基隆

Ogon Shrine (黃金神社)

Writing as extensively as I do about the history of Taiwan’s Japanese colonial era, I’ve been asked several times over the years why I’ve yet to publish anything about the remnants of the ‘Golden Shrine’ near the popular tourist town of Jiufen (九分). Given that I’ve written about a handful of the other shrines that remain (in some form) in Taiwan, as well as publishing articles about Stegosaurus Ridge (劍龍稜) and the Teapot Mountain (無耳茶壺山) hikes - which offer up a birds eye view of the shrine - its understandable that one might wonder why I haven’t covered what has arguably become one of Taiwan’s most well-known Shinto Shrines.

Like most people, I eagerly paid a visit to the Golden Museum (黃金博物館) in Jinguashi (金瓜石) shortly after it’s official opening. However, that visit came shortly after I arrived in the country, and like most newbies, I didn’t really have much idea about what was going on. Thinking back, although I didn’t actually realize it at the time, that particular visit may have been my first experience exploring something related to the Japanese-era.

The popularity of the museum in its early days meant that the area was absolutely packed with tourists on weekends, and as the shrine was an important part of any visit to the area, it was also a pretty popular spot. At that time though, photography was more or less just a hobby for me, and to tell the truth, I was mesmerized by the mountains, so I didn’t didn’t pay all that much attention to the shrine.

I did end up visiting once again several years later, but on that occasion, the shrine was just a short detour on a hike through the mountains, so I just stopped by for a quick minute before continuing further up the trail. That, unfortunately would have been my best opportunity to get the photos I needed, but I missed out, which is something I’ve regretted for quite a few years.

In 2017, the path to the shrine was gated shut and for the next five years it underwent a period of restoration, which helped to bring parts of the shrine (that were unscrupulously knocked down) back to life. It was also a project that saw the planting of hundreds of cherry trees, which in the future should make the shrine an even more popular spot for tourists.

All of that being said, I’m actually relieved that I didn’t write about the shrine after my second visit. By that time I had been in Taiwan for several years, but the amount of knowledge I had accumulated with regard to Taiwan’s history, the Japanese-era, and Shinto Shrines was no where near what I accumulated now after years of research and experience writing about these things. Thus, the information I’m able to provide readers with today will comprehensively combine the history of the shrine, the community that surrounds it, and its architectural design.

Closed for half a decade, the Golden Shrine reopened to the public in late 2022, and its reemergence has been an important catalyst for attracting tourists back to the Golden Museum, once again becoming a popular spot for all of the loal Instagrammers looking for a fresh location to take photos!

However, even though most people are quite content that the shrine has finally been reopened, there has also been some criticism in some circles regarding the length of time that the shrine was closed. More specifically, critics have openly questioned why the shrine wasn’t completely restored to its original likeness, similar to how the Luye Shinto Shrine (鹿野神社) in Taitung was brought back to life.

Personally, I find myself relatively content with the work that has been done to restore the shrine (minus a few minor gripes), and I’m not particularly sure why anyone would want to restore it to its original condition. As a ‘ruined’ site, the shrine allows us to experience a piece of Taiwan’s modern history, but also provides a lesson as to the effort to erase memories of the Japanese-era in the half-century since the Second World War came to an end.

I’d also argue that it would be relatively pointless to completely reconstruct the shrine if they weren’t going to invite the ‘kami’ to return, something that might be a touchy subject in certain circles. Instead, I’m content that there are a number of well-preserved historic photos of the shrine that allow us to see how it would have originally appeared during the Japanese-era, some of which I’ll be sharing with you today.

As I move on, I’m going to start with an introduction of the history of the shrine, and the Jinguashi gold mines. I’ll then follow with a brief timeline of events, and then I’ll provide details about the shrine’s architectural design, so that you can better understand what you’ll see if and when you visit.

Now that the shrine has been reopened, visitors to Taiwan have a ‘golden’ opportunity (forgive the pun) to visit this amazing piece of Taiwanese history. Making that golden opportunity even more attractive is that any visit to the area can may also include with a number of other popular tourist destination including Jiufen Old Street (九份老街), the Golden Waterfall (黃金瀑布), the Gold Museum (黃金博物館), or any of the hiking trails on the mountains nearby. A day-trip, or even a weekend trip to the area is a rewarding one, and is something that every tourist visiting Taiwan does at least once!

Ogon Shrine (黃金神社 / おうごんじんじゃ)

Over the span of Taiwan’s fifty year Japanese colonial era, there were about two hundred Shinto Shrines constructed around the island. The first of them was the Kaizan Shinto Shrine (開山神社/かいざんじんじゃ) in Tainan, which just so happened to be established on the the original site of the Yanping King Shrine (延平郡王祠). The Chinese-style temple had originally honored the pirate-king Koxinga (鄭成功), but if we’re being picky, the first shrine constructed in Taiwan was technically the Ogon Shrine, located on the northern coast of the island.

Whether it was the ‘first’ or the ‘second’ shrine in Taiwan probably isn’t all that important, but as one of Taiwan’s earliest Shinto Shrines, it has a history that dates back more than 125 years - but I can’t really explain the history of the shrine to you without first providing some basic information about the area where it was constructed, who constructed it, and why it was constructed, because all of these things are very much linked together.

Links: Fairy Cave Temple, Keelung Shrine, Taoyuan Shrine, Luye Shrine, Hualien Shrine, Taitung Shrine, Tamsui Shrine, Yilan Shrine, Yuanshan Shrine, Tungxiao Shrine, Kaizan Shrine

When the Japanese arrived in Taiwan in 1895, it’s safe to say that the situation they were confronted with was pretty hostile - The fleeing Qing forces did their best to sabotage and slow down efforts to take administrative control of the island, and the local inhabitants put up quite a bit of resistance as well. Even worse was the environment, which in the end did the most harm to the Japanese armed forces who were met with deadly foes named malaria, pneumonia, dysentery, cholera and smallpox.

By 1897, the government established ‘Taihoku-ken’ (臺北縣 / たいほくけん), an administrative space that encompassed what we know today as New Taipei, Taipei, Keelung, Taoyuan, Hsinchu and Yilan, in an effort to get the island’s major settlements under some kind of control.

Looking to take control of the island’s rich natural resources, in 1896, the colonial government passed the Taiwan Mining Regulations Act (台灣礦業規則), which limited the extraction of Taiwan’s minerals solely to Japanese nationals. One of the first areas allocated for mining operations was Keelung Mountain (雞籠山) on the island’s north coast.

The mountain was initially partitioned into different sections, with the eastern side leased out to Tanaka Choubee (田中長兵衛 / たなか ちょうべえ), who headed the Tanaka Group (田中組) and after about a year of preparation, mining started in the area in 1897, which by that time was known as Kinkaseki (金瓜石/きんかせき).

Note: Interestingly, the name ‘Jinguashi’ (金瓜石) only predated the Japanese era by about two years. Records indicate that around 1893, a farmer was exploring the area and discovered a gold nugget, which soon attracted a bunch of other people looking for gold. The nugget was reportedly the size of a melon, thus the name.

At its heart, Shintoism is a philosophy that promotes a quality of ‘oneness’ with the natural world, and respect for nature. That being said, Taiwan’s development required a considerable amount of natural resources, so when it came to mining, something that is destructive to the natural environment, it was important to also pay homage to the spirits of the mountain. Thus, in 1898 (明治31年), the first generation ‘Ogon Shrine’ (第一代黃金神社) was established by the Tanaka Group.

With nine pits excavated at the Kinkaseki Mines (金瓜山礦場), as mining efforts gradually went moved into the mountain, it was discovered that gold wasn’t the only treasure in the hills, but there was also vast amounts of silver, copper and sulfur. Eventually the Kinkaseki Mines would become one of the most important mining operations in the Japanese empire.

That being said, economic stagnation caused by the First World War drove the international value of raw materials down for the duration of the war. This created financial issues for the Tanaka Group, which ended up restructuring its business and selling its mining rights to the Tanaka Mining Company (田中礦業株式會社) in the 1920s. Then, about a decade later, due to a lack of capital, the land lease was sold off to the Nippon Mining Company (日本鑛業株式會社), which officially changed its name to the Taiwan Mining Company (台湾鉱業株式会社) in 1933 (昭和8年).

Looking at historic photos of the shrine, one thing you might notice is that at some point the architectural design changed completely - Even though there are only a few remaining photos of the original shrine, what we can observe from them is that the shrine went from something that could be considered rather basic to a replication of one of Japan’s oldest and most important Shinto Shrines, the Ise Grand Shrine (伊勢神宮 / いせじんぐう).

Said to be about two-thousand years old, the architectural design of the Ise Grand Shrine is one that constantly changes. Known in Japan as ‘Yuitsu-shinmei' (唯一神明造 / ゆいいつしんめいづくり), is an ancient architectural style that imitates early rice granaries. The important thing to remember here is that the word ‘yuitsu’ (唯一) translates literally as ‘only’ or ‘unique’ which means that the Grand Shrine is the only place of worship that is permitted to use this style today. Thus, the Ogon Shrine, like many other Shinto Shrines across Japan, uses a variation known as ‘shinmei' (神明造 / しんめいづくり) design.

The reason I’m bringing this up this now is because the Ise Shrine, and other shrines that make use of the ‘shinmei’ design, often appear relatively new (despite their age), due to the fact that important sections of the shrine are reconstructed every few decades, which I’ll explain in more detail later.

Link: Ise Grand Shrine (Wiki)

When the Taiwan Mining Company took control of the Kinkaseki Mines in the early 1930s, they put forward an expansion project that would see the reconstruction of the shrine’s Hall of Worship. The Second Generation Ogon Shrine (第二代黃金神社) opened in 1936 (昭和11年), after a period of reconstruction, marking an important occasion for the local community, which was, to say the least, thriving at the time. Nevertheless, given that time frame and the relatively short lifespan of shrines that make use of this architectural style, it was likely due for another face lift in the mid-1950s, something that would ultimately would never take place.

