Dabajian Mountain is one of Taiwan’s most iconic high peaks — four sheer cliff faces rising like a giant barrel, a sacred mountain to the Atayal and Saisiyat peoples, and the mountain printed on the NT$500 banknote. The ridgeline connecting it to Xue Mountain (Taiwan’s second-highest peak) is the legendary Shengleng Trail — the “Holy Ridge.” Around Dabajian Mountain sit three more of Taiwan’s 100 Peaks — Xiaobajian Mountain, Yizhe Mountain and Jiali Mountain — collectively the “Daba Peaks,” so a single trip takes in four summits above 3,000 m. The route isn’t technically hard; the real challenge is stamina, because today you first have to walk a 19 km forest road just to reach the actual trailhead.
For international readers: Taiwan’s “100 Peaks” (Baiyue) are a list of 100 classic high mountains selected in the 1970s, most of them around 3,000 m. Working through the list is a defining goal for hikers in Taiwan.
What makes this route hard: the 19 km forest road
Hikers once drove all the way to the Madara Creek trailhead, back when the difficulty was closer to an entry-level 100 Peaks route. Typhoon Aere wrecked the Dalu Forest Road (East Line) in 2004, closing Dabajian Mountain for four years, and since 2010 the road has been off-limits to vehicles. That “extra” 19 km of forest road is exactly what turned Dabajian Mountain from a beginner outing into a stamina grind.
The road itself is easy and gently graded, with stone tables and benches roughly every 3 km — a pleasant stroll on its own. But walking nearly 38 km round trip just to reach the mountain is, frankly, tedious; most people just want it over with. Bicycles have been allowed since May 2022, and about half the people I saw were riding. A bike cuts the one-way time from six hours to about two — but the surface is mostly loose gravel and mud, so it’s easy to skid and fall.
A difficulty comparison: after the 19 km road, you still climb 900 m over 4 km to reach the hut — the climb itself isn’t hard, it’s hard because it comes at the end of an already long day.
Planning: permits, huts and getting there
The key thing for international readers: the Daba Peaks route does not require a “mountain-entry permit,” but you must apply for a Shei-Pa National Park entry permit and secure a bunk at Jiujiu Hut (NT$200 per person per night). Jiujiu Hut (99 Hut) is the largest mountain hut in Taiwan, with 150 bunks, allocated on a first-come application basis — far easier to secure than the most sought-after huts like Paiyun or Tianchi. I only checked availability 10 days before the trip and applied for a weekday that wasn’t full; it went through smoothly. Trail and hut signage is clear, but English signage is limited, so study the map and distances beforehand.
Getting there: most people drive or charter a car to Guanwu. You can do it without a car, though — take the Taiwan Tourist Shuttle (Guanwu Line) from Hsinchu HSR station, with one morning and one afternoon departure daily, about a three-hour ride. Book ahead so you aren’t left without a seat.
(A family lens) The standard trip is three days / two nights, staying twice at Jiujiu Hut and doing all four peaks in a single day (about 15 km and 10 hours). Hiking with my son, I stretched it to four days / three nights and added a night at Jhongba Shelter, the hut closest to Dabajian Mountain. That extra day let him hike more easily and safely, and gave me room to carry a tripod, dodge the afternoon thunderstorms, and shoot Dabajian Mountain’s sunrise, sunset and Milky Way from Jhongba Ping.
Day 0: Guanwu Lodge
The climb starts at Guanwu. Because Day 1 means 19 km of road plus a 900 m climb, an early start is safest — which makes the night before best spent at Guanwu Lodge, just 500 m from the trailhead service station. It mainly serves general tourists, but it has backpacker rooms too: NT$1,430 per person with two meals, or NT$800 without meals (July 2023). That’s a little pricier than the shared bunkrooms of a typical trekking guesthouse, but with an en-suite bathroom, a power outlet by each bed, and spotless linens, it’s great value. On the way down I booked a twin room here again, so we could shower and rest the moment we stepped off the trail.
Day 1: 19 km of road plus 900 m of climbing to Jiujiu Hut
We left Guanwu at 4:30 a.m. and reached the trailhead service station in 15 minutes (Dalu Forest Road East Line, 0.3K; parking available). No one is on duty before dawn — you just drop your park permit in the mailbox to enter, and you must check back in here on the way out to confirm you’re safely down. Keeping a steady rhythm of about 3 km an hour with regular breaks, we finished the 19 km road in roughly six hours, crossed the red steel bridge over Madara Creek, and reached the true “Dabajian Mountain trailhead,” where the distance markers reset to zero.
Then came the 4 km, 900 m climb to Jiujiu Hut — about as demanding as walking from the Xue Mountain trailhead up toward Xue Mountain East Peak. No dangerous terrain, but tacked onto a long day, it simply wears you out. This was the day we ran into Taiwan’s classic summer afternoon thunderstorm — rain for seven or eight hours. My son’s rain jacket and pants were soaked through, and he arrived at the hut without a single dry piece of clothing; we’d used up all our spare clothes on day one. In summer, an afternoon storm is a variable you have to build into the plan. After about 10–11 hours we reached Jiujiu Hut, at 2,699 m.
Day 2: up to the ridge, Jiali Mountain, and on to Jhongba Shelter
Most people do all four peaks in one day; I split them over two, which meant carrying a full pack up to Jhongba Shelter but made everything much easier — and in hindsight I was glad I did. I overslept and only set off at first light (I’d meant to catch sunrise on Jiali Mountain). From Jiujiu Hut it’s a 2 km, 350 m climb to the Jiali Mountain junction (also called the 3050 Upland, at the 6K marker), about 1.5–2 hours. Nearing 3,000 m the forest gives way to slopes of dwarf bamboo, the views open up, and Dabajian Mountain and Xiaobajian Mountain start to appear ahead.
