Building the trail oneself
Only by having knowledge of how these roads were built can we gain a better understanding of the pioneers’ lives and the wisdom they demonstrated in living in balance with nature. The trail association has over the years assiduously promoted building trails by hand over the mechanized techniques used when projects like these are bid out to construction firms. Hsu explains that when you treat building a trail as an engineering project, the approach naturally becomes building it once to last forever. But the granite, cement and other outside materials that construction firms bring in are not things that have a lot of durability in nature. On the other hand, the most important consideration when making trails by hand is using materials that are found on site—because that makes it easy to perform regular maintenance. But handmade trails vary from place to place, so it is hard to describe in writing how to make them. Accordingly, the association has organized “trail-building holidays” for volunteers.
We participated on one such outing, repairing the Old Dunan Road section of the trail. At one place where water had washed out a slope alongside the trail, causing collapse, the maintenance crew decided to lay down layers of rocks to create a solid base for the trail. At first, Hsu and an old master trail builder examined the face of the slope visually and discussed how to repair it. Then they led the team in looking for suitable large stones. The base of the trail that had been washed away needed to be filled in with large stones, which had to be selected for their size and shape. It’s important to plan before digging. After the stones were put down, they had to be turned to get the best fit. Only then were they fixed in place. Then smaller rocks and pebbles had to be found to fill in the gaps. Finally, sand was poured into the cracks to solidify the base. Once repaired, this stretch of trail looked just like neighboring stretches from the top, but from the side it resembled patched clothing.
“This way of repairing trails is becoming a global trend,” says Hsu. “And it’s also the method the pioneers originally used.”
A Swedish engineer who has lived in Taiwan for five years was on the repair crew, as were volunteers from Taoyuan, Yilan, Changhua and Tainan. Sweat dripped off their brows and onto the soil, and their gloves became smeared with mud as they bent down to carefully examine the rocks. The biggest rocks were so heavy that volunteers could scarcely breathe as they moved them. But their lives became connected to the trail, and they were no longer strangers to the land. These experiences are some of the reasons volunteers come back to work on the trail again and again. As Hsu says, “Those who participate on these outings find them quite addictive.”
In the middle of July, at a press conference to announce the signing of a memorandum of understanding for a public‡private partnership to promote the Raknus Selu Trail, the nature writer Liu Ka-shiang made an unforgettable speech. He pointed out that Provincial Highway 3, the Sun Yat-sen Freeway and the Formosa Freeway were all opened to traffic with the aim of facilitating speed—with the idea that fast, broad roads can foster economic development. But the Raknus Selu Trail, whose route was only finalized in 2018, is wholly different: “This slow road perhaps demonstrates how the values and meaning found in life are changing within Taiwanese society.”
The Raknus Selu Trail is the Taiwan Romantic Route 3’s most romantic feature. Its path was unknown before a group of people pieced it together segment by segment. In the years ahead many more groups of volunteers will donate their time and energy to it, lugging tools and moving rocks as they build and maintain the trail one stretch at a time.
The Chuhuangkeng oilfield still holds drilling equipment from back in the day. Nearby are many other relics from the era of oil extraction.
While scouting out the trail, the task force also seek out local stories. The Church of St. Francis Xavier, tucked away near the Shiguang Old Trail at Shiguang in Hsinchu’s Guanxi Township, provided the architectural model for the much better known Church of the Sacred Heart in downtown Guanxi.
The ethos of building trails by hand considers local climate and geology, as well as local ecosystems.
“Hi ho, hi ho….” With tools on their backs, they’re off to repair the trail. Building and repairing trails by hand eschews an engineered approach, relying instead on muscle power and on finding materials on site.
Building and repairing trails by hand eschews an engineered approach, relying instead on muscle power and on finding materials on site.
This tea shelter in Fengxiang Village in Hsinchu’s Hengshan Township tells of a friendly tea culture distinct to Taiwan.
Although the winding trail is narrow, it holds an abundance of culture and history, and it beckons to people to explore it for themselves. (photo by Lin Min-hsuan)