Xueshan - p600.org

Pairing Xueshan peak with another Taiwanese giant, Yushan, feels like an unwritten rule; skipping one just seems wrong. Naturally, we planned to summit both peaks. Xueshan, also known as Snow Mountain, welcomed us with some old hard snow on the trail close to the summit. Securing permits turned out smoother than expected, despite a labyrinth of rules that could confuse even the most seasoned hiker. Navigating the bureaucratic wilderness, we emerged victorious, permits in hand. While some may opt for a marathon day-hike, we questioned, “What’s the rush?” Especially for those eager to fully appreciate its beauty. Choosing a two-night stay in the hut proved wise, blending adventure with the perfect amount of leisure. On the summit, we found a hard old snow-covered trail instead of the expected light dusting.

Day 1 kicked off with a climb from the parking area at 2150 meters up to the lower hut at 2550 meters, a gentle introduction to our adventure.
Day 2 pushed us further, as we ascended to the summit at 3886 meters, then made our descent back to the hut at 2550 meters, marking the day with a mix of exhilaration and exhaustion.
Day 3 brought our journey full circle, with a descent back to the parking area at 2150 meters.

The trail schema at the trailhead barely aligns with our data, but such is life, apparently.

We arrive at the park gates, promptly pay the entrance fee, and drive a few more kilometers to where the road ends. This marks the moment for changing, repacking, and a brief debate on the necessity of crampons and ice axes. Given our indecision, we opt to bring them along—better safe than sorry, as nobody wants to find themselves in need of crampons miles away from them. After a valuable half-hour of preparation, we start our journey on an easy, wide trail leading to the lower hut, reaching our destination just in time for dinner as dusk sets in.

We arrive at the hut just before dinner to discover we’re the only ones who ordered food, while everyone else whips up meals with their personal stoves—so much for blending in.

Dinner consists of vegetables, rice, and chicken, and after indulging, we’re welcomed into the dormitory rooms—talk about hospitality!

Starting before sunrise, a few hundred meters higher, we find ourselves above the clouds—a classic plot twist.

We catch our first nice views of nearby peaks.

The view before reaching the easy East summit.

Waking up at 4:30 am, we skip the offer of a prepared breakfast, opting instead for hot water. Porridge and coffee suit us just fine. By 5:00 am, we’re geared up and on the move. The trail snakes back into the forest, easy and gradual, leading us to some sort of picnic area before it takes us on a bit steeper climb to the east summit. The path gets rougher but remains manageable. Beyond the east summit, we make our way up to the 369 hut on the ridge, the route mostly traversing open grassy fields. The 369 hut is currently closed, under renovation, but a few tents are pitched nearby for those opting to sleep closer to the summit—a tempting option, perhaps.

The East summit is a 20-meter bump, possible to avoid, but who can refuse the chance to reach P20—clearly, not us.

Our first glimpse of the summit reveals the leftmost peak in the photo, adorned with little snow patches—nature’s version of minimalistic art.

A parallel ridge rises above the clouds.

Turns out the man with the fridge is here; I thought he was climbing Kilimanjaro—oh, wait, those are just white plastic boxes.

At some point, near the East peak, one can spot two monorail stations and a helipad—an impressive infrastructure that not every serious city can boast.

We navigate through bamboo grass fields.

The Formosan Serow, a native goat-antelope of Taiwan, thrives in solitude among the mountains, showcasing agility and strength with sharp horns for climbing, dining on treetop delicacies, and maintaining the biodiversity of places like the Black Forest, all while being fashionably protected.

In the Black Forest, ancient Taiwan White Fir trees, some over a century old, engage in a quaint form of arboreal social distancing known as “crown shyness,” ensuring even in the densest shade, every leaf gets its moment in the sun.

Beyond the higher hut, we tackle steep grassy slopes in the Black Forest, where the trail then levels out, becoming gradual and easygoing. The path zigzags, straightens, and then zigzags again. Reaching the upper valley, we finally catch sight of the summit alongside its lesser companion. Sporadic patches of snow dot the trail, but we’re unfazed, having braced ourselves for a much snowier landscape.

Little lower BeiLingjiao Mountain, standing at 3882 meters with a prominence of 69 meters, modestly makes its mark on the landscape, almost whispering, “Yes, I’m here too.”

The main peak trail, dressed in a layer of hard-packed snow, leaves us guessing about the challenge it might pose.

At some point, we strap on crampons and grasp ice axes, not out of necessity but for speed and, well, since we lugged them all this way, why not put them to good use?

Denise steps onto the ice with unwavering steadiness, as if every patch is a familiar friend.

The view on the way up offers a stunning visual feast.

BeiLingjiao Mountain, standing at 3882 meters with a prominence of 69, and the saddle between its main summit.

From the summit, the views stretch out in a panoramic spectacle.

The summit marker, a mute witness to our accomplishment, stands firm as Denise captures a photo of Richard and me.

I’m sharing my apple with the birds, a simple act of kindness.

Upon reaching the summit, we discover a marker stone adorned with writings. After a quick selfie, Richard wastes no time, rushing to use the hand level before clouds obscure our view. Rumors swirl of a nearby peak potentially surpassing our current elevation. Within moments, Richard confidently declares our perch as the highest. To cement our certainty, he decides to detour to the neighboring summit for confirmation. Denise and I opt to remain, retracing our steps back the way we came. Richard, on the other hand, embarks on a longer return journey via the North trail, a route that may add an extra hour or two to his hike.

As BeiLingjiao Mountain beckons from a mere 500 meters away, Richard opts for a detour, while Denise and I decide to retrace our steps, each path woven with its own tale.

In a vision test of landscape and detail, can you spot Richard on the ridge?

The pine forest, with its whispering needles and sturdy trunks, paints a serene portrait of nature’s quiet grandeur.

Climbing the East summit once more, i spend half an hour in contemplation, observing the ridges.

Clouds meander through the valleys below, casting a dreamlike veil over the landscape,

Perfect day, serene sway, nature’s play.

We return to the hut just before dinner, with Richard joining us two hours later. All is well as we enjoy our meal, sipping tea before heading to sleep. The day proved incredibly challenging, with the trail seeming much longer than anticipated. Nevertheless, we climbed both ultra prominent peaks, marking our Taiwan leg of the trip a success. Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, we’ll descend a few hundred meters to the car and drive towards Qixingshan.

Xueshan	3885 m altitude	1937 m prominence 104.84 km isolation
Ranges	East China - Taiwan
Countries/regions	China - Taiwan
Distance	11.00 km up	11.00 km down
Elevation	1736 m gain	1736 m loss
Time	6h10 up 30h00 other	5h10 down 41h20 total
Trailhead	2148 m altitude	24.3855830, 121.2991660
Links	GPX trail