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The following provides information on Taiwan as we get it. The rationale is that Taiwan is the foreign land most frequently visited by HKPA pilots.
- Taiwan Links
- Taiwan News
- Pilots' experiences in Taiwan
- Photos (not in yet)
 Taiwan links on the web:
English : OrangeWings over Taiwan , or the Taitung website.
Chinese: Two offerings: Taiwan's main website , and the homepage of the Puli Club.
Taiwan News:
Changes at Saichia : There has been much flux at the Saichia site, the main site for cross country flying in Taiwan. Several months ago, the launch became the responsibility of the Pintung Paragliding Association which got a government grant to do a good job. This caused some resentment in Taiwan because the Pintung Association asked for a site fee. They also banned unlicensed instructors and unqualified solo pilots. The Pintung Association also removed all the garbage and kept the crowds away from pilots lauching. The HK flying community was very satisfied with these changes. However, it appears (June 2002) that the government grant has been spent. So the Saichia site faces an uncertain future. We will see what happens in the fall when the season starts.
Excellent Flying: Over the past few years, visits to Taiwan by HK pilots have increased a lot. About 20 HKPA members went over there, which means about half of HKPA membership. These individuals, who have all flown at sites in various countries, all came back with excellent memories of their time there. There is a growing "Liukuei Club" comprising the HK pilots who managed to reach the town which is 35km away from take off.
A busy man: His mother recovering from surgery, Chien Wan-chuan is now too busy with the family business to teach paragliding. His brother the Instructor Chien Wan-sheng (Sunny) is now working in Taichung and has given up paragliding.
Welcome any time: Foreign pilots are as usual warmly welcomed in Taiwan. More and more people in Taiwan are coming to realise that Saichia has much less international fame than it deserves, and they would be quite happy that Saichia became a better-known international paragliding hot spot.
These are Steve Williamson boots, on arrival at Liukuei.
Reports:
1. Reaching Liukuei (initially supposed to appear in Cross Country).
2. Ten days in Saichia
3. Hualien in July
1. Reaching Liukuei (January 2002). by J.F. Tremblay
“Jeff, you're drifting. Let's cross,” Kevin said. I left the thermal, and the 25-km trip began.
It had been five years that I had been trying to reach Liukuei. It was a running joke in the southern Taiwan flying community. Jeff, the guy who's trying to go to Liukuei. Every time I'd get to a thousand meters I'd cross the valley and aim for the distant town. First on a Stellar, then a Flame, and now a Bandit. I fell through trees twice during attempts so committed I'd never look for possible landing areas. In 1998, I landed a few frustratingly short kilometers from Liukuei.
Other than lack of skills and uncooperative weather, injuries had contributed to delay my arrival in Liukuei during those five years. In 1999, while on a trip to Korea, my foot hit a rock at take off. I had been hugely embarrassed that it had been my host Song Gin Seok who took me to a Seoul hospital. The ligament injury on the ankle took months to recover -never fully- and my skills deteriorated during that time.
The memories of a scary accident in January 2001 had become the biggest hurdle in my reaching Liukuei. In late-afternoon conditions at a site near Pune, India, my paraglider had a big deflation while I was scratching for lift. The surge turned my glider towards the hill and I impacted. I've been wary of turbulence ever since.
For the Taiwanese, reaching Liukuei is a rite of passage, but it certainly doesn't mark one as a sky god. Kevin, arguably Hong Kong's best pilot, had reached Liukuei once on the first day, and twice on the second day. After 12 successful trips in the past year, he had become an expert of the Liukuei route and knew where every thermal trigger was.
Saichia is a famous site in east Asia. For Japanese, it is a sort of paragliding Mecca, a blessed place repeatedly featured in magazines and a favorite winter destination. For us in Hong Kong, it is only a one-hour flight to Kaohsiung, and 40-minutes drive to our hotel in Pintung. We're lucky that unlike the Japanese for whom it takes a full day to reach Saichia, we can fly the site several times every season. Nonetheless, there were over 70 Japanese pilots flying with us this February, more than I had ever seen there. It was also about double the total number of active pilots in the whole of Hong Kong.
