Alishan Forest Railway

Listen first. A diesel engine hums somewhere ahead of you. Then the narrow wheels squeal as the carriage leans into a curve. Through the window, the air changes as you climb. It begins thick and warm, smelling of betel palms and wet earth. Higher up it turns cool and sharp, with the scent of cypress resin. You are riding one of the most unusual mountain railways in Asia, and every kilometre of it was built for one reason: wood.

This is the Alishan Forest Railway. It runs from the plains of Chiayi up into the central mountains of Taiwan. The line was built in the early twentieth century, when Taiwan was under Japanese colonial rule. Japanese surveyors had found something extraordinary in these mountains: vast forests of ancient cypress trees. Some had been growing for well over a thousand years. The timber was fragrant, strong and resistant to rot. Japan wanted it badly.

Getting that timber down the mountain was the problem. The slopes are steep, the valleys are deep, and the rain can be ferocious. A road was not practical at the time. So engineers chose a narrow-gauge railway, with tracks only 762 millimetres apart. That is far narrower than a normal train line. A narrow track can turn tighter corners. On a mountain like this one, tight corners are the only way up. The main line reached the Alishan area in the early 1910s.

Here is the first thing most visitors miss. The railway climbs from close to sea level to more than 2,000 metres. Along the way, it passes through three different climate zones. Near Chiayi, you see tropical plants, bamboo and banana trees. In the middle section, the forest becomes subtropical, with camphor and broad-leaved trees. Near the top, it becomes temperate, with tall conifers and cool mist. In one short journey, you cross the kind of change that usually takes a long trip north.

To gain that height, the engineers used clever tricks. Near a mountain called Dulishan, the track makes a spiral. It circles around the same mountain several times, rising a little on each loop. If you look out the window there, you may see the same village below you from different angles. Locals like to joke that the train keeps passing the same place. Watch for it. It is one of the moments that makes passengers stand up and point.

Higher up, the line uses another trick: the switchback, sometimes called a zig-zag. Here the slope is too steep for even a spiral. So the train drives forward onto a short spur, stops, and then reverses up the next section. Then it goes forward again. If you feel the carriage suddenly change direction, this is why. You have not taken a wrong turn. The train is climbing a staircase, one step at a time.

In the logging years, steam did the climbing. The railway used Shay locomotives, built in the United States. A Shay is a geared steam engine. Instead of large driving wheels, it has vertical pistons on one side and a long spinning shaft that turns every wheel. This gives it great pulling power at slow speeds, which suited heavy logs on steep grades. Several of these engines survive today. You can see some of them at the railway garage park in Chiayi and at stations along the line.

Now, a gentle pause in the middle of the mountain. Fenqihu is the best-known stop on the old line. It is a small mountain town with narrow lanes, stone steps and tea shops. It is famous for its railway lunch boxes. In the past, the train stopped here for a long break, and passengers bought hot boxed meals on the platform. The tradition continues. A simple box of rice, meat and pickles tastes very good in cool mountain air.

The railway has not had an easy life. The mountains are geologically young and unstable. Earthquakes and typhoons have damaged it many times. In 2009, Typhoon Morakot caused severe landslides and cut the line. For many years, trains could only run on parts of the route. Repair crews rebuilt bridges, tunnels and long stretches of track. The full main line reopened to Alishan in 2024, after about fifteen years of work. Every ride today follows that long effort.

Here is a second surprise. Logging on Alishan ended decades ago, and the forests are now protected. The railway changed its purpose. It no longer carries logs down. It carries people up. Many of the trees around the upper stations are younger forests, replanted after the logging era. Among them stand old stumps from the giants that were cut. Some stumps are so wide that new trees now grow from their tops. You are walking through a forest that is still healing.

At the top, short branch lines spread across the Alishan recreation area. One line runs to a spot where people gather before dawn to watch the sunrise. Others carry visitors toward the giant trees and walking trails. On clear mornings, a sea of clouds can fill the valleys below. The peaks rise out of it like islands. When it happens, the crowd often falls silent. When the mist rolls in instead, the forest turns soft and grey, and that has its own beauty.

The railway also matters to the people who live here. The Tsou, an Indigenous people of Taiwan, have lived in these mountains for a very long time, long before the tracks arrived. Tea farmers grow high-mountain oolong on the slopes you pass. Small stations serve villages that once depended on the train for everything. For them, this line is not only a tourist ride. It has been a road, a lifeline, and part of daily life.

So, wherever you are right now, take a moment. Look at the rails. They are very close together, aren't they? Look at the slope beside the track, and the way the line hugs it. Breathe in, and notice the smell of the air at this height. As you walk away, listen for the next train in the distance. You will hear it before you see it. The horn echoes through the cypress trees, and the mountain carries the sound.