Abandoned

Abandoned Tea Factory

When foreign streaming services started arriving in Taiwan, a battle started over access to local content, which could be added to their extensive libraries of movies and television shows. With Netflix and Disney+ being the most popular choices for most consumers in Taiwan, both companies sought to add as much Taiwan-made content as they could, while also investing in producing new content as well.

Suffice to say, this resulted in a considerable amount of freshly-made content, which was afforded the financial backing and support of these massive media companies, and more importantly, higher quality production values, which has been a recipe for success. Television shows like Light the Night (華燈初上), Seqalu (斯卡羅) and Detention (返校) are just a few examples of the recent success that the addition of streaming services have helped bring to Taiwan, allowing the country to tell its own stories on an international level.

Link: 別再說韓劇比較好看!10大必看神作開啟台劇新高度,道盡職場辛酸血淚 (風博媒)

One of the other recent additions was the series Gold Leaf (茶金), lauded as the first-ever television show that was filmed entirely in Hoiluk (海陸腔), the most commonly spoken dialect of the Hakka language spoken in Taiwan. A co-production from the Taiwanese government’s Hakka Affairs Council (客家委員會) and the Public Television Service Foundation (公共電視), the twelve-part series focused on the family of entrepreneur Chiang A-hsin (姜阿新), who hailed from the predominately Hakka village of Beipu (北浦鎮) in Hsinchu.

Link: Hakka period drama ‘Gold Leaf’ to air in November (Hakka Affairs Council)

Telling the story of the family’s struggle to stay in business as the Japanese left Taiwan and the Chinese Nationalists took over, the series (is said to have) done an excellent job helping people learn about the booming tea trade during the 1950s, and it’s popularity got domestic tourists to visit places like Beipu Old Street (北浦老街) and the Daxi Tea Factory (大溪老茶產) to experience that history firsthand.

I have to admit though, I haven’t actually watched it..

The family of tea tycoons depicted in the television show, however, is very closely connected to the subject of today’s article, which will tell the story of an abandoned tea factory in the hills of Hsinchu. Having visited the abandoned factory on a few occasions prior to the television show coming out, I had never really made the connection between the two until I started doing a bit of research into the old building.

My personal interest in the tea factory came after my first of many visits to the recently restored Daxi Tea Factory. As I was looking for information about other Japanese-era tea factories around the country, once I found it, I visited a couple of times to get photos.

This however is where I have to add my usual disclaimer regarding my articles on Urban Exploration - In this article, I’ll provide historic information about the tea factory - I’ll even provide it’s name - What I won’t do though is provide readers with any of the other particulars, so if you find yourself so interested that you’d like to check it out on your for yourself, it shouldn’t take very long to figure out where it is.

Before I get into any details about the abandoned tea factory, it’s probably a good idea to start out by introducing talk about the man (and the family), of tea tycoons who owned it - and several others throughout the mountains of Hsinchu - and for whom the television show mentioned above is dedicated.

Chiang A-hsin (姜阿新)

The life of Chiang A-hsin was a long and eventful one, and given that there has been quite a bit recorded about the rise and fall of his family’s tea empire over the years, I’ll try to keep this a brief introduction.

Born in 1901 (明治34年), in what is now Baoshan Village (寶山鄉) in Hsinchu, Chiang A-hsin was adopted as a child by Chiang Qing-han (姜清漢), who was heir to the Beipu Chiang family, and who was described as ‘barren’ or unable to have children of his own.

Little seems to be written on the subject in English, but in Taiwan, it was common (for a variety of reasons) for well-off families to adopt children from families who would otherwise have trouble raising the child on their own. In this case, it was because the Chiang family required a male heir to carry on the family name, but in other cases it could be that the family required a daughter to marry to one of their sons, or for purposes of indentured servitude, etc.

Nevertheless, Chiang A-hsin was adopted and groomed to become the heir of the wealthy Beipu family, who struck it rich during the Qing Dynasty with their Jinguangfu Land Reclamation Company (金廣福墾號). Starting his education at the Beipu Public School (北浦公校), he then moved on to the prestigious Taihoku Kokugo Gakko (臺灣總督府國語學校 / たいわんそうとくふこくごがっこう) at the age of fourteen.

