Day 2 — Learning on the Job
We woke up our second day in the cat house B&B, were served breakfast, and were on our way. We biked past Jiqi Beach, taking some views in.
The day was hot — and sunny. On top of that, we had lofty goals — to bike upwards of 45km. Stopping for water underneath shade was a frequent activity of ours.
Maybe 30 or 40 minutes in, my bike wasn’t accelerating or holding its speed quickly. I looked down, and the tire appeared to be squishing the ground more than it should. I stop, and my tire is popped! Flat as a pancake. Thankfully, our bike shop had given us the tools and replacement tire in case of emergencies like this, but I had never changed a tire, nor did we have any instructions. Plus, the bolt keeping the tire together had rusted shut. Not good.
Thankfully, there was a nearby abode of a Taiwanese lady, who Lena went to talk to to see if she could help, and she magically brought out a wrench! Just the tool I needed. I get the tire off, and the tube inside, but was confused as the new tire was very smooth, with no grip. Lena then points out to me that the tire was actually the inner tube — the tire with the grip went on the outside. I was able to replace it, inflate the tires, and we were back on our way after 30 minutes. I thanked the lady for her help, and we went back on to tackle the hot day.
The next, small highlight of the day was the Tropic of Cancer Monument, which we (along with a few tour groups) stopped by and snapped some pictures on.
As the day winded down, we had finally made it to the town of Chengbin, which luxuriously had a 7/11. Having biked upwards of 40km at this point, our exhausted selves munched on some convenience store onigiri for dinner and took advantage of the wifi to look for a place to stay. I found one, booked it, but then realized it was about 5km the other direction, and we did not want to backtrack at all. We saw a couple places up ahead on google maps, so we left Chengbin in search for a peaceful abode to lay our heads.
We initially had little luck, and backtracked about 500 meters, and we saw a sign for a BnB up a dark, steep hill. Lena, about to collapse from exhaustion, stayed down, while I ventured up to see about this place. I see a place that looks like it, but no reception, or signage I could figure out. I walk around the house, calling out to see if anyone was home, and I finally find a door where I hear several voices. I knock, call out to see if anyone was home, and I decide to open the door and walk in.
A grandmother and son were staring at me in disbelief and confusion (who was this sweaty white person showing up so late in the day! What a scene), and I looked back, gave them a second, and said sorry, I’m just looking for a place to stay. The grandma starts laughing, and the mood lightens. She says “what are you doing here?”, and I say “just passing through”. She stares at me, at a loss, still in shock. She says yes, they do have a room available, and I say thank you, I will be right back as my girlfriend is waiting down the hill.
I go get Lena, get our bikes up to Watershore B&B, Lena promptly takes a shower and crashes, and I chat a bit more with the lady, explaining what we are doing, before going to bed after a 9 hour, 46km day.
Day 3 — Biking in a poncho
The third day was thankfully less eventful. In our first two days, we had gone over 50% of the journey. On top of that, it was no longer full of blazing sun and hot weather. The flip side was that it was fairly rainy. I did not mind too much, the rain was light at worst and we had ponchos, though they were a bit silly to have on while biking.
Our mid-morning break was also quite charming — stopping at a coffee shop that we had stumbled into on the side of the road.The place was full of charm and coziness, the menu hung wooden signs of each beverage in Chinese (and English in the bottom corner), homey wooden-laden decorations, and tables decorated with red and white checkerboard picnic tablecloths.
We soon passed by sunflower fields and precious river gorges (though no rival to previously visited Taroko Gorge), and made it to the surf village of Donghe. We had no idea where we were staying once again, and wandered through a tic-tac-toe neighborhood of 4 blocks before making our way uphill and finding a Taiwanese Surf Hostel.
It being mid-afternoon, it was super dead minus the host, but as dusk fell, a variety of surfers came home, and they ended up playing guitar by night, and it was a charming place to stay. On top of that, there was a nearby Italian place and a 7/11. It was living large, eating candy bars and snack food after the 100 or so kilometers of scenic, tranquil, rural Eastern Taiwan.
Day 4 — Re-assimilation into society
Day four! Our shortest, and arguably sweetest, day yet. We headed off bright and early from the surf hostel, and only had 30-odd kilometers to the Southern city of Taitung.
Our first stop would be the so-called expatriate haven of Dulan, where we made our way for a short breakfast stop. From what little we saw, it was anything but. It felt distinctly Taiwanese — rundown, dated, a commericial main road (though far from decrepit), and with little western influence or cuisine around. We found the closest thing to a western breakfast, with a hash brown and bacon equivalent, but it was very greasy and not so good. We were happy we had spent the previous night in Donghe and not Dulan.
There were a couple touristy things to do in the region, but at this point our bodies were aching and ready to be done with the trip and curl up in a relaxing bed. We headed onward, and several hours later a Confucian temple on the ocean caught our eye, and we decided to stop. We went to gaze at it, and put our feet in the nearby water, a mark of accomplishment for myself. We even made friends with a couple of sand crabs jittering along the sandy coastline.
The one last landmark on our trip was a 20 foot tall golden rooster. I’m not sure why it was there, but it sure was something. We make it into Taitung Province, then Taitung City, and cross one final bridge spanning a 1/2 mile flood plain, and re-enter ourselves back into modern society. We weave and dart through the suburban streets, and make it, exhausted, victorious, and fufilled, back to the bike shop next to Taitung’s Train station.
But there was no one at the shop! it was boarded up. The shop owner next door just told us to leave the bikes out front. It was a good example of how safe and orderly Taiwan (and most of Asia felt). We left our bikes, and headed to our hotel, and collapsed onto the bed.
Final Thoughts
This bike trip was a big, big deal to me. It was not something I prepared myself for, whether mentally or physically. There was no plan, no forecasting where we would stay, how far we would be. We would be biking on a narrow, windy, two-lane road well past the sunset. We had no cell phone service, just a map saved on our smartphones, and our legs to pedal us from place to place. I’m a worrier, or perhaps an overthinker, so the chance to really take our journey one day at a time, one town at a time, one flat tire at a time has given me a sense of pride and strength that feels secure and invigorating. Things really do have a way of working out, and when they don’t, then it just works out in other, unexpected ways. Lena says that I’m stronger than I think I am, and while that phrase still doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me, I think that this trip was a good example of proving her point. I hope that I will continue to do things like this. Not necessarily bike trips, but stepping out into the unknown, and out of my comfort zone, and firmly believing that it will all work out. What an empowering place to be!
