October 13, 2008


  • Trekkers

     

    “What do you reckon Rob?” Etienne asked
    me one day over a couple of sherbets, “You think we could ride to Fulong?”

     

    “No problem getting there,” I replied.
    “Getting back the next day might be tough on the legs!”

     

    We then argued about the altitude of the
    mountains we would have to ride the mountain bikes over, and I reckoned max.
    500 metres. Et, not for the first time, argued with this, suggesting that it
    would more likely be 700 – 800 metres. There was only one way to resolve this
    argument – take my mountain bike, complete with altimetre, from Bali all the
    way to the highest point between my home and Etienne’s beach house.

     

    So one afternoon, I donned the cycling
    shirt, gloves, shorts and clip shoes, prepared the XTC and headed off. The plan
    was to ride the mountain bike the same way I would normally ride the Suzuki,
    just a little slower perhaps. The mountains, I have to admit, I was dreading
    simply because it is close on 40km from my home to Shenkung, where the mountains
    start. Would I be tired by then? Would I make it all the way to the Café Monet,
    which essentially is the highest point on the way?

     

    I made it in to Da Zhi with no problem,
    and hit Taipei city. And then everything – literally – ground to a halt. Taiwan’s
    military, apparently, had decided to do some exercises that day, which meant
    the whole of the city was stopped, roads cleared so that perhaps a military
    vehicle would be able to drive along it at lightning speeds. People were not
    allowed to walk along the pavement, I was stopped on the bike by some officious
    plod git, who told me to move behind someone else. As that person had just cut
    me up to get in front of me, I suggested that 
    plod hassles him instead of me, but it was obviously National Annoy the
    Foreigner Day, so for the next half hour, I sat on the kerb, bored, calling up
    Linn to try to find out what the heck was going on.

     

    Finally the sirens sounded, and traffic
    was allowed to flow once more. This, of course, meant that all the cars who had
    been at a standstill for the last 30 minutes, all had to drive off so
    incredibly fast, Lewis Hamilton style, to try to make up for this delay. One
    kilometre later, I had overtaken most of them once more, as they got stuck in
    congestion, and my old, tired legs had warmed up once more. I zipped in and out
    of lanes, passing busses and cars and taxis, even cutting up the occasional
    scooter, which was thoroughly deserved, as they tend not to like giving more
    than 1 or 2 cm of space when they overtake. Idiots.


    I rode over to Muzha, past Taipei Zoo, past
    Shenkung where my mouth was watering at the thought of Mr Chen’s famous stinky
    tofu soup, and to the OK mart, where I stopped for drinks. I decided against
    beer, opting instead for my trusty favourite of Pocari Swea t, and also a couple
    of packs of some energy drink thing, which I later regretted buying.

     

    Less than a hundred metres from the OK
    mart is where the mountains start, and so I shifted down a few gears, the legs
    pushing hard, sweat dripping from every pore in my body, as I climbed up. A few
    kilometres later I stopped for a quick break, wondering maybe if Etienne was
    right, and hoping beyond hope that it was in fact me who was really correct. I
    drank some of that Passion fruit flavoured energy drink, which also had some
    fibre jelly in it, and damn it was disgusting. I washed it down with Pocari,
    and continued on my way.

     

    After not too long, I was in Pingsi,
    famous for its lanterns and also for being a former mining town. People head
    there during lantern festival to write messages of hopes and wishes on the side
    of a lantern, before lighting it and letting it fly in to the night sky. When
    so many people get together in the town for this, the night sky is scattered
    with the red lights of the lanterns, all floating off to the heavens with
    wishes for the coming year.


    Over the bridge I went, and found a
    place for more Pocari – there was no way I was going to drink that 2nd
    pack of energy drink. I had reached a point of 325 metres, and then descended
    to 250 metres, but now the mountain inclined once more, but I knew the worst
    was over. By the time I made it to Café Monet, I was back up to just over 300
    metres, and so I realised the mountains were not really anything to worry
    about.

     

    I ordered my caramel milk tea at Café
    Monet, sat down and called up Et, to tell him my opinion. I reckoned it was 60
    km from my home so 40 km from his, to Café Monet. With the exception of one
    decent sized incline, and one smaller one, it was all downhill or flat to
    Fulong from there, another 30 or so kilometres onwards.


    But by now, evening was starting to set
    in, and so I decided to head back to Taipei. I was hungry though, having not
    eaten yet that day, and as I climbed out of Pingsi, the thought of Mr Chen and
    his tofu became too much for me, and the decision was made for me to eat
    something there before riding home.

     

    The legs had been pumping for hours, and
    by the time I made it back past the OK mart, I was beginning to struggle. 6
    more km until Shenkung, and then up the Old Street, in to Mr Chen’s, who was a
    little surprised to see me on a weekday, especially on the mountain bike. He
    gave me dinner for free, which just shows the generosity of the man, and told
    me to take care on my return back. I showed him the lights were working, and he
    was a little appeased.


    After a rest for maybe an hour, where of
    course he and I discussed many things in Chinese (Linn would be proud!
    Well…maybe not!) I jumped back on the XTC and cycled my way back towards
    Taipei, and slowly through the city, in to Da Zhi, Tienmu, Beitou and finally
    across the Guandu bridge and back home. I was not sure how far I had actually
    ridden that day, but I reckoned on 120 km. Linn and I rode the Suzuki back from
    Fulong a couple of weeks later, and from Café Monet to my home is 57 km – so I
    guess I was not too far off.

     

    For the next 3 days, my legs tingled,
    knowing that they had had one heck of a workout. It didn’t, however, stop me
    from riding up Guanyin Shan a couple of times though!