The remarkable sea caves and coastal terraces that characterize Taiwan's 66-kilometer-long Northeast Coast owe much of their shape to the convergent tectonic plates atop which Taiwan sits.
From Nanya in the north to Peikuan in the south, the rugged cliffs of the Northeast Coast form a jagged line of capes and bays dotted with magnificent rock formations. At scenic Nanya, the wind has carved the stone into remarkable shapes. Down the coast at Peikuan, the radically different topography features cuestas and so-called "tofu rock," which resembles blocks of raw tofu.
I visited the Northeast Coast just as autumn was fading into winter. Buffeted by onshore gusts, looking out at the time-ravaged shore, I wondered how much windborne sand, how much swirling water, how much battering did it take to carve out the incredible shapes we see in these million-year-old stones?
The patterns in the stone vary; they look sculpted, painted, dyed, or even pasted on. Etched into myriad shapes, they twist round one another like a chromosome articulating the individual history of each stone. But passing time, the blowing wind and the striking waves have made them far more difficult to interpret than a genome. They change every second, re-carved and recovered again and again over the course of millions of years.
Faced with these myriad transformations, I realize that nothing is eternal; we have only the present.
I hunch my shoulders against the howling winter wind, grasp my camera, and trace the fantastic patterns in the stone, freezing the present for eternity.
