Soaking In Su'ao

On 29 February 2020, we went to Su'ao, for a few reasons. Someone told us that it was a quick and painless one hour bus ride from Nangang, the weather was good, and it was one of those situations that come up spontaneously that you either jump at or let pass by and know it will never come up again. Had we not gone to Su'ao on this trip, we would have probably lived the rest of our lives without ever knowing the place exists.

Su'ao is a tiny fishing village on the southern tip of Yilan County, which is to the immediate southeast of Taipei County. The road from Nangang to Yilan is entirely mountains. From the bus, we could easily see over the edge of the road, which was often suspended high enough between hilltops that crashing over would have made the evening news. Fortunately for everyone who drives back and forth between the two, Taiwan spent 15 years and a few billion dollars to dig a few tunnels through the mountains. The final tunnel, when headed south, is the longest tunnel in Taiwan. Apparently, the 30 minute drive from Nangang to Yilan took over two hours before they bore through the mountains.

Once out of the last tunnel, the mountains of Taipei County gave way to the open plains of Yilan County. But we could still see plenty of mountains. Yilan is bordered to the north, west and south by mountains. East of Yilan is the Pacific Ocean. The drive from the northern tip of Yilan to the south is another 30 minutes at practically sea level.

Though Yilan borders the ocean, Su'ao was the only coastal village anyone ever recommended we see. The Taiwanese, much like the Chinese, are not terribly impressed by waterfront property. The few people who live on the coast are usually too poor to afford a nice house deeper inland, where there are more pubs and far less parking. Su'ao was less Côte d'Azur and more Kat O.

Downtown Su'ao looked like downtown any city in Taiwan. I mean no disrespect to the people of Taiwan, but the cities are mostly drab, homogeneous and the opposite of photogenic. It is the natural side of Taiwan that makes the country beautiful.

The fishing village was small enough to walk around in an hour or less, at a leisurely pace. It had the usual temples, snack carts and about a million places to get a drink. One of the great things about Taiwan is that you are never more than a block away from food and drinks.

Just south of the fishing village was an observation platform built on one of the mountains. The climb up was not particularly steep. We saw no one else on the trail, and assumed the platform would be empty. Once there, we saw at least a hundred people on a wooden deck that was probably not built to withstand one hundred people. If the platform ever collapses, everyone on it will plunge straight down to their deaths. How everyone got there was a mystery. The tiny parking lot next to the platform could hold a dozen cars at most, and street parking on the winding road uphill was neither safe nor available.

The view from the observation platform was limited by geography. Directly west and south were hilltops. North was the fishing village, with smaller hills blocking any view farther north. East was a small beach with hard sand the color of concrete. It was a good day to go to the beach, but that beach did not look inviting to us. Beyond the beach was the Pacific Ocean, which always looks good on a clear day, but there were no waves to make it more interesting.

Though we decided not to go to the beach, the trail down from the observation platform led us pretty close, so we had a look. Had I been born and raised in a desert and never traveled, I might think this was a nice beach. As it is, I have been to Bali, Antibes, Hawaii, Florida, California, Tel Aviv and probably a hundred other places with nicer beaches. I assume Taiwan has nicer beaches somewhere. I think this is more of a problem with comparing unequal things than anything wrong with the beach itself. Similarly, people like to tell me about all the temples in Taiwan. But I have seen a million Buddhist, Hindu, Confucian, Taoist, Shinto temples and shrines in China, Thailand and Japan. After a while, they all start to blend together. It would be like taking a tour of Christian churches in the United States. The Basilica of Saint Mary in Minneapolis is nice, but the First Church of Whatnot in Anytown, USA is probably nothing you spend much time photographing.

The two most popular activities in Su'ao are eating and bathing. Neither Lily nor I eat seafood. She is painfully allergic to shellfish. Going to a fishing village might not seem like a good idea, but her issue is nothing like some people with peanuts. She has to eat it to react. The mere sight or smell does not harm her.

Bathing, on the other hand, was something that caught our attention. Su'ao is home to Taiwan's only natural calcium carbon springs. They are supposed to have high sodium ion levels and the highest carbonic ion levels in the country. What that boils down to is that the springs are essentially carbonated water, without any of the sugar and syrups of pop. We were told that the water was perfectly safe to drink, but we were never about to try it. Some people even take the water, add various flavored syrups and sell homemade pop on the street. We did not try that either.

The Su'ao cold springs are not hot springs. They average around 22°C/72°F; far from freezing, but a bit of a shock when you first step in. That turned out to be good news for us. Regardless of the heat and humidity, this was still winter, and the Taiwanese are not about to go to a cold spring in the middle of winter. Like their cousins in China, they dress for the season, not the weather. No matter how hot it is, a cold spring is simply not a winter activity. Ironically, hot springs are popular in winter and summer.

This meant we had the place to ourselves. Since the springs are natural and flow in and around Su'ao, there were a few establishments available. Despite the season, they were all open, which means someone must use them in February. I doubt they stayed open on the off chance that some foreigners would happen to show up. The largest, most expensive and most popular cold spring in the middle of the year looked like some kind of ancient Roman bath. We did not use that one, mostly because it was the most expensive and they seemed pretty strict about their 40 minute time limit. The cheapest spring was little more than a stream next to the train tracks. We did not go there either. We wanted something in between.

We chose a mostly outdoor cold spring uphill but not deep into the mountains. All of the springs are natural, but the Taiwanese are capitalist enough that people learned long ago how to limit access and enclose the waters so others have to pay to get in. It was almost like a community swimming pool, except our surroundings were more natural than concrete and the water was nothing like a chlorinated pool/public toilet.

The most expensive cold spring had private cabins. Despite the time limit, we assumed we would have to use that one. Our hotel did not have a swimming pool, so we did not bring bathing suits to Taiwan. Taipei is not the kind of place you go swimming unless your hotel has a pool. The medium priced cold spring did not have private cabins, but the woman who ran the place told us we could wear whatever we wanted in the water. Since it was not a swimming pool, there were no filters to worry about clogging. She told us that most people wore shorts and t-shirts.

I am a firm proponent of swimming nude. But this was not swimming. At no point was the water deep enough to do more than soak. Lily was open to soaking nude. The only other person on the premises was the woman who operated the place. She was a small Chinese woman, somewhere on the border between middle age and elderly. She did not strike us as much of a threat to our safety.

We both wore shorts to Su'ao because it was a hot day and we knew there would be a lot of walking around and hiking. We had t-shirts in our backpacks because bringing extra clothes is always a good idea on any day trip in Taiwan or China. Changing out of our tops and into the t-shirts was an obvious decision. We had no bathing suits, but we had the cold spring uniform.

Lily was quick to point out that wet shorts never feel good while swimming, even if we were only soaking, and feel even worse after you get out of the water and walk around town. We both knew that the heat and oppressive humidity of Taiwan would dry our shorts in no time. We also knew how terrible it would feel between wet and dry. Livia's solution was to not wear shorts. She was willing to soak nude, so soaking in her underwear was not difficult. I wanted more protection. Not so much from prying eyes. There was no one else there. But I knew nothing about that water. Livia reminded me that it was potable. I told her that if she drank some, I would consider soaking nude. I would never walk down the street in what I wore in that cold spring, but no one got naked that afternoon.