A "Three-Star" Vacation-- Ecotourism in Tingpentsai

Tingpentsai is the uppermost of three hamlets that make up Kuanghua Village, which lies in a horseshoe-shaped valley on the slopes of Mt. Niu in the western foothills of the Alishan range. The name originally meant "Upper Hollow," but when civil servants who arrived from mainland China in the late 1940s recorded the name, not understanding the local Minnan dialect they mistranscribed it with characters that can be taken to mean "Utter Numskull."

From Shihchuo on the Alishan Highway (Provincial Highway 18), if you turn onto County Highway 159-A and drive for 15 minutes you'll be met with the sight of Tingpentsai, which has become famous recently for its "flying squirrel show." As we entered the village on this visit, we were greeted by a lineup of half a dozen smiling young men wearing flying squirrel T-shirts.

"Kuanghua Village has been long forgotten, but we've been able to turn that to our advantage," says pony-tailed guide Liu Chia-jung, deliberately speaking in a heavily Taiwanese-accented Mandarin. Kuanghua sits at a mid-to-low elevation and has a wealth of flora and fauna, but since tour buses couldn't get in, for decades it could take no part in Alishan's tourist boom. But fortunately, this has meant that they have been able to preserve both a great deal of their flora and fauna, and their rural culture.

"There aren't too many second-growth forests this big left in the Alishan area," says Liu. Researchers have tallied up the number of different kinds of bird, bug, and mammal in the Tingpentsai area, and found a total of 52 endemic species and 37 protected species. In particular there are three different species of Taiwanese flying squirrel-the white-faced flying squirrel, the Formosan giant flying squirrel, and the Formosan hairy-footed flying squirrel-all in stable numbers thanks to the rich variety of fruits and seeds available in the forest year-round. Taiwan's other flying squirrel preserves have nothing on the "flying squirrel show" here, being either in impenetrable primeval jungle or in overdeveloped or over-hunted forest plantations.

It's eight o'clock, and dinner time's done for the flying squirrels! As visitors are led out into the forest, not only are they not allowed to make any noise, after 15 minutes the tour guide even turns off the spotlight to make sure the squirrels aren't overly disturbed.

"Tingpentsai has three kinds of stars-the 'tree stars,' which are the glittering, reflective eyes of the flying squirrels; the 'sky stars,' which you can see filling the clear night sky when the lights are out; and the 'earth stars,' which are the fireflies that are all over the mountains," says Liu. The fireflies in Tingpentsai could be considered the area's second major attraction behind the flying squirrels. As well as the Luciola cerata that blanket the woods in spring, Luciola chinensis hang over the giant bamboo like Christmas lights in their summer breeding season, and in winter Lychnuris praetexta put on a stunning light show, with their lights lasting as long as ten seconds a burst, reinforcing most people's impression of fireflies in Taiwan as being "like sparkling gems." Then, during summer, once the fireflies have turned off the lights and gone home for the night, there is still Mycena chlorophos, a rare luminescent mushroom found in the bamboo forest.

With such a parade of stars on show, over the past two years Tingpentsai has begun running dedicated tours, which has in turn transformed this once overlooked rural village, giving it an identity all of its own rather then just being a stop-by place when people visit the nearby famous Fenchihu. The residents of the village have embraced this experiment in making ecotourism their successor to agriculture, placing strict restrictions on tours in order to protect the environment. For example, numbers in tour groups are kept under tight control to avoid disturbing the squirrels.

As well as the stars, this hamlet at 1000 meters above sea level has a quaint, rustic feel that is utterly enchanting.

When Chinese settlers first started coming to Tingpentsai and cultivating the land more than two centuries ago, the scarce water supplies led them to work hard piling stones to create terraced fields and carving out irrigation ditches. The immigrants built houses, cultivated farms, raised children, and planted bamboo forests. By the 1940s and 50s, high quality bamboo from Tingpentsai proved an excellent material for the booming paper and bamboo industries, and locals began heading down the mountain to sell their wares, making some pretty good profits in the process.

Later, local farmers began turning more to growing tea and betel nuts, and while the paper industry became history, the villagers held on to the various pieces of paper-making equipment as heirlooms for their children and grandchildren.

The villagers' love of such relics is clear to see. One person owns and treasures their grandmother's dowry box and chest of drawers; the head of the village preserves a century-old bridal sedan; and another resident has a comprehensive and well presented collection of photos and documents relating to the "wheatflour road"-the stretch of what is now the Alishan Highway from Shihchuo to Shihtsulu, which was first built as an unmetalled road in the 1950s with money that the government raised by selling wheat flour donated in aid by the US. Visiting one old family homestead, I am greeted by the head of the household, who takes me around the house explaining how it was built without nails, with the walls constructed with a bamboo skeleton covered in a cement of mud and banana leaf fiber, then covered over finally with a layer of lime. "Even in an earthquake it's safe as houses-when the big one hit Chiayi in 1964, this place came out totally unharmed!"

Beside the road stands a sign written up by Liu Ning-fu, owner of a house named Plum Villa, which reads, "When the flowers of the heart blossom, goodness is found everywhere." The elderly Mr. Liu has kindly opened his organic plum orchard to tourists, apparently not concerned in the least about the tranquil environment being wrecked by noisy outsiders. His approach to his trees and the soil is just as warm as his approach to people-he uses no herbicides, no chemical fertilizers, and nothing else artificial to stimulate growth. Instead, he lets the bugs and plants coexist. Sampling the tea plums and marinated plums Mr. Liu and his wife have produced is not only a relaxing experience, but also one that leaves you with a taste of their abiding love for their land.

After I get back to my guesthouse in the evening, the hostess brings me a steaming tray of snacks. The next morning, I awaken to a glorious dish of stir-fried fresh day-lily flowers, after which the host hangs out with his guests, sitting around in the garden and chatting idly.

As I head out of the village and back home, the village committee wave farewell. While I may be saying goodbye to the village, I'll never say goodbye to the memories of the adorable flying squirrels and the smiling, friendly faces of the villagers.

Everyone in Tingpentsai is a member of the extended Liu family, and thus all are relatives. Inside the century-old house of Liu Ning-chuan sits a beloved chest of drawers, along with various other artifacts from ancestors: a holy rock from the founding of the village, the base of a stone chimney, rice milling tools, a bamboo pillow with a compartment for keeping jewelry, and so on. The 70-plus "Auntie Ning-chuan" gives an impassioned introduction to these various treasures to guests, even putting on a bridal undertunic. On the left in the picture is tour guide and enthusiastic promoter of community development Liu Chia-jung.

The family of "Uncle Chu" was involved in the production of wooden clogs-Japanese geta-during Japanese rule of Taiwan, and created these nearly five-kilogram clogs to help people train their leg strength. After enough practice, the story goes, one would be able to practically flit about like a butterfly.

This century-old bridal sedan has carried over 100 brides into their new lives. Liu Chia-jung remembers when his older sister married a man from Fenchihu back in the 1960s. Her sedan set off before sunrise on the rough mountain path, with six to eight men taking turns to carry it. They didn't make it to the groom's house until midday.