Zhongyangjian Shan – 中央尖山 – August 2012

Zhongyangjian Shan, at right.  Nanhuda Shan is the broader peak to the left.

Zhongyangjian Shan, at right. Nanhuda Shan is the broader peak to the left.

3705m Zhongyangjian Shan, located in one of the most remote sections of central Taiwan, is among Taiwan’s highest.  Having viewed the stark, rocky pyramid of Zhongyangjian Shan far in the distance during several other hikes within Taiwan’s central mountains, I had long been eager to hike it.

My three day itinerary.

My three day itinerary.

I had hiked in this area before, and was familiar with the initial leg of the route, which is shared with the Nanhuda Shan trail.  Knowing roughly what the terrain was like, I planned a three day trip using a single campsite.  Unfortunately, a typhoon had passed over the island the week prior to my hike, damaging sections of the road into the trailhead, and as I would later discover, obstructing the trail itself.

P4041426

The Nanhuda Shan Trailhead.

Day 0: To get to the trailhead, I first took a bus to Luodong, in Yilan county.  Luodong is a convenient starting point for hiking the Nanhuda Shan circuit because it is a popular tourist destination with frequent bus access from Taipei, closer to the trailhead than Yilan, and most importantly, because it is a very easy place to rent a cheap motorcycle.  Unfortunately, I learned of the severe road damage when I arrived, and was informed that the trailhead was inaccessible to motorbikes.  Undeterred, I found a taxi driver willing to drive me in.  By the time we arrived at the trailhead it was 9 p.m., and my driver was not in a good mood – the road was almost destroyed in sections, with numerous landslides making it all but inaccessible in places, and the driving was very slow.  I tipped him generously, then pitched a quick camp by the trailhead and turned in for the night.  I wouldn’t see another person for the next three days.

My first night's camp - by the trailhead.

My first night’s camp – by the trailhead.

Day 1: Packed up and moving by 6 a.m., I started down the normal Nanhuda Shan route.  This follows an old road, long destroyed by typhoons, landslides, and earthquakes.  The route was much different than the last time I had hiked it; it was obstructed by several large, fresh landslides.  These were unmarked, so I crossed over them carefully.

Long abandoned equipment on the old road.

Long abandoned equipment on the old road.

Some big landslides disrupted the first section of the route.

Some big landslides disrupted the first section of the route.

Some of the landslides looked like they had been crossed before, but none of them were marked, and no trails were broken.

Some of the landslides looked like they had been crossed before, but none of them were marked with tags, and no trails were broken.

As I continued, I was met with more walls of foliage and soil, brought down by heavy rain.

As I continued, I was met with more walls of foliage and soil, brought down by heavy rain.

The landslides made this portion of the route grueling and seemingly endless – with my heavy pack, it took several hours to get through it.  After this first section I reached the ‘old trailhead’, a large clearing with a drop box for permits and space for several tents.  A switchback trail heads upwards, eventually breaking onto a ridge which continues to a junction in the trail.  Here a separate path breaks south towards Zhongyangjian Shan.  One can continue to the Yunling cabin and Nanhuda Shan, or split towards the Nanhu river cabin (南胡溪木屋) and Zhongyangjian Shan.  Clouds over Zhongyangjian Shan obscured the view, although this area is one of the best vantage points of the mountain.

The junction, marking the trail split and 1.7km south to the Nanhu river cabin.

The junction, marking the trail split and 1.7km south to the Nanhu river cabin.

Here the route drops off of the ridge and downhill into a valley through forest, quickly joining a stream.  From here to the bottom of the valley there is no longer a trail, and the route follows the rocks of the stream.  Going is slow along this section, as the route is slippery.

The trail slowly becomes less defined, but trail markers were abundant.

Trail markers were abundant, along with the odd rope.

Eventually the trail disappears, and the route continues along the side of the stream.

Eventually the trail disappears, and the route continues along the side of the stream.

Looking back up the stream.

The stream is rocky, and strewn with boulders.

Steeper sections with water were protected with chains and posts.

Steeper sections with water were protected with ropes and posts.

Eventually the stream reaches a river, where a second signpost points in the direction of the Nanhu River cabin.

At the bottom of the valley the stream meets a river, where a signpost indicates the direction to continue.

A signpost indicates the direction to continue.

From here the trail continued a short distance along the riverbank.  More fresh landslides blocked parts of the route along this short section.

More landslide aftermath along the riverbank.

More landslide aftermath along the riverbank.