The Hong Kong team in Saichia consisted of Cathay Pacific pilot Nick Jaffe on an Oasis, Kevin Hawkins, a quantity surveyor on an Omega 5 and entrepreneur Steve Yancey, usually seen walking to untried launches carrying his Pilot 1 wing or riding a Harley-Davidson in Wanchai. Legislator and tycoon David Chu had also joined us, renewing a relationship with paragliding that had lapsed 4 years earlier.
It was our fifth day at Saichia. It was February 13, during the lunar new year holiday. The Taiwanese pilots are normally out in force during this holiday, the longest one of the year in Chinese Asia, as well as Vietnam and Korea. This year marked the first New Year that the Saichia take off was under the tight management of the Saichia Paragliding Club. Gone from the sites were the garbage and unlicensed instructors. For the first time, a fence separated the pilots from the huge crowd of boisterous onlookers.
Nick was not supposed to be in Taiwan. Three night earlier, he had called from Hong Kong when he had just returned from Australia where he had flown 200Km in Manilla. I told him he needed to come immediately, the conditions were awesome. Nick, who is completing a second year as chairman of the Hong Kong Paragliding Association, rushed to the airport. But such is paragliding that on the third and fourth day, the weather deteriorated and we barely flew. Nick was giving me the eye every now and then.
On the fifth day, it was on. Blue sky, high clouds, a day promising great achievements. Except for me who had gotten off the van half way up the hill for my morning jog, we all got ready as soon as the van reached take off because the thermals were starting to come through about 40 minutes earlier than usual. While Nick was in position to launch, I was scrambling to change into my paragliding clothes and get myself ready to fly.
“Steve's away. I will be following within five minutes,” I said. It was our first radio contact. Steve took off, and I immediately followed. I found a good thermal quickly, but a moron clueless about thermalling etiquette got in the way. Steve went way above, and I was still struggling. I was listening only to my vario, so I did not hear when Kevin told Steve to cross the valley and get to the other ridge.
I left the gaggle of pilots looking for lift near take off and found my own 4m/s ticket in a deserted area near take off. Kevin, who was still hovering above, noticed my rapid ascent, and that's when he ordered me to follow him. Knowing how much I wanted to reach Liukuei, he had waited ten minutes in the air for me to climb to a decent height.
As I was crossing the 3-km gap behind Kevin's Omega 5, I felt sorry for Nick on his Oasis whom I thought was not high enough to be with us. As for Steve, as far as I knew, he was still enjoying the air above take off.
Getting high again on the other side of the valley was the most challenging part, Kevin had said many times. The only reliable area of lift was also the roughest. His method was simple. “I get close to those trees, spread my legs, and wait to get whacked. If I can't recover, I am only a few meters away from the trees, so only my ego is bruised. It's rough, but if you can stand it, you're pretty sure to reach Liukuei.”
Although since India rough air had been spooking me, I suppressed my worries this time. The air across the valley wasn't that rough anyway. The lift wasn't where Kevin said it would be but we found it. If we hadn't, I think we were too far back over the jungle to reach a landing area. We just had to climb.
Earlier on, Kevin had said: “When you start looking for a landing, that's when you go down.” I had replied that with two jungle landings to my credit during my earlier attempts to reach Liukuei, I had already given a fair run to the don't-look-for-a-landing theory. But this time, as in my earlier days, I didn't think of landing.
We pressed on. Kevin gave some instructions to Steve on the radio. That's when I realized that Steve was the red glider ahead of us. He was doing extremely well considering that it was his first time across the valley. I remembered being overwhelmed the first time I had crossed the valley to encounter the strong lift and high hills. Working as a team and more experienced with the area, Kevin and I were quicker than he was in finding lift and covering distance. We caught up with him.
After 15km, we reached the second big valley. Steve was now behind us, but still hanging in there. He eventually landed five kilometers short of Liukuei. Kevin and I climbed to about 1200m before crossing the 2-km gap. As we approached the other side, Kevin headed for a nullah where he said the lift always was. Following below and behind him, my wing tip hit lift and I started to circle a multiple-cored thermal as Kevin pressed on.
