Tuesday, 23rd January
Perhaps the best days cycling since leaving Taipei 8 days ago. What route 11 along the East Coast lacks in a huge amount of variety it makes up for with consistely great views of the Pacific to your right and cloud topped mountains to your left. There are a scattering of landmarks and a handful of nice scenic B-road detours off the main highway, and an overall pleasing lack of big cities and loud traffic.
I snuck out of the campsite early in the morning. Feeling a little bit of guilt for not paying for it, but mainly relief that I had found it last night after such a desperate last 5 miles.
Away from Taitung, the road opened up and stuck consistently close to the coastline. It was a good mix of downhill and gentle uphill which kept the ride interesting but never too demanding which was a relief since I had woken up before 6 and wasn’t in the mood for anything too challenging. I just wanted to look at the sea and pedal and stop occasionally for coffee.
The road had lots of strategically placed scenic lookouts, a little in the US, and generally seemed well looked after and prized by the Taiwanese.
The first town of any size was around 30 mikes in at Chengong. I passed through the center and stopped at a greasy looking bike shop operated by an old man who kindly put oil on my chain for free, it had seemed noticeably loud that morning, probably a combination of last nights rain and a build up of muck from a weeks worth of cycling.
I picked up water and headed through the town, round the coast to Sanxian and Saxiantai. Sanxiantai was a small rocky island connected to the land via a bridge with 8 arches. It was a surreal clash of surfaces, and drew a huge crowd which filtered in and out from colourfully decorated tour buses which made their way up and down the East coast.
I explored a little before continuing round to a small village just to the north of the island. Hoping to pick up a decent lunch for once (i’d been relying far too heavily on 7-11’s) I was disappointed to find the restaurant i’d aimed for was closed. So I continued onward, stopping for a quick snack under the bridge out of town where I ended up feeding two stray dogs who joined me. There were a lot of dogs in Taiwan. I’d been chased a couple of times but most strays seemed timid and curious rather than aggressive.
I picked up an orange from one of the many roadside sellers along this section, passed more scenic pullouts, an overgrown cemetery, and took a wander to look for driftwood on a beach. Changbin was the last town with stores before the tragically named Shitiping where I planned to spend the night. I stopped at a 7-11 on the edge of town and could feel the effect of the early start to the day weighing on me, I wanted the final 15 miles to pass quickly.
And mostly they did. Surprisingly there was a cycle path for almost all the way this section of road – a track separated from the traffic with a neat hedge. It ran like this for ages, past the Baxian cave (looked interesting but I couldn’t be bothered), past a divider for Taitung and Hualien county, and past the tropic of cancer marker.
Shitiping was a protected piece of shoreline jutting out in the sea away from the road. Perched right on top of it was a camp site which faced the water and would hopefully be my base for the night.
After crossing a river there was a final climb to round the mountain before descending toward the nature reserve. The turnoff was easy to miss, and once inside the campsite was at the very very end. I reached it, eventually, only to find that there was a large, identical looking tent on top of every platform. Probably for a large group of kids I saw leaving on a hike with identical backpacks just a few miles before. Someone directed me to a hostel over the road to enquire about the campsite. Inside a girl pointed to the owner who was driving off into the distance on a scooter. I shouted but he didn’t hear. I got annoyed and went back and sat on the road, poking around on my phone to see what the options were.
The scooter guy came back. I pointed to the campsite and he made a cross (= no) with his arms. He then started typing into his phone and then showed it to me: 1800 twd to stay (breakfast included). £40 for a hostel seemed to be stretching it, even in a scenic spot like this. I went back up to the road to try and find another campsite I’d pinned on my map. It was chained off and I assumed shut. I looked at hotels again.
Just as I did so the guy came past on his scooter again. I was going to try and negotaite. He seemed to get that I wanted to camp, pressed some more stuff into his phone and offered me a camp spot for 800. I followed him back down toward the seafront. He stopped outside a building which looked like a storage locker and began opening the door. I’m guessing he thought I would want to camp on a hard surface but I didn’t want to camp in a garage.
He asked me (via his phone) if grass was ok. Then took me back to the original campsite and led me down some steps to a grassy area just below the main camp area. It was perfect, and fine for 600 I guess – compared with alternatives. I gave him 1000 and he buzzed off and back with change.
The evening was gloomy – grey and windy. I put my tent up and walked to the toilets. It was dark now and there were stray cats everywhere. I came back and ate instant noodles using the kitchen in the hostel. I went back to my tent. The ocean was loud and kind of intimidating that close, but it was balanced out by cheerful sounds in the campsite above.
It was reassuring. A cat was also somewhere nearby in the dark. When you are in a tent all noises are amplified, and you start to pull together this strange, abstract collage of what’s outside. Mostly I looked forward to the mornings, the light, a coffee, and the chance to start again.
Map