A short distance downstream I found the Nanhu River cabin.  It is roughly constructed and quite run down, but could be used as shelter if necessary.  Were one to break this trip up over four or five days, the area around the cabin would serve as a decent first night’s campground.

The Nanhu River Cabin.

The Nanhu River Cabin.

Past the cabin a trail leaves the river and heads south, uphill.  This trail was marked with hiking tags.  The overland section here is long, 8.3km according to the map, and ascends some several hundred meters before descending back down to the river on the other side – uphill both ways.  On the other side of the overland trail, another signpost points in the direction of the Zhongyangjian River Cabin (中央尖溪木屋), a further 2.2km along the banks of the river.  To my dismay, I found the Zhongyangjian river swollen and running deep, likely due to the recent typhoon and heavy rains.

The Zhongyangjian River cabin is a further 2.2km south once the route rejoins the river.

The Zhongyangjian River cabin is a further 2.2km southeast once the route rejoins the river.

The river was deeper than anticipated.

The river was deeper than anticipated.

From here on the route follows the Zhongyangjian river to the base of Zhongyangjian Shan itself.  It had been a long day, and I decided to stop here and pitch my camp in a clearing near the river.  I would use this campsite for the next two nights.

My campsite for two nights.

My campsite for two nights.

Day 2: Up early, I began following the river southeast towards the Zhongyangjian River Cabin. This section of the route follows rocky riverbanks, but frequent crossings are required due to the cliffs which line both sides of the water and occasionally protrude over the water.  This became very taxing, as with the water higher than expected there was usually no means of crossing the river without getting wet.  After taking my boots off for the first two crossings I gave up and kept them on, guaranteeing wet feet for the rest of the day.

Looming rock walls framed sections the river.

Looming rock walls framed sections of the river.

A nice waterfall at a bend in the river. just before the Zhongyangjian River Cabin.

A nice waterfall at a bend in the river, just before the Zhongyangjian River Cabin.

I reached the Zhongyangjian River Cabin and took a short break to take a look inside.  A little trail off of the river makes the cabin hard to miss.  Similar to the Nanhu River Cabin, the hut is crude and run down.  Another good area for camping, but staying in the hut itself wouldn’t be pleasant.

The Zhongyangjian River Cabin.

The Zhongyangjian River Cabin.

The very basic cabin interior - it looked leaky!

The very basic cabin interior – it looked leaky!

Continuing along the riverside, now moving south, the river grew narrower and crossings were more frequent.

The river grew narrower, its walls more defined.

The river grew narrower, its walls more defined.

The river cuts through rock, creating some visually interesting terrain.

The river cuts through the rock, creating some visually interesting terrain.

Further upriver, I finally caught sight of Zhongyangjian Shan in the distance.  Clouds were moving overhead and granted only brief windows of view.

My first glimpse of Zhongyangjian Shan.

My first glimpse of Zhongyangjian Shan.

Near the base of the mountain the terrain begins to get steeper, and the river continues uphill.  Huge, freshly collapsed landslides had wiped out sections of forest along the riverbank, and clogged the river with debris.

Looking upriver towards Zhongyangjian Shan, the river obstructed by landslides.

Looking upriver towards Zhongyangjian Shan, the river obstructed by landslides.

Going was slow here, as the only way forward was through a mess of trees, branches, rocks, and dirt.

In the middle of one of the worst sections.

In the middle of one of the worst sections, Zhongyangjian Shan in the distance.

Looking back at the landslide below.

Looking back at the landslide below.

Continuing upriver, another cliff had to be overcome.

Continuing upriver, a small cliff had to be circumnavigated.

Ahead I could see the mountain through brief gaps in the clouds churning overtop.  The river tapered off, replaced by a moderate slope of loose scree.

Zhongyangjian Shan waited ahead.

Zhongyangjian Shan waited ahead.

A scree slope leads to the mountain above the river.

A scree slope continues after the river disappears.

Looking behind me I could see the river and the route I’d taken far below.

Looking down the scree slope from near the top.

Looking down the scree slope, near the top.

Eventually, the scree breaks onto the saddle between Zhongyangjian Shan’s main peak and east peak.  Up here the ground is covered in grass and even some trees.  As soon as I reached the saddle, clouds rolled in and a light drizzle began.

A signpost marks the saddle at the top of the scree slope.

A signpost marks the saddle at the top of the scree slope, the main peak less than 1km away.

The saddle is covered in vegetation.  Looks like a nice sheltered spot to camp.

