Our car ran along an asphalt highway winding all the way to the mountain top. As the elevation increased, dense fog or cloud vapors stole the bus; in this misty world, the passengers, mostly native farmers and students, came and went in a relaxed mood, leaving the bustling city far behind.
The Goddess of Night was about to pull dark gossamer over the world when we arrived at our destination. Having only put on T-shirts at Puli, the freezing highland coldness now prompted us to add padded nylon jackets. The rancher received us in his offices, part of a flight of buildings constructed along the mountain slope, treated us to some locally produced apples, and briefed us on the history of the rancho.
Covering a land area of 765 hectares, the Ching-ching Rancho is one of three farm enterprises in the mountains administered by the Vocational Assistance Commission for Retired Servicemen. Founded in 1961, the rancho settled 79 households of anti-Communist Chinese guerrillas evacuated from Yunnan Province on the mainland and from Burma, and 70 households of retired servicemen willing to work the land.
Standing 32 kilometers from Puli, the rancho also has convenient traffic access to Sun Moon Lake, Lu Shan, Hohuanshan, and Taiyuling, leading features of central Taiwan.
Wild flowers join a melody of color to the silent screen slopes
According to our host, a total of 361 hectares of land has been opened and used. Ranging from 1,000 meters to 2,100 meters above sea level, the ranch offers temperatures as cold as 4°C below zero and summer highs of 29°C. The loose gravel soil and an average rainfall of 2,000 mm a year suit the cultivation of fruit trees, temperate zone vegetables, and animal husbandry.
At night, we have a vegetarian meal with our host and the director of the production section, Lee Wen-ping. The dining table is fully occupied by some ten different fried vegetable dishes—cabbage, lettuce, sugar pea shoots, kale, water convolvulus, green pepper, fragrant mushroom, and others. The rancher said: "They were just plucked from our vegetable gardens."
In spite of the bitter cold outside, we decided to visit one of the villages where the former guerrillas now live. It was a new and exciting experience to drive mountain roads in pitch dark. We were almost the only car on the road. Except for the small advance section of asphalt lit by the yellow car lamps, everything else was dark, silent, and lonely. We finally relaxed, assured that the driver knew every turn and bend of the highway.
As several yellow lights loomed up in the darkness, the car slowed. On a spacious ground at the entrance of the village stood several old people, wrapped in heavy coats, chatting to each other. When we stepped down from the car, they greeted us as warmly as if we were old acquaintances.
The village is small: two files of one-floor brick bungalows.
Bamboo racks to aid nature in supporting a young orchard, now dormant, make an artistic statement against a hillside
The village women, by the distinctive features of their faces and their long calico skirts, show they are native Pai-yi, a small ethnic group living in Szechwan and Yunnan Provinces on the mainland. They are about to hold a meeting. The men normally gather at the activity center, while the women stay at home. We observe through spread-curtained windows that each household is furnished with TV, radio, refrigerator and fireplace- the coals are burning bright. The houses also feature such traditional furnishings as the ancestral altar, incense, and portrayals of deities on the walls. The wife of the village head told us: "We moved here about two decades ago. It may not be as lively and convenient as living in town (Puli), but we love it and have become part of it. Here we can talk to each other in Pai-yi dialect, since all of us come from the same place. We never feel like outsiders. In fact, my sister and her husband just returned from a trip to Taipei, where they got themselves completely lost. They want to stay right here from now on."
We stopped at the activity center to greet the men and see what they were up to. Each was sitting against a wall on a stool. Engraved wrinkles on their faces and hands betrayed the hardships they must have gone through. In their shadowed faces only two shining eyes were evident. Someone was speaking on a village matter, the sound seeming to rise and fall with the hubble and bubble of a bamboo hookah. At an extreme end, a single female participant in a blue cotton jacket sat mute, while the men began to engage in hot debate. A staff member of the ranch summed up the current domestic and outside affairs for the audience. They were so hospitable that they treated us to new cups of tea whenever those in our hands turned cold.
A white-face steer surveys human interlopers in his domain
On our way back, the sky was as dark as ever. Neither stars nor moon were visible. Stopping by the other two villages for the ex-guerrillas, we saw the same bungalows, dormant in the dim light. The tight schedule of the day exhausted us, and, now at our quarters, we fell asleep at once.
