The Rock Slide Ride
Dahon Product Testing
by Moshe Foster
Pictures by P. O'Leary, M. Foster, S. McMullin & J. Hon
Well, if ever the thought occurred to you to combine death-defying cliff madness and a good, healthy mountain bike ride, look no further. Behold the Neng Gao rock slide ride!
Just south of Taichung, Taiwan, starting at 4,000 ft above sea level, you will find the Neng Gao trail head, a calm, shaded little pull off, that innocently hides the disasters lurking ahead. The plan was simple. Wake up at 4:30am, drive five hours through the dawn, meet the posse and ramble up a steady, 3 hour, 15 km, 4,500 ft climb. At the top we would reflect, consume an appropriate beverage, and descend, shredding all 15 kilometers at a trail railing assault pace. At the bottom, we would consume appropriate beverages again, reflect and head home. What we didn't expect were the 100 foot wide landslides, football-sized rocks cart-wheeling across the trail, razor sharp slabs of sliding shale, the constant taunting of 50 ft cliffs, and the unavoidable exhaustion that is a 3 hour, 4,500 ft endless climb.
Within
the first 10 minutes, it became painfully clear that we would be in for
a lesson from good, old feisty Mother Nature. We weren't more than fifty
yards past the landslide when someone shouted, "We should have a prize
for whoever falls off the cliff first!" Leave it to the cocky new guy
(me) to shout out, "Dude, I've got an extra snickers!" Less than
two seconds later I lost my momentum across a set of loose stones, failed
in my attempt to click out of my pedals, and losing all my balance, fell
head first off of the six foot cliff edge and down into a rock slide on
the bank below. Fortunately, my body came to rest against a fallen tree
and my bike, bouncing off of me lay only about 20 ft down the hill. Had
I not stopped, I could have just as easily continued to roll down the 45
degree, 1000 ft long chute of loose rock and debris. That would be the first
of three - yes three! - falls off the edge I would take on the climb up.
After retrieving my body and bicycle, the posse continued its assault up the Neng Gao trail. Only three minutes later, we arrived at our second obstacle, a 200 ft wide, 700 ft long rock slide that had obliterated any sign of a trail or safe crossing. Worse yet, a steady hail of rocks and boulders continued to shower down from above and below was a 70 foot drop to the bottom of the chute. Park rangers told us that it was too dangerous to continue and we seriously discussed turning around. But after a careful and deliberate risk assessment, ("Come on dude, I think we can make it") we decided to press on. We took turns shuffling across a one foot wide bank of shale that had come to rest long enough for our crossing and with a little luck, we all made it across without incident.
Fortunately,
after these initial beat downs by Momma Nature, we finally began what we
had set out to do, a steady climb to the top of the mountain. The Neng Gao
trail gains so much elevation, that you literally pass through three separate
climate zones. The first, from about 4,000 ft to 5,500 ft is relatively
tropical. The second, from about 5,500 ft to 7,500 is much more temperate
with large ferns and and pine trees beginning to lace the trail.
As you climb past the 7,500 ft mark, the trail turns to an alpine Climate; the air dries out as does all the vegetation, and the smell of high desert is unmistakable. From top to bottom, the trail weaves in and out of rocky, exposed cliff sections and thick, muddy, forest curves. As you climb, the clouds follow closer and closer, until they are literally rolling up and through the cliff sides around you. Gorgeous, ancient trees stretch proudly across the hillside, sheltering and warning you at the same time. A constant sense of "anything can happen to me" floats around in your head as you dig for traction up the narrow, broken trail.
Three
hours later, with half the crew already at the top, I pushed for the summit,
salvaging every last bit of energy I had stored from my strawberry yogurt
and smashed snickers bars. It was at this point that my rear wheel somehow
slipped down between two parallel drainage boards. I had just about rounded
the current crest I was battling, when again, stuck in my pedals, unable
to detach and too tired to care, I fell off of the cliff and into a welcoming
rock hole in the side of the mountain. Unfortunately for my bicycle, it
stayed wedged between the run-off boards and my rear wheel folded to an
almost 90 degree angle. It was at this point that a sense of imminent disaster
set in once again. There I was, at the back of the pack, twelve kilometers
and three and a half hours up the side of this mountain with only a twisted
ankle, taco'd rear wheel and a sweat soaked tee shirt to keep me company
in the 43 degree weather. Oh yeah, and at this point it started raining.
It would be dark in an hour and that would leave me with a two or three
hour walk down and that wretched rock slide at the bottom to cross in the
pitch darkness. The gods were on my side though - clearly it was a sign
when I discovered we had not one, but two Dahon engineers amongst our crew
on this ride. Bless the guy who invented Motorola walkie talkies a
quick call to the top and the guys came speeding down to meet me. After
fifteen minutes in the hands of a rotary genius and some good old fashioned
metal bending, I had a wheel that not only rolled but was somewhat stable.
Had
the trail given us a window of luck and encouragement?? We thought so, and
without further ado we pumped up the suspension, lowered the saddles, and
descended into glory! Nothing can compare to this downhill! It is, simply
put, heavenly. It could have been the perfect red dirt that paved the twisting
forest lines, the tumbling, rock gardens or the gorgeous mystical cliffs,
lined with dangerously inviting clouds. Whatever it was, the hour and a
half that it took to ride down was no less than brilliant! The faint memory
of pulled muscles, flesh wounds, and bruised egos was obliterated in the
delirious, surreal free fall that was taking place. Bent rim or beat body,
it didn't matter any more, we were all going for it. Turn after turn, splashing
through puddles and bouncing across rocks, railing along the cliff edge,
sliding around the slippery corners and pumping back up to speed, this was
the definition of perfect Formosan madness.
We came rolling back to the trail head at approximately 5:30pm, six hours after we had set out. The sun was just starting to fall behind the mountain and a cool evening breeze rolled in through the hills above. Everyone took a deep breath and looked around at each other in silence. We were all thinking the same thing, when were we going to do it again? Hopefully pretty damn soon! I've just got to get that rim straight......