Kevin found lift where he had gone to look for it and we reached the same height. We pressed on. We flew past one of his usual thermal triggers, but it wasn't operating that day. We found lift at the edge of a spur further down, a thermal that allowed us to glide only a few extra kilometers. Liukuei was now clearly visible. Victory was at hand! But I killed that thought. Elation typically leads to premature landings.
Still too far to land in Liukuei, we hit a patch of broken lift just when we really needed to get higher. These barely scratchable blasts of wind were not giving us the height gain we needed. I thought: “Liukuei is that way, that's where I am going to look for lift.” I left Kevin with the scratchy lift. Nick later said that these are the most critical decisions we make during cross-country journeys.
I headed for the next spur and found the thermal I was looking for. On the radio, I heard say calmly “that was well done.” He was still scratching one kilometer behind. “Get with the program,” I replied to amuse him. The phrase had been of my trademarks, three years ago when I was the one leading Kevin unsuccessfully to Liukuei. He managed to get high again.
“Kevin, are you the three gliders coming towards Liukuei,” Nick asked on the radio. I had no idea he had been ahead of us the whole time. Kevin asked where Nick was. “In the Liukuei schoolyard,” Nick said. “Do you need an interpreter?” I asked Nick. I was the only Chinese-speaker among the three of us. “Where is the school?” Kevin asked.
Kevin and I crossed another steep valley, moving closer to the center of Liukuei in search of the school. By then, getting close to the trees behind Kevin to look for lift had become a standard way to fly. I hit some rough air and raised my head in time to see a very large asymmetric deflation. Weight shift, counter steer. I got closer to the trees, but no problem. Jocky would have been proud.
“I just had a 70%. I am going to call it a day,” I commented as I headed for the dry river bed. Why risk a tree landing on the day I finally reach Liukuei? The air above the river bed was rough. The canopy was dancing above my head. 30 meters. Still quite rough. 10 meters, low enough to free fall. Landing. In Liukuei! Kevin looked for Nick for a while, but landed next to me.
After a few photos, we were on our way back to Saichia. We left Nick to his own devices, he'd figure out a way to get back. We hitched a ride to Kevin's usual transportation hub in Liukuei: the head of a farming family on whose truck Kevin typically rides back. The extended family was there on account of the Lunar New Year, and with my interpretation, Kevin could finally tell them a few things about himself. We shared soya milk and beetle nuts with the warm-hearted family before loading into the truck.
Back at the Saichia take off, I couldn't stop telling everyone about my achievement. “It's about time,” most said. After hearing me ten times saying that I had reached Liukuei, Les Sharp, a Taiwan-based instructor who runs the Asia TalkList, commented that there was a six-year old girl among the crowd of spectators at take off who probably hadn't heard about it.
There were perhaps ten pilots who reached Liukuei that day with us. But after five years of trying, reaching Liukuei had become my main objective in paragliding. As Nick would put it, good fun was had by all.
Ten days in Saichia, south Taiwan (Jan. 98) by JF Tremblay (Yes, same person)
Saichia is an outstanding place for paragliding and hang gliding. A pilot living in Hong Kong simply has to go there. I flew there every day from December 25 to January 4, and it was greatly satisfying. Getting to Saichia is easy. I took the 10:30 flight to Kaohsiung, arrived at 11:30. Thick with clouds in Hong Kong, clear blue sky in Kaohsiung. By 12:00, I had negotiated with a taxi driver to take me to the Saichia flying site for NT$1000 (HK$250). The ride takes over one hour. The driver had never been there, so I had to guide him a bit. But if one doesn't know the way, it's simply a matter of going to Shuimen or Shandimen, and asking for directions there. If your driver doesn't know either Shandimen or Shuimen, get another taxi.
From the landing area, I took the taxi again to the take off. That is a 20 minute ride on a narrow, sinuous paved road. The take off is at about 360 meters above sea level, while landing is about 20m above sea level. There is farmland in front of the take off, and mountains behind and on the sides (ridge).