Awakened by roosters crowing at daybreak, we ate, then hurried to a sheepfold on a mountain slope at about 15-minutes driving distance. The animals are so shy and timid that they ram against each other, refusing to leave the sheepcote. After the shepherd's repeated urging and encouragements, the flock of sheep dashes out, moving shoulder to shoulder. From a distance, they look like an iceberg floating on a green sea. According to Lee Wen-ping, they were introduced from Australia. The Corriedale rams are noted for their productivity both of meat and wool. Some had grown accustomed to visitors and at once become everybody's pets.
At this juncture, some cattle roamed down from the slope above, ran across the highway, and peeped in the sheep-fold. We decided to pay a visit to the sheep's inquisitive neighbors. Only after we reached the top of the slope did we realize that cattle are good mountain climbers. Huge rocks protruded from the steep mountain slope, but the cattle ascended past them to stand above, frowning on the unwelcomed guests. According to Lee, at present, the ranch raises about 100 head of beef cattle, of the Aberdeen-Angus and Hereford breeds, the "white-faced" cattle. Aberdeen-Angus cattle are well liked by cattlemen because they mature early and bring top prices. Mature cows may weigh as much as 1,600 pounds and bulls as much as 2,000 pounds. "As for the Hereford, ranchers like their sturdy qualities and adaptability to range conditions. Herefords can withstand the heat and drought of many semi-arid regions and can endure the cold of the exposed range in the winter," Lee expounded.
It was the eve of Thanksgiving Day at the rancho, and a turkey compound near the ranch office enjoyed a brisk sale. The ranch has raised some 501 Beltsville White turkeys, but the Chinese people have still not acquired a taste for the meat. "I hope this situation will improve in the future," Lee commented.
The major products of the ranch are still its vegetables and fruits. Among all the vegetables grown, kale is most prominent, followed by sugar pea shoots, lettuce, spinach, and garlic stems, and others. In 1982, the total production of the 82 hectares of gardens tipped the scales at more than three million kilograms, and brought revenues of NT$27 million.
Apple and pear trees account for most of the fruit production, followed by peaches. Last year, some 80,000 trees produced fruit weighing 470,000 kg., and an earned revenue of NT$1.1 million.
Mutton and wool, on the hoof
The ranch also conducts research and development work. For instance, about 300 sweet persimmon trees and 500 canning peach trees were introduced in 1980, with good results. In addition, 700 California plum trees have been introduced. During last year's Dragon Boat Festival, the orchard opened two days for tourists, who were allowed to pluck and eat to their heart's fill, or take home whatever they wished at close-to-cost prices. The managers believe that this service will help promote the local tourist industry. To make the best use of all produce, some surplus kale and green peaches and apples are either sun-dried or made into juice and canned. New methods are being developed at the ranch in the plantation of tea leaves and of hsiang ku (fragrant mushroom).
Flights of cemented-stone stairs lead down to a campsite and an artificial pond. A fountain in the heart of the pond spews sparkling spray. The refraction of the sunlight-always miraculous-creates a rainbow around the fountain. Several white geese swim leisurely amid the vivid watery reflections of two bamboo booths on the bank.
Lee told us: "The pool was enlarged only half a year ago. Since irrigation is vital for agricultural development, we built a water system running 22 kilometers, mostly through primeval forest. The difficulty of the engineering work forced us to invest more than NT$60 million in the project. Today, with a daily supply of 5,200 metric tons of water, the ranch has plenty of water for both irrigation and for home use."
A narrow mountain trail leads to a pillbox-like structure. As the sun started to set, we chased up to that point. When we sat down to marvel at the sun's fiery chariot, a sadness suddenly shrouded the earth. An uprooted turnip and several dislocated bamboo shoots lay lonely and disorderly on the ground, near wild flowers and grasses. It seemed as if a stage curtain was gradually lowering, but the leading actor remained, reluctant to leave amid frantic curtain calls. I turned my back to a rustling sound, only to find that the sun had vanished from the horizon as I was about to applaud once more.
Night descended, and a team of young people lighted a bonfire at the campsite. It was Thanksgiving Day, and they were bar-b-quing a turkey, split and prostrate on the rack. We all became friends at once, sharing their turkey, happiness, and clarion songs into the depths of the night.
Travelling down the mountain the following day, we were lured to stop by the Chieh Shou Pavilion, near Wushe, an aborigine town. It was one of the late President Chiang Kai-shek's favorite scenic spots. Overlooking Green Lake, far below, the pavilion is always ready to provide a valley-full of breezes.
With an abiding recollection of tranquility in our hearts, we left the Ching-ching Rancho with a confidence that given the Chinese people's hardworking spirit, the ranch will perform its wonders in ever greater profusion to the time of our next visit.