Shortly after his graduation from the college, he traveled to the Japanese mainland, and spent a year reading law at Meiji University (京明治大學) in Tokyo. However, do to pressing family matters back at home, he didn’t end up finishing his degree and instead returned to Taiwan to help out.

Over the next several years, Chiang attempted to invest in or start his own business on several occasions, but each attempt was met with opposition from his father. Chiang then took a job as the assistant to Tanaka Tori (田中利), the head of Hopposhō Village (北埔庄 / ほっぽしょう), known today as Beipu Village. He’d only end up spending two years in the position however as the opposition of his father turned into approval when A-hsin became the head of the family, and proved to his father that he was capable of investing the families wealth responsibly.

Even though his position as assistant to the head of the village might have been short-lived, Chiang used his time in office to familiarize himself with the growing tea manufacturing industry in the village, which was praised for the high-end product that it was producing. Using what he learned and the important networking opportunities that he had, Chiang threw his own hand into the industry by organizing the Beipu Tea Collective (北埔茶葉組合), which grew exponentially over the next few years - starting with the Beipu Tea Farm (北埔茶場) in 1934 (昭和9年), Emei Tea Factory (峨眉茶廠) in 1935 (昭和10年) and then the Hengshan Tea Factory (橫山茶廠), Wufeng Tea Factory (五峰茶廠), and finally the Daping Tea Factory in 1936 (昭和11年).

To give you of an idea of the high-quality nature of the tea that was being produced by Chaing’s Beipu Tea Collective, the tea being produced in the mountains of Hsinchu at the time was sold at a price ten times to typical market price for Oolong Tea at the time. Given the high quality of the tea and the reputation that came with it, Chiang formed partnerships with the Mitsui Agriculture and Forestry Association (三井農林會社), which brought the benefit of having the most modern tea-producing technology available at the time.

However, during the Second World War, the Governor General’s Office in Taipei moved quickly to control certain areas of the economy, especially those with regard to the supply of commodities. The production of tea was an important one for both domestic and international consumption, so the government took control in order to better siphon off the profits, which could be distributed for the war effort.

By 1941 (昭和16年), the “Beipu Tea Collective” was restructured into the Chikuto Tea Company (竹東製茶株式會社). Yet, thanks to his experience in the industry, and his notoriety, Chiang was able to continue as president, maintaining his position and influence within the industry.

After the war, the Chikuto tea Company was dissolved and the ownership of the tea factories was returned to their original owners. By that time, the reputation of Beipu’s tea was pretty solid, specializing in what is known in Hakka as “phong-fûng chhà” (椪風茶) or Oriental Beauty Tea (東方美人茶). In the Hakka language, the name of the tea was essentially “Braggers Tea”, which was used because the producers were ‘so proud of their product that they bragged to everyone’ about how much money they were making from selling it.

Link: Dongfang meiren 東方美人茶 (Wiki)

Shortly after the Chinese Nationalists took control of Taiwan, Chiang renamed the company Yung Kuang Tea Company (永光股份有限公司) and started exporting tea under the Three Star (三星) and Ho-ppo Tea (北埔茶) brands. The success of the global export industry apparently surpassed even that of India’s Darjeeling Tea for a short time, putting Taiwanese tea on the world stage and attracting guests from all over the world to visit Taiwan. With all the foreign tea trading companies visiting Beipu, Chiang decided to build his famous mansion in Beipu where his family lived and received guests.

However, things changed in the 1950s when other tea producing areas around the world, affected by the war resumed production. With its competitive advantage lost, Taiwan’s tea production started to suffer and the relationship between Chiang and his foreign partners suffered.

At wits end, Chiang eventually retired and the company was taken over by his daughter, who attempted to make changes to save the business. Ultimately, the international market, Taiwan’s political situation and the amount of loans proved too difficult to overcome and they were forced to file for bankruptcy in 1965 (民國54年). I don’t want to give you too many spoilers, so if you have the time to watch ‘Gold Leaf’ on Netflix, you’ll be able to see the struggles the family had to go through.