The saddle is covered in vegetation.

A usage path leads upwards to the summit.  One final, steep section at the top has mounted ropes.

A path leads to the summit.

A path leads to the summit.

Ropes just below the summit.

Ropes just below the summit.

At the top I stayed long enough to take a few photos, and then began to descend, concerned that the light rain might develop into an afternoon shower, which could make the return trip down the river tricky and dangerous.

The summit sign.

The summit sign.

Feeling accomplishment, despite the clouds and lack of view.

Feeling accomplishment, despite the clouds and lack of view.

On the way down the clouds moved onwards, and blue skies returned.  This would be my final view of the mountain – clouds would return soon and obscure it for the rest of this day, and all of the next.  After seeing Zhongyangjian Shan in the distance so often during other hikes, its fierce shape compelling me to plan a climb, the mountain’s continually clouded presence seemed somehow symbolic.

A short window in the clouds.

A window in the clouds gave me a final view.

On the way down I stopped to take better photographs of the large landslides along the river.

A closer look at one of the landslides near the base of the mountain.

A closer look at one of the landslides near the base of the mountain.

The recent typhoon had taken out swathes of forest along the river.

The recent typhoon had taken out swathes of forest along the river.

From my vantage point uphill, I could see that the much of the debris I had encountered earlier came from the landslides above.

Debris in the river.

The debris-filled river from above.

Near my campsite, I found what appeared to be fresh deer tracks in the mud.

Tracks in the mud.

Tracks in the mud.

By the time I returned to camp it had been a 13 hour day of hiking – much, much longer than planned due to frequent river crossings and slow progress over the landslides.

Day 3: I packed up camp, and headed back overland towards the Nanhu River Cabin.  My route out was identical to my route in, with no exceptional differences to the first day of the trip.  Of note, the section of stream which had taken me down towards the Nanhu River Cabin was slower and trickier on the way up and out.

Back at the first trail split, on the ridge which leads to the Yunling cabin and Nanhuda Shan, I was delighted to find a perfect, clear view into Syue Ba National Park.  Zhongyangjian Shan, unfortunately, remained cloud covered and was not visible to the south.  On the ridge I met a pair of hikers headed for Nanhuda Shan, the first people I’d encountered in three days.

A lovely view of Syue Ba National Park and some of its mountains.

A lovely view of Syue Ba National Park and some of its mountains.

Back at the trailhead, some 11 or 12 hours of hiking from my campsite, I hitchhiked all the way home with a truck driver hauling vegetables from rural Ilan into Taipei City.  We made several stops across Ilan county to load up bundles of cabbage and other produce.  I couldn’t have been luckier, not only was the road leading to the trailhead damaged and traffic very sparse, but the trucker’s drop off was close to where I’d left my motorcycle in Taipei, just one MRT stop away.  Riding with this trucker was an experience unto itself, and gave me an interesting firsthand perspective on rural Taiwan.

Hiking Zhongyangjian Shan was one of the best mountain trips I’ve had in Taiwan.  The mountain is very remote, with an approach lengthy enough for a solid multi-day trip.  Hiking Zhongyangjian Shan alone really immersed me in the environment of the mountain; the final portion of the route up the river was especially memorable.

Accessibility

Once past the Nanhu River Cabin, there are several good spots for camping along the route, with reliable water from the river.  Officially, however, one is only supposed to camp at the cabins themselves.  Past the Zhongyangjian River Cabin, there are no areas large enough to accommodate camping until one reaches the Zhongyangjian Shan saddle.

The Nanhuda Shan trailhead, also the entry point for a Zhongyangjian Shan hike, is fairly easy to access.  Take a bus or train to Yilan City or Luodong, and rent a motorbike.  Alternatviely, a taxi in costs around NT$2500.  Be sure to check road conditions beforehand – the road is typically damaged or even wiped out after a big typhoon.

Hiking Zhongyangjian Shan requires national park entry permits from Taroko National Park, as well as Police issued mountain entry permits. The park entry permit requires two Taiwanese group members; one as the “group leader”, and one as the “emergency contact”.  I did this hike alone, but still needed to have a Taiwanese friend on my permit.  The Taroko National Park permit website (In Chinese) is located here:
http://permits2.taroko.gov.tw/welcome/index.aspx
Police permits can be applied for here (In Chinese).  For the website to load, you need to use Internet Explorer (other browsers do not work with this website) and adjust the encoding for ‘Chinese Traditional, Big5′ (found through Page -> Encoding):
http://eli.npa.gov.tw/E7WebO/index02.jsp

Nanhuda Shan – 南湖大山 – February 2012

Nanhuda Shan.

