Mountains

Jialishan (加里山)

Miaoli’s Jiali Mountain has been a hike that has been at the top of my list of trails to check out for quite some time, but has sadly stayed that way due to it being somewhat inaccessible, that is, if you don’t have your own means of transportation - So, when a good friend of mine sent a late night text asking: “Jialishan, this Sunday, you in?”, I didn’t need to take any time to consider, it was an automatic yes.

And, let me tell you, I was so happy that I was able to add this one to my list of mountains in Taiwan that I’ve hiked.

The weather that day was absolutely perfect, the light on the trail was beautiful, the scenery on the peak was spectacular, and I also met some cool new hiking friends in the process!

Nicknamed Taiwan’s Mount Fuji (台灣富士山), with a peak reaching 2220 meters, Jialishan is one of the highest of Taiwan’s ‘100 Minor Peaks’ (小百岳), a group of mountains that range between elevations of 2600m at the highest and 20m at the lowest. Unlike Taiwan’s highest peaks, however, each of which reach over 3000m in height, the ‘Minor Peaks’ are a constantly evolving selection of popular day-hikes that range from entry-level hikes, with easy access to public transportation, to hikes like this one that require a little more skill and effort to complete.

Whereas the major peaks often require permits and a commitment of several days to complete, many are surprised to learn that they may have already completed some of the ‘Minor Peaks,’ some of which include Taipei’s Qixing Mountain (七星山), Jiantan Mountain (劍潭山) and the so-called ‘Four Beasts Mountains’ (四獸山). So, if you’ve found yourself on the peak of Taipei’s Elephant Mountain (象山) enjoying the spectacular views of the Taipei cityscape, you’ve already been on at least one of the ‘minor peaks’.

In each case, the hikes mentioned above are easy to get to, and don’t particularly require too much effort or skill to complete. That being said, there are a number of hikes on the list, mostly located in central Taiwan, that are considerably more difficult, and require a lot more effort. At 2663m, the highest mountain on the list, Mount Daito (大塔山), might not be the most difficult to complete, but still, it takes the better part of a day. The fifth highest mountain on the list, Jialishan, similarly takes the better part of a day to complete, but isn’t exactly the easiest to reach, nor is it the easiest for most people to complete.

Nevertheless, the challenges you face while hiking the trail aren’t likely to outweigh the rewards as you’ll enjoy dense forests of Japanese cedar, a historic timber railway, and stunning views of the several mountain ranges.

Hiking the mountain on a clear day, we were able to enjoy a view of Taiwan’s second-highest peak, Snow Mountain (雪山), which was covered in snow at the time. At the same time, thanks to the peak being the highest in the area, we were also rewarded with 360 degree views of the Central Mountain Range, which includes the Alishan Mountain Range (阿里山山脈) to the south, where Mount Daito, mentioned above is the highest peak.

Given that I love hiking Taiwan’s mountains, and the hike also included a walk along a historic Japanese-era railway, this is exactly the kind of experience that the doctor ordered after a long, rainy and cold Lunar New Year holiday. The popularity of this hike shouldn’t surprise anyone as all of your sweat won’t compare to the rewards you’ll receive at the peak.

Today, I’m going to introduce the trails on the hike, talk a bit about the railway you’ll see along the way, and offer information about how to get there so that anyone wanting to enjoy the hike has the information they need to get there. Unfortunately, I have to preface this by letting you know that for most foreign visitors, getting to the trail isn’t that easy, and its likely that you’ll need help in that department, so I’ll be providing links to groups that will be able to help arrange transportation and guides.

Jialishan (加里山)

Before I start introducing the trails on the hike, let me first take some time to provide some practical information about the mountain and the range that it is a part of. If you’re already familiar with Taiwan’s geography, you’re likely aware that the country is geologically ‘split’ between the eastern and western sides by several mountain ranges. The term “Central Mountain Range” is probably the most well-known in this regard, but there are actually several ranges that make up what is essentially the spine of Taiwan, including the Alishan Range (阿里山山脈), Xueshan Range (雪山山脈), the Coastal Mountain Range (海岸山脈) and the Yushan Range (玉山山脈).

The Jialishan Mountain Range (加里山山脈), is located on the north-western edge of the spine spreading from Nantou County (南投縣) in central Taiwan to Keelung (基隆) on the north coast. About 180 kilometers in length, the range includes a number of mountains, several of which are well over 2000 meters in height, most notably Jialishan at 2,220 meters, Dongxishui Shan (東洗水山) at 2,248 meters, and the highest mountain on the range, Le Mountain (樂山) at 2,618 meters. While they not be the largest on the range, there are a number of peaks that are part of the Jialishan Range that are incredibly popular with tourists, some of which I already mentioned above, such as Elephant Mountain (香山), Jinmian Mountain (金面山), Jiantan Mountain (劍潭山), Bitou Cape (鼻頭角), etc.

A snow-capped Snow Mountain in the distance.

Suffice to say, you may not have heard the term before, but if you’ve spent any time hiking in Taipei, you’re likely to have found yourself enjoying one of the mountains that is part of the mountain range.

Despite Jialishan itself not being the highest peak on the range, geographer Tomita Yoshirou (富田芳郎 / とみたよしろう) and geologist Lin Chaoqi (林朝棨) coined the term during the Japanese-era, and it stuck. That being said, there is debate as to whether the ‘Jialishan Range’ is actually a mountain range or not. Similarly known as the “Western Thrust Fault Mountains” (西部衝上斷層山地), one of the main reasons why it’s not incorporated into the Xueshan Range is due to differences in the range’s geology, which is more similar to that of the Alishan Range to the south. Another reason why there is debate as to whether or not it is a mountain range on its own is because its topography is cut by several different rivers, which act as tributaries for some of Taiwan’s major sources of fresh water.

The debate as to whether it’s a mountain range or not really isn’t the point for this article, but as the namesake for the range, Jialishan is not only a popular hike, but a prominent mountain as well. Located between Miaoli County’s Nanzhuang (南庄鄉) and Tai’an (泰安鄉) townships, the mountain has been known throughout history as “Jiali'xian Mountain” (加里仙山), Santai Mountain (三台山), or Jialishan (嘉璃山), which has a similar pronunciation to the current name, but uses different Chinese characters. Today, the mountain is officially know as “Jiali Mountain” (加里山), but is also nicknamed ‘Miaoli Mountain’ (苗栗縣山), and since the Japanese-era, it has been referred to as ‘Taiwan’s Fuji Mountain’ (台灣富士山).

