Another Side of Hualian

Another Side of Hualian

   

Slipping over rapids, our boat swirled past rocks. The river divided the horizon. Clouds draped mist over forested hills…

    

    

Ruisui calms you the moment you leave its two platform train station. A tiny town in Hualian county, its’ one storey buildings only take a portion of the sky. There are bicycle and scooter rentals, a tourist information centre, hotels , homestays, noodle restaurants and a 7-11.

      There’s plenty of accommodation in Ruisui. We found our place just two minutes from the station.

     ‘Hey, look at this,’ shouted the boss. A smiling woman with permed hair, she showed us a stag beetle in a blue basket. ‘You can buy him for one hundred Taiwan Dollars,’ she announced. ‘Before I would have said fifty dollars, but he’s grown.’

     Three singing children jangled keys before as they led us from reception. The rooms were cleaner than you’d expect, for a hotel that shows its customers insects.  Just as I thought she was about to produce more invertebrates, our host pulled out a map of the river, and helped us plan the rafting trip.

    At 9am the next morning, we were sitting in lifejackets by a pebbly riverside. Misty air blew between the hills.  

    ‘Don’t hold the paddle like this,’ yelled the straight-backed lifeguard captain. He held both hands together at the top of the handle. ‘Or like this,’ he boomed, grabbing the paddle by its’ …paddle.

    On the river’s slow stretches, the day became an organized water fight. Each boat had artillery of two plastic pails. Paddles, hands, and even shoes were also used as hydro-projectiles.

    ‘Aaarrrrrrgggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh!,’ shouted our most determined adversary.       ‘Arrrrrrgghhhh, you are going to die.’ His team mixed aggression with cunning.

    ‘Could you lend us a water pail, ours is lost.’

    As I said no, loaded water pails unleashed from hidden corners. Across the water, a rafter let go of her pail accidentally. The pail flew into her enemies boat. Cheers laughed against the rocks.

     In the evening we rented bicycles from the shop by Ruisui train station. We rode for five minutes , and were surrounded by the chatter of insects, the tweeting of birds, the dipping and buzzing of bees accompanied by silent winged butterflies. Pineapples presented themselves in cactus-like fields, betel trees were thin palms on the horizon, mountains stood crowned by clouds.

     We breathed in air that tasted of the plants around us, pineapples in the ground, pomelo and jackfruit in the trees, tea in the hills, and the sun itself, invisible yet delicious in the air.

     Rain drizzled the next afternoon. A truck of betel nut stood downstairs in our hotel. On the way out of town, we cycled past a betel nut factory. Kids ran around while workers peeled the nut from its’ green shell.

     From the Tropic of Cancer, we looked out over the valley. The Tropic of Cancer marker is a white, straight structure that points to the sky. Every midsummer, the sun shines directly above the Tropic of Cancer. On June 22, at noon every year, the structure has no shadow at all.

     ‘It takes two years to grow a pineapple,’ said the woman in the adjacent shop. A chicken crowed over the dipping hills. ‘We grow all our pineapples and tea leaves in the fields behind this house.’

    The Saoba Stones are a pineapples’ throw from the Tropic of Cancer. Two Stonehenge like monoliths, they point directly at the sky. Nobody is sure why.

    ‘Maybe the people who planted these stones had an early form of astrology or science,’ Rox said. ‘That’s why the stones are so close to the Tropic of Cancer.’

    ‘Maybe they saw that on midsummer’s day, the stones had no shadow,’ I said.

     Rareseed Ranch is just off Route 9, signposted by two cows on a bicycle. A minute from the main road, hills fill the sky, and small storks hop in the fields.

     It’s a genuine farm with an open café and a pleasant veranda. Two ostriches entertain visitors. They strut up and down, guarding a field where cows and storks graze alongside each other.

    We bought  a set of mantou- Taiwanese milk-bread, cheesecake, yoghurt and milk, all for 135NT dollars.  The sky was blue, but we sat under umbrellas. A dog sat beside us, we leant back in our chairs,  and watched the hills rest as the  sun began to fade.

Ruisui is accessible by train from Taipei. Tickets cost between 450 and 550 NT and take 4 to 6 hours depending on route and train number. A tourist information centre and a number of hotels are located next to the train station. Many hotels will help organise a rafting package.