Interestingly, the three deities, or ‘kami’ (神 / かみ), that were enshrined at the Golden Shrine differed somewhat from those that you would have typically encountered at the other shrines across Taiwan, but with more than a million ‘kami’, you would have obviously come across a wide variety of figures in the two-hundred shrines that were constructed around the country.

Keeping in mind that Shintoism was more or less a ‘foreign’ religion to the people of Taiwan, in the early days of the colonial era, the Japanese tended to enshrine deities that were easily identifiable with the people of Taiwan. This effort could be interpreted as a means to ease the people into their new state religion, or it could have just been a reflection of the situation on the island at the time, but the kami that became the most common at shrines in Taiwan shared similarities with the folk religion deities that people here identified with.

The Three Deities of Cultivation (開拓三神 / かいたくさんじん), for example, became quite common within Taiwan’s Shrines as they were deities known for their skills with regard to ‘nation-building’, ‘farming’, ‘business’ and ‘medicine’. Even though it is also common to find shrines dedicated in their honor back in Japan, they were especially important in Taiwan due to what they represented, which shared parallels with the Earth God (土地公 / 福德正神), who remains one of the most important religious figures in Taiwan today.

That being said, the ‘kami’ that became the most common within Taiwan’s shrines would have been housed within the larger places of worship, which focused more on the general public, such as the Taoyuan Shinto Shrine (桃園神社). Shrines like the Golden Shrine in contrast were a bit more flexible with the deities who were invited to take up residence. That flexibility allowed them to focus more on themes that were important with regard to the environment, local economy and the community living in the area.

To give you an example, the kami that was enshrined at the Taipei Water Shrine, known today as the Yuanshan Shinto Shrine (圓山水神社), was one who focused on water. Thus, as you can imagine, at the Golden Shrine, the deities would have focused on mining and facets of the environment.

The three kami that were enshrined at the Golden Shrine were:

  1. Ōkuninushi (大國魂大神 / おおくにたまのかみ)

  2. Kanayamahiko (金山毘古神 (金山彦命 / かなやまひこのかみ)

  3. Sarutahiko (猿田彥大神 / さるたひこのかみ)

Starting with ‘Okuninushi-no-Kami’, one of ‘three deities of cultivation’ mentioned above, he is regarded as the god of nation-building, agriculture, medicine and protection. The next figure, one of the ‘Great Deities’ (大神) of Shintoism, ‘Sarutahiko Okami’, is the leader of the kunitsukami (国つ神), or the ‘gods of the earth’. Finally ‘Kanayamahiko-no-kami', is the god of mines.

As you can see, in each of these three cases, the selection of deities speaks to the specialized focus of the shrine with regard to its focus on the land and the mines on the mountains that surrounded it.

Note: I should probably also point out that each of these three deities are quite old and are the subject of myths and legends detailed in the Kojiki (古事記 / こじき) and the Nihon Shoki (日本書紀 / にほんしょき), which date back to the early 8th Century. Thus, they share a relationship with the origins of the earth, the islands that make up Japan, and the mythical ancestry of kami that were spawned from Izanagi and Izanami.

Coincidentally, the shrine’s annual matsuri festival (祭 / まつり) was conveniently held on June 28th, which just so happened to be the same date as Jiufen’s annual Mazu Pilgrimage (媽祖遶境), making the date a pretty important one for the people of Jiufen and Jinguashi, and was one where all the laborers and students were given a day off of work to celebrate.

Matsuri time at the Golden Shrine

Segueing back into the shrine’s history, when the Japanese-era came to an end in 1945 (民國34年), mining operations at Jinguashi were put on hold for a short time until the Chinese Nationalists were able to figure out how to get production back online. In 1946, the Taiwan Gold and Copper Office (臺灣金銅鑛籌備處) was established by the government in order to restructure mining operations on the island. Much of Jinguashi’s wealth ended up being dedicated to funding the Nationalists (futile) effort to defeat the Communists in the Chinese Civil War (國共內戰).

When Chiang Kai-Shek’s Nationalist Government fled to Taiwan, bringing with them almost two million refugees, life on the island changed almost overnight, and over the next several decades the Taiwanese people would have to endure what would become one of the world’s longest periods of Martial Law, known locally as the White Terror Period (白色恐怖).

Over the next few decades, Taiwan’s new inhabitants exhibited a considerable amount of anti-Japanese sentiment, and it was during that time that the vast majority of buildings that were related to Japanese culture or religion were vandalized, torn down, or replaced.

Constructed on the side of a mountain.

You could probably argue that the saving grace when it came to the Golden Shrine was that it was constructed on the remote side of a mountain, so unlike the majority of Taiwan’s other shrines, it was never really in any danger of getting in the way of development. That being said, the shrine did fall victim to vandalism over the years, leaving the site in ruins. Going back to a point I made earlier though, it is unclear as to whether or not the main parts of the shrine were vandalized or if they just suffered from lack of up-keep.

Nevertheless, several decades after the war ended, natural resources within Jinguashi’s mines were more or less depleted, and with the decrease in the international market value of copper, the Taiwan Mining Corporation was ultimately forced to declare bankruptcy.

Then, in what may come across as a very random decision, the Taiwan Power Corporation (臺灣電力公司) took ownership of the land in 1985 (民國74年), but not much could be done on their part to save the business operations, so mining in Jinguashi came to an abrupt end in 1987 (民國76年), leaving not only the shrine in ruins, but the entire mining community abandoned.

If we then fast forward to the turn of the new millennium, the Golden Shrine was selected as one of the top ten heritage sites in Taipei County - and even though it was simply an abandoned and ruined shrine, it was ranked on the list of one-hundred most important historical sites in Taiwan.

Like the shrine, the mining community fell into disrepair, but due to its historic value, the Taiwan Power Company in conjunction with the Taiwan Sugar Corporation and the Taipei County Government (Currently New Taipei City) jointly funded a restoration project to reopen the mining community as the ‘Jinguashi Gold Museum’ (黃金博物館).

Link: For some great photos of the shrine prior to its restoration, check out this article: Ōgon Shrine from Spectral Codex.

Shortly thereafter, the Golden Shrine was recognized as a protected heritage site (直轄市定古蹟), and despite it still being under the ownership of the Taiwan Power Company, it was put under the operational control of the Gold Museum, and the government was tasked with coming up with plans to have it restored.

It took about a decade, but the restoration project for the shrine officially started in 2017, with the shrine closed to the public for the duration of the project, which ultimately lasted more than anyone expected.

Reopening to the public in late 2022, the Golden Shrine has reemerged as one of New Taipei’s most iconic tourist destinations, and its rebirth seems to be one that has been celebrated by quite a few people as it has become an Instagram hot spot with people from all over the country flocking to the area to check it out.

If all of that history was a little too much for you, before I start describing the architectural design of the shrine, as I mentioned earlier, I’ll provide a helpful, yet brief timeline of events regarding the shrine:

Timeline

  • 1895 (明治28年) - The Japanese take control of Taiwan at the end of the Sino-Japanese War with the signing of the Treaty of Shimonoseki (馬關條約 / 下関条約).

  • 1896 (明治29年) - The Colonial Government enacts the Taiwan Mining Regulations (台灣礦業規則) policy in an effort to standardize and start the extraction of the island’s resources.

  • 1897 (明治30年) - The Tanaka Group starts a mining operation in Kinkaseki / Jinguashi (金瓜石田中鑛山事務所).

  • 1898 (明治31年) - The First Generation Ogon Shrine (第一代黃金神社) is established by the mining company on a flat section of the mountain’s eastern cliffs (大金瓜岩嶂東).

  • 1905 (明治38年) - The first deposits of gold and silver are discovered at the mines in Jinguashi.

  • 1913 (大正2年) - The Tanaka group purchases the Mudan Mines (牡丹坑鑛) on the opposite side of the mountain and merges it with the Jinguashi Mine.

  • 1922 - A mansion is constructed within the Japanese section of the mining community in Jinguashi in anticipation for the royal tour of Taiwan by the crown prince. The tour never actually took place however due to the death of Emperor Taisho (大正皇帝) and the ascension of Emperor Showa (昭和皇帝) to the throne.

  • 1933 (昭和10年) - Ownership of the mines is transferred to the Nippon Mining Company (日本鑛業株式會社).

  • 1936 (昭和11年) - The Colonial Government’s “Japanization” or ‘forced assimilation’ Kominka (皇民化運動) policy comes into effect in Taiwan. The same year, the mining company expanded the shrine into the Second Generation Ogon Shrine (第二代黃金神社).

  • 1945 (昭和20年) - The Second World War comes to a conclusion and Japan is forced to surrender control of Taiwan.

  • 1946 (民國35年) - The Taiwan Gold and Copper Office (臺灣金銅鑛籌備處) is set up by the Nationalist government in order to restructure mining operations on the island.

  • 1949 (民國38年) - Chiang Kai-Shek (蔣介石) and the Nationalist government retreat to Taiwan, bringing with them several million refugees displaced by the Chinese Civil War. 

  • 1955 (民國44年) - Mining operations are restructured into the Taiwan Mining Corporation (臺灣金銅鑛物局).

  • 1973 (民國62年) - With gold, silver and copper resources drying up in the mountains, the mining company attempts open-pit mining, and shifts much of the operations on the mountain into smelting and the processing of copper.

  • 1985 (民國74年) - Due to declining resources in the mine and the decrease in the international market value of copper, the Taiwan Mining Corporation is forced to declare bankruptcy with the Taiwan Power Corporation (臺灣電力公司) taking ownership of the land.

