Yangmingshan

Breathe in for a moment. That faint smell of boiled eggs drifting on the breeze is sulfur, and it comes from deep inside the mountain under your feet. Up here, the air is cooler and damper than in the city below. Mist can roll across the slopes in minutes, then lift again to show a green ridge, a steaming vent, or a sudden view of Taipei spread out far beneath you.

Welcome to Yangmingshan, the volcanic range that sits on the northern edge of Taiwan's capital. It is a national park, protected since the 1980s, and it covers a wide sweep of peaks, grasslands, forests and hot springs. What surprises most visitors is how close it all is. A short bus ride from crowded city streets brings you into a landscape that feels like another island altogether.

These mountains belong to what geologists call the Tatun Volcano Group, a cluster of volcanoes that formed over hundreds of thousands of years. The tallest is Qixing Mountain, whose name means Seven Star Mountain. Its summit is the highest point in the whole of Taipei. On a clear day, people who climb it can see the city, the river plains, and the coastline running toward the Pacific.

Are these volcanoes finished? That question is still open. For a long time they were considered extinct. In recent decades, however, researchers have studied gas emissions and small earthquakes beneath the area, and some scientists now argue the system could still be active. Monitoring stations watch the mountain closely. For you, standing here today, the steam and the warm ground are a reminder that this landscape is still alive, slowly breathing.

The best place to feel that is Xiaoyoukeng, on the slopes of Qixing Mountain. Here the hillside is scarred and pale, streaked with yellow sulfur crystals. White plumes hiss out of cracks in the rock. The ground looks raw, almost like a quarry, because hot gas and acidic water have broken the stone down. Stay on the marked paths. The soil near the vents can be very hot, and the gases are not safe to breathe up close.

That sulfur shaped human history on the mountain. During the Qing dynasty, which ruled Taiwan from the late seventeenth century, sulfur was valuable because it was used to make gunpowder. In 1697, an official named Yu Yonghe travelled to northern Taiwan to collect it, and he wrote a famous account of the journey. He described a wild, steaming land that few outsiders had seen. Later, mining continued here on and off for generations.

You may notice that the slopes are covered with tall, silvery grass rather than thick forest. Historians believe that people burned these hillsides in the past, partly to stop sulfur thieves from hiding in the trees. Whatever the full reason, the open grassland stayed. Today it gives the mountain its soft, rolling shape. Here is a detail many visitors miss: the old name for this range was Grass Mountain.

The name changed in 1950. Chiang Kai-shek, who led the government that had moved to Taiwan, renamed the area after Wang Yangming. He was a Ming dynasty philosopher who taught that true knowledge and right action cannot be separated. Chiang admired him deeply. Chiang also kept a residence on the mountain, and this area was a quiet retreat for political leaders and foreign guests during those decades.

If you visit in autumn, as now, look closely at those grassy slopes. From about October, the silver grass comes into flower. Its feathery heads catch the light and turn the hills pale gold and silver. When the wind moves across them, the whole hillside ripples like water. Walk the trails around Datun Mountain or Qixing Mountain in late afternoon, and the low sun shines straight through the plumes.

Other seasons bring other colours. In late winter and early spring, cherry blossoms open around the old park area near the large flower clock. In spring, the farms of Zhuzihu, a high valley on the mountain, fill with white calla lilies, and families come to pick them by hand. Summer brings butterflies and thick green growth. Winter brings cold wind from the northeast, low cloud, and sometimes, on rare nights, a dusting of frost.

For something unexpected, head to Qingtiangang, a broad grassland on an old lava plateau. Cattle graze here in the open, a leftover from the time when local farmers brought their animals up to feed. The cows wander freely across the paths, so give them space and never feed them. Nearby, the trails pass low stone walls and quiet woods, and the views open toward the sea.

The volcanic heat also feeds hot springs. Around the mountain, and down in nearby Beitou, bathhouses use water that rises from deep underground. Some of it is milky white, some clear, some with a sharp mineral smell. For many people in Taipei, a weekend on Yangmingshan means a short hike, a bowl of local food, and a long, slow soak while the evening cools around them.

Before you move on, pause for a moment wherever you are standing. Listen for the wind in the grass, the call of a bird, maybe the hiss of a vent somewhere nearby. Look down toward the city, if the mist allows it. Millions of people live and work below you, and yet this mountain carries on at its own pace. As you walk away, notice the sulfur smell fading on your clothes... and keep it as a small memory of the mountain that breathes.