticed before. I gave up and decided to carry my bike over all the sharp objects that threatened to puncture my tyre or cut my legs.
After crossing the fence, I felt a bit naughty being on private land. It was frustrating; this area had once been accessible to the public, with benches still lining the trail. As I reached the road, fate seemed to conspire against me once again. A big green fence blocked my way back down the mountain. There was no escape. As my eyes followed the fence line, I noticed a camera pointed directly at me. I turned away, feeling uneasy.
I began to wonder where the man I had spoken to earlier had gone. There must be another way out, but I had no idea where to look. Since I had my bike with me, I decided it was best to backtrack the way I came. Besides, I still wasn’t sure if the storm was heading my way.
As I descended the steps, a family was ascending. I recognised the Chinese word for ‘foreigner’ from one of the children, who seemed to be telling their mother that I was waiting for them to pass. I didn’t mind waiting; I was in no hurry.
A young couple also approached, and I hid behind a bush to avoid interrupting as the boyfriend took pictures of his girlfriend, whose yoga-like attire clearly posed for Instagram. She checked the photos twice before each reshoot. I made my presence known to avoid any misunderstanding.
Once they moved on, she smiled and bowed her head, and he did the same. I returned the gesture, though I always found it a bit awkward.
Upon reaching the concrete path, I hoped to cycle down it, but a terrible sound came from my chain — it had slipped off. I dismounted and fixed it, the oil staining my hands black. I cleaned them as best I could with my remaining water and wiped them with the inside of my bag, avoiding the grass.
In hindsight, riding down would have been risky anyway with poles at the bottom and the steepness of the path. Once I confirmed the chain was secure, I rode cautiously.
I consulted Google Maps and made my way down the mountain to the main road near Chenngong Railway Station. The silent residential streets felt eerie, almost like being in a zombie film, but they made for easy riding.
At the bottom, I looked back up at the mountain and smiled, silently thanking it and saying goodbye.
Cycling back to Changhua was out of the question after the unexpected adventure of the day. With the railway station nearby and a fare of just NTD 15, I couldn’t resist jumping on the air-conditioned train back to Changhua.
It was certainly an unplanned adventure I would remember, all thanks to Randonautica.
