A Circuit of Orchid Island - A Dot in the Ocean - CycleBlaze

A Circuit of Orchid Island

Light glows in the sky when I peek from under the eye-mask. It’s not quite dawn, so the time must be just after 5.00 AM. The amber sky makes me think it’ll be a sunny one and I get back inside for a few more minutes rest after checking my watch fixed inside my handlebar-bag and stay there until almost six.

The 7-Eleven has a continuous flow of customers and after a croissant and a couple of iced lattes I head back down the narrow lane and find the ferry terminal building, where a queue for tickets has already formed.

The guy in front of me has a DSLR and takes shots of the backs of the people ahead, who are nearly all in their 20s, lining up patiently, and I wonder what he’ll do with the snaps. He speaks decent English and we ponder aloud why it's all taking so long. After about 10 minutes we're stood at the counter.

US$78 gone
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My return costs NT$2,360, which equates to about US$78, or something like 47 quid if you're a Brit.

The main guy handling the passengers at the quay asks for NT$100 - a few bucks - for the bike, which is doubtfully official company policy, but I don’t bother quibbling and my bike gets wheeled away and onto the back of the two-deck ferry, to where there’s a small open area.

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I go inside and sit on the lower deck, beside a window and notice the boat is not even half full. We leave bang on time.

The sea is calm. It’s like going over a huge, blue lake. The bow cuts through the water at a good rate of speed, sending spray up onto the glass pane.

After 30 minutes there’s more swell, and a handful of dolphins appear on the opposite side of the ferry, arching through the air above the Pacific like an escort.

There are some white clouds, but the sky is predominantly blue.

After the initial excitement, people gradually drift off to sleep as the seascape continues.

There are dark clouds ahead as we dock at 10 o’clock, while to the north the sky is basically cloudless.

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I go anti-clockwise so as to cycle beside the ocean and wonder if it’ll get rainy before too long. It seems likely.

There’s a short climb lasting a few minutes which takes me to a vantage point overlooking a small harbor, where a few small boats are moored in aquamarine water.

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Spots of gentle rain hit me as I take a shot, but by the time I’ve descended down to find shelter it’s blown over.

It’s tempting to take a dip in the sheltered sea to cool down, as even though it's cloudy, it's also pretty humid, but I opt to keep pedaling.

There’s little traffic.

The road is poured concrete all the way and the surface is quite rutted and needs renewing.

At one place the route squeezes between two tall faces of dark rock and I then pass by the entrance to the controversial nuclear storage site without really knowing what it is until later.

More strange rock formations appear and I stop and clamber up a craggy incline, the stone's composition looking like badly poured concrete. It's volcanic, with sharp, jagged edges and fist-sized pock marks.

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The road then wiggles and curves around Lanyu’s southern-most tip and heads along the island’s east coastline, where goats stand on the uppermost parts of gnarly outcrops as though wanting to prove a point. They stare down at me, seemingly wondering what I'm up to.

It’s around 1.30 when I find a VW camper selling cold drinks. It’s a welcome sight and I rest in the shade of a wooden shelter and buy a can of Coke, then watch as rain clouds come closer.

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When drops splatter on the road I get the bike under cover and I'm soon joined by a twenty-ish couple who have jumped off a rented scooter. The guy's wet cotton shirt is stuck to his torso already. His partner, Hannah, in on a working holiday and has been staying on the island for a month or so. Frank has flown down from Taipei to see her. 

Hannah’s making and selling beaded jewelry to holidaymakers; Frank’s stressed out by his job and recites a saying that he saw online...  something like: instead of waiting for the storm to pass, learn to dance in the rain. I tell him I’ve never heard of it, but can sense it gives him some kind of comfort. 

His phone rings a few times with messages relating to work. He can't escape.

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Not long after I stop for another drink simply because the café looks nice and perhaps there’s a chance of a bite to eat. 

It’s about 2pm, but there’s not much of a menu in Daughter’s Cafe. The chirpy owner, Ann, suggests a chilled milk tea and after I guzzle that down I ask for a second. 

We chat, as her English is good. She’s basically taught herself and tells me she enjoys movies. 