Chiang later moved to Taipei with his family and lived there until his death in 1982. Today, his historic mansion has been restored, and is open in Beipu for tours.

Daping Tea Factory (大平製茶厰)

The Daping Tea Factory (大平製茶厰) opened in June of 1934 (昭和9年) under the official name “Dapingwo Tea Cooperative Factory” (太平窩茶葉組合製茶工場), and was one of the first tea factories in the area that was able to make use of modern technology in the production process.

While the tea factory was officially part of Chiang A-hsin’s ‘Beipu Tea Collective’ mentioned above, throughout its history, it has been managed by a number of different groups of local tea farmers, more specifically after the war, the Hsinpu Liu family (劉氏), one the prominent clans of Hakka residents of the area.

Link: Hsinpu Ancestral Shrines (新埔宗祠)

The history of the factory is one that is reminiscent of many of Taiwan’s agricultural industries in that they had to find a way to deal with the transition of political control from the Japanese to the Chinese Nationalists. For the locals, the ability to successfully stay afloat in business during either era was a delicate (and dangerous) balancing act that required a considerable amount of political knowhow. The Beipu Tea Collective under the leadership of Chiang A-hsin, though, was one of the fortunate pieces of Taiwan’s agricultural industry that was able to successfully navigate the transition.

However, as I’ve already pointed out, Taiwan experienced somewhat of a ‘golden era’ of tea production after the war with the support of the Chinese Nationalist regime. When that golden era came to an end, not even endless government subsidies were even able to keep successful businessmen like Chiang A-hsin afloat, and many of the tea factories across the island started to shut down.

Tea baskets that have seen better days.

Despite the decline in the fortune of the Chiang family, the Daping Tea Factory was able to outlive many of the other tea plantations across the country, and with the cooperation of the government, the owners cultivated several varieties of tea. Transitioning away from Oriental Beauty (東方美人 / 青心大冇) to other types of of tea leaves, they produced popular varieties such as Black Tea (紅茶), Baozhong (包種茶) and Dong-ding (凍頂茶), which continue to be the most common varieties of tea that are cultivated in Taiwan today.

Interestingly, in the post-war period, the cultivation of tea in Taiwan expanded upon some of the experimentation that took place during the Japanese-era, and the result was a number of hybrid species that combined indigenous teas with those more common in India, and other major tea producing countries around the world. The cultivation of these new ‘Taiwan teas’ was streamlined throughout the 1950s and 1960s, and the teas being produced received official classifications based on the experimental process that was used to create them.

Instead of having a bunch of confusing names, the government promoted teas with a number - for example “Taiwan #1” (台茶1號) through “Taiwan #13” (台茶13號), a classification system that remains in place today - and was a beneficial exercise in marketing Taiwanese produced teas to the international market.

In the 1950s, there were over three-hundred tea factories spread throughout Taiwan, a third of them located in Hsinchu. Working together with the other fifteen factories in Hsinpu Village (新埔鎮), the tea produced in the area maintained a high reputation for quite some time, and the success of the export market helped to stabilize a tea industry that was showing signs of decline.

Nevertheless, the decline, which was brought on by international market trends dealt a decisive blow to Taiwan’s tea industry, and even though earnest attempts were made to revive the struggling industry, by 1988 (民國77年), only nine of the original fifteen factories in Hsinpu remained in operation. Less than a decade later, only two of them remained.

By 2013 (民國102年), almost all of the tea factories in the area had been abandoned, with the few remaining converted into tea wholesale businesses.

Unfortunately, information regarding the closure of Daping Tea Factory’s business operations is difficult to find, so I can’t give you an actual date as to when it went out of business, but it’s safe to say that it fell victim to the number of closures that took place between the late 1980s and 1990s.

It’s also difficult to say when the place was abandoned, but given that there was a residence and/or a dormitory within the building, it might have been occupied for a period of time after going out of business.

Recently, the arched wooden roof of one of the buildings collapsed, and out of concern for the local community, the owners of the properly planned to have the building torn down, but the Hsinchu County Bureau of Cultural Affairs (新竹縣政府文化局) stepped in and sought to have the building ‘protected’ for future use, although it is currently unclear as to what that will entail.