Nanhuda Shan.

Zhongyangjian Shan and Nanhuda Shan

Nanhuda Shan (left) and Zhongyangjian Shan (right) viewed from North Hehuan Shan.

The air was clear, and to the east there was a great view of Nanhuda Shan (left), and Zhongyangjian Shan (right).

Nanhuda Shan (left), and Zhongyangjian Shan (right) viewed from near Snow Mountain’s East Peak

Nanhuda Shan, Taiwan’s fifth highest at 3742m, is one the most beloved mountains among Taiwanese hikers and is famous for its views and impressive, rocky faces.  Many experienced Taiwanese hikers will tell you that Nanhuda Shan is the most scenic, the most beautiful of Taiwan’s mountains.  I visited Nanhuda Shan in early February, and unfortunately experienced absolutely terrible weather on all four days of my trip.

Walking the entry road near the trailhead on the first day, before the weather turned to soup.

Despite the awful weather, the hiking was exceptional.  The route initially heads up through forest, but breaks the treeline after the first day, leading one across an awesome landscape of barren rock.  In the snow higher up, it was an eerie and severe place.

Here is an outline of my four day hiking route:

My four day hiking itinerary.

Day 0: Caught a train from Taipei to Luodong, in Yilan county, and stayed overnight in an inexpensive hotel.

Day 1: Up early, caught a taxi (NT$2500) from Luodong to the trailhead.  We opted to shell out for a Taxi, rather than rent a much cheaper motorbike, due to the already very unpleasant weather.  Rain showers and thick fog on the drive up.

From the trailhead, we walked 6.7km along an old overgrown service road, long rendered impassable to vehicles due to earthquakes, landslides, and typhoon damage.  Not so much a road as a wide, level hiking path.  Several detours took us off of the road, and over sections wiped out by landslide.  The weather began to worsen, and fog descended over everything.  It began to rain again.

The ‘road’ is overgrown and rough. Mostly level, we covered the 6.7km at a fast pace.

From the “true” trailhead, we hiked another couple of hours to the Yunling cabin, where we would camp for the first night. The Yunling cabin has plenty of bedspace and is well constructed, but we had opted to use our tents.  The weather was wet and wretched, and as night fell it became quite cold.  The temperature hovered around 0C; not quite cold enough for snow, and very unpleasant in the constant drizzle.  I had a good night’s sleep, but the friend who accompanied me this far was feeling ill, and didn’t sleep well.

Yunling cabin, with two friendly hikers whom I met on the third day.  We’re all wet!

Day 2: In the morning, my friend was much worse; he had stomach pain, and could not keep food down.  After much discussion, he decided to accompany another team who was headed home, and get off of the mountain.  The team he went with conveniently lived in Taipei, nearby his house. They gave him a lift all the way home!  I continued alone.

From Yunling cabin, I hiked upwards towards the Nanhu Cabin/campsite, passing Shenmazhen Shan and Nanhubei Shan on the way.

Shenmazhen Shan. Wet from the drizzle.

Nanhubei Shan. Terrible visibility and heavy rain.

Finally reaching the Nanhu Cabin, I pitched camp nearby.  The weather was even worse up high.  Colder, but just as wet.  I headed off to the Main Peak of Nanhuda Shan with two friendly Taiwanese hikers whom I met in the cabin. One, a businessman who spoke fluent English, had hiked Nanhuda Shan twice before, and told me that he had never seen such awful weather!  The route up to the Main Peak was surreal.  The fog was so dense that we could only see a few meters in front of us, and no trail had been broken through the snow.  We climbed up to the saddle between the East and Main Peaks, and then went about the business of finding trail markers, still visible despite the snow.  The terrain was rocky and desolate.

At the Main Peak, soaking wet. Whiteout visibility.

Getting back from the Main Peak took us much longer than it would have in decent weather.  We got lost a few times, and had to carefully backtrack.

Returning to the campsite, I crashed in my tent for a few hours of sleep.  When the sun set the temperature dropped, creating mucky fog and sleet.  It is hard to imagine worse camping weather.