15 minutes after take off at about 2:30 on December 25, my vario was indicating 1100, with lift in every direction. I had given myself a limit of 1000m for the first day, because I think this is usually when people get overenthusiastic. But it was possible to get to about 1800 meters. I landed about one hour later at Saichia's famously large landing area, about 200m by 200m. It seemed possible to catch thermals back up starting from 30m above ground, but the excitment had already exceeded my expectations.
Two particularly enthusiastic (and skilled) Japanese pilots explained to me what makes Saichia superior compared to most flying sites in Japan. As a reminder, the latter is a country of mountains, so I was curious why Japan didn't seem to have sites better than Saichia. One of these Japanese pilots has been coming to Saichia every Christmas for the past 5 years. The Japanese pilots say that thermals in Japan are strong and narrow, so that pilots nearly have to go in an upward spiral dive mode to catch them. In contrast, thermals in Saichia are large and not so rough. The fastest ascent I recorded on my vario was 5m/s, sustained for over 5 seconds.
The best time to visit is between November and March. In that period, it hardly ever rains, and the conditions are good without being "too" strong. During my stay, there was only one day where it was not possible to remain airborne for at least two hours. On all the other days, it was possible to go at least 700 meters above take off to reach an altitude of 1000m over land. Local pilots say that conditions are even better in late February. My top altitude was 1500m during my stay. Saichia is ideal for cross country trips of tens of kilometers in all directions in a 270 degrees semi-radius from take off. I went three times on 15km trips, usually two-way. It's possible to travel not only from a mix of thermals and ridge lift, but also by strict means of ground thermals going straight out over the farmland. Going over chicken farms is advisable to take advantage of chicken shit thermals. Use your nose. Hopping from cloud to cloud is also an option, but keeping in mind that the cloudsuck can be overwhelming. Know thy clouds. Some Taiwanese pilots carry airplane-type ball compass which are helpful when they navigate through clouds.
When no lift can be found anywhere, one is never far from a safe landing spot. At worst, it's a tree landing. I landed between trees one late-afternoon when both wind direction and wind speed suddenly changed. The wind must have been blowing at over 45km/h because I could not go forward. Running the risk of getting censored, I recommend Saichia as a place to practice aerial manoeuvres. Although there is no large body of water nearby, trees are quite good at breaking an accidental fall. And for all the crazy things they do when up in the air, Taiwanese pilots have a pretty good casualty record. The last death of a Taiwanese pilot was in 1993 during a competition in China. Another serious injury to a female pilot occurred in Spain also during a competition earlier this year. Otherwise, the injuries are on the light side. So I went ahead with wingovers, A-stalls, B-stalls, shrimps (horseshoe), and beginner spiral dives. I had wanted to do that for months with the Firebird Flame I got in the spring.
In terms of practical considerations, Saichia is less than one hour from Pintung, a major Taiwanese city with a rural feel. The area speaks Mandarin, Taiwanese, Hakka, and Philipino-type dialects. English rarely goes beyond "hello." Older people know Japanese. The village of Saichia has one shop, one restaurant, and one public phone. Fifteen minutes away, the small town of Shuimen has a few hotels where paragliding pilots occasionally stay. Both Saichia and Shuimen are inhabited by Taiwan's minority native people who have been there for thousands of years (compared with a few hundred years for the Chinese). These natives wear neat clothes.
It's possible to camp at the flying site, although I should mention that my tent was arsoned while I went away to Pintung one night to sleep at Chien Wan-chuan's place, one of Taiwan's earliest pilots. There was nothing left the next morning. I had taken my paragliding stuff to Pintung. The police showed no interest in the case, but Wan-chuan was very upset.
South Taiwan is not far from Hong Kong, but well over 90% of the people there are extraordinarily friendly. If you decide to visit Taiwan, paragliding pilots will go out of their way to help you out and take care of you. They do this as a principle with no expectations of reciprocity, to visitors from all countries and races. There is also a fair number of Taiwanese pilots with several hundred or even thousands of hours of accumulated airtime. A lot can be learned from them.
