From Sharing to Safeguarding

The Our Taroko publishing project stands as a cornerstone of the celebrations marking the 40th anniversary of Taroko National Park, alongside a series of public lectures, special exhibitions, the Taroko Gorge Music Festival, and conservation seminars. When asked why they chose to launch this publishing project for the milestone anniversary, Lin Mao-Yao, an interpreter at Taroko National Park Headquarters, takes a step back to reflect on a fundamental truth: “National parks are natural treasures meant to be shared and enjoyed by everyone—and that means they need to be protected by everyone, too.” This belief forms the underlying spirit of the entire 40th-anniversary program.

Lin points out that this year’s celebrations differ from past anniversaries, which often focused on looking back at the park's history and development. In the wake of the earthquake, the Headquarters wants to officially send a message to the public: "Taroko is recovering." So please don’t forget her beauty.

As for how the book took shape, it grew out of this same spirit of shared connection—and a simple, down-to-earth idea. “In the past, our publications were mostly written from the park administration’s perspective, usually produced by a single author or researcher,” Lin explains. “But with Our Taroko, we wanted to flip the lens and look back at the park through the eyes of the public.”

He elaborates: “At first, we just wanted to collect short essays—maybe things people had posted on Facebook. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that short snippets were too limiting; they couldn't fully capture the depth of these stories.” Around the same time, he noticed something compelling: “So much beautiful writing about Taroko already exists out there, scattered across Facebook posts, blogs, and online forums. It felt like such a missed opportunity that we had never brought all these rich voices together under one roof.”

That lingering sense of what if turned into a call to action. The National Park Headquarters joined hands with the Light Island Cultural and Art Foundation to launch an open call for submissions while inviting contributed pieces. Using the written word as an anchor, the initiative aims to summon personal memories of Taroko and bring them together in print—a fresh, creative experiment breaking the mold for the park’s 40th milestone.

Many visitors leave behind rich records of photos and words after visiting Taroko, though they don't always have the opportunity to share them with the world.

Back in the 1980s and 90s, group trips to Taroko were a memory of youth for many.

Writing Faces of Mountains and Seas

Why rely on the written word as the main medium for this project? “People can express their relationship with Taroko in so many ways—some paint, some shoot photos, and others write,” Lin explains. “Overall, writing is the tool that most people feel most comfortable with.” He believed this accessible medium would encourage as many people as possible to join in.

Still, Lin admits he had his fair share of doubts: “I had two main worries. First was quantity. After all, with only a little over a month for submissions, would anyone actually submit? Second was quality. In an age dominated by AI, how many people are still willing to slow down and put genuine words onto paper?”

To everyone’s delight, the response blew past all expectations. As the deadline drew near, submissions doubled and multiplied exponentially. In the end, 136 writers submitted a total of 152 pieces, with some sending in two entries.

This impressive collection owes much to the expertise of Light Island, who bring years of experience in organizing literary awards. Wang Yu-Ping, Chair of Light Island, speaks warmly of how their collaboration began—tracing back to a photo exhibition titled Remembering Taroko held shortly after the earthquake.

Exhibited in both Taipei and Hualien, the photo show resonated deeply. “Many people travel back and forth between Taipei and Hualien,” Wang shares. “At the Taipei venue, volunteers were spontaneously giving guided tours to visitors using the photos on display. After the show, we received an overwhelming response—collecting over 300 handwritten notes filled with heartfelt wishes for Taroko in just one month.”

That moving experience gave Wang confidence. She knew that once posters were placed in community colleges, libraries, and mountain education seminars, a growing community would receive this invitation from Taroko and eventually pick up their pens to write.

A New Life, A Homecoming

Sure enough, submissions arrived from all walks of life: interpretative, conservation, and trail volunteers within the park; a firefighter who stayed in Hualien after being deployed for disaster relief; a new-generation farming family who observed ecological succession in their own orchard after the quakes; and a young Indigenous villager deep in solitary thought about the future of Datong Village.

As Lin quickly skimmed through the submissions, delight washed over him and his initial worries dissolved into thin air. “Everyone wrote with such raw sincerity,” he says. “It showed us that every single person holds a unique journey and experience here.” He emphasizes that these diverse voices brought fresh perspectives on Taroko that he had never imagined before—making them truly priceless.

The submissions leaned heavily toward human-centered stories, particularly memories linked to the earthquake. Perhaps this reflects a shared rhythm and resonance for the park's 40th anniversary: the earthquake was not the end of Taroko, but a turning point. As Wang puts it, “It’s like celebrating Taroko’s birthday, and these essays are like the public’s birthday wishes for the park.” The publication serves as a gift, wishing Taroko a vibrant “rebirth” in the year ahead.

Looking back at past publications from the Park Headquarters, Wang noticed a pattern: previous books focused largely on landscape photography, popular science, or academic studies, but rarely centered on the human element. Yet, the founding spirit of national parks has always been about understanding humankind’s place in nature. She believed the editing logic of this book should reflect a return of humans to the wild.

Wang notes that humans are an integral part of nature. The true meaning of Our Taroko isn’t to be a static souvenir album for the park, but a living tapestry of human perspectives—showing how people experience and read the landscapes of Taroko.

With this in mind, Light Island reorganized the submissions around human themes: those who live in Taroko, those who work there, visitors coming to explore, and those just beginning to discover it through a chance encounter. Currently divided into three to four thematic chapters—ranging from initial impressions of entering the mountains, to life within the wild, and the journey back and forth between humans and nature—the book invites readers to step deeper into the multi-layered soul of Taroko, layer by layer.

The memories penned by volunteers, who have dedicated so much time and heart to this land, are particularly moving.

Post-earthquake Taroko has taught people an important lesson in coexisting with natural disasters. 

Indigenous people who have lived here for centuries write about their roots, as well as their loss and resilience after the earthquake.

Sparks of Memory, Visions for Tomorrow

Wang offers an example through writers Chen Lieh and Wang Wei-Chih. Chen Lieh has been writing about Taroko since the 1980s, while Wang Wei-Chih credits Chen Lieh’s works for inspiring him to get closer to the region in the first place. Wang chuckles, predicting that someday soon, someone will tell Wang Wei-Chih, “I fell deeply in love with Taroko because I read your writing!” This is how the literary chain of inspiration keeps expanding, link by link.

“The future is co-created,” she reflects. “Without the stories people are writing right now, there really is no future to speak of.” Lin wholeheartedly agrees: “Only by understanding the past can we see the future clearly.” He hopes these stories will help younger colleagues appreciate just how extraordinary Taroko is, inspiring deeper passion and a stronger sense of connection to this land.

A span of forty years marks a time of maturity in human life. If someone first encountered Taroko in their twenties, they would be in their sixties today. Does their memory of and passion for these wild mountains remain the same as when they were young—or as that of today's younger generation? When the next twenty-year-old reads these words, steps off the printed page and into Taroko, will they feel inspired to visit in person? And will they pick up the pen to continue writing the story of Taroko's present and future?

Whether through paintbrush, keyboard, or camera lens, each has captured a fragment of time for Taroko—a witness to that very moment.

At its heart, Our Taroko is telling us this: Taroko belongs to everyone. It cannot be narrowly defined by any single voice. Instead, it is a collective portrait sketched by everyone who has ever looked upon it, embraced it, loved it, and held it in memory.

In the end, the message for readers is simple yet profound: Taroko is loved by so many. Even after a devastating earthquake, the deep memories and affection people hold for these mountains remain unshaken. As long as those feelings live on through this book, Taroko has never disappeared—and never will.