The Jialishan trailhead is located deep within the mountains, and as mentioned earlier, isn’t the easiest to get to, but as you pass through the historic Hakka village of Nanzhuang and make your way further up into the mountains, you’ll discover that you’re passing through several indigenous communities, and the further you make your way up the road to the trailhead, the more remote you’ll find these communities become, consisting mostly of mountain-side farms.

Note: Located within Nanzhuang Township, you’ll find the following indigenous tribes: Rareme’an (向天湖部落), Kahkahoe’an (八卦力部落), Hororok (鵝公髻部落), Walo’ (瓦祿部落), Ray’in (蓬萊部落), Sasasezeman (東江新邨部落), Raisinay (石壁部落), P’anoh (鹿場部落), Sinpitu (鹿湖部落), Haboeh (大窩山部落), Batbato’an (二坪部落), Tamayo’an (大湳部落), all of which are members of the Saisiyat People (賽夏族), one of the smallest of Taiwan’s officially recognized indigenous groups, mostly located within Hsinchu County and Miaoli County.

Link: Council of Indigenous Peoples (原住民族委員會)

The important thing to remember about the road to Jialishan is that the further you drive into the mountains, the narrower, and more steep the road becomes. It’s not an easy road for most vehicles, and you need to drive carefully and constantly be aware of and considerate of on-coming traffic. On our drive to the trailhead, we encountered a relatively new Lexus that was overheating and had to stop on the side of the road to let the car cool down. With that in mind, you’ll want to keep not only your own physical condition in mind, but also the condition of your vehicle before attempting to reach the trailhead.

Once you’ve arrived at the parking lot, you’ll pay a small parking fee, and the trailhead is a short walk away.

Jialishan Trail (加里山登山步道)

A short distance from where you park your car, you’ll find the trailhead marker for the trail, where you’re likely to encounter fellow hikers taking photos prior to setting off, or just after they’ve finished their hike. The marker includes both the name of the trail and a map of the routes you can take through the forest. While looking at the map, you’re likely to notice that you have a few options on the hike, but most people choose to hike to the peak, and then either leaving the way they came, or completing a circuit from the trailhead to the peak, to another peak, and then down through the historic timber railway trail.

The first option, which is probably the most popular, is just over seven kilometers in length, and will likely take anywhere between six and seven hours to complete. That, however, depends on the amount of time you take to enjoy the peak, and how often you take breaks.

The circuit hike on the other hand takes considerably longer, and is almost double the length. While the vast majority of people hiking the trail are likely only hiking in and out, if you’re like myself and want to enjoy the complete experience, the most important thing you’re going to have to keep in mind is the time you’re setting off from the trailhead - if you aren’t at the trailhead shortly after the sunrise, its probably not a great idea to hike the circuit as you’re likely to find yourself hiking out in the dark. Today, I’ll be sharing photos from the circuit hike, which my group started shortly after 7:30am, and didn’t actually finish until close to 4:00 in the afternoon. So, for your own personal safely, you’re going to want to keep this in mind prior to starting the hike.

As I move on below, I’ll introduce both the in-and-out ‘Jialishan Return’ hike as well as the ‘Circuit Hike’ with an introduction to each of the hikes, a break down of the routes you’ll take, and offer downloadable GPX files that you can put on your phone prior to the hike. Then I’ll offer information about how to get to the trail and the things you’ll need to bring with you.

Jialishan Return Trip

As I’ve mentioned a few times already, the in-and-out route is probably the preferred hike for most people hiking this mountain - It’s a straight forward 3.9 kilometer hike to the peak, and then heading back the way you came. I’ve seen some articles claim that the hike is seven kilometers in length, but the good people at the Hiking Journal (健行筆記), one of Taiwan’s best resources for information about mountains and trails, have a detailed break down of the hike with GPX that show that its actually closer to eight.

The estimated break down for the hike is as follows:

Jialishan Trailhead (加里山鹿場登山口) → Fengmei River (風美溪) - 0.6K, 15min

Fengmei River → Refuge Hut (避難山屋) - 1.3K, 70min

Refuge Hut - #9 Boulder Ascent ( 九號救援椿陡升坡) - 1.3K, 45min

#9 Boulder Ascent → Jialishan Peak (加里山三角點) - 0.5K, 45min

Jialishan Peak - Jialishan Trailhead - 3.9K, 175min

Once you’ve parked your car, you’ll find it’s a very short walk to the trailhead and given that you’ve already travelled so far up into the mountains already, it shouldn’t be much of a surprise that the transition from paved parking lot to nature is almost instantaneous. For much of the first hour or two of the hike, you’ll be passing through a forest of Japanese cedar trees that date back to Taiwan’s Japanese era (1895 - 1945), part of a reforestation effort after the timber industry culled the original forest. It’s not until you reach higher elevations that you’ll encounter the mountain’s native alpine-like forest.

Even though the trail is well-maintained, one of the things you’ll have to be mindful of while hiking are all of the tree roots that you’ll encounter along the trail. In some areas, the roots are absolutely beautiful, especially when the morning light is shining on them, so even though you need to tread carefully, they’re also an enjoyable aspect of the hike. Similarly, the first portion of the hike travels along an abandoned railway, so you’ll have to be careful while walking along the rails as some of them have become dislodged over the decades.

Along the way, you’ll encounter several rest stops where you and your party can sit, catch your breath, or have a snack. The stops usually feature a bench, but the higher you get, you’ll also find that the trail is home to some really large boulders that are pretty good for sitting on as well.

You’ll also come across periodic trail markers that provide information about the direction hikers need to take, and the remaining length of the trail that are meant to help you from getting lost.

Shortly after starting the hike, you’ll have to cross the Fengmei River (風美溪), but don’t worry, you won’t get wet. There are large rocks you can walk on and ropes that assist you in crossing the river. Prior to crossing the river, the hike is a quaint walk through a flat forest, leading you to think that its going to be a pretty easy day.

After crossing the river, though, the flat sections of trail are few and far between as the trail becomes quite steep. This is where the rest stops come in handy as you’ll undoubtedly need to take breaks. Later on, there are several slopes that you’ll have to climb, so if you have brought gloves with you, you’ll probably want to put them on to keep your hands soft and pretty.

