The cabs of Alishan (阿里山) Forest Railway making its stop in Fenqihu (奮起湖).
The gentle swaying of the slow-speed, narrow gauge train rocked me side to side like a steady pendulum. It felt like I was being lulled into a sustained meditation. The cabin was tiny and stuffy, and like me, the passengers in front of us buckled, facelessly, side-to-side. It was easy to attach the mind to the discomfort. The seats were hard, the walls were yellowed — tell-tale signs of the old and dilapidated trains. An aroma of diesel and engine permeated the atmosphere, and nausea would set in one second, and fade away the next. I shifted around momentarily, careful not to disturb those around me, and thought of peace.
Alssa was fast asleep on my shoulders, her stringy drool dribbling onto my long sleeved shirt. No matter — it was kind of a nice touch. My father sat to the side, across the narrow walkway from us. I was glad he was with us, and even more grateful for the two weeks we would be spending together around Taiwan. He too, was in his own world. An oscillating, arduous ride like this lent a lot of time for reflection.
I took a peer out the window to my right as I watched the mountainous landscape reel tape across my eyes. The train was meandering its way through the mountain passes of Chiayi (嘉義), making its descent from Alishan (阿里山) in its signature Z-style switchbacks. It was floundering at a steady pace through a maze of tunnels and shrubbery. In its conversation with the sun, the trees from the forest casted dancing shadows all around the cabin in a chaos of firecrackers. In this vast expanse of landscape, the train must have looked like a toy to the gods.
The train would at times pass through and grind to a rumbling stop along stations that had no business being there. They were isolated hubs with nary a residence or shop nearby. Just a single, lonely station, on a jutting platform overlooking into the boundless valley before it.
I took notice of the sun, which had been warming the entire cabin for the better part of the journey. It was fading into the horizon to its resting place for the night. Allowing the setting sun’s warmth seep into every pore made the ride all the more homely, comforting. It felt as if every sense was being theatrically performed to in complementary fashion.
A performance to echo in the eternity of this transient conscience.
I was once again in love with life.
My father pacing through the redwood forests (神木) of Alishan. Reminiscent of the Sequoia National Forest in California.