Day 3:

I woke up feeling strong, and decided to take one more trip up the ridge before heading down.  My two new friends from the day before descended all the way to the trailhead, deciding to leave early due to the weather.  The temperature had dropped, freezing everything.  The sleet/rain stopped, but the fog remained.  Visibility was poor – I was completely socked in.  Retracing our route from the evening before, this time I turned east on the saddle, heading over fields of ice and snow towards the East Peak of Nanhuda Shan.  The trail was rough, rocky and almost totally devoid of plant life.  I built rock cairns as I went, to protect myself from getting lost in the low visibility fog.

The East Peak of Nanhuda Shan. Zero visibility!

From the East Peak, I returned to the Nanhu cabin.  There, I packed up my camping gear, and headed back to the Yunling cabin.  It began to rain again. At Yunling, I pitched camp in the rain, cooked a hot dinner inside and went to bed.  I slept like a rock; compared to the freezing sleet and saturated humidity of the night before, the rain was pleasant!

Adjusting my tent pitch, in the rain, on the third evening. Yunling had plenty of space, and I managed a nice comfortable setup.

Day 4: I slept in until 7 a.m., packed up, and hiked out to the trailhead.

Despite the weather, I thoroughly enjoyed this trip. The terrain at Nanhuda Shan is impressive, varied, and exciting higher up.  Hopefully I’ll get some views, and some better photographs next time!

Accessibility

The Yunling cabin is well built and appeared spacious enough for sleeping.  I chose to camp at Yunling, and did so quite comfortably for two nights.  The area around Yunling has space for two or three tents.  Yunling has a reliable water source.  You can book cabin space and camping space during the permit application process.

The Nanhu cabin is quite large, and was very comfortable.  There are numerous spots for camping at the Nanhu cabin, and plenty of space, as well as a reliable water source (a nice stream).  Nanhu campsite is above the treeline and very exposed.  In the high humidity and freezing rain/sleet I experienced, it was definitely not ideal for camping.  There is also a ‘middle’ cabin located between Yunling and Nanhu, the Shenmazhen cabin.

The Nanhuda Shan trailhead is fairly easy to access.  Take a bus or train to Yilan City or Luodong, and rent a motorbike.  A taxi in cost us NT$2500.

Hiking Nanhuda Shan requires national park entry permits from Taroko National Park, as well as Police issued mountain entry permits. The park entry permit requires two Taiwanese group members; one as the “group leader”, and one as the “emergency contact”.  After the first day I did this hike alone (and the friend who accompanied me on the first day isn’t Taiwanese).  My Taiwanese friend was, unfortunately, feeling under the weather and couldn’t make it. The Taroko National Park permit website (In Chinese) is located here:
http://permits2.taroko.gov.tw/welcome/index.aspx
Police permits can be applied for here (In Chinese).  For the website to load, you need to use Internet Explorer and adjust the encoding for ‘Chinese Traditional, Big5′ (found through Page -> Encoding):
http://eli.npa.gov.tw/E7WebO/index02.jsp

Chilai Shan – 奇萊山 – May 2012

The North peak of Chilai Shan, as viewed from across the valley. I took this photo the week prior, while hiking the north-west ridge of Hehuan Shan.

Chilai Shan (奇萊山), commonly referred to as “Black Chilai”, is one of Taiwan’s better known 3000+ meter mountains.  Its fame is largely due to the accidents it has been host to. The “Black Chilai” name plays reference to the shiny black rock which forms the face of the imposing North Peak, as well as the unlucky reputation the mountain has.

The ridge we would hike. Chilai’s north peak (3607m) to the left, main peak (3560m) to the right.

The North and Main peaks are both steep and somewhat exposed, making for an interesting hike. The area is famous for horrendous weather, but we were lucky and during the day we spent up on the ridge we had sunshine, sparse clouds, and very clear skies. Here is a rough outline of the trip itinerary:

Our two day hiking route.

The trail to Chenggong cabin. A downhill route descending into the valley between the Hehuan and Chilai mountains.

Day 1: Our trip began with a 7:00 a.m. bus from Taipei to Puli, arriving around 11 a.m. We rented a scooter in Puli and drove 2 hours, through light rain showers, to the trailhead. From there a two and a half hour hike, mostly downhill through alpine meadows and thin patches of forest, took us to the Chenggong cabin, where we would spend the night. The weather wasn’t promising; the sky opened up and rained heavily on the way to Chenggong, and we arrived with our raingear dripping wet.

Day 2: Our plan was to wake up at 4 a.m. and begin as the sun rose, but a large Taiwanese group sharing the cabin with us got up at 2:45. They were noisy, so rather than try to sleep we got up as well.

