Last November, I joined the Taiwan Wilderness Hiking Association online, planning my first destination to be the main and east peaks of Snow Mountain. At the time, I had no real idea about the actual state of hiking in Taiwan, and I only had an amateur, worn-out backpack.
I remember that, driven by a bit of passion and impulsiveness, I met the leader for this Snow Mountain hike — a veteran with over 30 years of experience. The leader gave me a sidelong glance and asked, “Other than carrying your schoolbag, do you have any experience with loaded hikes?” I stammered, “Yes… well, no…” After all, you can’t hide your true abilities with lies.
Successfully summited fifteen mountains
The leader took out a map and started talking as if no one else was around: “What are the Hundred Peaks?”, “How to climb the Hundred Peak mountains?”, “What to do when encountering emergencies during a hike?”… I listened, breaking into a cold sweat. Over two hours passed, and the leader squinted at me. “If you can’t handle it, forget it, maybe next time!” The leader sounded a bit impatient. I hung my head low: “Mmm, then I guess I’ll…” The initial excitement had completely vanished, and I just wanted to escape. “Alright, pay for the hike before you leave!” The leader turned around, leaving me with those words.
And so, I embarked on my first hiking trip in Taiwan with the New Taipei City Wilderness Hiking Association, which also marked the beginning of my Hundred Peaks hiking journey. Hiking in Taiwan has been popular since the 1970s and by now, there are fairly complete systems in place — including established trails, mountain huts, mountain rescue services, guided group tours, and fixed application procedures. From the end of November to early January, I went from climbing my first Hundred Peak, Snow Mountain’s east peak, to Zhijaiyang Mountain, experiencing countless steep ascents and descents, rock climbing, rappelling, and stream tracing… In total, I successfully summited fifteen of the Hundred Peak mountains.
As a student, most of my daily time is spent within campus life, lacking exposure to the outside world. Even with the convenience of the internet today, where it seems you can “see the world without leaving home,” what you mostly gain is book knowledge and indirect experience. Education and learning, in the final analysis, are all about experience. And after over a decade of book knowledge and indirect experience, there aren’t many opportunities to test their validity through practice. In other words: applying what you learn is the true duty of a student.
Taiwan, I’m finally here
Studying abroad at Fu Jen Catholic University in Taiwan, I often think: apart from interacting with Taiwanese people on campus, are there other perspectives and methods? Hiking offers a different angle and approach to understanding the real Taiwan.
Hiking is a great perspective and method to understand the real Taiwan and Taiwanese people. Out of Taiwan’s 36,000 square kilometers of land area, over 70% is mountainous. Taiwan is one of the regions with the highest mountain density in the world, with 268 mountains over 3,000 meters in elevation alone, and the 100 most famous of them are collectively called the “Hundred Peaks.”
Stepping into the Hundred Peak mountains, the true face of Taiwan comes into view. The most genuine grass, trees, rocks, flowers, birds, insects, fish, and the warm and simple indigenous friends in the mountains — I couldn’t help but shout with emotion, “Taiwan, I’m finally here!” Then, gazing into the distance, at the verdant mountains, sea of clouds, cascading cloud waterfalls, and the vast Pacific Ocean, I wished I could instantly become a free-flying bird.
“The best people in Taiwan are in the Hundred Peak mountains.” I forgot where I heard this saying, but every Taiwanese person I met along the way repeatedly proved it true. I observed that these seasoned hikers are usually around fifty years old, with stable careers — such as engineers, lawyers, university professors, civil servants, entrepreneurs, and so on.
Descending with an injury – a valuable lesson
Along the way, besides exchanging thoughts on hiking and outdoor sports, the most common topic was: “What’s going on with Taiwan today?” If I hadn’t connected with these middle-class Taiwanese individuals, hadn’t sat with them around a pot of strong tea deep in the mountains, gazing at the stars and having heart-to-heart talks, as a student, my understanding of Taiwan would have remained confined to book knowledge, losing the value and meaning of studying in Taiwan.
You don’t know the mountain’s tolerance until you step into the Hundred Peak mountains, nor do you learn to revere heaven and earth or respect nature. Zhijaiyang Mountain taught me the most vivid lesson. “Zhijaiyang” (Sqoyaw) is a term in the Atayal language. Its trails are rugged, full of strange rocks, cliffs, and fallen trees, causing quite a headache for hikers.
Because I didn’t rest well the night before the hike, after carrying a heavy load halfway up Zhijaiyang Mountain, I was already physically exhausted, and to make matters worse, my left knee could no longer bend properly. In previous climbs, relying on youthful arrogance, I seemed to take everything lightly, and successfully summiting over ten peaks only fueled my cockiness.
However, this time, with my left knee unable to bend normally, I had to descend using only my right leg, carrying over 30 kilograms of gear, taking each step by “scraping” forward. I was drenched in sweat, my face pale. It was getting late, and what should’ve been a normal 5-hour descent now took twice as long. Clenching my teeth through the pain, I “scraped” for five minutes, rested for one, and even considered giving up on descending.
Forging a resilient attitude
But in the high mountains and dense forests, my gear wasn’t sufficient, and spending the night could’ve led to dangerous situations like hypothermia. A sister and three brothers, who had also summited six peaks together, patiently waited for me along the way, constantly encouraging me with words. One brother even gave me his knee pads, though his own knees were injured. The sister stayed close behind me, acting as the sweep. When I occasionally looked back at her, I thought there couldn’t be a more beautiful goddess. With the support of my companions, I finally made it safely back to the trailhead.
Hiking the Hundred Peaks forges and shapes a person’s resilient, tenacious attitude. And I gained a deeper realization: hiking is not about conquest, but a humble form of learning; it’s about acknowledging, understanding, and embracing the diversity of all things under heaven, seeking common ground while reserving differences. Only with the openness and magnanimity to respect and accept differing voices can one find their true self in a diverse world. Life is like hiking — only those who hike with gratitude and understand, respect, and embrace others can go higher and further.