That being said, the slopes are rarely very difficult to walk up, so even though it’s advised that you bring a pair of gloves with you on the hike, it’s not like other popular hikes like Wuliaojian (五寮尖), Stegosaurus Ridge (劍龍稜) or Huang Di Dian (皇帝殿) where gloves are an absolute necessity.

After a few hours of hiking, you’ll reach the aptly named ‘#9 Boulder Ascent’ rock, which comes with a warning sign for danger, but don’t let it scare you, it’s pretty easy to walk up the rock, and once you get to the top, you’re treated to your first glimpse of the amazing views that the peak is renowned for, looking directly toward the Snow Mountain Range.

From there, the peak is only a few hundred meters away, and once you arrive you’ll be treated to 360 degree views of several different mountain ranges. While at the top, you’ll likely want to take a photo with the stone triangulation point (三角點), identifying the peak of Jialishan, with the name of the mountain and its elevation, for your collection.

The peak tends to be quite windy as it’s completely open to the elements, so even though you’ll want to stay there to enjoy the view for a while, it’s probably a good idea to wear a hat to prevent yourself from getting sunstroke. You might also need a windbreaker, even on a hot day.

While we were on the peak, there was a group of seasoned Taiwanese hikers who had nestled themselves into a flat spot and were having a massive full course spread before leaving. So, if you can find a spot, you’ll probably want to have something to eat before heading back.

Once you’re done on the peak, simply head back down the way you came.

This time, though, you’ll want to take extra care on the slopes as you’ll be walking down them instead of up, and you might run into traffic along the way. Take it slow.

Trailhead (登山口): Jialishan Hiking Trail (加里山登山步道)

Trail Length (步道里程): 7.8km

Altitude (海拔高度): 1280-2220m

Time: 6-7 hours

Difficulty: (難易度): Medium

Permit: (申請入山): No

The downloadable GPX for the Jialishan Return hike is linked below:

Link: Jialishan Return Hike (健行筆記)

Jialishan - Dujuanling Circuit (加里山 - 杜鵑嶺)

Your other option, which if you have enough time - I highly recommend, is to complete the Jialishan - Dujuanling Circuit hike. However, with the in-and-out route reaching nearly eight kilometers, it’s already quite long for what most people are comfortable with for a day hike. The circuit route is considerably longer, more difficult, and requires a lot more time, but along the way you’ll make your way to Dujuanling (杜鵑嶺), another peak, and get to experience a completely different forest, one that was left somewhat untouched by the timber industry, before making your way to the historic timber railway part of the route.

The break down for the circuit hike is as follows:

Jialishan Trailhead (加里山鹿場登山口) → Fengmei River (風美溪) - 0.6K, 15min

Fengmei River → Refuge Hut (避難山屋) - 1.3K, 70min

Refuge Hut - #9 Boulder Ascent ( 九號救援椿陡升坡) - 1.3K, 45min

#9 Boulder Ascent → Jialishan Peak (加里山三角點) - 0.5K, 45min

Jialishan Peak → Dujuanling (杜鵑嶺) - 1.7K, 40min

Dujuanling → Marker #4 (杜鵑嶺四號救援椿) - 1.0K, 50min

Marker #4 → Marker #14 (14號救援椿) - 1.3K, 60min

Marker #14 → Jialishan Trail (加里山登山口叉) - 2.7k, 70min

Jilishan Trail → Refuge Hut - 2.7K, 70min

Refuge Hut - Jialishan Trailhead - 1.9K, 50min

The circuit hike follows the same route to the peak of Jialishan, but once you’ve reached the peak, you’ll continue walking along the ridge on a path that takes you to another peak named Dujuanling (杜鵑嶺). Completely different than the peak of Jialishan, this one is tree-covered and measures at an altitude of 2113m, just seven meters lower than the Jialishan. For a lot of hikers, the hike to Dujuanling means that they get to cross another one off of their list, so it’s well worth the extra effort.

That being said, there’s not much to see at the peak of Dujuanling, so you’ll probably just take a photo with the triangulation point and then continue making your way back down to the trailhead.

As mentioned earlier, one of the main reasons why the circuit hike is more attractive is that you get to travel through a more untouched portion of the forest, and then meet up with the area where a historic trolly system met with the timber railway.

Unlike the first portion of the trail, which pretty much just goes up, this part of the circuit trail has several areas where you’re going up, down, up, and then down again - it’s a lot harder on the legs - so if you’re hiking this one, you’re going to get a pretty good workout on the extra four kilometers of trail. Once again, given that you’ll need a few extra hours to complete this hike, the time you arrive at the trailhead is really important, as is your level of fitness. Requiring around eight hours, if you haven’t arrived early enough, it’s probably not a good idea to hike the circuit.

Trailhead (登山口): Jialishan Hiking Trail (加里山登山步道)

Trail Length (步道里程): 12.5km

Altitude (海拔高度): 1280-2220m

Time: 7-9 hours

Difficulty: (難易度): Medium-Difficult

Permit: (申請入山): No

The downloadable GPX for the Jialishan Circuit Trail is linked below:

Link: Jialishan Circuit Trail GPX (健行筆記)

Jialishan Timber Railway (加里山林業鐵道)

The historic ‘Old Street’ in Nanzhuang (南庄老街) has been a popular destination for weekend tourist crowds for quite a while, but unlike most of Taiwan’s other so-called ‘Old Streets’, such as Daxi Old Street (大溪老街), the history of Nanzhuang isn’t very well advertised. When you visit, you’ll find an incredible amount of Hakka and Indigenous culture and cuisine lining the streets, but explanations as to why the village was once so prosperous are hard to come by.

Like most of Taiwan’s other tourist old streets, you’ll find buildings constructed with baroque facades, a massive temple, and vendors lining the streets selling local snacks, but one of the problems caused by Miaoli being Taiwan’s most debt-ridden county is that it is unable to restore buildings of historic significance. In Nanzhuang’s case, the village would do well to follow the example of Daxi, and restore some of the buildings that were instrumental in bringing so much wealth to the village.

Link: The Daxi that Japan left behind (日本留下的大溪)

In 1918 (大正7年), the Taiwan Governor General’s Office established the Nanzhuang Camphor Forest Operations Headquarters (南庄樟林作業所), and over the next few decades, the village experienced massive growth thanks to the Forestry Industry, extracting not only camphor from the mountains, but citronella oil and coal, as well.