I recommend that you talk to some of the following people before visiting. They are excellent and experienced, teachers and pilots eager to help visitors. Chien Wan-Chuan and his brother Wan-sheng (Sunny). They can be reached at: 886-8-766-4435 or 886-8-732-5855 or 886-9328-81094 (mobile). There is also David Luo whose work number is 886-7-783-8804 (but it's his company). These people speak fluent English, so do not hesitate. In fact, you have to give a notice of your visit to the Pintung Paragliding Association before getting on with your flying. David is a very decent (flying) weather forecaster.
I met a group of five from Hong Kong in my first few days. They were complete beginners who were learning from Chien Wan-chuan and his brother. They completed 6 flights each over three days. There was no serious injury, and some of them had the chance to practice thermalling and B-stall. A full-stall happened accidentally, which ended in a tree. Chien Wan-chuan had seen such a thing occur twice in fifteen years. The student was completely fine. One group member told me they were fully satisfied with the training. In my limited experience, it was my first time to see a student pilot thermalling 150 meters above take-off on a fourth flight.
I highly recommend that you go to Saichia during the flying season. The flying is awesome, the people are hospitable, it's relatively cheap compared to other top spots, and the food is great. Remember that Taiwan doesn't have many bank machines with international connections and credit cards don't get much mileage. Carry NT$. There will be a competition starting February 28. Don't miss the chance.
Three days in Hualien, Taiwan
by JF Tremblay, October 98
"Jeff, where can one go out in Taipei," he implored. Obviously, Taipei was not agreeing with Sceats. "I'm out of that scene, old boy... Haven't lived there since 93." But the questions continued, subtly insistent. "Where can I fly? Who can you introduce me to? Are you coming here? What about your friend you were mentioning..."
Weather wise, it had been some disaster for the past few months. Locally, rain every weekend. It was so bad in HK, I had taken to checking out the weather in all the nearby flying sites. No use. Rain in Thailand. Rain in Beijing. Rain in Bali. Is the whole world raining? "Look Dave, I got some work to do now. Call Luis, I'll be in touch." Right. Seed a flying idea in a pilot's head, and he'll start thinking. So what's the weather forecast for Taipei? Look at that, not bad at all... And the rest of Taiwan? Hey hey, looking up. Why did I not notice earlier?
Luis in Taipei checked things out further. For the past several weeks, it had been raining every afternoon in most of Taiwan , he said. Likely to continue. Saichia? No, no Luis said. Cloudsuck. Yeah, I've heard of that, I thought. The famous Saichia summer cloudsuck. But hey, listen to this. "Hualien should be OK," Luis added optimistically. "They don't get too many visiting pilots. They will be really happy to have you. And the flying's been good in the morning lately." Righto. I'm on. Dave, we're going to Hualien.
Three more days before Friday. Who else wants to go? Yes, I understand. Thank you. Work, family... I'll go on my own, then. Except that, seed a flying idea in a pilot's head and... "Jeff, I'm in," Nick informed me with a distressed voice on Thursday night. "But, but, you'd said..." "What time is the flight tomorrow? I'm in. That's all." Obviously escaping from something, or someone. I won't ask. "Yeah right. 7:00 pm. tomorrow at Kai Tak then."
Next day, Dave and Luis met us at the Taipei train station at 23:00. "Yeah, we went flying at Green Bay today," Dave said. "I stayed up for about half an hour, then I landed. It was getting rough. The other guys continued flying." Luis thought it had been a brilliant day. But a different story for Wild Horse's student, who ended up in some power lines. But Taiwanese are protected by their gods.
The next day, we took a ½ hour domestic flight to Hualien, on Taiwan's central east coast. Mountains all the way. Nick and Dave were impressed. Not me. Contrary to forecast, there were a lot of wet-looking clouds outside the window.
At the airport, we were met by the man who would become our feared benefactor, Wu Yi-hsiao, whom we took to calling MR. WU. Over the next three days, he was to bend over backward taking care of us, while we repaid him by getting involved into one idiotic situation after another.