One would hope, given the popularity of the television series, as well as the Daxi Tea Factory as a tourist destination, that it’s likely that it might receive some attention sooner rather than later. But that’s up in the air at this point.

Link: 百年大平製茶廠 竹縣爭納古蹟 (自由時報)

Now, let me take a few minutes to detail the architectural design of the building, which even though is in pretty rough shape at the moment, remains quite interesting.

Visiting the factory today, its rather obvious that the original tea factory, constructed during the Japanese-era, was expanded upon several times over the post-war era to meet the needs of a modernizing industry. When we view the factory today, it is essentially split into three different sections - each of which varies with regard to its architectural design and construction methods.

It probably goes without saying that, as far as I’m concerned, the section that remains from the Japanese-era is the most interesting - but taking into consideration that it was constructed primarily constructed of wood in the 1930s, it’s also the part of the factory that is currently in the worst condition.

The original section of the tea factory was actually quite similar to what you can still see at the Daxi Tea Factory in Taoyuan in that it was a two-story brick building, which featured load-bearing walls. In both cases, the top floor was used as a drying area, while the first floor was where the tea was processed.

The roof that covered the drying area was a typical hip-and-gable roof (歇山頂) which was covered with red roof tiles (閩式紅瓦), a type of clay tile which are ubiquitous with traditional Hokkien (閩南) and Hakka (客家) buildings in Taiwan. While the decorative elements of the roof are subdued compared to most other historic buildings in Taiwan, the roof’s fusion of Japanese-style architectural design with that of Hakka elements is an interesting one, but not entirely unique, as you’ll see in the link below.

Link: Zhongli Elementary Teachers Dorms (壢小故事森林)

Starting with the shape of the roof, ‘hip-and-gable’ in this case is better referred to as irimoya-zukuri (入母屋造 / いりもやづくり) as it is one of the most common forms of traditional Japanese architectural design, and is used on anything from Buddhist temples and Shinto Shrines to buildings like this one. Roofs in this style tend to vary in the level of decorative elements added, and in this case the decorations are quite subdued.

Nevertheless, this style of architectural design tends to be quite practical given that the ‘hipped’ section provided excellent stability to the base of the building, while the ‘gable’ section ensures the stability of the roof. All of this was accomplished through a genius network of trusses (屋架) located within the ceiling that assists in distributing the weight and support the four-sided sloped hip roof (四坡頂).

If you explore the tea factory today, you can see the original wood used to help stabilize the roof in the section left standing and contrast it with the section that has already caved-in. In the latter, the trusses remain in pretty good shape despite having caved in and being open to the elements for a number of years, which likely points to the fact that they weren’t the cause of the cave in.

As mentioned above, the roof tiles feature as part of the roof’s decorative design, but the fusion of Japanese-style architecture with Taiwanese red roof tiles here tends to play a more functional role than a decorative one. Along the arched section of the roof, you’ll find what appear to be lines of cylindrical roof tiles separated by flat sections of tile that make it seem like ocean waves. The functional nature of the roof tiles placed in this way assist in controlling the flow of rain water.

With the building constructed during the Showa-era, construction techniques in Taiwan had become considerably more refined, so even though the weight of the roof was stabilized by the trusses within the building, the load-bearing brick walls allowed for a number of windows to be placed on all sides of the building to assist in the process of drying the tea leaves. Surrounding the remaining second-floor section of the second floor on three sides, the windows allow for a considerable amount of natural light and in the summer sun, the room tends to shine, making it the most interesting section of the building, photographically.

Diagram of the three sections of the tea factory based on when they were constructed.

Located to the rear of the original section of the building you’ll find a post-war addition to the original tea factory. This section, similar to the building in front is a two-story structure, but it also includes a basement where you can still find a considerable amount of the original machinery that was used in the process of tea production. Having all of this historic machinery just sitting there open to the elements is actually quite sad as it is just wasting away in its current condition. The basement of the building tends to be quite damp and muddy, so it’s hard to say that much of anything inside would be of any use other than for display purposes.