Jialishan, the highest mountain in the area was home to a large amount of camphor (樟腦), an incredibly important natural resource during the Japanese era, so the mountain became home to a highly developed logging industry that boasted over 5,200 meters of railway, and a cable trolly that transported timber down the mountain.

When the Japanese era came to an end, the timber industry continued for a short time, but the operation was eventually abandoned as camphor reserves were depleted, and its importance wained in favor of a synthetic alternative. Left abandoned for decades, the railway and (amazingly) some of the trolly equipment can still be found on the mountain today. As you hike the mountain, you’ll have the opportunity to walk along the historic railway in areas where the rails are still intact, but changes in the landscape over the years have made it so that the original route isn’t accessible or safe to hike.

While I do write hiking guides somewhat regularly, one of my areas of expertise with regard to my research and writing about Taiwan focuses on the island’s fifty year of Japanese colonial rule. Most of you are here for information on the hike, but I think it’s important to note how that period transformed a lot of what you’ll experience when you hike the Jialishan Trail today. The key thing to keep in mind was that in addition to Taiwan’s fruit, sugar and coal, camphor was one of the most important natural resources extracted by the Japanese, making the island an untapped treasure trove that assisted in amassing massive amounts of foreign exchange and fueling Taiwan’s development.

One area that is quite admirable, especially when you look back with a modern view of these things, is that there was enough foresight to realize that the extraction of camphor was an unsustainable industry, and that the reforestation of these mountainous areas was essential for not only the long-term health of the timber industry, but for the natural environment as well.

Scientists were sent to Taiwan to set up research stations in many of the main timber industry locations around the island, such as those in nearby Kappazan (角板山) and Chikuto (竹東). It was in these stations where they made scientific breakthroughs, such as in the cultivation of cinchona (金雞納樹), a flowering plant known for its medicinal value, especially with regard to treating malaria. In other cases, many of the mountainous forests around Taiwan were reforested with Japanese cedar (杉 / すぎ), which was also incredibly important for the future development and construction projects across Taiwan.

Today, you’ll find several ‘Forest Recreation Parks’ (森林遊樂區) around Taiwan that were once occupied by the timber industry, but have been converted into mountainous hiking trails where people are able to escape the city and enjoy nature. Dongyanshan (東眼山) in the mountains of Taoyuan is another well-known example, and is an area that was also reforested with beautiful Japanese cedars that have been growing for nearly a century.

Link: Dongyanshan Forest Recreation Park (東眼山國家森林遊樂區)

For a lot of hikers, the abandoned railway on this hike is reminiscent of what you’ll experience on other popular tourist mountains, like Alishan (阿里山) and Taipingshan (太平山), but in this case, the railway isn’t as accessible, so the photos you’ll get won’t be the same as those that have become popular on Instagram in recent years!

preparing for the Hike

As mentioned earlier, while preparing to hike Jialishan, there are a few things you’ll first need to take into consideration as well as some other things you’ll want to take along with you for the hike, so I’ll offer a few helpful suggestions for those of you wanting to enjoy this trail.

The first, and probably most important thing you’ll want to consider is your level of fitness, and the amount of time you have to complete the hike.

In both cases, you’ll want to arrive early in the morning to start the hike, but when it comes to the ‘circuit’ hike, both the amount of time you have, and your level of fitness are going to be major factors in your level of success. The circuit hike is a lot longer, and a lot more difficult to complete, and you’re going to have to carry a lot more water and food with you if you choose that option. As a frequent hiker, when I’m not climbing mountains, I spend a lot of time on cardio at the gym, and still, at the end of this one, my legs were feeling a bit like rubber. If you have doubts, I highly recommend sticking to the shorter hike.

Things you’ll need to bring:

  • Water - It’s advisable that you carry at least 2-3 litres of water with you on this hike. Depending on how much water you drink, you might even want to carry more with you just in case. I completed the circuit hike, and I can attest that 2L was not sufficient.

  • Food - You should prepare some high-protein snacks, and bring a lunch that you can enjoy while hiking. As you pass through Nanzhuang, there are a number of convenience stores and supermarkets where you can stop and purchase snacks, but that will be your last chance to purchase anything, so make sure you have what you need beforehand, and also don’t forget to carry your garbage out with you.

  • Gloves - There are a number of areas where you’re going to have to pull yourself up a rock face with the help of ropes. The ropes are a great help, but they can be hard on your skin. You’ll probably want to prepare a pair of gloves that you can put on when necessary. Most hardware stores in Taiwan sell cheap $10NT work gloves that you can purchase for hikes like this. You don’t need to buy an expensive pair of gloves at a hiking store.

  • Sun Protection - One of my worst habits is that I rarely remember to prepare sunscreen (or a hat) for the hikes I go on, and I often end up getting heat stroke, which was the case with this hike. During the hike, especially when nearing the peak, you are going to be completely open to the sun, so you’ll want to make sure to prepare both sunscreen and a hat to protect yourself.

  • Towel / Quick Dry Clothing - You’re going to sweat on this one, so I highly recommend you bring a towel with you to wipe yourself down from time to time. I don’t sweat as much as most of my hiking friends, but I was absolutely dripping during this hike. Similarly, you’re going to want to wear quick-dry clothing to ensure that all of your sweat doesn’t result in you catching a cold when you’re done.

  • Windbreaker - While on the peak of the mountain, it’s going to be quite windy. You should probably consider preparing a windbreaker jacket to protect yourself.

  • Phone / Camera - This is something that I probably don’t really have to mention, but if the photos in this article aren’t already evidence enough, the trail and the peak are absolutely beautiful. You’ll definitely want to have something to help record your experience. On that note, though, if you have a drone, you should leave it at home. The peak of Jialishan is in a restricted zone, so you’ll have carried your heavy drone for nothing as it won’t take off unless you have a special permit.

  • Friends to enjoy the experience with - Hiking is always better with friends. For safety, don’t hike this one alone. Friends are also useful for helping to take photos.

Getting There

Jialishan Hiking Trail

Address: Luchang Communication Rd, Nanzhuang Township, Miaoli County (苗栗縣南庄鄉東河村鹿場24鄰19-20號)

GPS: 24.586000, 120.997240

Alright, so here’s the bad news. Getting to Jialishan isn’t so easy.

You more or less need to have your own means of transportation, and the road to the mountain is very remote and narrow. It’s more or less impossible for a bus to get up there, and if someone even attempted it, it would cause massive traffic jams or accidents on what are cliff-side roads.