  • 1987 (民國76年) - Mining operations in Jinguashi come to an end with all of the mines shut down.

  • 2000 (民國89年) - The Golden Shrine is selected as one of the top ten heritage sites in Taipei County and is ranked #94 on the list of a hundred historical sites in Taiwan.

  • 2004 (民國93年) - The Taipei County Government in conjunction with the Taiwan Power Company and Taiwan Sugar Corporation jointly open the ‘Gold Museum’ (黃金博物館) within the historic mining community and processing areas.

  • 2007 (民國96年) - The Golden Shrine is recognized as Taipei County (Currently New Taipei City) protected heritage site (直轄市定古蹟) with ownership of the site still controlled by Taiwan Power Corporation, the site is put under the management of the Gold Museum.

  • 2010 (民國99年) - The International Armistice Peace Memorial Park (國際終戰和平紀念園區) is established on the site of the infamous Kinkaseki Prisoner of War Camp (金瓜石米英捕虜勞役所).

  • 2017 (民國106年) - A long-planned restoration of the Golden Shrine gets underway in order to preserve the remnants of the abandoned shrine.

  • 2022 (民國111年) - Restoration of the shrine is completed and is officially re-opened to the public after being closed for five years.

Architectural Design

If you’ve ever had the opportunity to visit some shrines in Japan, you’re likely to have noticed that even though their architectural design may vary, but one of the things that remains the same in almost every case is in their their spatial design. The layout of the vast majority of shrines includes several important features that are meant to assist visitors on their road from the ‘profane’ to the ‘sacred.’

Obviously, the ‘sacred journey’ that each visitor embarks upon when they visit a shrine depends on how how much space was reserved for the construction of the shrine. This may come across as somewhat confusing, but when it comes to shrines and their size, the amount of land reserved for a shrine doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll find a large shrine, while on the other hand a lack of space doesn’t mean you’ll find a small shrine. So, even though the Ogon Shrine would have been considered a relatively small shrine in terms of the buildings you would have encountered, it benefited from being located on the side of a mountain, so a lack of space was never really an issue.

Unfortunately, as the shrine has been abandoned and in ruins for quite some time, many of its original pieces have been lost to time, which makes it difficult for most visitors to imagine what it would have originally appeared.

In this section, I’ll focus on the architectural design of the shrine and each of the important pieces that would have made it complete, which I hope helps anyone interested in visiting better understand what they’re experiencing when they visit the shrine today.

Original layout of the shrine from blueprints provided by the New Taipei City Bureau of Cultural Affairs.

For clarity sake, I’m breaking up each of these important pieces into their own section so that I can better introduce their purpose and aspects of their design. Some of this information might be considered too detailed for the average reader, so I’ll attempt to make it as painless as possible. 

Link: Architecture and Sacred Spaces in Shinto (Berkeley ORIAS)

The Visiting Path (參道 / さんどう)

The Visiting Path, otherwise known as the “sando” (さんどう), is one of the most important parts of the design of any Shinto Shrine. As mentioned above, the space reserved for a shrine tends to vary, but given that this shrine is located on a mountain, it is afforded a much longer Visiting Path than most of the other shrines that were constructed in Taiwan.

While these paths serve a functional purpose, they are also quite symbolic in that the “road” is the path that one takes on the road to spiritual purification. Shintoism itself is literally translated as the “Pathway to the Gods” (神道), so having a physical path that leads the worshiper from the realm of the profane to that of the sacred is quite important.

Traditionally, the Visiting Path to a Shinto Shrine is lined symmetrically on both sides with Stone Lanterns (石燈籠), known as ‘toro’ (しゃむしょ), and although some of the lanterns at the shrine have been destroyed, there are still several sets that remain today.

One of the things you’ll want to note about each of the lanterns is that the date that they were donated to the shrine is etched into the stone on the rear of the lantern’s base. Most of the lanterns at the shrine were vandalized at some point over the past half century, but we’re fortunate in that one of the sets is still legible, so we’re able to gather quite a bit of information about its origin. If you’re wondering why the dates would have been scratched out, the reason for this is that for the Japanese, instead of using the western calendar of years, their years are set according to the reigns of the emperors. All of the lanterns at the shrine would have predated the Republic of China’s arrival in Taiwan, so the dates were a reminder of Taiwan’s history that the Chinese Nationalists would have preferred to get rid of.

This is not the work of an artist.

In the case of this shrine, it was constructed in 1936, which was the eleventh year of Emperor Showa’s reign (昭和11年). As it is a habit of mine when identifying these things, I made sure to take a close look at all of the lanterns, and they’ve all been vandalized, but some less so than others.

The Shrine Gates (鳥居 / とりい) 

The Shrine Gates, otherwise known as a “torii," are not a completely foreign object here in Taiwan, as you’ll find that most large temples feature their own variation. Even though most of us in the west traditionally associate these gates as iconic images of Japan, the meaning of the gates here in Taiwan, and across Asia remains the same as once you pass through, you are thought to be crossing from the profane world - which is considered to be unclean, to a sacred place. In Japan, the presence of one (or more) of these gates is one of the simplest ways of identifying that there is a shrine nearby, and also one of the best ways to know that you’re approaching a Shinto Shrine rather than a Buddhist temple.

Note: In proper nomenclature, Shinto places of worship are referred to as ‘shrines’ (社) while Buddhist places of worship are better referred to as temples.

The Golden Shrine was originally home to three of these sacred gates, which stretched from the entrance to the Visiting Path to the inner space of the shrine. Unfortunately, today only two of them remain today.

Traditionally, in Japan, shrine gates are numbered, so this shrine would have had a first gate (一の鳥居) to the third gate (三の鳥居). Although information is somewhat limited with regard to the original design of the shrine, it’s likely that the two gates that remain today are the second and third gates.

The two that do that remain at the shrine today fortunately are the originals (although they’ve recently been restored), and were constructed out of concrete, which is probably why they’ve been able to last for so long.

Like the stone lanterns mentioned above, both of the gates would have featured dates and the names of the people who donated money for their construction, but they’ve all been scratched off, or filled in with cement.

If you visit, you’ll notice that the third gate features as ‘sacred rope’ which is known as a shimenawa (標縄 / しめなわ) hanging from the top. The rope was added back to the gate as part of the restoration effort.

The Purification Fountain (手水舍 / ちょうずや)

An important aspect of Shintoism is something known as “hare and ke” (ハレとケ), otherwise known as the "sacred-profane dichotomy." It is thought that once you pass through the shrine gate, which is considered the barrier between the ‘profane’ and the ‘sacred’, it is necessary to do so in the cleanest possible manner by symbolically purifying yourself at the chozuya (ちょうずしゃ), or temizuya (てみずしゃ) provided. A necessity at any Shinto Shrine, the purification fountain is an important tool for symbolically readying yourself for entrance into the sacred realm.

The architectural design of these fountains varies from very simply designed spaces to something that could be regarded as very elaborately designed. Unfortunately, all that remains of the original fountain was part of the base where there would have been water to perform the purification ritual.

As part of the recent restoration of the shrine, a replication of the original fountain’s covered space was added. Although I haven’t seen photos of the original fountain, what they added in the space is unlikely to resemble the original in both its design and the material used to construct it.

Where the replication does help out is that it provides tourists with a spot to protect themselves from the elements on rainy days (of which there are many in that particular area), as well as offering a spot to educate visitors about the history of the shrine with helpful information displays.

Banner Poles (五座旗幟台)

In recent years, some of the most iconic photos of Japan’s Shinto Shrines have been from places like Tokyo’s Nezu Shrine (根津神社 / ねづじんじゃ), where you’ll find hundreds of red Shrine Gates leading up to the shrine. Similarly, quite a few of Japan’s shrines make use of beautiful banners, known as ‘nobori’ (幟 / のぼり).

The long and narrow flags are brilliant in that they are attached to a pole that features a cross-rod at the top to hold the fabric, preventing the flags from furling around the rod. With somewhat of a long and complicated history in Japan, these flags (or banners) typically line the Visiting Path of a Shrine or a Buddhist Temple in great numbers, which can be quite beautiful.

Note: These days, if you visit Japan, you’re likely to also find them used outside of restaurants, for advertisements and for political advertisements, among other uses.

Of all of the historic photos I’ve seen of Taiwan’s historic Shinto Shrines, it seems like few of them used these banners in the way that they were at the Ogon Shrine. As a mountain shrine, the wind on the hill would have been perfect for these flags, adding to the aesthetics.

One of the more predominant features of any of the historic photos you’ll see of the shrine are the giant banners on bamboo poles, and even though the flags are long gone, five of their bases remain along the Visiting Path, and are most apparent next to where the second Shrine Gate once existed.

The Hall of Worship (拜殿 / はいでん)

Known in Japan as the “haiden” (拜殿 /はいでん), for the vast majority of worshipers, it is the spiritual heart of the shrine, and given its importance, it was one of the most architecturally district buildings at the shrine.

Essentially the largest building within the ‘sacred’ space of the shrine, the Hall of Worship was an open space (no walls), with a covered roof propped up by the ten cylindrical columns you see standing there today.

Obviously, given that the shrine is in ruins, and the original building is long gone, it’s difficult for visitors imagine what the original building looked like, but the original columns remain perfectly in place.

As I mentioned earlier, the Second Generation Shrine was constructed with the ancient ‘shinmei-zukuri’  (神明造 / しんめいづくり) architectural design. What this means is that the large columns held up a kirizuma-style (切妻造 / きりづまづくり) gabled roof. Differing from what you’d typically see at larger Shinto Shrines, which feature hip-and-gable roofs, the original roof of the building would have consisted of two inclined surfaces on the front and back, which formed a ridge at the top.