Finally, the most recent addition to the tea factory is simply a three-story reinforced concrete building that is typical of post-war design. The building features very little in terms of decorative elements and was never painted.

Essentially it looks like almost every Taiwanese house that was constructed over the past forty or fifty years. Within the interior of the building however you’ll find what was probably the factory’s administrative section as well as an area reserved as the dormitory for the factory’s employees, who were likely migrant laborers.

What is probably the best part of this section of the factory is that you can easily access the roof to get a better view of the caved-in section of the original tea factory, but if you do explore the building, you’ll want to be careful walking around as it could be somewhat dangerous as well.   

As mentioned earlier, this article is currently classified as one of my ‘urban exploration’ articles, which means that I won’t be sharing much about the location of the building, or how to gain entry to the building.

I do hope that at some point that I’ll be able to offer readers an update if and when the building is restored and re-opened to the public as a tourist attraction - So here’s to hoping that the popularity of “Gold Leaf” will rub off on local officials in Hsinchu looking to cash in on the renewed interest in Taiwan’s golden age of tea, something which this (and many other) tea factories played a role in.


Abandoned Resort (廢棄的俱樂部)

Shortly after my arrival in Taiwan, I was eager to maintain the same level of fitness that I was able to enjoy during my university days. Finding a health club to work out at was important, but at that time, gyms in Taiwan weren’t as popular then as they are now, and with so few options, I decided to go with the one that seemed to have the best reputation.

After asking around, one of my new friends and I marched into the local gym and negotiated a year-long membership. It was at this time that we discovered that negotiating a gym membership in Taiwan was a bit like purchasing a used car, and it was likely that we were taken for a bit of a ride by an eager salesperson. The facilities however were top notch and the membership fee seemed comparable to what we were used to back home, so we bit the bullet and agreed to the terms.

For a couple of months after, we enjoyed the gym on an almost daily basis, heading over early in the morning for a workout and then making our way to a local breakfast restaurant to enjoy our new love, Taiwanese egg pancakes..

Randomly, one day we showed up to the gym and the doors were barred shut with a group of regulars standing outside scratching their heads wondering what was going on.

Over the next few days, the local media reported steadily on what had happened as it became a sensational national scandal, affecting tens of thousands of members across the various branches around the country.

Needless to say, a number of factors came together to shine a light on a disastrous business operation that resulting in all of us being defrauded of our membership fees thanks to one of the major shareholders more or less escaping to China with bags of stolen cash.

Having been a member for only a few months, my friend and I lost about 75% of the money we paid for our memberships, but the news reported that the company had continued searching for new members up until the doors were barred shut, so in retrospect our losses might not have been all that bad.

Nevertheless, it was a huge scandal, and I learned a valuable lesson because of it.

That being said, this wasn’t the first national ‘health club’ scandal of its kind, and today I’m going to be sharing photos from a luxurious club, which for quite a while was frequented by the rich and famous of the country.

Abandoned now for two decades, this giant resort and health club collected massive membership fees from its members, and its sudden closure, much like the health club where I lost money, continues to reverberate around the country today, with almost two thousand of its former employees and members financially shortchanged due to some pretty shady business operations.

Admittedly, it has been a while since I’ve posted an Urban Exploration-related article, so let me take a minute to offer some important reminders about this article: First, I won’t be offering the specific travel information that I usually provide for the places I write about; If you’re reading this and looking at the photos thinking its a place you’d like to check out, please don’t contact me to ask where it is.

I’ll leave enough clues for you to figure that out on your own.

Even though I’ll provide some clues, I will be purposely vague with the information provided about the backstory of this massive ruin, but if you do find yourself invested enough in figuring out where it is, I’m sure you won’t have too much trouble.

Ultimately, this post will more or less just let the photos do the talking.

Abandoned Resort (廢棄的俱樂部)

Most of the time, when I explore abandoned buildings, I don’t post very much about them.

You won’t often see me sharing photos on any of my social media accounts, and it’s even more rare that I write articles about them, unless of course they have some important historic value.

Few of the places I’ve explore though have ever come close to the size of this one.

