We've Been To Rivendell 魔戒的世界

This is Rivendell. Great walls rise on all sides of us. The trail weaves in and out of dense woods, one moment hidden deep in primeval forest, the next traversing a windy cliff on a narrow path cleaved from the rock where a misstep could mean certain death.

Yet the Elves did not carve these stone passageways. Neither did the Dwarves.



No, it was the Taiwanese who first found their way here, traced the river, and made their way deeper and deeper into these fantastic mountains.

Unlike the Grand Canyon, which is cut by the Colorado River, exposing older strata as the river digs deeper, Taroko  Gorge 太魯閣國家公園 is more akin to Kings Canyon. Both upthrust and erosion have formed its massive peaks, steep walls and deep ravines. Taroko Gorge is both stark and rich, barren and lush. Clouds drift in and out between towering summits, revealing them, then veiling them once again. Mist rises, curls away on a breeze and then dissipates.

By the river itself, gargantuan marble boulders lie in great piles, resting for a geological moment until forces we can hardly imagine move them again, or the river simply grinds them into the fine silt it carries out to sea.

At the base of the mountains, just above the river, the soil by the trail is rich and dark from generation after generation of verdant foliage. Further up, the trail becomes rocky, the forest thins a bit, and the bones of the Earth are exposed again--great cliffs and outcrops hidden from view, visible only to those who venture in this far.

That bright squiggle is the drainage. The trail is that thin,
almost perfectly horizontal seam above it. (Click to enlarge.)

To travel this path is a commitment. Turning back is no easier than going forward. This becomes most clear on the massive, bare face of Zhuilu Cliff 錐麓大斷崖. Warnings are posted at both ends. The mountains continue to move here; evidence of it is being cleared by heavy machinery almost a thousand feet below. For 300 meters, the airy trail cuts straight across the cliff face, not even a third of the way up to the lofty summit. As we cross, there is no rockfall. Only the river below continues its incessant work shaping the canyon.

 When we reach the end of the trail, we are again amazed to be traveling through such magical realms as these!

The following day, we rise just as the sun appears. The flanks of the canyon are alive with light and shadow. We are now familiar with that peak in the far distance, blue in the morning mist: yesterday we were just across the river from it, eye level with its shoulder.

We stand outside for some time, watching clouds cast rippling shadows across the canyon walls and ridges.

This Earth is truly fantastic. It does the soul good to go take a look.

Rivendell is real.