Roofs of this design are essentially meant to resemble and open book, or the Chinese character ‘入’, which you should be able to understand from the diagram provided below.

General layout of shinmei-style architectural design

Considered to be one of the most ‘simplistic’ architectural styles that you’ll come across within the various styles of traditional Japanese architectural design, one of the interesting things about these shrines constructed is that they are generally rebuilt every two or three decades, adhering to the tradition of ‘shikinen sengu’ (神宮式年遷宮/じんぐうしきねんせんぐう), a ritual that provides for the constant renewal of its buildings.

More importantly, as the article linked below explains, the ritual plays a “very important role by enabling the transfer of (our) technical skill and spirit to the next generation. This transfer maintains both our architectural heritage and over 1,000 years of artistic tradition involving the making of the divine treasures.”

Link: [Soul of Japan] Shikinen Sengu, the Ritual of Rebuilding and Renewal (Japan Forward)

The rebuilding and renewal ritual is one that tends to vary between shrines, with some undergoing the process every eighteen to twenty-five years. In this case, the shrine was reconstructed in 1936, which means that it would possibly have been rebuilt again in 1961, 1986, and 2011.

With this in mind, even if the shrine wasn’t vandalized after the end of the Japanese-era, it very likely wouldn’t appear the same today as it would have back when the photos were taken in the late 1930s.

Speaking of those photos, one thing to note is that the roof featured katsuogi (鰹木/かつおぎ) and chigi (千木) ornaments on the top ridge. The katsuogi are long timber-like pieces of wood that rest on the flat base of the roof. While they might seem like a simple decorative element, they’re actually a pretty good indication of the kami that reside within, with an even number indicating a female divinity, while an odd number signifies a male. Taking a close look at the blurry old photos, there were five of them, signifying that the kami enshrined within were all male.

We already knew that, though.

With regard to the ‘chigi’, they can be cut either horizontally or vertically, known as uchi-sogi (内削ぎ) and soto-sogi (外削ぎ) respectively. How they’re cut likewise indicates the kami within, unfortunately, the photos of the Hall of Worship are far too blurry to see their design, but it’s safe to assume given what we know about the shrine that they were cut vertically.  

If you’d like see see both of these elements in action in another one of Taiwan’s historic shrines, I recommend taking a look at my article about Taitung’s Luye Shinto Shrine (鹿野神社).

Links: Shinmei-zukuri | Katsuogi | Chigi (Wiki)

Main Hall (本殿 / ほんでん)

Last, but not least, it’s time to introduce the Main Hall, otherwise known as the “honden” (本殿/ほんでん), the most sacred part of any Shinto Shrine, and the home of the gods. 

Traditionally, the Main Hall is the area of a shrine that is off-limits to the general public, and would have only been accessible to the staff who resided at, or took care of the shrine. Obviously that’s not the case today as the building is gone and all that remains is its concrete base.

Located directly behind the Hall of Worship, the Main Hall of the shrine kept with the shinmei-zukuri style of architectural design. In this case however, the much smaller building was placed on an elevated cement base.

Interestingly, when taking a look at the historic photos of the shrine, the height of the Main Hall was altered between the first and second generation designs. So, in some of the photos that you’ll see of the shrine, the rear hall is much smaller than the Hall of Worship in front of it, but in others, it is about the same height.

I won’t spend too much time on the architectural design of the Main Hall as I’d just be repeating what I mentioned earlier - All that remains of the hall today is its original cement base, which is quite beautifully designed in its own right. The base is double-layered with a narrow set of stairs in the middle with pedestals for either stone lanterns or possibly ‘Lion-Dogs’, known in Japan as the komainu (狛犬/こまいぬ) on either side of the stairs.

Today, as you reach the top of the base where the wooden structure would have existed, you’ll find a large stone with the Kanji for ‘donated’ or ‘donation’ (奉納 / ほうのう). With these ‘donations’, they’re usually parts of the shrine, like the gates or the lanterns which were paid for through the donations of private individuals.

I can’t place where this stone in particular came from, but it’s possible that it was once part of the pedestal for one of the Lion-Dogs or the sacred cow that was originally located next to the sacred gate.

Interestingly, given that this was once a place of worship, locals have taken to placing monetary offerings (coins) on the stone as a show of respect to the former shrine, which is quite endearing, but given the amount of vandalism that took place here, it’s also sad that so much of the original shrine has been lost.

Getting There

 

Address: #8 Jinguang Road, Jinguashi, Ruifang District (新北市瑞芳區金瓜石金光路8號)

GPS: 121.85862°E 25.105006°N

There are several convenient methods that will help you get to the Golden Shrine, but for most tourists, the best (and easiest method of explaining to get there is to use the Gold Museum as a starting point.

For the more adventurous, you could always hike Stegosaurus Ridge, Teapot Mountain, or any of the other hiking trails on the mountain where the shrine is located, but I’m just going to spend time introducing the direct route that the vast majority of tourists will take to get there.

How you get to the Gold Museum is up to you, but if you’re asking me for travel advice, I think its best that you hop on one of the buses out of Taipei, and take it directly to the Gold Museum. Don’t get off at Jiufen, go directly to the Gold Museum area and then on your way back by all means, stop at Jiufen. If, on the other hand you have your own means of transportation, you’ll have to keep mind that parking in the area can be a bit expensive.

Car / Scooter

If you have your own means of transportation, I recommend inputting the address or coordinates provided above into your vehicles GPS or Google Maps to map out your route to the museum. Depending on whether you’re coming from Taipei, Keelung, or the east coast, the route is going to be slightly different, so it’s much easier to have it mapped out on your preferred positioning system.

It’s important to keep in mind that the car park for the museum isn’t located at the front entrance along the narrow mountain road, so you’ll want to pay attention to the signs along the road that will point you in the direction of the car park.

Below I’ll provide the official directions to the Gold Museum from its official website (slightly edited for grammar and clarity):

  1. Take the Zhongshan Highway in the direction of Keelung → Exit at Dahua System Interchange→ Exit at Ruifang → Provincial Highway 2 → Turn right on Mingdeng Rd. → Pass though Jiufen and head down the mountain towards Jinguashi → Arrive at the Gold Museum

  2. Take the Zhongshan Highway in the direction of Keelung →  Exit at Dahua System Interchange → Go in the direction of Ruibin → Provincial Highway 2 → Turn right onto North County Road 34→ Arrive at the Gold Museum

  3. From the East Coast take Provincial Highway 2 to Shuinandong car park → Turn left onto North County Road 34 → Arrive at the Gold Museum.

Teapot Mountain (茶壺山) in the distance.

Train

If you elect to take the train as part of your adventure, you’re going to have to keep in mind that you’ll eventually have to switch to a bus at either Keelung Train Station (基隆車站) or Ruifang Train Station (瑞芳車站) as there aren’t any trains that provide direct access to the area.

The most convenient of the two stations with regard to getting to the Gold Museum area is Ruifang Station, but it’s important to note that not all of the trains bound north out of Taipei will get you to that station. If you find yourself on the wrong train, you may have to get off and transfer to another one near Xizhi (汐止車站) or Badu (八堵車站).

That being said, if you’re traveling from Taipei, it’s much faster and more convenient to hop on one of the buses on the list below as they’re direct from the capital. Taking a bus from the city will also ensure that you get a seat as the buses that roll through Ruifang are often packed to the point that they just pass by you when you’re at the bus stop waiting.    

Bus

Conveniently located at the entrance to the Gold Museum, you’ll find the ‘Jinguashi Gold Ecological Park’ (金瓜石 黃金博物館) bus stop. The buses that travel along this route typically pass through Ruifang (瑞芳), Jiufen (九分) and pass by the Golden Waterfall (黃金瀑布) on their way to Shuinandong (水湳洞) along the coast.

Serviced by the following routes, I’ll also provide links to the real time bus information below in addition to where you’re able to hop on:

  • Taipei Bus #788 (台北客運788): City God Temple - Shuinandong (城隍廟-水湳洞)

  • Taipei Bus #825 (台北客運825): Ruifang Station - Gold Museum (瑞芳車站-黃金博物館)

  • Taiwan Tour Bus #856 (台灣好行856): Ruifang - Sandiaojiao (瑞芳-三貂角燈塔)

  • Taipei Bus #965 (台北客運965): Fuzhong - Gushan Elementary (府中捷運站 - 瓜山國小)

  • Bus #1062 (基隆客運1062): Taipei - Jinguashi (台北 - 金瓜石)

  • Bus #F802 (台北客運): Ruifang Train Station - Jinguashi (瑞芳車站 - 金瓜石)

Click on any of the bus routes above for the route map and real-time information for each of the buses. If you haven’t already, I recommend using the Taipei eBus website or downloading the “台北等公車” app to your phone, which makes it easier to map out your trip and find the nearest bus stops to wherever you are located.

Link: Bus Tracker (臺北等公車) - Apple | Android

1. From Taipei - Jinguashi (台北 - 金瓜石博物館)

The easiest route directly from Taipei to the Gold Museum is Bus #1062, which conveniently sets off from Zhongxiao Fuxing MRT Station (忠孝復興捷運站) and also passes by Songshan Train Station (松山車站) and Ruifang Train Station (瑞芳車站). You also have the option of taking Bus #965, where you can hop on at Wanhua Train Station (萬華車站), Ximen MRT Station (西門捷運站) or Beimen MRT Station (北門捷運站).

2. From Keelung - Jinguashi (基隆 - 金瓜石博物館)

From Keelung Train Station (基隆車站) you can tae Bus #788 directly to the Gold Museum.

