Racing Across East, Central, West, and North in Two Days: A Mountain-Crossing Road Trip Covering Eight Counties

A mad two-day road expedition tearing across eastern, central, western, and northern Taiwan, spanning eight distinct administrative counties and cities.

On November 25 and 26, 2005, for two consecutive days, my dear friend Chin-lung Lee and I drove my beloved steed, 「Mizu-Ho」, carving an audacious 973.9-kilometer mountain-crossing trajectory deep across the spine and heartland of Taiwan. Traversing Taipei, Taoyuan, Yilan, Taichung, Nantou, Changhua, Miaoli, and Hsinchu, we collapsed into sleep on the first midnight deep within Fushoushan Farm along the Central Cross-Island Highway, bundled in heavy down coats under brilliant alpine stars hovering within arm’s reach.

Thinking back to the previous year on November 26 and 27, 2004, Mizu-Ho had similarly ferried me across Taoyuan, the Northern Cross-Island Highway, Taipingshan, and Yilan for an exhilarating two-day sprint. By calendar coincidence, it was late November once again. It seemed that every late November approaching winter, I could legitimately gift myself an unannounced escape to roam free.

Truth be told, our original design this year was likewise heading straight for Taipingshan in Yilan to immerse in misty cypress groves. Who would have guessed that following relentless typhoons, Taipingshan had remained shut for renovations since the previous year? Amid fruitless telephone inquiries, frustrated curses, and chaotic improvisation, we glanced across the road map, traced a couple lines, and finalized:

「Let’s go! Reroute to Fushoushan Farm via the Central Cross-Island route and leave the toxic fumes of the city behind!」

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Hangover, Delays, and a Belated Departure

If one intends to drive marathon mountain trails, the noble ambition is to set off at daybreak. Alas, weighed down by melancholy on departure eve, I downed a few drinks late into the night.

The inevitable consequence of ethanol was sleeping right through the screaming morning alarm. By the time I finally pried open crusty eyelids, splashed cold water on my face, and crammed supplies into the trunk, the clock showed 8:00 AM sharp as Mizu-Ho gently rolled out of our Tamsui parking bay.

Picking up Chin-lung with familiar tracks humming from the speakers, Mizu-Ho cruised south toward Taoyuan, soon ascending into snaking mountain corridors. The late November mountain air carried a piercing chill, yet golden sunlight streaming through the windshield revived our spirits.

The two of us babbled aimlessly along the road, mocking each other’s dissolute habits from the night before, while wondering whether hot meals awaited us once we penetrated deep into the mountains.

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Hanging by a Thread: Landslides on Provincial Highway 7A

The true trial materialized without warning as Mizu-Ho turned onto Provincial Highway 7A (the Yilan Branch of the Central Cross-Island Highway), ascending toward Lishan and Wuling.

Years of severe typhoons and torrential deluges had battered Taiwan’s delicate high-altitude geology. Mountain flanks along the highway were either raw exposed rubble or draped in rusted wire meshing. As we negotiated a hairpin bend, the scene struck both Chin-lung and me dumb —

A massive landslide had sheared off half the hillside. The paved two-lane asphalt was ripped away, leaving only a precarious, mud-and-gravel trail barely a single car wide. Worse still, the outer rim offered zero guardrails, dropping straight down into a bottomless precipice!

To prevent Mizu-Ho’s vulnerable chassis from being pulverized by protruding boulders, I white-knuckled the steering wheel, slowing our speed to a snail’s crawl. I had to plant the outer tires right along the crumbling gravel edge, feeling our way forward inch by painstaking inch.

「Hey… keep your hands steady. This car is heavy; if one wheel slips, we’re a sacrificial offering to the canyon!」 Chin-lung gripped the passenger grab handle with both hands, subconsciously leaning toward the center console, his expression oscillating between sheer terror and a grim grimace.

Beneath the tires came the faint clatter of gravel tumbling into the abyss. That stretch of forty yards felt like half a century of driving. Not until all four tires gripped solid, unbroken asphalt did the cabin erupt into roaring laughter of sheer relief.