We began hiking up towards the Chilai ridge, through thick clouds and strong wind, at around 4 a.m. It was startlingly cold for the spring. The route up to the ridge was exposed and very windy, but granted us occasional glimpses of blue sky as thick clouds billowed past us. From the ridge, we turned left towards the North Peak of Chilai. The trail evened off considerably, and took us across nearly level alpine meadow, studded with rhododendrons in bloom, to the base of the North Peak, a pyramid of black rock.

The path up at the start of the North Peak.

From the base of the North Peak the trail became steeper and entertaining, with fixed ropes taking us up the sharp face. At this point the wind had become quite strong and our hands, gloves wet from the ropes, were cold – a real surprise for spring weather.

Headed up the north peak.

We reached the top of the Chilai North Peak (3607m) at around 6:45. On the way up the clouds settled, the sun came out, and the weather became clear and glorious, revealing awesome views of Chilai Main Peak, the Chilai ridge, and the nearby Hehuan mountains.

On top of the north peak. Still surprisingly cold.

The cloud ocean.

The main peak of Chilai was visible (just to the left of me)

Part of the Hehuan mountains, where I was hiking the weekend prior to this trip.

The trail far below us. In this photo, the Taiwanese team is approaching. Look carefully between the patch of trees and the cliff. Their leader is wearing a red jacket.

We stayed on top for around half an hour, taking photographs and enjoying the amazing views. Below, we eventually saw the large Taiwanese team approaching across the ridge, their tiny forms giving scale to the impressive scenery laid in front of us.

Zoomed in, the approaching Taiwanese team is easier to see. You can spot rhododendron bushes in full bloom along the ridge to the right.

More rhododendrons.

The North Peak loomed behind us as we headed back across the ridge. The Taiwanese team is headed up. Look in the middle of the photo, near the bottom.

After descending the North Peak we hiked across the ridge, stopping for lunch at the very primitive Chilai cabin and passing several interesting areas of barren grey rock.

The very rough (and leaky) Chilai cabin, where we stopped for lunch.

The main peak of Chilai in the distance.

We arrived at the Chilai Main Peak (3560m) at around 11 a.m. The views from the Main Peak perfectly complemented the North Peak’s scenery; we could see the North Peak we’d come from several hours earlier, and had impressive views of the valley and South Chilai ridge. Descending the Main Peak, we arrived back at Chenggong cabin around 2:40 p.m.

On the main peak.

We had a great view of the Chilai ridge from the Main Peak. With no cloud cover, you can see the entire route that we took from the distant North Peak (to the right).

The North Peak looked impressive in the distance.

The south ridge looked amazing, with clouds billowing up its side.

The North Peak of Hehuanshan in the distance. The big aircraft reflector makes it easy to spot.

Originally, the plan was to make this a three-day trip, with a second overnight at Chenggong. However, with such awesome weather, and making good time, we decided to return home rather than share the cabin another night. We packed up quickly and left the cabin at 3:20.  With my friend’s speed a good motivator for my own, slightly slower pace, we covered the 4.8km of uphill terrain at a good clip and got back to the trailhead at 5:00 p.m.. From the trailhead, we drove back to Puli, and got a bus back to Taipei where we arrived at 11:30 p.m.

Part of the route back to the trailhead. Mostly uphill, through gorgeous meadows and intermittent forest. With the sun out, it was really hot!

The meadows looked pristine in the sun.

The trailhead, with the north peak in the distance.

Accessibility

The Chenggong cabin was very comfortable, albeit a little noisy to share.  There are several spots where one could camp up on the ridge, and one or two spots nearby the cabin.  The cabin is positioned right beside a stream, making for an easy water source.

The Chilai trailhead is easy to access.  Buses run from Taipei to nearby Puli (3-4 hours), from where one can drive to the trail-head in around 2 hours.  There are plenty of motorbike rental shops in Puli, although they may require a local driver’s license.

Hiking Chilai requires national park entry permits from Taroko National Park, as well as Police issued mountain entry permits. The park entry permit requires two Taiwanese group members; one as the “group leader”, and one as the “emergency contact”.  We did this hike alone (neither of us Taiwanese); my Taiwanese friend never seems to make it on these hikes. The Taroko National Park permit website (In Chinese) is located here:
http://permits2.taroko.gov.tw/welcome/index.aspx
Police permits can be applied for here (In Chinese).  For the website to load, you need to use Internet Explorer and adjust the encoding for ‘Chinese Traditional, Big5′ (found through Page -> Encoding):
http://eli.npa.gov.tw/E7WebO/index02.jsp