«» Letter 047: Yushan

A family hike up Taiwan's tallest mountain

Hello!! I’m Atom, and you’ve received my Letters.

This letter covers a trip from early January. I haven’t had much space to write for myself until now, so it's nice to be getting back in a rhythm!

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The trap in hiking is to believe that reward only comes at the summit. When a hike fails to deliver on the promise of a breathtaking view from the top, the tendency is to consider the whole attempt a failure. A summit and its view can become so synonymous that reaching one without the other feels like not summiting at all.

In the case of Yushan, we weren’t giving ourselves much room for reward. Yushan, also known as Jade Mountain, is named as such because, standing as Taiwan’s tallest mountain at 3,952 meters, its snow-capped peaks are said to shine like pure white jade. In other words, it is a mountain named after its breathtaking view. And boy, did we want this view. We chose to climb in January because that promised the best snow, but not so much as to make the trail impassable.

At first, there was debate about whether we would let Mama and Papa join us. The group consisted of me, my brothers, and a small group of friends — all experienced hikers (in dry sub-3000 MASL conditions). None of us had climbed a mountain in snow before. The final push to the summit would begin in the dark, with us wearing helmets and crampons, equipment none of us had experience using. There was no way to test them either, seeing that we were coming from the Philippines, where snow is nonexistent.

My fear was that if our parents struggled, someone would have to stay behind with them and miss the summit view. Mama had been struggling with bad knees for the better part of last year, while Papa was scheduled to have eye surgery just four weeks before our hike. In the end, their determination triumphed over our fears. Mama and Papa wanted to be with us, so who could say no?

Once it was settled, my brothers and I agreed: at least one of us would be with them the entire time.

We made the mistake a few years ago. On Mt. Apo, the tallest mountain in the Philippines, we left our parents in the care of our porters, whose job is to keep us safe. They did their job so well that when my parents struggled, they stopped pushing them forward. We summited Mt. Apo without our parents that day. A bittersweet feeling that stayed with us.

I didn't know it at the time, but the decision to stay together would teach me to enjoy the mountain in its entirety and not just its summit. Well, to be honest, I was forced to because I wasn't sure I would reach the summit at all.

The first 5km of Yushan is mostly flat, which is merciful when you’re adjusting to 12kg on your back. Still, some people find their footing faster than others, and our group of eighteen split apart quickly. Aedric and I fell back with Mama and Papa.

Because we were moving at an easy pace, I found myself noticing more: the sound of trees in the wind, the quality of the trail beneath our feet, the strength in my legs, and the shape of the mountains around us.

We crossed descending hikers who hadn't made the summit the night before. Apparently, the weather turned on them at the last minute, which, on the upside, promised fresh snow for us, but on the downside reminded us that our plans could change without warning, too.

I could feel Mama and Papa struggling, but spirits were high. We began singing “I’m on the top of the world lookin’ down on creation… And the only explanation I can find… Is the love that I’ve found, ever since you’ve been around… Your love’s put me at the top of the world!” How appropriate, I thought. If we summit together, then literally our love has put each other on top of the world.

After four hours, we stopped for lunch at the White-Wood Forest observation deck: onigiri and packed bento from 7-Eleven against a backdrop of snow-capped peaks. We could have turned around here and still returned happy!

Besides the views, we took our time over lunch to rest, because the final 3.5km promised to be the hardest with steep elevation gain and thinner air. In this section, I stayed with Papa while Mama and Aedric followed behind. We were moving mostly in silence, breaking only so I could signal time to rest.

“17 minutes walk, 3 minutes rest. Repeat,” I told Papa.

I needed it as much as he did. I’ve never been great with altitude sickness, so I was grateful to be moving slowly. I could feel the sides of my head beginning to pound, every step sending shocks of outward pain. We were guilty of stopping more frequently and for longer than we should have, though the views around us made it impossible to regret. The browns of the trail slowly gave way to lush greens, then pure white.

We summitted at 4 PM, 2 hours ahead of dinner, which meant we had time to rest and unwind. It was a successful day.

I tried to sleep, but my headache was only getting worse. I drank water and took some medicine, but could only manage closing my eyes, sleep slipping just out of reach. It was extremely cold. We were lucky to each have a sleeping bag, though it was hardly enough. I had a thermal top and bottom, layered over with joggers, a sweater, a puffer jacket. And yes, double socks.

By hiking standards, we were in luxury at Paiyun Lodge. Dinner was served hot, buffet-style. A medical team was on hand offering free checkups and medicine, which we took full advantage of. Surprisingly, energy in the group was high. The food helped, but importantly, we were given the go signal to proceed to the summit the following morning. We’d passed the first test. The weather was in our favor. The next day would test our equipment and our ability to stay together.

Lights off at 8:30 PM, call time 2 AM. Not much room for rest.

The following morning started in the dark: headlamps strapped, face masks lifted, jackets layered, crampons attached. This time, I guided Mama while Aedric and Joshua stayed with Papa.

This second leg was only 2.4km, but it was the most technically demanding. It was all our first time hiking in the snow, so we moved slowly, finding small amusements in the way our breath fogged and our headlamp beams cut through the dark.

The part of hiking in the dark that no one talks about is that you can't see far ahead, so you're forced to notice what's immediately around you. For the first time during the hike, I noticed the flowers and leaves. More than the browns and greens from the day before, I began to see vibrant reds, oranges, and purples. All kinds of colors were drawn out by the morning dew and the sweep of our headlamps.

For the final kilometer, we were above the tree line and fully exposed to Yushan’s strong winds. I began to miss the flowers and trees, not just for their color but for the shelter they had given us. Their trunks and branches were replaced by metal chains running parallel to the trail, which we held on to for strength and balance. I’m not understating anything by claiming falling would be fatal.

I supported Mama from behind the whole time. Joshua led our small crew, followed by Papa, then Aedric, sandwiched between the two pairs, taking photos.

The estimated summit time was two hours. It took us three. We were still climbing when the sun broke over the horizon. It was very beautiful, and I won’t pretend I didn’t feel a pang at not being at the top in that moment. But I asked Mama to stop, so we could watch the sunrise from where we stood. It was still very nice.

Mama had just turned 62. My amazement that she was up there, doing this, never left me. Papa had more strength in him than I'd realized, too. His eyes were a bother, but he had taken the 17-minute walk, 3-minute rest system to heart. So much so that he was passing it on, repeating it back to us, giving Mama the same quiet encouragement I'd given him.

The wind was strong at the summit, but the sky was clear. We could see the horizon and neighboring mountains. Yushan delivered on its promise of a breathtaking view. We were very lucky with the conditions of our weekend.

The hike was a success. The family was together not just at the summit, but throughout the hike. We missed sunrise at the top, but caught it on the way up. It was cold, and the altitude was hard on all of us, but that is part of it. There were many moments of laughter and many moments of suffering. Together, they make for many moments of joy.

Going down was a challenge of its own, but in the end, we all came down safely.

Thank you for reading!

From,
Atom