Jiali Mountain (3,112 m) is off the main trail, a roughly one-hour round trip southwest from the junction over two gentle rises — the easiest of the four. Most people pick it up on the way back; because we did it first, at our freshest, it was an easy and pleasant detour.
From there we followed the undulating ridge toward Dabajian Mountain, passing the Yizhe Mountain junction and Jhongba Shelter on the way to Jhongba Ping (the 10.5K marker). No dangerous terrain and an obvious trail, but the constant ups and downs still take a toll on your legs. The weather began turning again, and Dabajian Mountain in the distance was swallowed by cloud; wary of getting soaked and risking hypothermia at altitude, I decided to skip Yizhe Mountain for now and reached Jhongba Shelter just before 11 a.m., right as the rain came in.
Jhongba Shelter (3,295 m) is a basic refuge hut: 12 bunks, a bare wooden floor (no padding), and no toilet (there’s a shovel beside it — please bury your waste and pack your toilet paper out). Its water comes from a rain-catchment tank behind the hut, which can run dry in a dry spell. That night it was just my son and me. One tip: mountain weather is fickle, and on this trip the Central Weather Administration forecast was way off — install the Windy app (built on models like the ECMWF and GFS); up on the mountain it was far more reliable than the official forecast.
A note: if you climb straight up to Jhongba Shelter on the first day, the route rises from Class A to Class C under the old difficulty-grading system, and your application must include proof of prior Class-B mountain or route experience — worth knowing if you plan it this way.
Day 3: the highlight — Jhongba Ping sunrise, Dabajian, Xiaobajian and Yizhe Mountain
Jhongba Ping lies due north of Dabajian Mountain, just 500 m away — an open, unobstructed plateau, and the exact viewpoint of Dabajian Mountain on the NT$500 banknote. Bring an NT$500 note to photograph against the peak; it’s practically a rite of passage here. Because we’d stayed at Jhongba Shelter, we were — unsurprisingly — the first to arrive, and the tripod I’d hauled the whole way finally earned its keep.
At sunrise and sunset the near-90-degree side light strikes the rock face and sets it glowing a brilliant gold — the “Golden Daba.” In summer the Milky Way rises roughly above the peak after sunset, making it a prime time for astrophotography. If you want to come away with one truly stunning shot of Dabajian Mountain, you have to be standing on Jhongba Ping at first or last light.
From Jhongba Ping it’s about 500 m and 30 minutes to the base of Dabajian Mountain. Dabajian Mountain (3,492 m) is bounded on three sides by sheer cliffs over 150 m high — genuinely awe-inspiring. It’s a sacred mountain to the indigenous peoples; a steel ladder once led to the top, but to protect the sacred site and its geology — and for safety — summiting the rock tower has been banned since July 2010. Reaching the base and photographing the marker sign there is what counts as “completing” Dabajian Mountain.
To press on to Xiaobajian Mountain or the Shengleng Trail, you have to cross directly beneath the rock tower (the 11–11.3K section): a vertical wall on one side, a scree slope on the other, with rockfall the main hazard, so move through quickly. The feeling of walking beneath a 150 m vertical cliff, with a thin waterfall spilling off the tower above, is hard to put into words.
Xiaobajian Mountain (3,418 m) is the farthest and hardest of the four, adding roughly 1–2 hours round trip from Dabajian Mountain. It’s the only old “Class B” section on this trip, the difficulty being the scramble just below the summit: scree fields, Yushan junipers, and a final two or three short, near-vertical rope-assisted sections — but the footholds are clear, the ropes are in place, and none of the sections is long, just fairly exposed. Even my son got up and down without much trouble — his first-ever Class-B peak among the 100 Peaks. Worth noting: the trail around Xiaobajian is less distinct and it’s easy to stray. As the first party there that day we had to find our own way and went wrong twice, correcting only once hikers behind us found the right line. If it’s raining, don’t force it.
On the way back we picked up Yizhe Mountain (3,297 m, the northernmost of the 100 Peaks): back to Jhongba Shelter to gather our gear, then to the Yizhe Mountain junction to drop packs for a 500 m spur, about 15 minutes to the summit. The views are superb, looking down over Jhongba and both the Dabajian and Xiaobajian peaks, with the ridge and grassland ahead making a fine photographic foreground. We tagged the summit just before the cloud rolled in — and with that, all four Daba Peaks were done.
Then we shouldered the full packs and descended, back to Jiujiu Hut in two hours (downhill, and with less distance to cover, my son moved fast), for one more night there. On the fourth day we set off at 5 a.m. and, after about 8–9 hours on the forest road, walked back into Guanwu and closed out the trip.
Reflections
Only by standing before Dabajian Mountain can you feel its sheer, unmatched power. The Daba Peaks route is exceptionally rewarding — four of the 100 Peaks in a single trip — and it pushed my son’s peak count to 19 in one go. When it comes to mountaineering, I most often tell him two things: prepare as well as you can, and always approach the mountain with respect and awe. The mountain has to allow us up before we can ever know it up close. With the heat driving strong convection and unstable weather, we had only four or five workable hours a day, and finished the whole route with our shoes and socks wet for four straight days. I regret not capturing Dabajian Mountain’s dusk and its stars — but the relaxed four-day plan made us some of the few hikers those days to see both the Dabajian and Xiaobajian peaks clearly from all four summits, and to watch the Dabajian Mountain sunrise from Jhongba Ping. How could we not be grateful for all that the Daba Peaks gave us?