She cuts a pomello in half and I peel and scoff the grapefruit-like segments while enjoying the view out of the cafe window - the blue sea and the long Dongqing Bay stretching back where I’ve just come from, with green mountainsides rising up more or less from the water’s edge.

She knows she’s lucky. The location is wonderful.

Ann tells me just up the road is a nice walking path and I can see that it clearly rises to the top of an outcrop. I head off into the hot sunshine to explore it.

It’s now actually sweltering and the clouds have basically all gone, which makes it a sweaty job climbing the countless steps, some of which have crumbled away, with a dangerous fall a real possibility. Each foot I place carefully and after a few minutes it occurs to me to head back down, but the top seems just a few more steps away, so I keep on going up, like one of those silly goats I’ve seen en route. 

Finally, there's a small, living-room size grassy patch from which the vista is impressive and it convinces me the slog was worth it after all.

Then I begin to trek down.

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Not far up the concrete road, maybe a kilometre, just as I’m taking a self-timed photo with my tripod set up on the road, the guy from the ferry building I chatted to stops on his rented scooter. We chat for a bit and I explain the routine for self-photographing myself riding.

My Canon’s programmable timer has made it easier to take these selfies, as it’s set to take two shots after 15 seconds – enough time for me to cycle where I want to be.

I show him the tripod, which is a new one I bought for the trip, thinking it was lighter than my old Slick one. Actually it’s about the same once the ball-head is off. My new one has a small Gizmo head that had been knocking around, but it doesn't have a shoe attached, meaning the camera has to be threaded onto the tripod head each time.

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After this, the road soon rounds the top eastern corner and simultaneously presents a small climb, at the top of which is a kind of tunnel formed by slabs of mountain side which are angled rather precariously, with an overhang reaching half way across the road.

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I feel pretty much cooked, what with the temperature being in the 30s, and opt to pause in the welcome shade of the rock where I soon get talking to two Germans who are riding rented bikes. They're interns and have taken a break to explore some of the less visited parts of Taiwan. They ask me about places to go and my suggestion is up to Smangus, a remote aboriginal village not too from where one of them is based, in Hsinchu County. 

The loop of the island is completed and I start looking for a place to sleep. The few people I’ve spoken to reckon a basic B&B should cost NT$500, so when one owner near the harbour quotes me 3,000 I keep on riding. That's around US$100. 

A helpful guest at one place shows me to a nearby B&B tucked away down a back alley, but the owner isn’t home, so I wander around the small village, which consists of a few sloping streets. Eventually a local directs me back to the same place and then goes off to find the elusive owner, who, when he turns up 30 minutes later, tells me apologetically that he’s fully booked.

However, he points out a couple of wooden shelters in the small strip of garden, saying I could put my tent on one and for 200 Taiwanese dollars and get to use any indoor facilities, which boils down to the shower and toilet. It’s better than nothing and I get washed before the crowd of a dozen Taiwanese arrive.

Across to the west, beyond the sloping side of a nearby mountain, the sunset is dramatic, an array of orange and amber swirls that merge with semi-opaque grey clouds.

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It's time to eat. My stomach is empty. What are the dining options?

The owner dismisses the nearby restaurant I'd noticed - somewhat pretentious and over-ambitiously named Epicurean. It's a blue and white painted wooden structure decked out to look like a chic beach shack. He tells me it's for tourists only and advises to go to one of a couple of cheaper places where he and other locals usually dine. Nevertheless, as it’s just around the corner and I’m too tired to traipse around, I get a seat inside.

After a mediocre curry I move outside and chill with a bottle of Taiwan beer, hoping that the thunder storm which sweeps suddenly and noisily across the island will cool everything down. I need to get a decent night’s sleep.

The sky spasmodically clears for a minute or two to reveal a moon which isn't quite full. It reminds me that Moon Festival is in a couple of nights.

It is a bad night again. The heat and humidity make sleep a hard thing to come by. Initially I sweat in my tent but within a minute or two it proves too much and I'm back outside, searching for some rare breeze on a breathless evening.

At six it's seems best to get up and get going.

Today's ride: 40 km (25 miles)
Total: 52 km (32 miles)

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