A Wild Trek on Mount Taimu: The Copper Hall Sea of Clouds and a Heavenly Day with Pork Slices

Climbing Mount Taimu in the dark at six in the morning, the moment we stepped off the shuttle bus at the scenic area, the mountain wind wrapped around us completely! A thin veil of morning mist still floated over Husband and Wife Peaks Square, and the distant mountain peaks showed only vague outlines, like brushstrokes in an unfinished ink painting. Wild azaleas beside the stone steps were covered with dew, their pink and white petals trembling gently in the wind. Squatting down to take photos, you could even smell the faint fragrance of grass and wood.
Walking along the stone steps toward the suspended Copper Hall, the scenery became more and more breathtaking. Clusters of Chinese pine trees stood among the rocks, their needles dyed pale gold by the morning light, and when the wind blew, golden "powder" fell softly. Near Wachan Temple, we suddenly saw a sea of clouds rolling in the valley ahead—not a thin mist, but thick cotton-like clouds slowly climbing the mountain slope, covering the strange rocks by the roadside except for their tops. When we reached the Copper Hall, the sea of clouds had just reached the foot of the hall. The large hall, made entirely of pure copper, floated in the clouds. The copper bells on the flying eaves jingled in the wind, and sunlight reflected tiny golden sparkles off the copper tiles. I raised my phone and didn’t put it down—every photo looked like it had a fairy-tale filter.
Passing through One Line Sky, I truly witnessed the wonder of Mount Taimu. The stone walls at the entrance stood straight up, and the narrowest part only allowed you to pass sideways, with your shoulders pressed against the cool stone walls where you could feel the uneven textures. The sky above became a thin line, and occasionally water droplets dripped from the cracks, hitting my hat with a "tap tap" sound like a little drum by my ear. After finally squeezing through, just as I was about to catch my breath, the view ahead stunned me—the opposite hillside was covered with blooming rhododendrons, clusters of red dots decorating the green bushes. In the distance, the Sea View Boardwalk wound around the mountain like a silver ribbon hanging in midair.
Walking along the Sea View Boardwalk, beneath my feet was a bottomless valley, and in the distance, the shimmering sea. The Yushan Archipelago hid in the mist, with only a few small island peaks visible, like green gems floating on the sea. The sea breeze carried a salty, moist scent, blowing my hair wildly. Looking down, I could see granite peaks under the boardwalk—some looked like eagles spreading their wings, others like lying elephants. The rock layers still bore ancient wave erosion patterns, rough to the touch, full of the marks of time.
At noon, we rested at a small shop beside Jiuli Lake. The willow branches dipped into the water, and the wind created ripples in circles. The carp in the lake were unafraid of people; tossing some bread crumbs brought a group of golden-red fish swimming over, their tails splashing little water droplets. A ten-yuan bowl of Fuding pork slices was chewy and flavorful, and the pepper in the hot and sour soup perfectly dispelled the chill from the climb, leaving me warm all over after finishing it.
In the afternoon, a little mishap happened while exploring Tongtian Cave—my large backpack got stuck in a rock crevice. After struggling for a while to pull it out, a few strands of moss were hanging from it. But the cave’s scenery was worth it—the sunlight filtering through cracks in the cave ceiling formed beams of light, with tiny dust particles floating inside, like scattered silver flakes. Occasionally, small ferns grew from the cracks, their tender green leaves glowing in the light, making me slow my pace, afraid to disturb this hidden vitality in the darkness.
At dusk, I sat at the Sea View Pavilion waiting for the sunset. The clouds on the horizon slowly changed color—from pale pink to orange-red, and finally deep purple. Suddenly, several "crepuscular rays" shone through gaps in the clouds, like the brushstrokes of a god painting the sea surface with gold foil, even the distant reefs were edged in gold. The wind stopped, and the sea of clouds quieted, like white silk spread across the valley. The pine needles hanging with the sunset’s afterglow seemed ready to fall with the slightest shake.
After descending, I headed straight to the snack stalls on Yuchi Road. Freshly baked honey-glazed chicken wings steamed, their skins coated with shiny sugar glaze, sweet, salty, and juicy with every bite. Paired with a bowl of betel nut taro paste, the dense taro mixed with osmanthus honey melted in my mouth, instantly healing the fatigue from a day of climbing with this sweetness.
Tips at the end: Tickets cost 138 yuan including the shuttle bus; self-driving parking is 10 yuan/day. It’s best to go in the morning to avoid crowds and see the sea of clouds; in May, the mountains are covered with rhododendrons and the mist is most magical; in October, the sky is clear and the Copper Hall looks best under the blue sky. Be sure to wear non-slip sports shoes—many stone steps are steep and slippery. Don’t believe the online claims of "painless hiking." A small backpack is enough; don’t be like me carrying a big bag that got stuck in the rock crevice!

Post by Aiden Nelson | Oct 27, 2025