Climb every mountain...tra la la la...(Cue warble)

Hmmm..... It seemed like a good idea at the time (then again, so does drinking your own body weight in red wine and dancing provocatively on tables in an attempt to seduce some poor, unsuspecting fool). Suffice to say, Burns had it spot on when he said "The best laid plans of mice and men gan aft aglay". But he omitted to mention that sometimes, just sometimes, the worst-laid plans gan very nicely indeed, thank you very much.

So, there I was about three weeks ago saying "Ooh yes" to my friend's idea of climbing Alishan, a very impressive and much-loved mountain in Taiwan, and it was only later that I thought "...Hold on...I haven't climbed a hill since Lent 1992 (and that was for charity, not fun), much less a mountain. I don't even have a pair of trainers. My only available trousers are my pajama bottoms." And so, I was filled with a terrible dread which sat, gloomy cloud-like, over my head for days. Thoughts of trudging through boggy marshes (as with the charity hill-walk of 1992) in sweaty, soggy keks and an ill-fitting anorak made me positively ill with worry. My friend's enigmatic silence to questions of the mode of transportation and duration of trek made my intestines do funny little dances. I pondered the complexities of mountain climbing and debated the likelihood of needing to pee mid-climb. "What toilet facilities would they have?" me thoughteth... And I reassured myself that, much as a bear must use the available facilities au nature, then so could I.

Ominous signs appeared in local newspapers...landslides in hilly regions (albeit in The Philippines, but who's obsessive fear is this, mine or yours?)...a feature on the several types of venomous snakes found in Taiwan... It all lead me to think that this Alishan expedition was going to be a VERY BAD IDEA.

Oh, silly silly me. Of course it could have been a very bad idea. In fact, it may - even up until the departure - have been a most foolhardy idea. We hadn't booked a hotel, after all. It was raining so heavily that visibility was zero. The train seats couldn't be booked and we remained unsure of whether we had to stand for the 3 hour ride or not. Things could have gone badly wrong.

BUT THEY DIDN'T.

We got seats on the train and stopped off at a little town halfway up, ate our dinner in a famous restaurant, got the obligatory cheap n'nasty see-through yellow raincoats required for ultimate sexy climbing attire, and even scored a ride on an earlier train that wasn't on the schedule but had been commissioned by a company as some big staff day-trip. All in all, it was looking good. Let's not forget, too, that it was torrential rain. All thoughts I had originally had about climbing the mountain were pooh-poohed (cue big sigh of relief) - this was train all the way to the top, baby.

And of course, there was the train ride itself - a narrow gauge track with lots of specifications that train-geeks would cut off their right arm for (silly really, when all you'd really need to do was buy a train ticket). This was one special ride; passing through 3 climatic zones from tropical to temperate, and surrounded by the most lush, verdant, delightful landscapes. Taiwan is truly blessed in many ways, not least because its fertile land plays host to such a variety of of flora and fauna.

Sadly, it was something I never appreciated the first year I lived here, amongst the flat plains and fish-farms along the coast. I only saw grey. I only imagined greenery existed in tourist traps many many miles away. Yet, less than 30 minutes away was unimaginable beauty - and I was too lazy or too blinded by apathy to want to go and find it. What a stupid idiot I was, really. I listened to the moaners and the preachers and the know-it-alls (complete with Taiwanese girlfriends attached, ball-and-chainlike) that spend their precious free time in pseudo-western bars complaining about the lack of this... the attitude to that... the inaccessibility of this...blah, blah, blah. And I did it myself. I complained religiously (I still do - in case you haven't noticed), and I lectured people on how crap stuff was without once thinking that 'crap' is only a matter of thought.

I once went to the imposing and awe-inspiring Taroko Gorge. Instead of commenting on how phenomenal and striking the grey-marble gorge was as it loomed overhead, I complained bitterly that the traffic was too bad, and that we couldn't, of course, find something as amazing as this in Southern Taiwan. WHAT WAS I THINKING?! OMG?! Here at our doorstep was Alishan! And all that complaining in Taroko!? I was consumed by pessimism.

And that's just it. What seemed like it could have been a terribly ill-conceived idea turned out to be just the opposite, because I discovered something pretty phenomenal. I discovered that our attitudes really are just a matter of perception. So, what could have been a drab, overly-long rickety train-ride in the rain turned out to be a journey of a lifetime. I revelled in the rain as it glistened on the green forest leaves. I soaked in the smell of the train, the drenched clothes, the banter of happy colleagues and families, the misted windows, and the juddering carriage as it pulled upwards and rolled downwards on its ascent.

And I hadn't even got to the top of the mountain, yet!