3. From Banqiao - Jinguashi (板橋 - 金瓜石博物館)

From Banqiao Bus Station (板橋公車站), located next to the train station, you can hop on Bus #965 and take the bus directly to the Gold Museum

4. From Ruifang - Jinguashi (瑞芳 - 金瓜石博物館)

From Ruifang Train Station, you have the option to take a number of buses that are headed up the mountain to Jiufen and the Gold Museum area.

The thing you’ll want to remember is that the bus stop here is more often than not packed with people, so you may find yourself waiting a bit to get on a bus. On the other hand, there are quite a few buses that pass through the area on the way up the mountain, so it may not be too long of a wait.


After being closed for half a decade, the Golden Shrine is finally reopen to the public. As one of the highlights of any visit to Jinguashi or the Gold Museum, I highly recommend the short hike up the mountain to the shrine if you find yourself in the area. Obviously, as a ruined Shinto Shrine, there isn’t much to see, and it is a skeleton of its former self, but its continued existence remains quite significant with regard to the modern history of this beautiful island nation. Rated as one of the most iconic tourist destinations in northern Taiwan, the shrine provides tourists with a pretty great photo opportunity, so even if you’re not as interested in all of this stuff as I am, why not check it out?

References

  1. Ōgon Shrine | 金瓜石神社 (中文) | 黃金神社 (日文) (Wiki)

  2. Ōgon Shrine (Spectral Codex)

  3. List of Shinto Shrines in Taiwan | 台灣神社列表 (Wiki) 

  4. 金瓜石神社 ( 國家文化資產網)

  5. [新北市瑞芳].金瓜石.黃金博物園區 (Tony的自然人文旅記)

  6. 新北市立黃金博物館New Taipei City Gold Museum (Wiki)

  7. 礦山上的台灣最初社-金瓜石神社 (晰誌 | See Zine)

  8. 金瓜石神社 山神祭 (新北市政府)

  9. 金瓜石 | Jinguashi (Wiki)

  10. The Gold Museum in Jinguashi (TaiwanEverything)

  11. 118 Shinto Gods and Goddesses to Know About (Owlcation)

  12. Architecture and Sacred Spaces in Shinto (Berkeley ORIAS)

  13. Encyclopedia of Shinto (Kokugakuin University)

  14. Shinto Architecture (Wikiwand)

  15. Taipower unveils renovated Jinguashi Shinto shrine in New Taipei (FTV News)


Agenna Shipyard Relics (阿根納造船廠遺址)

Today, I’m going to introduce a historic shipyard in northern Taiwan that has been abandoned for quite some time - and was for quite a while been a favorite for local urbex photographers.

In recent years, this ‘secret’ location (which has been hiding in plain sight) came to the attention of the world at large, and has arguably become the most popular abandoned site in the entire country. It’s transformation from an obscure property into an overnight social media sensation however has been interesting to watch while it has also become somewhat of a contentious issue for the local government, given that there are some serious safety concerns involved.

It’s safe to say that a number of factors contributed to turning this ruin into a social media sensation, but what I find most interesting is that in a city that features a long list of beautiful tourist attractions - this dilapidated structure has the ability to attract a wide range of visitors ranging from local Instagram celebrities to tour buses full of senior citizens. 

It has also helped to promote the Urban Exploration hobby, with a growing community of local explorers, who have started out here and gone on to discover some very photogenic ruins across the country!

Nevertheless, with the shipyard’s newfound popularity as a tourist attraction, you’d think that there would be a multitude of resources available with information about its historical significance, yet even though you can find numerous Chinese-language articles about it, few of them feature little more than basic facts.

While I’d like to help alleviate that problem with this article, I first have to give some major props to my friend and fellow blogger, Alexander Synaptic, who was one of the first people (in any language) to write extensively about the shipyard with an article (linked below) that I strongly recommend you take some time to read.

I highly doubt that my attempt could ever be as good as his article, but I’ll do my best!

Link: Agenna Shipyard 阿根納造船廠 (Spectral Codex)

Below, I’ll provide an introduction to the history of the shipyard, and its current predicament and conclude by providing some info about getting to the area, which is something I rarely do when it comes to my urbex-related posts. Although, I’m not really sure if this one can really be considered urban exploration anymore.

Feel free to debate that one amongst yourselves!  

The Agenna Shipyard Ruins (阿根納造船廠遺址)

Located within Keelung’s Zhengbin Fishery Harbor (正濱漁港), just next to the bridge that crosses the Bachimen Channel (八尺門海峽) to Peace Island (和平島), the Agenna Shipyard was constructed on a historically significant plot of land that dates back as far as the Qing Dynasty.

Predating the shipyard by almost a century, the development of the shoreline along the channel is somewhat unclear, but archaeological evidence suggests that industrial activity started in the area decades prior to the arrival of the Japanese in Taiwan in the late 1800s.

Looking at maps of the area from the 1920s however, we can see that a branch railway was constructed to transport coal from nearby mines to the first iteration of a port, which shipped the coal back to Japan. 

As the amount of shipping traffic increased at the primary port of Keelung, the colonial government planned to have the commercial and fishery industries split between two ports with the “inner" port of Keelung servicing commercial traffic, and a newly re-developed “outer” port area near (what was then known as) the ‘Hasshaku-mon Channel’ becoming the newly established 'Keelung Fishery Port’ (基隆漁港 / きいるんきーるん) in 1935, which at the time was Taiwan’s largest fishery port having enough space to dock four hundred boats in addition to processing facilities and a market along the shoreline. 

Note: Today, several of the larger buildings constructed during in the 1930s for the fishery port are in the process of being restored and re-opened to the public as tourist attractions, making this area of the city an attractive one that will provide an excellent experience for tourists. 

While construction on the fishery port was taking place, the Nippon Mining Company (日本礦業株式會社) was simultaneously in the process of constructing a twelve kilometer-long branch railway, which became known as the ‘Kinkaseki Branch Line’ (金瓜石線 / きんかせきせん). The narrow-gauge line stretched from Suinando Station (水湳洞駅 / すいなんどうえき) to Hasshaku-mon Station (八尺門駅 / はしゃくもんえき), running along the northern shoreline transporting gold and copper ore to the harbor, where it was loaded onto barges to be sent across the harbor and then back to Japan. 

The significance of the branch railway, especially with regard to this article, is essentially because Hasshaku-mon Station was strategically located next to where the shipyard would eventually constructed. During the Japanese-era, the land was used as an ore dock, creating the first iteration of a dock in this location.

Interestingly, the Japanese authorities had some lofty development plans for the area, especially with regard to Sharyo-to (社寮島 / しゃりょうとう), the island we know today as Peace Island (和平島), with maps from the 1930s showing how the area would have been developed. Coincidentally, the island we know today was originally a collection of three islands, Sharyō-to (社寮島), Nakayamako-tō (中山子島), Okeban-sho (桶盤嶼).

If you look at the historic map provided above, you can see the red lines that indicate planned development, which would have artificially connected two of the islands. In the decades since, it’s apparent that those plans carried over with the new regime as it is currently a single island. 

When the Japanese-era ended in 1945, and the Chinese Nationalists took control of Taiwan, the newly established regime sought to continue to capitalize on the island’s natural resources, with the assistance of the already established infrastructure. Yet just over a decade or two of Chinese Nationalist control, almost everything of value had already been taken from the ground and with the mines depleted, the branch railway became unnecessary with the section between Badouzi Station (八斗子車站) and Bachimen Station (八尺門車站) suspended. 

With service on the branch railway officially coming to an end on August 26th, 1962 (民國52年), the ore dock and the space that Hasshaku-mon-turned-Bachimen Station occupied was suddenly freed up, and the Taiwan Metals Mining Company (臺灣金屬鑛業股份有限公司) lost interest in maintaining the property. 

The solution to their problem came a few short years later when in 1966 (民國55年), Thomas Hsueh (薛國航), an US educated engineer and entrepreneur, leased the land and opened the ‘Argonaut Shipbuilding Company’ (阿根納造船廠). Specializing in the construction of luxury yachts, Hsueh made use of his network of business contacts in America, and Taiwan’s cheap and skilled labor to earn a fortune with the shipyard.

Working as a sub-contractor for the Florida-based Chris Craft Industries, the shipyard specialized in the construction of smaller pleasure-craft, and was able to quickly adapt to Chris Craft’s transition to constructing ships with fiberglass in the 1970s and 1980s.

Note: There is a bit of confusion with the naming of the site, so let me take a minute to explain: The name we currently use for the site, “Agenna Shipyard” is simply the romanization of the Chinese-language name. More specifically the pinyin is ‘ā gēn nà zào chuán chǎng’ (阿根納造船廠). Does that name have any meaning in Chinese? No, not really. The name was actually a direct transliteration of the English word “Argonaut” into Chinese. The Taiwanese-American owner of the business essentially required an official Chinese-language name to register the company here in Taiwan, as well as an English name to register the company in the USA. This is a common business practice for multi-national corporations in Taiwan.

Architectural Layout of the Shipyard

Working primarily with Chris-Craft since its inception, the shipyard constructed several of the company’s flagship yachts for a number of years. Unfortunately, the fate of the Argonaut Corporation, and the shipyard were tied too close to that of Chris-Craft back in the USA. So, when economic recession hit the US in the late 1970s and global sales declined, that company was forced to restructure, with its assets and trademarks sold to another investment group in 1981. 

Link: Chris-Craft Corporation (Wiki)

Faced with a loss of its most important partner, and coupled with a worldwide economic downturn, the Argonaut Corporation was left frantically searching for new partners. Ultimately, the company’s poor management structure served as the final nail in its coffin, and after a couple of years of inactivity it closed its doors completely in 1987 (民國76年).

With the end of Argonaut’s business operations, the land once again became a burden to the Taiwan Metals Mining Company, which had also fallen on hard times and was going through bankruptcy in the late 1980s. With most of that company’s assets sold off to pay off their creditors, what little remained of the company was merged with the prosperous Taiwan Sugar Corporation (台灣糖業公司), the current owner of the property.