Exploring this place took the better part of an afternoon and the reason I’ve decided to write about it due to its ostentatious architectural design.

Abandoned for two decades, this 13,000㎡ (4000坪) resort featured a number of amenities including a health club, swimming pool, tennis courts, basketball courts, restaurants, bars, sauna, massage room, banquet space, etc.

With a focus on luxury, lifetime membership fees were reportedly priced at $500,000NT per family ($17,000 USD), with an additional $5000NT ($160USD) monthly service fee.

Basically a pricing scheme that would have weeded out the riffraff like myself.

Despite the high cost for membership, the resort reportedly boasted 1500 members prior to going out of business. It’s unclear however whether or not the number of ‘members’ included the family of paying members. Nevertheless, with such a high cost for participation, one might assume that there must have been some epic stupidity involved in a place like this going out of business.

In addition to the resort facilities, space was also reserved for outside events in its large fully-equipped banquet hall, that would have provided a high-class experience for weddings or corporate banquets with cuisine that appeared to specialize in the Cantonese style of dining. Featuring a banquet hall for large events and several smaller rooms to the side, the banquet space of the resort in addition to the adjacent restaurants made up for a large section of the actual space in the main building.

Essentially split into three sections, the main building features five above ground floors with two sub-ground floors. As mentioned above, much of the space is reserved as banquet and restaurant space, but you’ll also find the main lobby and customer service sections. The upper floors featured restaurants reserved for members in addition to a fully stocked bar and pool hall.

As far the resort area is concerned though, most of the facilities were located below ground with a squash court, gym, massage rooms, sauna and spa, children’s play area, dance hall, yoga room and entertainment room. On the level below that were the administrative sections of the resort as well as the staff change rooms.

Connected directly to the resort area of the basement was a passageway that led directly to the retractable-roof covered pool area where members could enjoy the sun and go for a swim. Finally, connected directly to the pool area is another large building that featured a car park on the lower levels and a tennis court above.

Having been abandoned for two decades with little-to-no upkeep, the interior of the building remains in relatively good shape, especially since some areas have been open to the elements for years and given its proximity to the coast. When abandoned, the place wasn’t gutted, so you can still find quite a few interesting items inside that allow you to easily date when the place went out of business.

That being said, in recent years a considerable amount of vandalism and theft has taken place within the building. While much of what remains inside that would have been of some value is outdated and unusable in terms of the electronic equipment, the vast majority of visitors you’ll find in the building aren’t respectful urban explorers, but scavengers who are ripping up the walls in order to tear out electrical wiring, which can be sold for a significant amount of money.

Obviously, it’s highly unlikely that this resort will ever be revived, nor will any of the people who lost money be refunded. Its situation however is a complex one as the business group that ran the resort and the actual landowner are different. Eventually the landowner may just decide to have the whole thing torn down with plans to make better use of the land. As time has passed, the scandal involved in the closure of the business and its members being defrauded has been largely forgotten, but recent developments with Taiwan’s response to the COVID-19 pandemic have brought what happened back to the limelight with the former owner of the resort resurfacing and becoming a public figure once again.

And there is your clue.

As mentioned above, what attracted me most about this resort was the massive size of the ruin - It’s rare that we’re able to explore a ruin so large as spaces like this are usually repurposed quite quickly, especially here in this part of the country. Taking into consideration that this was a luxury resort for the rich and famous, the architectural design of the interior is large and open and one of the coolest aspects are the stairs in the main building, which are quite uncommon in Taiwan.

Spending the better part of a day exploring this place, one visit really doesn’t seem enough as there is so much that you can see while inside the building. This is especially true with all of the random objects strewn about the lower levels, notably including VHS cassettes of classic cartoons, Windows and MS-DOS floppy discs, old arcade machines, old magazines, newspapers, etc.

While exploring a ruin like this, the objects left behind are often able to paint a picture of the history of the building making the exploration process considerably more interesting.

Even though a considerable amount of what probably once existed within the building has been looted, there is still a treasure trove available for explorers to enjoy.

Anyway, that’s all for this one. Enjoy the photos.


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.