Aowanda Maple

The Aowanda National Forest Recreation Area lies in Renai Township, Nantou County, with elevations climbing from 1,100 metres all the way up to 2,600 metres. Taiwan sits in the subtropics, and maple-viewing was never something this island would do; yet Aowanda holds a rare, intact stand of native sweetgum maple forest, forcing the temperate idea of momijigari, red-leaf hunting, into a mid-elevation valley.

So every year from October to the following January, on this subtropical island there is a patch of temperate autumn earnestly turning red. The car climbs spiralling up, the altitude rising inch by inch, and the green that once filled the window starts to take in a little red; higher still the red grows and grows, as if someone had added the colour stroke by stroke along the mountain road.

The maple season runs from October to the following January, and within it November to December is usually when the colour is deepest. Still, it shifts a little with temperature each year, turning red earlier or later, and there is no fixed, precise date you can bank on — checking the park's live updates before you set out is the most reliable, and the official announcements are the final word.

The truly deep red is not at noon, but just after dawn breaks, or when a rain has just stopped. Light slants into the maples and the red deepens, almost unlike orange; fallen leaves underfoot are wet and soft, giving with a muffled press, none of the north's crisp crunch. This is one of the few Taiwan sights worth rising early for.

If what you want is a busy, packed itinerary, this may not be your first pick; but if you are willing to go out of your way for a stretch of quiet mountain forest, Aowanda gives generously.

It is off the main itinerary, a stop you would go out of your way for. It suits travellers who want to slow their pace, people who love mountain forest and birdsong, and companions who want to walk a quiet stretch together. Walking here, your step slows without your noticing — not from tiredness, but from being loath to finish this path too soon. The whole forested mountain is quiet enough that you can hear your own breathing clearly, a quiet almost impossible to own in a city.

Most people drive in themselves from Taichung or Puli, following the mountain road for about an hour and a half to arrive. The park is in Renai Township, Nantou, at a fairly high altitude, and the mountain road spirals up all the way, so driving it takes a bit of focus.

The park has a car park, and once you have parked you can walk straight into the maple trail. As you climb, ever-cooler air slips in through the window gap, carrying damp earth and the clean scent of some conifer's resin — the sign that you are drawing near.

Aowanda belongs to the Renai Township, Nantou area, and most people use Taichung or Puli as the base they connect through before and after, then drive into the park.

Since the deepest red appears at dawn and after rain, if you want to catch that morning light, arranging your lodging on the side closer to the park makes rising early much easier. The exact lodging options, park opening hours and accommodation arrangements still rest on the official announcements — confirming the current information before you go is the safest course.

Aowanda is a national forest recreation area, and the ticketing, opening hours and whether advance booking is required will adjust according to the park's current rules; for this part please be sure to rely on the official announcements and confirm through the park's official channels before you go.

As for cost, the main expense of self-driving falls on the fuel for the drive and parking, plus the entry fee. Overall this is a small trip whose main cost is "time" and "the willingness to detour" — what you spend is not just money, but the heart to go out of your way for this extra stretch of mountain road.

The park is at a fairly high altitude, and winter mornings are on the cold side; the dawn air is cold and clean, and one deep breath leaves the chest cool and the mind a few degrees clearer. Since the most beautiful red appears at dawn and after rain, keeping warm is especially important — remember to bring enough layers.

Fallen leaves after rain are wet and soft, so the trail tends to be slippery, and shoes are best chosen to be non-slip and easy to walk in. Weather at mid-elevation changes fast, so bringing an extra windproof layer and keeping an eye on the day's mountain weather will make this walk feel safer.

At dawn in the peak maple season, on the maple trail you will meet others who rose early for this same red. The main park's maple trail is gentle and easy to walk, and it is the stretch where everyone gathers most.

I once saw on the suspension bridge an old man with a camera on his back, standing a long while at the centre, not shooting, just looking; following his gaze, the whole sheet of red lay quietly across the valley below. The quiet here is everyone's shared reward — softening your steps and voice, yielding the trail to one another, and not disturbing those lost in it is the most natural etiquette of this mountain forest.

This park actually rests on a whole expanse of mid-elevation broadleaf forest and some 120 bird species, and the red maples are only one layer of it. The stream murmurs low at the valley floor, birdsong drops from some unseen tree, cutting clear through the cold air.

Beyond maple-viewing, the park's suspension bridge, waterfall and birding trails are all worth planning into your itinerary. The wind comes in gusts and the maple leaves fall in gusts, onto shoulders, onto an open palm, pausing a moment before the next gust carries them off; pinch a leaf up to look at it and its veins are like a small open hand, the edges already dried to brittleness. The wider ecology is just as worth staying for.

The virtue of Aowanda is precisely that it is off the main itinerary, a stop you would go out of your way for. It settles the temperate idea of maple-viewing into a subtropical mid-elevation mountain forest, becoming a place rare in Taiwan that can earnestly turn red.

What I remember in the end is not only that red, but the quiet of the whole forested mountain on a December dawn. I think, taking this detour up the mountain road, what you carry away in the end will probably be this too — not a photo of red maple, but that long-missed quiet in which even breathing can be heard.