In the four decades since, the land has been leased to a number of businesses, each of which didn’t end up last very long. Then, in 2008 (民國97年), the land was put on a 20 year lease to a local industrial company (阿諾瑪實業公司), which made national headlines when they did what many other corporations around the country had done in the past, and rolled up onto the property with a bunch of construction equipment and started an illegal demolition of the shipyard.

Link: Agenna Shipyard demolished for safety, firm says (Taipei Times)

The sudden demolition of the historic property was widely condemned, with the mayor of Keelung threatening hefty fines for failing to secure construction permits. The Keelung City Council likewise moved quickly to have the site granted heritage status under the Cultural Heritage Preservation Act (文化資產之保存), which was passed by the Taiwanese legislature that same year.

Unfortunately, by the time demolition was halted, considerable damage had been done to the shipyard, which is one of the reasons why the site is considered to be unstable and unsafe for the amount of people visiting on any given weekend. 

The future of the historic shipyard remains unclear with the Keelung City Government hoping to eventually have it restored, but given that the land remains is the property of the Taiwan Sugar Corporation, there are a number of legal matters to be resolved before anything can be done. The shipyard has lingered in its current condition for a number of years and is essentially one or two large earthquakes from falling over on its own.

As I mentioned earlier, there were a number of factors that contributed to the shipyard becoming Taiwan’s most widely-visited and most popular abandoned ruin. One of those factors was the widespread media attention (and condemnation) that came as a result of the short-lived demolition of the ruins. What was probably the number one factor in bringing the shipyard to the attention of the public at large was when Captain America himself, Chris Evans filmed a trailer for one of the Call of Duty games on-site in 2014.

All it took after that were some clever Instagram posts to help the ruin achieve overnight popularity. 

Link: Actor Chris Evans spotted in Taiwan filming commercial at Keelung Shipyard (ICRT) 

To conclude, it’s important to remind readers that a visit to the area doesn’t have to be just to see the abandoned shipyard - While there you can also enjoy the view of the equally Insta-famous rainbow colored buildings at Zhengbin Harbor (正濱港口彩色屋). You could also visit the historic Sheliao East Fort (社寮東砲台), Peace Island Coastal Park (和平島海角樂園), and many of the other tourist attractions within the downtown core of Keelung City. Don’t make a trip to the area just to visit the shipyard, make sure you enjoy some of the city’s other excellent tourist spots! 

Getting There

 

Address: Lane #116 Zhengbin Road, Keelung City (基隆市中正區正濱路116巷)

GPS: 25.153660, 121.771810

Something I rarely do when I write about urbex-related ruins is provide an address or a location.

With this one, there isn’t much point in not sharing that info with you - The shipyard has become so popular that there is a spot marking its location on Google Maps, making it relatively easy to find on your own.

Located next to Keelung’s Zhengbin Harbor (正濱港口), just before you cross the bridge to Peace Island (和平島), the shipyard is a relatively easy one to reach, but is a bit of distance from the city’s railway station.

This means that if you don’t have access to a car or a scooter you’ll have to make use of public transportation. It’s important to note that the narrow road along the harbor is home not only to the shipyard, but also the popular Zhengbin Harbor Rainbow Buildings (正濱港口彩色屋), and acts as the entrance to the Peace Island Coastal Park (和平島海角樂園). The area can be quite busy on the weekends and during national holidays. 

With that in mind, I’ll preface this by letting you know if you’re driving a car, you’re likely going to have some trouble finding parking near the harbor - The very narrow road that leads you to the harbor and across the bridge to Peace Island wasn’t ever set up with cars and buses full of tourists, so I’d highly recommend you find somewhere to park well before you arrive at the harbor. 

Of course, it’s not impossible to find a spot when you arrive, so if you are traveling to the area and are feeling brave, you can turn into the harbor, and then make another turn on Lane #116 where the shipyard is located and attempt to find a roadside parking space near the Keelung City Indigenous Cultural Hall (基隆市原住民文化會館), a short walk past the shipyard. Given that there are a number of buses that stop at the harbor, the traffic situation can be quite precarious meaning that if you turn in, you may find yourself stuck in a line of traffic that moves very slowly.

If on the other hand you’re in the area with a scooter, you shouldn’t have too much trouble finding a spot on the side of the road near the shipyard where you can park for a short time.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, it’s time to talk about public transportation. 

Once again, I’m going to preface this by saying that I love Keelung, it’s one of my favorite cities to visit in Taiwan - It is however a far cry from what most tourists would consider a convenient place to visit.

The traffic in the downtown core of the city is often congested, and unlike other major Taiwanese towns and cities, you (currently) don’t have access to YouBikes, GoShare, WeMo, etc.

If you have a drivers license, I highly recommend renting a scooter for the day near the train station. If not, you’ll be stuck relying on public transportation, which isn’t very efficient or reliable.

Below, you’ll find a list of bus routes that’ll get you to Zhengbin Harbor. I’ll provide links to each of the buses so that you can click on them to find their route map and schedules: 

Zhengbin Harbor Heping Bridge Bus Stop (和平橋頭站)

Located next to the harbor, you’ll simply get off the bus at the station before crossing the bridge to Peace Island and walk up Lane #116 to find the shipyard. 

  • Keelung Bus #101 (Peace Island 和平島)

  • Keelung Bus #102 (Peace Island 和平島)

  • Keelung Bus #109 (Tianxian Temple 天顯宮)

  • Keelung Bus #205 (Peace Island 中信 - 和平島)

Zhongzheng - Zhengbin Intersection Bus Stop (中正路正濱路口站)

Located along an important road between Keelung and Badouzi, getting off at this stop requires you to walk into the harbor area and then up Lane #116 to the shipyard. The distance between this bus stop and the one above is only about a two minute walk, but not all buses turn into the harbor area. 

  • Keelung Bus #103 (Badouzi 八斗子)

  • Keelung Bus #104 (Xinfeng Street 新豐街)

  • Keelung Bus #108 (Chaojing Park 潮境公園)

  • Taipei Bus #791 (Guojia New Village to Fulong 國家新城 - 福隆)

  • Keelung Bus #1051 (Rueifang to Guojia New Village 瑞芳─國家新城)

I can’t personally vouch as to whether or not you’ll be able to enter the former shipyard and explore the ruins as they’ve started preventing people from visiting. Whether or not this is constantly enforced, I’m not particularly sure. Still, you need to keep in mind that a visit to the shipyard might result in disappointment.

You can still view it from afar, but descending the old stairs to the old workshop area might not be an option.

If that’s the case, don’t worry too much. While in the area you’ll also be able to enjoy the beauty of the harbor as well as crossing the bridge over to Peace Island, which is pretty cool place to visit. 

As a historic structure, it would be nice to see the local government do something to fix the area up in order to keep the ruins available for the foreseeable future. That being said the structure would likely require quite a bit of public funds to clean up. Currently, its existence and popularity are an accident waiting to happen and an insurance nightmare for the city, so if its closed when you arrive, don’t be too surprised. 

There are an incredible number of abandoned structures throughout Taiwan, so if this kind of thing interests you, I suggest you start exploring and finding things on your own! It’s actually surprisingly easy to find some really cool places to visit. Stay safe if you do, and most importantly remember to keep these places to yourself, otherwise they might end up like the shipyard. 

To conclude, I’m going to doing something I rarely ever do, show a picture of myself striking a pose at the ruin.

Yours truly.


The Fairy Cave Temple (仙洞巖 + 佛手洞)

Taiwan’s northern port city of Keelung has always been one of the nation’s most international cities. Having experienced periods of Dutch, Spanish, Chinese and Japanese rule, control of the northern port has always been the gateway to Taipei and the rest of Taiwan.

The Keelung of the modern era is a vibrant international port city with cruise ships from around the world docking in the harbor as well as a large number of cargo container ships coming and going.

With a history dating back several hundred years, the city has a number of historic destinations for tourists to visit and to learn about the special city, and its development over the centuries.

Unfortunately, something I’ve come to realize over the years is that Keelung rarely ever receives a fraction of the attention in the English-language as other areas of the country. I’ve always wondered if this was because some of the history in the area isn’t as well-documented or well-preserved, of its simply because it rains so much that most tourists prefer to just check out the night market whenever they’re in town.

Suffice to say, as a history buff, I’m a big fan of Keelung and over the next few months I’ll be introducing a number of the city’s tourist destinations. In this one I’m going to introduce a pretty cool, yet somewhat obscure Keelung tourist destination that (like so many other of the city’s attractions) has received little-to-no attention, or promotion in English-language tourism spheres. Obviously not every foreign tourist is as interested in Taiwan’s places of worship as I am, but when it comes to this one, I’m surprised that the tourist bureau hasn’t put in a little more effort given that it is located within a large cave next to the ocean.

If advertised properly, it could be one of those ‘mystical places of worship’ that foreign tourists are attracted to, especially since it is reminiscent to the beautiful Tham Khao Luang Cave (ถ้ำเขาหลวง) just outside of Bangkok in Thailand.

The so-called ‘Fairy Cave temple’ and the ‘Buddha’s Hand Cave,’ are both part of the same network of mountainous sea caverns located next to the port of Keelung and just like the rest of the city, this place of worship has a history that both spans the several eras of Taiwan’s colonial history, and even though it has evolved throughout the years, you’ll find that history written all over its walls.

No matter how much has changed at the cave throughout the years, it has always remained a place of worship steeped in local legend, and with the calming sound of the waves crashing against the shoreline, it can be a quiet place of refuge for anyone seeking a bit of solitude in the busy international port city.