The address and GPS coordinates I’ve provided above aren’t for the trailhead, they’re for the parking lot that is made available to hikers a short walk from where the trail starts.

If you have your own means of transportation, the parking lot has a fee of $100NT for the day, no matter how long you’re on the trail, and there will be people there to direct you where to park.

Included in your parking fees are access to a public restroom where you can use the washroom before and after your hike, or simply just to wash up.

The Parking Lot on Google Maps is listed as the “Jialishan Trailhead Forest Camping Area” (加里山登山口森林露營區), and there are camp grounds near by, which might actually be quite useful if you can get to the trail the night before and wake up early in the morning for the hike.

In terms of public transportation, there’s nothing that will get you even remotely close to the trail, so your only option would be to hop on a bus to Nanzhuang and then grabbing a taxi to the trailhead. That being said, getting back down from there would be a bit of a nightmare as its unlikely that many taxi drivers would be willing to go that far and take their car on the steep road just to pick you and your group up.

If you’re intent on hiking the trail, you’re in luck, as the best option would be to take a chartered ride with the good people at Parkbus, who often schedule trips to this mountain (as well as others) for a minimal charge.

I can’t guarantee the frequency for which they plan trips to this specific mountain, but as I’m looking at the site now, their next trip to Jialishan is taking place a month from now, so they likely have a regular schedule of trips to the mountain that you’ll want to keep track of.

Their services include both pick up and drop off at Taipei Station, so you’ll have your travel completely covered, as well as the assistance of an experienced English-speaking guide.

Link: Jiali Mountain -加里山 (Parkbus)

Long on my list of trails to hike, I have to say, I was quite content with this one. The day we hiked the mountain was absolutely beautiful with great weather and clear skies. The trail was fun, and even though I was feeling the pain when I got home, it was well worth it. The views from the peak of Jialishan are spectacular, and if you’re well-versed in Taiwan’s geography, you’ll easily be able to point out some of the other major mountains off in the distance. Suffice to say, this is a hike that is highly recommended, but you need to keep your level of fitness in mind, and make sure that you bring enough water and snacks to keep your body well-fueled for the experience.

If you end up hiking the mountain, have fun and be safe!


References

  1. 加里山 (Wiki)

  2. 加里山山脈 | Jialishan Range (Wiki)

  3. 台灣小百岳 (Wiki)

  4. 台灣小百岳列表 (Wiki)

  5. 加里山登山步道 (健行筆記)

  6. 加里山登山步道 | Mt. Jiali Summit Trail (台灣山林悠遊網)

  7. 苗栗加里山步道 (WalkerLand)

  8. 台灣小百岳苗栗加里山 (GoSunBody)

  9. Jiali Mountain (Taiwan Trails and Tales)

  10. Jiali Mountain (Parkbus)

  11. Hiking Jialishan (Taiwan Outdoors)


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)


Dongyanshan Forest Recreation Park (東眼山國家森林遊樂區)

Translated literally into English as “Eastern Eye Mountain,” the Dongyanshan Forest Recreation Park in Taoyuan has gone through what many would consider a surge in popularity over the past few years.

With the COVID-19 pandemic putting international tourism to a sudden halt, people in Taiwan were (probably for the first time in their lives) forced to look at destinations within their own borders for places where they could enjoy a bit of travel, while also staying safe from the virus.

Amazingly, despite the pandemic dealing a pretty harsh blow to international tourism, with little other option, the people of Taiwan it seems have started to appreciate their beautiful country a little more than they did in the past. For years, I’ve been standing here with a megaphone trying to convince people that Taiwan is one of the most beautiful countries in the world, but apparently all it took was a global pandemic to push people to come to the same conclusion.

In truth, it doesn’t really matter what caused this seismic shift in attitude with regard to domestic tourism in Taiwan. The important thing is that people have become content traveling around the country and enjoying its natural beauty. This has become especially true for the youth of the country, who have taken to outdoor activities like hiking mountains, river tracing, rock climbing, snorkeling, scuba diving, etc. Weekends and holidays typically see people traveling from one end of the country to the other to enjoy the hundreds of hiking trails or to the few areas of the island where the coral reef remains alive and well.

This sudden surge in domestic tourism, especially with regard to outdoor recreation, has forced something of a ‘reset’ with regard to how tourism is marketed around here. The pandemic may have forced the unfortunate closure of a number of the nation’s international travel agencies, but it has spawned a growing number of companies that have adapted by planning events to the mountains, outlying islands and even offering scuba-diving packages to those wanting to learn. Similarly, even though the nation’s beautiful mountains have always been accessible, the surge in interest in hiking them has forced the government to improve infrastructure in these areas, allowing more and more people to enjoy all of the breathtaking beauty that Taiwan has to offer.

One of the areas that have benefited most from this surge in domestic tourism are the nation’s ‘Forest Recreation Parks,’ which tend to be large mountainous parks where people of all ages can enjoy leisurely walks through the forest or difficult hikes to alpine mountain peaks. Some of these parks, Alishan (阿里山) and Taipingshan (太平山), for example, have always enjoyed the love and adoration of the Taiwanese public, but with more a dozen of similar parks across the country, people have started to take an interest in the others as well.

As the only one of these parks located in Taoyuan, and one of the most easily accessible within Northern Taiwan, the Dongyanshan Forest Recreation Park is one of those destinations that has received a considerable amount of attention over the past few years.

That being said, as an avid hiker, and one of the few vocal lovers of Taoyuan, I have to admit that over all of my years of living in Taiwan, I’m guilty of being a bit like everyone else in that I’ve only recently discovered the beauty of this National Forest Park. Nevertheless, now that Taiwan has reopened for international tourism, its important that destinations like this receive the attention they deserve, especially from foreign writers like myself.

I hope that this guide to the park, and the photos I’m sharing today help to convince you that a day-trip to Dongyanshan, whether it be with a tour group, or on your own, is well worth the time and effort that it takes to get there. Before I start talking about the park though, it’s probably a good idea to briefly introduce these ‘National Forest Parks’ so that you have a better idea of what to expect.

Taiwan’s National Forest Recreation Parks

Established by the Forestry Bureau in 1965 (民國54年), the government has designated a number of Taiwan’s mountainous areas as protected ‘Forest Recreation Parks’ (國家森林遊樂區). Over the six decades since these protected areas were established, the number of parks on the list has grown significantly, with many of them once utilized by the Forestry Bureau for the purpose of extracting natural resources.