Mr Wu took us to rent a car. "No, we don't rent cars to foreigners," the shop attendant declared. So we rented three scooters. Sceats seemed concerned already. Rightly so. He rolled over on the way back, smashing up both himself and the bike.
The Chichi flying site is more than one hour from Hualien. On arriving there, we loaded up into the back of some nasty looking truck, and up we went the narrow road with a cliff on the side.
At the top, we found a great take-off, with a smooth grassy slope to run on. It's facing east, there's a huge gorgeous beach at the bottom that goes on for ten of kilometers. But the clouds were low, and it was about to rain. Not again! If the conditions were right, probably could go 100 km flying down that coast. Instead, we got to know a bit more about Mr. Wu. Within 5 minutes of jumping out of the truck, his canopy was laid out, his wife looking on. And he took off. Up, up, up, into the clouds, he was gone.
It started to rain fairly steadily. Back at the beach, I learned that Wu had gone to work. He's quite senior in the local force, so he had to go, I was told. So we stood in the rain, waiting for it to stop. It didn't. After one hour, there was MR WU himself. "I stayed in the clouds for about 30 minutes. Then, it started to rain. So I came down below the clouds and saw that I was kilometers away from the coast above the sea. I flew back to the beach." Thanks for the update, Mr. Wu. You're a madman by the way. And your comrades right here, they would have left without you.
We rode our bikes in the rain, and back in town, one of the local pilots drove us to Taroko Gorge where we had a dip in the outdoors hotspring. Right, so the day was not a total waste. The hotspring is gorgeous and superbly located. Where's the food now?
The next day was more auspicious. Blue, blue skies. On the way, in a van lent to us by Mr. Wu, we got lost. Damn it! Got to hurry. The window is now! Not so. The wind was coming from the south, rubbing for a long while against and over the ridge before reaching take off. Talk about a rotor. But hey, that's not going to stop a Taiwanese pilot, is it? A few went into trees, others fell, some had collapses, one went on the road. One has to admire the determination of these people. "I'd like to recruit here," said Nick, who trains assault teams in the HK Police. Eventually, towards the end of the day, Nick and I managed two sleddies. Dave had gone back to Fragrant Harbor. So much for day two.
Great place, but miserable weather. Predictably, Nick and I imbibed enormously on that second night in Hualien. And predictably (he'd said so), Wu knocked at the door at 0700 the next morning. When I opened for him, his eyes were treated to the glory of a pair of seriously dysfunctional visiting pilots. What made it more absurd was that Wu had set us up in the top floor of the Hualien police station. So the pair of us were effectively woken up by a senior police officer inside a police station. What fun is life made of. He was so sharp. We were so gone.
Heads throbbing and hands shaking "no, we don't need breakfast" we hopped in the back of Wu's van. His cheerful wife was at his side. And up we went to another site. Boy do we feel wasted. But hey, the sky was totally blue. Things were looking up. The wind is south, and it's a southern facing site we were going to. All right! But my head hurts and I want to lie down.
500m. That's where the van stops. It's baking outside. Hey, I've been here before! Back in 93 as a student pilot. That flat platform, surrounded by trees. The slope in front has a 70 incline, and it's ugly down there. Before take-off, there is not much room. A pilot has three steps to run, inflate the canopy, and decide whether to run down the absurdly steep slope or abort. "You go first," said Nick.
We were up there for one hour. Some 4m/s thermals. Not the best flight I've ever had, but really enjoyable nonetheless. Lots of space to move around, cannot crowd the sky here. I landed in grass 3m-tall. Wrong spot? Wu's van arrived shortly after. For our sake, he hadn't flown and remained a driver.
Overall, it hadn't been worth to go to Hualien just to fly. But weather makes all the difference. It had been good overall. The scenic Chichi site, the small Taiwanese town night life afterwards, the beetle nuts, Taroko Gorges, Hualien is a good experience. The local government gave a grant to the local association to develop paragliding. In turn, the local pilots are really eager to make Hualien known on the world paragliding map. Would I go back? Certainly!
There will be a competition in Hualien next summer. HKPA pilots are invited.
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