Fairy Cave Temple (仙洞巖最勝寺)

With thousands of places of worship throughout Taiwan, tourists and locals alike are afforded a wide variety of religious destinations to visit. It’s safe to say however that only a handful of them have been constructed within a natural sea cave, allowing them to stand out from the rest.

The so-called ‘Fairy Cave’ (仙洞巖) as it is currently known has gone by a few different names over the past few centuries, but it has been a place of worship for much of Keelung’s recorded history.

Prior to becoming a place of worship, the cave was regarded as a natural refuge for local fishers when the weather turned foul, as it so often does along Taiwan’s north coast. Eventually setting up a shrine within the cave, the fishers made use of the space to pray for safety while out on the water.

It’s unclear as to when organized worship at the cave officially started, but in renowned poet Lee Feng-Shih’s (李逢時) poem titled “The Eight Scenic Wonders of Keelung” (雞籠八景詩), he references the cave by saying “You don’t have to have the ability to fly to become a fairy” (不必飛昇人亦仙), with references to the cave from other scholars to around sometime in the mid-nineteenth century.

View from the main entrance.

Note: The Chinese characters used for “Keelung” in the poem mentioned above is pronounced “jī lóng” (雞籠) in Mandarin or “Ke-lâng” in Taiwanese. While the Mandarin pronunciation remains the same today, the original characters are loosely translated as “Chicken Cage” (雞籠), and was the original name used for the area prior to 1876, when it was officially changed to the name we use today.

To answer an age-old question that many foreigners have - the reason why we refer to the city today as “Keelung” in English instead of “Jilong” is because that is the Taiwanese-Hokkien pronunciation (Ki-liông / Ke-lâng) of the city rather than the Mandarin one.

Link: 【臺灣地名真相】基隆叫基隆,是因為長得像雞籠嗎?

Without a clear recorded history prior to the Japanese-era, it is understood that the place of worship within the cave has gone by several names over the years being referred to as “Zuisheng Temple” (最勝寺), Rinzai Myōshin-ji Zuisheng Zen Temple (臨濟宗妙心寺派最勝寺), Dai-Ming Temple (代明宮) and Benten Shrine (辨天宮), among others.

These days it is referred to simply as the “Fairy Cave Temple” (仙洞巖), but formally retains its full name “Zuisheng Fairy Cave Temple” (仙洞巖最勝寺).

In 1872 (清同治11年), during the latter stages of the Qing Dynasty, a formal place of worship was constructed within the cave known as Dai-Ming Temple (代明宮), dedicated to Buddhist practice.

A few decades later when the Japanese took control of Taiwan in 1895, Keelung, or “Kiirun” (きーるん) as it became known, was one of the first areas where the Japanese were able to set up official administrative agencies. This was in part due to the port, Taiwan’s northern-most, becoming instrumental in transporting people and supplies to the island, in addition to already having an established, yet rudimentary railway link between the port and the capital.

Praying to one of the carved images on the cave walls.

The early years of the colonial era saw a considerable amount of Japanese nationals coming to the island for work (on a temporary or long-term basis), bringing with them knowledge and expertise as well as their cultural and religious practices. So, in addition to several Shinto Shrines constructed in the port area, a number of Japanese Buddhist groups started setting up roots in the city, most notably the Jodo (淨土宗), Soto (曹洞宗), Shingon (真言宗) and Rinzai (臨濟宗) sects.

Most notably for the Fairy Cave, the Myōshin-ji (妙心寺 / みょうしんじ), headquartered in Kyoto and the largest group within the Rinzai sect, initially seized upon the opportunity to set up shop in the ‘Fairy Cave’ but there are conflicting reports as to how long that shrine within the cave lasted.

Links: Huguo Rinzai Temple (臨濟護國禪寺) | Puji Temple (普濟寺)

There are differing accounts on what happened in the early 1900s, as there are claims that the shrine within the cave has always remained a Buddhist place of worship while others argue that the Buddha’s were re-located elsewhere in 1906 (明治39年), and a Shinto Shrine constructed on the site shortly after. The surprising thing is that the official records on the subject aren’t actually as clear, leading to debate within academic circles. Photographic evidence of the site makes it ‘somewhat’ clear that the Fairy Cave was converted into a Shinto Shrine in the late Meiji era.

With the consecration of a Shinto Shrine on the site taking place in 1911 (明治44年), it’s highly unlikely that any of the Buddhist-related materials remained within the cave as there are accounts that the statues of Shakyamuni (釋迦佛) were removed and sent elsewhere.

As a Shinto Shrine, Benten Shrine (仙洞弁天宮 / べんてんみや), predated the Keelung Shinto Shrine (基隆神社 / きーるんじんじゃ), and was one of a dozen shrines constructed in the Keelung area during the Japanese era.

Similar to the Keelung Shrine, the shrine was dedicated to Amaterasu (天照皇大神), the Three Deities Of Cultivation (開拓三神), Ōmononushi (大物主命), Emperor Sutoku (崇德天皇), and Prince Kitashirakawa Yoshihisa (北白川宮能久親王) in addition to Benzaitian (弁才天 / べんざいてん), or ‘Ichikishima-hime-no-mikoto’ (市杵島姫命 / “Heavenly Princess Ichikishima”), the goddess of water, music, arts, wisdom, wealth and fortune, whom the shrine was named after.

Link: Keelung Martyrs Shrine (基隆忠烈祠)

With a several decade history as a Shinto Shrine from 1911, until the colonial era ended in 1945, I’d venture to guess that some of the confusion with regard to the Fairy Cave is due to the fact that some of the Buddha statues enshrined there today originated in Japan and date back to the colonial era. What gives people the biggest headache trying to figure all of this out however was that the Goddess Benzaiten is a figure that was introduced to Taiwan with the arrival of the Japanese, and is worshipped interchangeably as both a Buddhist figure and a Shinto kami (deity).

Location of the cave marked on a Japanese-era map of the port of Keelung

Note: Belonging to a group known as the “Seven Lucky Gods” (七福神 / しちふくじん), Benzaiten is one of the most prominent deities within Japanese religious traditions that is worshipped in both Buddhism and Shintoism. Representing the syncretistic mixture of influences that have defined Japanese religion over the last thousand or more years. Originating as the Hindu Goddess Saraswati, and then incorporated within Buddhism and China and moving onto Japan, she has been a popular figure within Japanese religious traditions since the 6th Century. Given her prominent role within both religious traditions, worship of Benzaiten was one of the few ‘foreign’ influenced religious practices that was able to escape the separation of Buddhism and State Shinto during the Meiji Restoration (明治維新 / めいじいしん).

Academics point to historic photos of the exterior of the Fairy Cave taken during the Japanese-era with a torii gate (鳥居), and a traditional ‘walking path’ (參道) leading toward the cave as evidence that the place of worship was converted into a Shinto Shrine, given that these types of gates are almost always an indication of a Shinto Shrine. With regard to this specific goddess, that actually isn’t the best indicator as her worship is often the exception to the rule when it comes to these gates. As a syncretic goddess, both Shinto Shrines and Buddhist temples dedicated to her worship feature a torii gate. Fortunately, there’s a photo of the interior of the shrine (below) which clearly indicates that it was a Shinto Shrine as there is a ‘shintai’ (神体), known as a sacred mirror and is the repository of a Shinto deity.

Shrine located within the cave during the Japanese-era featuring a ‘sacred mirror.’

Interestingly, when the the colonial era came to an end and the Fairy Cave was converted back into a Buddhist temple, nothing changed with regard to the worship of Benzaiten, which continues to this day.

In the post-war era, the place of worship within the Fairy Cave was restored to its original name ‘Zuisheng Temple’ (最勝寺), and over the years it has been restored on a few occasions becoming a Keelung City Protected Heritage Site (基隆市古蹟) in 2006.

Now, let’s get into some specifics about the Fairy Cave in its current form.

As mentioned above, the cave was once a safe haven for fishers in the Keelung area, and as it predates the port, its formation took place over many thousands of years with erosion caused by seawater. As we know it today, it has a depth of about 80 meters and varies in width in the various sections of the cavern, but has a total space of about 1650㎡ (500坪).

Having recently gone under a period of restoration, the path to the Fairy Cave features a newly constructed ‘paifang’ gate (牌坊), a Chinese-style gate that demarcates the name of the cave and the temple within. Amazingly, the path that leads to the main entrance remains the same as the original ‘visiting path’ from its days as a Shinto Shrine, although the walkway was recently restored as well.

At the entrance to the cave you’ll find what looks like the facade of a typical Chinese-style place of worship that adds a bit of traditional decoration to the entrance as well as serving a practical role of stabilizing the cave-front, which could easily be destroyed by a land slide or an earthquake. The artificially constructed cave-front ‘temple facade’ features beautiful golden calligraphy that reads “仙洞巖” (Fairy Cave), and has a double-layered temple roof with a dharma wheel on the apex, indicating that a Buddhist place of worship is found within.

To the right of the main entrance you’ll find a large cement pedestal with a giant statue of the Buddha on it, but what interested me the most about the cave-front are the remnants of the Japanese-era Shinto Shrine on the opposite side of the giant Buddha where you’ll find some objects dating back to the early years of the Showa era.

Although the temple within the cave is primarily a Buddhist place of worship, like so many other temples throughout Taiwan, you’ll find a mixture of figures from both Buddhism and Taiwanese folk religion, with several interesting shrines inside. While space is obviously quite limited in the cave, you’ll find almost as many shrines as you would in a typical several-floored temple indicating a pretty good use of space.

The interior is essentially divided into three sections or ‘halls’ with the two largest known as “Yuantong Hall” (圓通寶殿) and “Mahavira Hall” (大雄寶殿), with a much smaller offshoot cave featuring a small shrine.

