[Trekking] Beidawu Mt. - town of cloud （北大武山）

Team: YZMC 

Time: Jan 20-23, 2015

Place: Pingtung-Taitung border

Difficulties: **** (4/5), since I din trek for half year + steepy with tree roots + muds + raining 

Intro 

     Beidawu mt. (北大武) locate in the border of Taitung and Pingtung county, the name literally means North Dawu, for there're South and West Dawu also, but less favorite trekking route for theirs difficulty and dangerous. Dawu in aboriginal language "karoroan" (which tribe?) means “very broad vision”.

For reference, this old drawing map would help. As you see, North Dawu (北大武山) and South Dawu (南大武山). For the position, I think Dawu mt. (大武山) is now called West Dawu (西大武山) (photo from internet)

    The mt. is 3092m height - highest peak of south Central Mt. Range and highest points of local regions. Rated as one of the 5 typical peaks of Taiwan, together with Jade(玉山), Snow (雪山), Nanhu mt (南湖大山), Hsiuguluan mt. (秀姑巒山). Total length is 9k from trail head, the one and only cabin  in half way (檜谷山莊).

In front of the cabin, with YZMC (2015 Jan)

      Near to the cabin, At 3.8k there's very nice view point call Guangmingding (光明頂), ideal for enjoying sunset and sea of cloud. Now the meaning very broad vision comes quite clear. It said in nice weather, from top of mt.  even Lanyu island (蘭嶼島) can be seen and from the edges, at night hikers can enjoy light of the town below. On the trip in Jan 2015, I didn't see any of them at all, it was  raining all along the day we headed to the top. Fortunately, the sun smiled at us sometime and gave some nice scene at 3.8k. 

Trekking route GPS (from internet)

Historical and Cultural 

     In wikipedia, it's mentioned that Beidawu is considered a holy mt. of Paiwan tribe (排灣族) who had been living here for long long time, symbol for The tribe's wisdom and culture. However, as I know, there's one ancestral temple near top of mt, Dawuci (大武祠) and inside placed one stone tablet of Stemona snake totem of Rukai tribe (魯凱族). Back to Dawuci itself, it was build in 1931 (under Japan rule time), with very typical Japanese shrine gate (torii). What a pity, in 2015 Jan when I came visited, it collapsed. 

Photo from internet

[Trans] Midnight restaurants (Quán khuya)

Original: Nguyễn Ngọc Tư, Mấy cụm khói rời, Đong tấm lòng, 2015, HCMC: Tre Publisher.
Copy right belong to author. This translation only my hobbies and respect to her works.

Sudden light brighten between two broken sleeps, those kiosks places at sides of the country road, selling food at midnight til breaking dawn; usually they make my mind flows, as if there are people, haunting or waiting. It takes some times, and rub my eyes several times to realize that light is not dreaming. Sleeping in the coach is a vaguely mixing of dreams and real life. Coughing sounds of the elderly seating next by just perfectly matched with the face of grandma who pass away long time ago.The sad melody turned on by the young driver trying to light up this boredom, now becomes the background of a shadow gliding on the river. Everything just be confirmed not dreaminess when the coach stops, and people sleepily get off.

Midnight restaurants.

[Trans] Cluster of haze (Mấy cụm khói rời)

Original: Nguyen Ngoc Tu*,  Mấy cụm khói rời, Đong tấm lòng, 2015, HCMC:  Tre Publisher. 

Copy right belong to author. This translation for cultural view exchange purpose. 

Seven Mountain Area, Angiang, Vietnam (photo from Internet)

Every morning, the small alley always wet. The wave from river swallow the small street, the  water drop from those clothes laying on that inclined fence, the washing drain full of detergent bubbles and spoiled veggies. The tears and snivels of children begging for some nickels to buy snacks, next to them mothers sitting, drying their newly wash - still wetting long hair. Their skin mix in one shape with the darkness of shadow of the alley. 

Nobody knows what change makes people uprooted the whole Khmer village from faraway Seven Mountains area, then grew them inside this urban city zone, together with the temple. People here used to call the place - Khmer alley. Each time pass by, the thought of after fifty years they're still out of place keep haunting me. Not for their curly hair or big eyes, or  dark bold eye rims, or brown skin that not integrate with other ethnics; but the solitary that shows in the paces of their lives, the looks in their eyes and the ways that they sit. Urban city streams can't stop them from lower their paces within those woebegone old shacks, and nobody knows what are they thinking  while their eyesight not a moment stay at any point.

The furthest view point seems endless, where the fields stand together with those Palmyra trees, those gaunt cows and the dried yellow grass. That's my imagine. In their motionless standing or sitting, they wandered through cow race festival where the couple (in their age of fifteen or seventeen) sneaked out and hanged out together for the first time. The low limestone hillock that the man traced after the trail to set animal traps. The Moon festival that held right in middle of temple's yard with the background of five-tones music.

The children climb on neem trees and drum and sing out loud the melodies. In land of memories, the feast atmosphere  not yet exhausted, already fulfill again by several festival each year. Or maybe they think nothing, the pass is too faraway, while future have none to think about.