Taipei: Sun Moon Lake - Chi-en Pagoda Trail

The trail up to the Chi-en Pagoda is a stone staircase winding through a forested mountain next to Sun Moon Lake. The climb is a steep 700 meters that requires some physical stamina; maybe because of this the trail is desolate of man made noises besides the thud of one's own feet on the ground. But the trail is not quiet as this land is nature's domain, and the sounds of nature are everywhere. Rising high above is a canopy of broad leaves and moss covered trunks - thin and pale against a backdrop of green. When a breeze moves through the leaves begin to whisper, and the long stalks of bamboo clank together making deep chimes that carry far into the forest. There is always a creaking noise from tree trunks bending under the weight of leaves and wind. Sounds that are usually masked by the noise of human civilization are now magnified: a mosquito buzz, the swish of falling dead leaves. There is one sound in particular that made me stop in my tracks several times because of the shivers it sent down my spine. The noise was like that of a banshee - a high-pitched eerie call that sounded positively frightening in the uninhabited forests. We never did figure out what was making the noise, although we conjectured that it was most likely some kind of an insect or bird.



The Sun Moon Lake mountain is truly an enchanted place with plant leaves as big as elephant ears and unassuming pods with bright red seeds inside like bloody teeth. Nature is often full of unexpected juxtapositions, and so this was the case on the Chi-en Pagoda Trail. Bright coral colored flowers sprung from cracks in stones, while lavender puffs grew out of piles of dead, decaying leaves. The hibiscus flower, so beautiful and grand with its trumpet of color, grows from an insidious, vine snaking around branches. Even the seemingly harmless banana tree flowers a purple serpentine bud.



We stop at a gazebo to rest midway to the top. We are hot and sweaty, and the fireflies swarm around us. Surely they are puzzled by these large, inexplicable sources of moisture. Just as we are catching our breath, a pair of monks clothed in gray smocks glide easily past us. They seem entirely unperturbed by the heat and the difficulty of the climb; even the material of their clothes seems to float and ripple effortlessly in the slight breeze. They walk with no haste but soon they are around a bend and out of sight leaving us to the fireflies.