As soon as you enter the cave you’ll find yourself in the ‘Yuantong Hall’, with a shrine devoted to the Maitreya Buddha (彌勒佛), an offering table and an incense table very close to the front door. On both the left and right sides of the shrine you’ll find statues of the Four Heavenly Kings (四大天王), who are generally regarded as protector deities.

Passing by the first shrine, you’ll walk down a set of stairs and will find another shrine dedicated to a number of important Buddhist figures, including a couple variations of Guanyin (觀世音菩薩), accompanied by Skanda (韋馱菩薩), Samgharama (伽藍神) and the Earth God (土地公), a folk religion deity. On either side of the shrine you’ll also find a display of the famed eighteen arhats (十八羅漢), the Buddha’s most important disciples.

To the direct left of this shrine you’ll find the entrance to the smallest shrine room in the Fairy Cave, an extremely narrow several meter long path that is only wide enough for one-way traffic, and in parts becomes so small that you’ll have to crouch and twist and turn to get yourself through.

If you’re even a little claustrophobic, this path isn’t for you as it’s likely to give you a panic attack.

All of the hard work getting through the narrow path doesn’t really pay off for most people as once you get to the end you’re met with a simple shrine in a dark room where the air is a bit stagnant. The shrine at the end of the cave is dedicated to Benzaiten (弁才天 / べんざいてん), the Buddhist and Shinto figure mentioned above and is a fitting tribute to the Fairy Cave’s history.

The Benzaiten Shrine

Passing from the first part of the cave into the main area, you’ll find some beautifully carved images along the cave wall. These images took several years to create, and you’ll often find visitors praying next to them as they depict important Buddhist figures, including Manjusri (文殊菩薩), Ksitigarbha Buddha (地藏菩薩) and four images of Guanyin (觀世音菩薩). Unlike some of the other carvings on the cave wall that date back hundreds of years, these are relatively new as they were created in the early 1970s.

The Guanyin Shrine

As I mentioned earlier, the largest and widest section of the cave is home to the main shrine, known as “Mahavira Hall” (大雄寶殿), which doesn’t sound very Chinese, right? It is actually one of the most common titles used for Buddhist shrines throughout East Asia, translated directly from Sanskrit and literally means “Precious Hall of the Great Hero,” but is often translated simply as “Great Hall,” which I think loses a bit of its intended meaning.

In the dim-lit cave, the main shrine almost glows as you approach it with the large golden ‘Three Treasure’ Buddha statues (三寶佛). In the middle you’ll find Shakyamuni (釋迦牟尼佛) with the Medicine Buddha (藥師佛) and Amida Buddha (阿彌陀佛) on either side, accompanied by dozens of smaller Buddha statues surrounding them to the rear and sides. As the main attraction of the Fairy Cave temple, this area is usually the busiest with visitors stopping by to pray while others grab a cushion to sit on the floor to meditate.

It can be a busy place, but also quite peaceful at the same time.

Within the main cave you’ll also find three smaller shrines, two of which are housed in cute miniature temple-looking buildings. To the left of the shrine you’ll find the Goddess of Childbirth (註生娘娘), a local folk religion deity. The other miniature temple is dedicated to the legendary Chinese scholar and poet, Lu Dongbin (呂洞賓), who is most well-known today as one of the ‘Eight Immortals’ (八仙).

The Japanese Jizo statue

Finally, the last of the smaller shrines is located on the right of the main shrine - a nod to the cave’s history there is a small shrine to Ksitigarbha Buddha (地藏菩薩), better known in Japan as ‘Jizo’ (じぞうぼさつ), and is one of the nation’s most loved and respected religious figures. In this case, it’s important to note that the Jizo that appears in this shrine is a Japanese-style Buddha, although its history is unclear, it might possibly be one of the original statues from the Japanese-era.

Calligraphy etched into the walls

Finally, I think it’s important to mention that there are a number of carvings on the walls throughout the cave, some of which are not only historic, but are quite beautiful in the calligraphy that they present. With a collection of almost two dozen phrases and idioms ranging from the late Qing Dynasty through to the Japanese-era, it would honestly take me far too long to translate each of them for you, so I’m not going to bother at this point, but if you find yourself in the cave, I highly recommend taking some time to check them out even if you can’t understand what they say.

Buddha’s Hand Cave (佛手洞)

Entrance to the Buddha’s cave

Located less than thirty meters away from the entrance to the Fairy Cave, you’ll find a footpath that wraps around the mountain to reveal another cave entrance, this time to the ‘Buddha’s Hand Cave’ (佛手洞).

Prior to receiving its most recent name, the cave was home to a habitat of bats, and locals simply referred to the caverns as ‘the bat cave’ (蝙蝠洞). During the Second World War, the cave was used as an air raid shelter while allied bombing runs targeted the nearby port, and other military installations in the area. With so much human activity in the caves, the number of bats declined and eventually they had enough of all the humans invading their space and moved out.

Consisting of a number of caverns, at some point the local government poured a bunch of concrete on the cave floor and electrified areas to provide some extra light within the cave in order to better promote it to local tourists. While not entirely necessary, given the amount of natural light that comes into the caves, it probably saves people from injuring themselves on wet days, which lets face it is most of the time in Keelung.

Walking through the lit caverns of the Buddha’s cave

Remarkably quiet, save for the sound of tourists, the natural sea-eroded cave features a high ceiling and smooth cave walls thanks to thousands of years of weathering and erosion. With natural mountain water dripping from the ceiling, the cave can be damp at times, but the sound of water drops is sometimes all that you’ll hear while exploring the cave, which is a welcome break from the busy city.

The current name of the cave is derived from a naturally designed pattern on part of the cave ceiling that appears similar to a giant hand, similar to the image of the Buddha’s hand, which has become a well-known image within Buddhist iconography, signifying generosity and peace. The design, caused by natural weathering in the rock has turned somewhat green and is easily noticeable while exploring the cave.

If you find yourself visiting Keelung on a hot summer day, the cave can be a great place of refuge from the sun as the various entrances allow for a nice amount of air to blow through proving a natural air conditioner for visitors.

Can you see it?

If you’re like myself and aren’t particularly impressed by all the rock formations that are popular tourist destinations with the locals in Taiwan, never fear, exploring the cave is already a cool enough experience that you don’t really have to spend too much time checking out the so-called Buddha’s hand, even though I have to admit, it does actually look like a hand.

Getting There

 

Address: No. 1, Renan St, Zhongshan District, Keelung City (基隆市中山區仙洞里仁安街1號)

GPS: 25.145208°N 121.748374°E

Located on the western side of Keelung Harbor, both the Fairy Cave and Buddha’s Cave are located within a historic area of the city, but also a pretty remote section of town. As a somewhat popular tourist attraction, you’ll often find quite a few visitors on weekends and national holidays. However, unless you have your own means of transportation, getting to the cave is somewhat of a hassle for anyone unfamiliar with the city.

If you have access to your own means of transportation, simply input the address provided above into your GPS or Google Maps and you should have no problem arriving at the cave. Fortunately, there is an ample amount of parking nearby, so you shouldn’t have much trouble finding a spot, even if the cave is busy. It’s important to keep in mind though that the area is often frequented by large trucks transporting things back and forth out of the port, and the road conditions are often a bit difficult with what seems to be perpetual construction between the area where the station and the cave are located. If you’re driving a car, you may find yourself stuck in traffic while road work is taking place.

If you’ve ever read any of my articles about Keelung, you’ll probably have already seen my complaints regarding public transportation in the city - I absolutely love visiting Keelung, but without access to sharable bicycle and scooter systems like YouBike and GoShare, it makes getting around somewhat difficult for anyone coming from out-of-town without a car.

So if you’ve arrived in Keelung and are looking for a way to get around on your own, I recommend visiting one of the scooter rental shops opposite the train station where you can rent a scooter for the day.

If you don’t have a scooter license, your options will more or less rely on walking, taxi’s or city buses.

From the train station, the cave is about a thirty-nine minute walk, making a visit a major time investment, especially if you have other places to visit on your itinerary. Taking a taxi there and back can also be quite expensive, so your best option is to simply take one of the public buses that stop nearby.

To get to the Fairy Cave, you have the option of the following three bus routes:

  1. Keelung Bus (基隆公車) 301 (Taibaizhuang 太白莊)

  2. Keelung Bus (基隆公車) 302 (Zhongshan Senior High School 中山高中)

  3. Keelung Bus (基隆公車) 304 (Gaoyuan New Village 高遠新村)

For each of the buses, you can hop on at a bus station near the Keelung Train Station (基隆火車站), and you’ll get off at the Fairy Cave Stop (仙洞巖站) where both caves are a two minute walk away.

When you’re done, simply hop on one of the buses back to the train station.

For bus 301 and 304, you’ll find the bus stop at the South entrance to Keelung Station (基隆火車站南站) while 302 can be taken from the Keelung City Bus Station (基隆火車站總站) nearby.

While it might seem like somewhat of an obscure tourist destination, exploring a place of worship within a cave is actually a pretty interesting experience. The Fairy Cave is damp, and the air inside is a constant haze of incense, but the temple certainly stands apart from all of the others that you’ll come across in Taiwan.

A visit to both the Buddha’s Cave and the Fairy Cave will only require about an hour of your time, so if you’re in town to check out the famed night market, a stop over at these caves will be a cool adventure.

References

  1. 仙洞巖 | Xian Dong Yan (Wiki)

  2. 仙洞巖 | Fairy Cave (基隆旅遊網)

  3. 仙洞巖 (國家文化資產網)

  4. 仙洞巖 (台灣宗教文化資產)

  5. 仙洞巖與佛手洞 (地球上的火星人)

  6. 仙洞巖.佛手洞.大武崙海灘 (Tony的自然人文旅記)

  7. 佛手洞 (基隆旅遊網)