Watching the swollen Hsiu-kuluan River sweep by before the start of the International White-Water Rafting Race in Hualien last month was one of those rare moments in the out-doors which reveal an awareness of the immense power of nature.
Thanks to a recent typhoon, the river--and the race--was very different this year. Accounts of the previous six races told of a much calmer venue, of a river that offered fine examples of white-water adventure but never the adrenaline-charged, gripping thrill ride I experienced. This race was a spectacular white-water encounter.
A Big, Fast River
It was my first white-water rafting experience. Considering myself an outdoorsman, I had always wanted to go rafting before but something invariably came up. I thought I knew what to expect on the water but was very surprised with both my own excitement about the competition and the beauty of the place. A cloudy day and drizzling rain prevented us from fully enjoying the incredible scenery. In fact, the lush green mountains lording over the river the entire race were dramatic, but we had very little time to do much sightseeing. The river demanded our total attention.
Rowing for most of two hours straight was more exercise than I had had for months; it was a lot of hard work. Our crew of seven--the "Chinese-American Team"--consisted of five women and two men. Only one of us had ever been rafting before. We had sore muscles the next day but I believe we all got what we came for. The river meted out to the nearly 1,400 rafters--230 boats with crews of six or seven from several countries--a superb ride on 20 or so sets of moderate level-three rapids.(Halfway on the international scale of white-water expertise of one to six, the latter being almost unnavigable even by seasoned rafters.)
Typhoon Deanna, which caused millions of U.S. dollars in damage to farmland, roads, and bridges in southern and central Taiwan, greatly intensified the race by dumping untold tons of rainfall throughout the area just prior to the race. A side tour of nearby Taroko National Park, sponsored by the national Tourism Bureau, was canceled because of road and bridge washouts.
Taiwan has good rafting rivers due to its high mountains and large quantity of annual rainfall. The Hsiukuluan River begins in the pristine Central Mountains in southern Taiwan. It is in these mountains that the river builds momentum and most of its strength by catching all the runoff of rain from thousands of square miles of hills and valleys. The area is one of Taiwan's least-developed regions as industry as well as the majority of the population tends to be massed on the flatter east coast.
The site of the race is a 22-kilometer stretch just before the river empties into the Pacific Ocean at Rainbow Bridge. The entire river is 108 kilometers long and hosts 60,000 to 70,000 rafters a year, making it Taiwan's most sought-after rafting venue. Second most popular is the Laonung River in Kaohsiung county, but it doesn't compare to the volume of activity on the Hsiukuluan. There is yet another site in the Huisun Forest in Nantou county, north of Puli; it is said to be pleasantly uncommercialized, relatively unexplored, and very good for hiking.
Some of the danger we experienced on the river did not come directly from the rapids themselves--which came close to casually capsizing our raft a couple of times--but from the current which often sent us hurtling into sheer rock walls. There was always a little panic when the boat got too close to the boulders. At times, we lost control from the precipitous velocity of the river, betting our limbs on the faith that the Taiwanese-made Dolphin raft was really "well-made in Taiwan" and that it just wasn't our time to get plunked against a solid granite wall. (We lost our captain overboard once. It was, shall we say, interesting getting him back on board in the midst of the ever-present rapids. Poor guy--it took most of the crew to haul him up!)
At these moments of near peril, it was time for everyone to hold on tightly to the center cross rope. Just before impact, someone would invariably yell 'legs!' so that no one would scrape or do worse damage to his or her one leg hanging over the side into the water. Spinning helplessly for a minute or two was common after we lost control. Apart from the fear of being capsized, the worst thing to happen to the competitors was to get caught in paralyzing eddies and pools and lose precious minutes; this happened to even the most professional rafters. We passed random teams of other rafters caught up in these nearly invisible vortexes, helpless but happy expressions on their faces.
Endurance
The toughest part of the race may have been keeping up the constant pace of rowing--fatigue would set in and the crew would lose momentum for awhile. Someone would then spontaneously take charge by rallying us with a little verbal nudging. We took turns chanting 'row, row' over and over again, or counting 'one, two, one, two' in every foreign language we could think of to break the monotony--particularly if that nationality's boat happened to be trying to pass us. At one point we broke into singing 'Row, Row, Row Your Boat, Quickly Down the Rapids.'
We got into the spirit of the competition even though initially we meant only to have fun and, of course, see the river. But after the race began and the other boats commanded by many nationalities--from French, German, and Korean rafters to an Uzbeki kayaker--started passing us by, we simply had to find some hidden reserve of energy and re-establish the crew's rhythms, even if our backs and arms ached miserably. We slogged through and managed a pretty good effort; we came in thirty-something at 2 hours, 5 minutes, and 48 seconds. In the end, however, we felt victorious, exhausted, and very, very wet.
The first place win went to a Japanese team of professional rafters at 1 hour, 33 minutes, and 59 seconds. This was an all-time record for the race because of the speed of the typhoon-filled river. It was also the first win by a Japanese team. One of the team's members, Dave Berry, a long-time rafting aficionado from Australia but living in Tokyo, modestly said their secret to the win was that they had "paddled hard." He said the river gave his team some unanticipated thrills, however. Particularly the effect of having the second-place neophyte team--the Taiwan Aborigine Culture Foundation--"breathing down our necks the whole race." That, and the fast water, kept them going to victory. "We passed 37 or 38 boats along the way." The crew runs a river rafting company on the Tone River in central Japan in the summer.
A travel agent from San Francisco found the experience exhilarating. "It was exciting and a lot of fun. I would do it again. But I didn't know how risky it was; it was a challenge to my self-confidence. A lot of people do this kind of thing to test their limits," she said.
River tour agents in Hualien can book a rafting trip on the Hsiukuluan River for about NT$1,000, which includes equipment and lunch. Call the national Tourism Bureau at (02)349-1500 for more information about white-water rafting in Taiwan and next year's race on the Hsiukuluan River.