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Freezing Nights and Boundless Galaxies at Fushoushan

By twilight, ambient temperatures plummeted as elevation surged, leaving the air paper-thin and freezing. Streaked in dried mud and gravel dust, Mizu-Ho finally arrived safely at Fushoushan Farm, perched over 2,000 meters above sea level.

The moment the ignition died, the universe sank into an ethereal silence.

Opening the car doors, near-freezing mountain gusts blasted our faces, wiping away every trace of road fatigue. The air was crystalline, carrying a sweet, icy purity into our lungs. Tucked in a corner of the farm grounds, we boiled two piping-hot bowls of instant noodles. Clasping the steaming bowls and slurping spicy broth beneath icy winds provided a profound warmth transcending any metropolitan banquet.

As night deepened and ambient lights flickered out, we tilted our heads back and were struck speechless by the heavens —

Under unpolluted pitch-black skies, the Milky Way sprawled across the celestial dome like a celestial ribbon of crushed diamonds. Uncountable constellations sparkled so intimately close it felt as if one could scoop them up by hand. Wrapped in our thickest coats beside Mizu-Ho’s warm hood, gazing into the unfathomable cosmic ocean, even our voices naturally softened into whispers.

The morning hangover, the detour frustration, the cliffside terror — all dissolved into nothingness. Standing beneath this boundless starry vault made the entire impromptu expedition worth every drop of sweat.

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Crossing the Continental Divide: Down to the Western Plains

Waking to bone-chilling dawn the next morning, thin frost glazed the car windows. Packing our gear, we fired the ignition. Mizu-Ho exhaled clouds of white exhaust into the alpine chill, kicking off day two’s mountain-crossing run.

Pushing along the highway toward Dayuling, we merged onto Provincial Highway 14A, surmounting Hehuanshan and Wuling. Standing atop the highest paved road in Taiwan at 3,275 meters, the Qilai Range and surrounding peaks undulated beneath our boots while rolling sea of clouds tumbled through valleys.

Beyond Dayuling and Wuling, Mizu-Ho descended along winding switchbacks. Passing Cuifeng, Qingjing, and Ren’ai Township, we looked out across the mirror-like deep green of Wanda Reservoir; slicing through Puli Basin, skimming past Sun Moon Lake and Shuili Township, we sped westward straight into Nantou City.

As we crossed the Baguashan mountain ridge into Changhua County, the scenery transformed completely from alpine conifers into boundless central plains and bustling commercial avenues. Refueling our bellies in Changhua, we embarked on the final sprint along the western corridor —

Tracing provincial routes and coastal highways, Mizu-Ho’s engine hummed with steady, rhythmic power, roaring straight through Miaoli (Tongxiao, Houlong), Hsinchu (Xiangshan, Zhubei, Xinfeng), and Taoyuan (Xinwu, Guanyin, Luzhu). Dusk deepened as powerful coastal crosswinds rocked the chassis, while the setting sun set the Taiwan Strait ablaze in rich molten gold.

By 11:00 PM, when Mizu-Ho’s familiar amber headlights finally illuminated the welcoming alleys of Tamsui once more, the trip odometer rested crystal clear at: 973.9 kilometers.

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A 973.9-Kilometer Monument to Youth

Here is the complete GPS expedition track recorded during that epic journey:

GPS driving log across eight counties covering a total of 973.9 km

Looking at that vibrant golden ribbon starting from Tamsui, soaring across mountain divides into Taiwan’s very heartland, and rushing back up the western coastline to our doorstep, we couldn’t help bursting into laughter.

Two days and one night, over 970 kilometers, eight counties and cities. No meticulously engineered itinerary, only a hastily traced road map, a tirelessly loyal vehicle, a lifelong buddy ready to jump in and act crazy with you, and a hungry heart desperate to break free from the mundane.

We were in our twenties then; no matter how precarious the cliffs or freezing the night, stepping on the gas meant racing straight toward the stars. Those tire tracks pressed along the crumbling landslide edge, and the boundless galaxies over the Central Cross-Island Highway, remain the most fearless and unforgettable chapter of youth for me and Mizu-Ho.