Currently there are twenty-two designated areas around the country that have established Forest Recreation Parks, but that list of parks can often be somewhat confusing, even for locals, given that they often receive slightly different designations, and may or may not be included within what are considered National Parks (國家公園) or National Scenic Areas (國家級風景特定區). Officially, the list includes some twenty-two established areas, which are classified simply as ‘Forest Parks’ or ‘Forest Wetland Parks’, making the actual number of these spaces slightly misleading, given that they differ greatly in size and scope.

Nevertheless, no matter how you classify them, these parks range from tropical monsoon forests in the south and east of the country to temperate high-mountain forests in northern and central Taiwan. In each case, the Forestry Bureau has developed a system of walking paths and hiking trails within where visitors are able to enjoy the natural beauty of Taiwan at their leisure.

Below, I’ve compiled a list of the (current) areas classified as 'Forest Recreation Areas,’ each of which have become popular with local and international tourists, with a few of them becoming rather iconic.

    1. Taipingshan Forest Recreation Area (太平山國家森林遊樂區)

    2. Manyueyuan Forest Recreation Area (滿月圓國家森林遊樂區)

    3. Neidong Forest Recreation Area (內洞國家森林遊樂區)

    4. Dongyanshan Forest Recreation Area (東眼山國家森林遊樂區)

    5. Guanwu Forest Recreation Area (觀霧國家森林遊樂區)

    6. Mingchih Forest Recreation Area (明池國家森林遊樂區)

    7. Wuling Forest Recreation Area (武陵國家森林遊樂區)

    8. Basianshan Forest Recreation Area (八仙山國家森林遊樂區)

    9. Dasyueshan Forest Recreation Area (大雪山國家森林遊樂區)

    10. Hehuanshan Forest Recreation Area (合歡山國家森林遊樂區)

    11. Aowanda Forest Recreation Area (奧萬大國家森林遊樂區)

    12. Alishan Forest Recreation Area (阿里山國家森林遊樂區)

    13. Tengjhih Forest Recreation Area (藤枝國家森林遊樂區)

    14. Kenting Forest Recreation Area (墾丁國家森林遊樂區)

    15. Shuangliu Forest Recreation Area (雙流國家森林遊樂區)

    16. Jhihben Forest Recreation Area (知本國家森林遊樂區)

    17. Siangyang Forest Recreation Area (向陽國家森林遊樂區)

    18. Chihnan Forest Recreation Area (池南國家森林遊樂區)

    19. Fuyuan Forest Recreation Area (富源國家森林遊樂區)

Dongyanshan Forest Recreation Park

The ‘Dongyanshan Forest Recreation Park’ was established in 1991 (民國80年) on 916 hectares of land within Taoyuan’s mountainous Fuxing District (復興區). Originally home to the Llyung Topa (拉流斗霸) of the Tayal Indigenous people (泰雅族), the park, which spans an elevation from altitude of 650 - 1,212 meters above sea level sits on the western edge of Taiwan’s Snow Mountain Range (雪山山脈), and acts as a natural barrier separating the east of the country from the west, protecting Taoyuan and New Taipei City from typhoons and the northeast monsoon.

More commonly known these days as the Dabao Tribe (大豹社), named after the Dabao River (大豹溪) that flows from the mountains into Sanxia, a lot closer to the Manyueyuan Forest Recreation Park. In the late 1800s, the indigenous people were essentially pushed out of their homes, fleeing into the mountains, first by the Qing and then the Japanese.

The sad story started when the Qing government removed its prohibition regarding entering Taiwan’s mountainous regions (開山撫番). Shortly after, the Chinese started making their way into the territory of the Dabao Tribe in order to extract the area’s rich camphor reserves, resulting in the Takoham Incident (大嵙崁社事件), a violent affair that left many on both sides dead.

Later, when the Japanese took control of Taiwan, a similar push into the mountains took place, resulting in guerilla warfare between the indigenous people and the Japanese loggers. Eventually, the Governor-General sent the army marching into the mountains and pushed the Indigenous people out of their ancestral homes.

Link: Sanxia Loyal Spirit Monument (三峽忠魂碑)

The encroachment of the Japanese on indigenous territories across the island often resulted in violence and misery for Taiwan’s indigenous people, but as they stood in the way of the empire’s ambition for the extraction of the island’s precious natural resources, the violence was relentless and unforgiving.

By 1907 (明治40年), the Japanese had pushed their way from Abohei (Amuping / 阿姆坪) all the way to Kappanzan (Jiaobanshan / 角板山 / カッバンソァン), and once the area was firmly under their control, they started to develop a number of facilities dedicated to ensuring the efficiency of the extraction of natural resources from the mountains. Obviously, camphor (樟腦) was at the top on their list of resources to extract, and the area we refer to as Dongyanshan today became an important one for the Timber Industry (林業).

Realizing the extraction of camphor from the area wasn’t a sustainable industry, the Japanese brought with them scientists who set up a research station in Kappazan to search for breakthroughs in the cultivation of cinchona (金雞納樹), a flowering plant known for its medicinal value, especially with regard to treating malaria. In the areas where the cultivation of the plant wasn’t feasible, they ended up reforesting these areas with Japanese cedar, which was also incredibly important for the future development and construction projects across Taiwan.

When the Japanese-era came to an end in 1945, the extraction of camphor continued throughout the post-war era, pretty much until the supply was depleted. Afterwards, the focus of the timber industry shifted to the extraction of cedar which, (ironically was predominately sold back to the Japanese) continued for several decades until it was decided to convert the area into a Forest Park under the 1965 (民國54年) law mentioned above.

As Northern Taiwan’s largest Forest Recreation Park, the Forestry Bureau has done an excellent job creating a network of hiking trails combined with educational resources about the area’s history, making a visit both educational and enjoyable at the same time. Famed for it’s tall cedar forests and it’s ‘sea of clouds’ (雲海), Dongyanshan is not only home to stunning hiking trails, but a large collection of fossils, dating back almost thirty million years to a time when Taiwan was still submerged in the Pacific Ocean.

The park is also home to a number of indigenous animal, insect, and bird species, which you might be lucky enough to encounter during a hike through the forest. Obviously, the most outgoing of the bunch are the Formosan Rock Macaques (台灣獼猴), but you may also be lucky to encounter Red-bellied Squirrels (赤腹松鼠), Formosan Hares (台灣野兔), frogs, snakes, and other smaller reptiles, such as the Formosan pangolin (台灣鯪鯉). The area is also a paradise for bird watchers, so if you’re into that kind of thing, you might want to bring some binoculars along with you!

Points of Interest (東眼山景點)

With the park’s surge in popularity over the past few years, it has also undergone some changes with the addition of some points of interest that help to ensure that a trip there is accessible for one and all. So, before I move on to introducing the trails within the park, I’ll offer a brief introduction of some of the facilities within, so that you have a better idea of what to expect when you visit.

It’s important to keep in mind that although I’m providing a map of the park, it’s essentially the most recent one that is available. Things may ultimately change with the park facilities in the future, so if you visit, I highly recommend grabbing a park brochure at the ticket booth, which will provide the most recent map.

Restrooms (廁所)

Never fear, Dongyanshan Forest Park is a very family-friendly space and unlike most hiking trail across the country, you’ll find that there are several washroom facilities available to hikers and tourists. There are restrooms located within the Tourist Visitor Center as well as several recently constructed facilities along the trails as well - If you find yourself in need, just check out the map of the park given to you at the ticket booth, which displays the locations of all the restrooms.

As I’m writing this article, there are nine different washroom facilities within the park, so you shouldn’t have much trouble finding a space to relieve yourself should you need to.

Pavilions / Picnic Spots / Rest Areas / Viewing Platforms

Within the park, you’ll find a number of spots where you can stop to rest and enjoy some snacks or drinks with your family, friends and fellow hikers. These spaces offer covered protection from the elements in case of rain, so if you need a space to rest, you’ll find these spots conveniently marked on the map. Similarly, along the Self-Guided Trail, you’ll find three different viewing platforms where you can enjoy some scenic views of Taoyuan and New Taipei City. These platforms aren’t covered, but they do allow hikers to sit and enjoy snacks at their leisure.

Tourist Visitor Center (遊客中心)

Located at the base of the hiking trailheads, the Tourist Visitor Center is an excellent place for groups to meet up prior to or after finishing a hike. The building features a small cafeteria where you can purchase some food, snacks or drinks. It is also home to a pretty nice restroom area where visitors can relieve themselves before or after a hike.

There’s also a free filtered water machine where you can fill up a water bottle with hot, warm or cold water for free.

The Visitor Center also comes equipped with some educational exhibition spaces with informative displays about some of the fossils found within the park as well as a description of the vegetation and animals that make their home within the park.

Dongyanshan Restaurant (東眼山食堂)

The recently opened Dongyanshan Restaurant is located within a beautifully designed building a short distance from the Visitor Center. Taking into consideration the location of the park, it shouldn’t really surprise anyone that the menu is quite limited. Offering set menus (with vegetarian options), fried snacks and various beverages, it’s certainly not a Michelin-quality restaurant, but if you’re hungry and in need of something to eat, it’s a pretty good option.

However, it’s important to keep in mind that the ‘Set Menu’ dishes are only available from 11:00am - 1:30pm while the ‘Afternoon Tea’ fried dishes are available from 2:00 until the restaurant closes.

Reforestation Memorial Stone (造林紀念石)

Located at the end of the Forestry Trail, you’ll find a memorial stone that commemorates the reforestation effort that helped to bring the forest back to life, giving us the beautiful park that we’re able to enjoy today. The memorial isn’t really that much to look at, and it essentially just marks the end of the trail, but it’s an important reminder that this are was once completely clear cut.

Dongyanshan Hiking Trails (東眼山健行步道)

Within Dongyanshan Forestry Park there are essentially three major trails, with a number of off-shoots that connect with other trails, and extend beyond to much longer and more challenging hikes. With a combined length of around sixteen kilometers, you’ll have to choose carefully which trail to hike on your visit, because you probably couldn’t finish them all in a single trip. Most visitors are likely to choose between the ‘Self-Guided Trail’, the ‘Scenic Trail’ or the ‘Forestry Trail’, but for those who are a bit more serious, they might simply be making use of the leisurely trails to extend their hike to ‘Dongman Trail’ (東滿步道) or onto ‘Mount Beichatian’ (北插天山), which aren’t for the faint of heart.

The Self-Guided Trail (自導式步道)

Starting at the Dongyanshan Visitor Center (東眼山遊客中心), the nearly four kilometer-long ‘Self-Guided Trail’ is a bit awkwardly named in that it might mislead some visitors into thinking that the other trails require a tour guide, which isn’t actually the case. This trail is essentially a loop through some of the most stunning natural scenery that Dongyanshan has to offer, and culminates at the highest point of the park, which is essentially the peak (三角點) at 1,212 meters.

View of the Taipei Basin from the peak.

Along the way you’ll get to enjoy ridge-lines with stunning views of Taoyuan and Sanxia, and if the weather is good, you may even catch a view of Taipei 101 in the distance. Keeping things interesting, the trail is home to a number of outdoor exhibits and educational signage that paints a pictures of the area and its history.

Trail length: 3.5 - 4km (1-2 hours) Highest elevation: 1,212 meters

The Scenic Trail (景觀步道)

If you’re looking for the most Instagram-friendly trail, the ‘Scenic Trail’ is probably the one you’re looking for. This short trail doesn’t take very long to hike and along the mostly flat trail you’ll find a number of Instagram popular installations that have been set up by the park staff and local designers to celebrate the history of the park. Along the way, you’ll also get a pretty good introduction to the natural environment that the rest of the park has to offer.

That being said, if you take a trip all the way to the park and only hike this trail, you’re missing out. If you’re traveling with young children though, it’s a friendly area that won’t tire them out too much.

Trail length: 350 meters (10-20 minutes)

The Forestry Trail (森林知性步道)

Looking at the official park map, the ‘Forestry Trail’ is more or less a trail that combines a number of smaller trails. Hiking this one allows you to experience the natural beauty of the park, while also allowing you to experience the re-forestation efforts that have taken place to help the natural environment come back to life in the areas where the logging industry did the most damage. Passing by the ‘Scenic Trail’ mentioned above, you’ll make your way through the forest covered Father-Son Peaks Trail (親子峰步道), which then loops around and connects with the Forestry Trail (森林知性步道), where you’ll make your way back to the Visitor Center at the end of your hike.

This hike is a much different one than the Self-Guided Trail above in that it doesn’t culminate in a ‘peak’ nor does it offer you scenic views of Taoyuan and New Taipei. The trail essentially just winds its way through a reforested section of the park where the tall Japanese cedar trees and the natural environment that has grown up around them make for some pretty beautiful photos.

Personally this trail was my favorite part of the park as it reminded me of some of the mountainous trails back home in Canada that I would cross-country ski through during my youth.

Trail length: 3km + 1.3km (2 - 2.5 hours) Highest elevation: 1,060 meters

The Dongman Trail (東滿步道)

The longest trail in the park is an interesting one because it is essentially a one-way hike that’ll take the entire day and connects you from one Forest Recreation Park to another. The name “Dongman” (東滿) is a combination of the first characters in “Dongyanshan” (東眼山) and “Manyueyuan” (滿月圓), which is another Forest Park located in Sanxia (三峽). Hikers are free to choose to start the roughly eight kilometer hike in the Forest Park of their choice, depending on personal preference, with one starting at a lower elevation and the other starting at a higher elevation.

The trail is known for its panoramic views of the northern mountain range, but is considered an advanced hike, and should always be done in a group for safety. The other thing that you’ll want to keep in mind is that since the hike starts in one park and ends in another, your method of getting there and getting home will be different, so it doesn’t make much sense to drive your car to one, do the hike, and end up stranded in the other.

Fortunately, there are hiking groups like Parkbus that coordinate hikes to the trail and conveniently provide drop off at one park and pick up at the other, solving those logistical problems.

Trail length: 8km (4-5 hours one way) Highest elevation: 1,130 meters

Park Admission Fees

It is somewhat uncommon for popular tourist destinations to charge an admission fee in Taiwan, but in this case for the purpose of maintaining the quality of the trails, the administration of the park, and most importantly the reforestation effort, a modest admission fee is collected at the entrance.

The current admission fee scheme is as follows:

Weekdays: Adults NT$80

Weekends & National Holidays: Adults NT$100

Group Rate (20 or more people): NT$80

Children: NT$10 (3-6 years), NT$50 (7-12 years)

Seniors (65+): NT$10

Parking Fee: Cars NT$100, Scooters NT$20

Getting There

 

Address: No.30, Jiazhi, Fuxing Dist., Taoyuan City (桃園市復興區霞雲村佳志35號)

GPS: 121.41761, 24.825110

Car / Scooter

If you have your own means of transportation, getting to Dongyanshan Forest Park is relatively straight forward. Located along the Northern Cross-Island Highway (北部橫貫公路), otherwise known as Highway 7 (台7線), you can make your way to the road from Taoyuan, passing through Daxi (大溪) and Cihu (慈湖) or from New Taipei City’s Sanxia District (三峽區). Even though the Cross-Island Highway is considered a ‘highway’ it’s not an expressway, so scooters and motorcycles are permitted to ride up and down the mountainous road.

Input the address or the coordinates provided above into your GPS or Google Maps and you’ll have the best route conveniently mapped out for you.

It’s important to note though that if you’re driving a car or a scooter (or a Gogoro), the last gas station (and battery swapping station) is located on the turn off to Jiaobanshan Villa (角板山公園), so you may want to fill up before you head to the park. It’s also your last chance to pick up some hiking snacks as there is a convenience store next to the gas station.

Public Transportation

Currently, the only option for taking public transportation to Dongyanshan Forest Recreation Park is to take a bus from the Daxi Bus Station (桃園客運大溪總站). Service is provided by the Taiwan Tourist Shuttle Service (台灣好行) on Route #506, but travelers need to keep in mind that during the week there are only three shuttle services a day and five on weekends and holidays.

It is important that you plan your trip wisely and make sure that you don’t miss the bus, otherwise you might find yourself stranded and waiting around for quite some time.

Weekday departures from Daxi: 8:00, 11:00, 15:00

Weekend departures from Daxi: 8:00, 9:00, 11:00, 14:30, 15:00

Weekday departures from Dongyanshan: 9:30, 13:00, 17:00

Weekday departures from Dongyanshan: 9:30, 12:00, 13:00, 16:30, 17:00

Link: Taiwan Tourist Shuttle Service #506 Dongyanshan Route Timetable (台灣好行)

The fare for the bus is NT$81 each way, or you can purchase a one day pass for NT$150 that’ll cover your trip there and your return trip for a discounted price.

Finally, if you’ve taken the effort to visit Dongyanshan, you’re in luck, because there are a number of other tourist destinations in the area that are also worthy of your time - You’ll find the Jiaobanshan Park (角板山公園), Xiao Wulai Waterfall (小烏來瀑布), Xinxikou Suspension Bridge (新溪口吊橋), Yixing Suspension Bridge (義興吊橋), Daxi Old Tea Factory (大溪老茶廠), Sanmin Bat Cave (三民蝙蝠洞), TUBA Church (基國派老教堂), Cihu Mausoleum (慈湖陵寢), Daxi Old Street (大溪老街), and Sanxia Old Street (三峽老街) all in close proximity to the park.

It doesn’t really matter if you’re visiting to check out some of the trails, or you’re one of those adventurous types making your way along the Dongman Trail. The great thing about a visit to Dongyanshan is that you’re provided access to some of Taiwan’s alpine natural beauty within a short distance from Taipei.

Each of the trails within the park offers stunning views, which are comparable to what some of us from North America are used to, but with the mixture of tropical vegetation at the same time. With beautiful cedar trees, thick vegetation and a variety of indigenous species like Formosan Rock Macaques and a wide variety of birds, the park has something for people of all ages and hiking abilities.

References

  1. 東眼山國家森林遊樂區 (台灣山林悠遊網)

  2. 東眼山國家森林遊樂區 (Wiki)

  3. 東眼山自導式步道 (健行筆記)

  4. 東眼山森林遊樂區 (桃園觀光導覽網)

  5. 國家森林遊樂區 (Wiki)

  6. 東眼山國家森林遊樂區.東滿步道 (Tony的自然人文旅記)

  7. 東眼山步道攻略|攻頂小百岳,享受舒服的森林浴 (不一樣的旅人)

  8. 健行一日遊 走讀桃園東眼山,淺山卻有高山的感覺 (微笑台灣)

  9. Dongyanshan Forest Recreation Area (Forestry Bureau)

  10. Dongyanshan Forest Recreation Area (Wiki)

  11. Dongyanshan National Forest Recreation Area (ParkBus)

  12. Dongyanshan (Taiwan Outdoors)