It takes us about 24 hours to get to Taipei, and at several points in the journey I complain that I’m too old for this, something I find myself saying more frequently in general.

Right before leaving Australia, I’d noticed that my front hub is loose again, but had too much else to worry about and not the time or the bank account to deal with it there, so buried the knowledge and put off the problem. Though if I had to hypothetically choose a country to have a bike problem in, Taiwan would be near the top because I assume good parts and good mechanics abound. So, hooray. I might have a broken hub in Taiwan.

After the long journey we’re in no fit state to assemble the bikes and ride the forty kilometres into the city, so we get a taxi. Taiwan looks beautiful. It was linked in ancient Chinese sources to the mythical island of Penglai, a concept not dissimilar to Arthurian Avalon. Ignoring the skyscrapers and expressways, with the lush, triangular mountains rising through mist, I can see that. The backdrop certainly looks mystical. There’s no mistaking the hyper-modern cityscape, though there is lots of green space and we can see numerous bike lanes winding through parks and alongside the Tamsui river. Richard comments that he thinks he’s going to like it here. It’s rare for him to be so positive, and rarer to make a call like that so early.

A major typhoon hit the island a few days before we arrived, and when we get there temperatures are unseasonably “extreme” and “dangerous.” We keep getting cursed by out-of-the-ordinary-weather wherever we go, so we are not surprised. We delay leaving Taipei for a couple of days, because that’s when the heatwave is supposed to end, but it gets extended. And it keeps getting extended.

We’re in a northern part of the city, in what appears to be the Japanese quarter, although with hindsight I don’t think it was. It’s just that about half of restaurants in Taiwan seem to be Japanese. We don’t see any other tourists, which gives us a kick up the arse to learn some Chinese and get to grips with translating everything. Chinese, of one version or another, is the most spoken language in the world. One out of every seven people speaks it. I am not one of them. Most people seem very helpful and tolerant of us though.

Taiwan is a bit of a cycling destination. There is an official route round the island, there are lots of tour operators offering cycling packages, and even bike giants Giant do bike tours, or hire out bikes and gear for those wishing to do the circuit. Conventional wisdom is to ride the island anti-clockwise, and we decide to follow that. The east coast is by far the most scenic, so we want to save the best for last. We intend that our time here will culminate in a ride through Taroko Gorge, a place I have been raving about in anticipation, and believe will be one of the highlights of all our travels.

When we set off, we opt to do a short day to start with because of the heat, to make sure my hub problem isn’t catastrophic and to get our bearings. Almost immediately we are presented with a twenty foot concrete wall. Taipei has these walls as part of its flood defences, and possibly in case Godzilla moves south, and we have to get to the other side to join up with the bike path. I’m sure there are gates at points, but we don’t know where they are, so we end up carrying everything up and over about two stories of painfully steep steps over several trips. We’re exhausted before we’ve even really started.

Once we’re on them though, the bike paths are amazing. And there are toilets and vending machines at regular intervals along them. It’s scorching, but there’s a strong wind to cool off in and lots of places to stop and rest. It’s coming up to Taiwanese National day, so all the bridges are festooned with flags and there are bands practising performances.

We end up in a lovely district on the outskirts of New Taipei city. We’re apologetically asked if we can keep the bikes in our room, which is great for us because it means we can do some adjustments in the air conditioning. My saddle is doing its own thing again, despite the care I’ve shown it. This time the rails on one side are lopsided. Who knows what it has planned for me next.

We’re shy and embarrassed at our lack of Chinese, so for dinner we pick a tiny place to eat with no one else around, so we can make tits of ourselves with the least audience possible. The lady owner seems very tickled by us, even though we are probably a complete pain as we faff around slowly translating everything because we’re scared of the tray of offal behind the counter, and charges us less than she should.

The next day we make our way to a riverside bike route. It’s very pretty, and since it’s a weekend there are lots of people out and about in the parks and trails. It’s scorching, but we stop in the shade plenty. Off the designated bike paths, our route takes us through single track roads through tunnels of tall bamboo and then through rural rice paddies.

Back in civilisation, we hit a snag when there are barriers blocking a new bike path that our route takes us on. We see a family of four dismount and manoeuvre around some cones, so decide to follow them. The dad comes over and explains that it’s new bike path and isn’t officially open yet, but he saw a video online of someone riding it regardless so wanted to give it a go this weekend. Half a mile later there’s another barrier, this time impassable, so we all have to go back. The family goes off to a nearby park, while we attempt to go on the newly built road parallelling the bike path. But that’s closed too and being guarded by gruff traffic police, so we meander around the park trying to pick our way out.

The whole area is a mass of not-quite-finished roads and bridges, and it’s not clear how we can continue. After wandering around a bit, there is only one possibility and eventually it leads to a beautiful bike and hike path, winding up beside a river to a waterfall. We stop over looking the waterfall to have lunch. Taiwan has meant a return to ubiquitous 7 Elevens, beloved by us in Thailand. Here too they serve up a cornucopia of packaged food, hot food, weird snacks and about 900 flavours of tea. With the strength from my daily onigiri triangle, we reach the top of the trail and an old bridge which most people seem here to visit. We continue on upwards, on a small road that’s too steep to ride.

At the top of that is the final part of the climb. Now on a main road, this would normally be a moderate undertaking, but the heat and the humidity make it difficult. Richard completely falls apart and has to stop every few minutes. He won’t eat, won’t drink water and won’t wear sun lotion, so my sympathy is limited on days like this.

The downhill is wonderful. The scenery isn’t dramatic, but it’s a quiet, shady rural road. When we finally reach our destination town it is getting towards dusk. We haven’t done a huge distance, but it’s taken us ages in the conditions.

The next day is a real slog. It’s so hot, our heads are pounding. We set off with about three litres of water and a few bottles of soft drinks, confident of stocking up on the way. Everything we’ve read is that the west coast is built up, and we take that to mean shops as well as busy roads. The first part of the day is through lovely shady woods on bike paths. There aren’t any shops, but we’re out of the sun even though it’s hot and there are loads of places to rest. Then we’re out on the highway, totally exposed to the blistering sun. The bike route has been taken out because of building work, so it’s miles on a narrow lane, with a concrete barrier on one side and bollards keeping us apart from the highway on the other. There isn’t enough room for mopeds to pass, so one is stuck behind me the whole way, while I burst my lungs to go faster.

When we finally peel off onto smaller roads, the water we have left is hot and we haven’t seen any sign of a shop since leaving this morning. We had planned to take a side-trip to ride through a disused railway tunnel, but the water situation is too serious. We are still on backroads, but there’s a large temple signposted, so we head towards that, hoping there will be shops or stalls, but there aren’t. With all drinks now gone, Richard is on the verge of knocking on someone’s door and asking for water. It’s a ridiculous situation to get into in a country like Taiwan. A few miles further on and there’s another temple and this time there’s a vending machine. It has probably never seen such brisk business.

It’s late again when we arrive in the next town. These distances have never taken us this long to do before, and we’re thoroughly depleted at the end of every day. It might not sound like it, but we are really enjoying Taiwan. The food is great, the people have been friendly, and the cycling would be fine apart from the heat. We take a night time stroll to an amazing intricately carved temple lit up in gold, and find a lovely place for breakfast and coffee in the morning.

Having previously missed out on a rail tunnel due to the stupidity of running out of water, we go out of our way when we learn about another one a short detour from our planned route. This one is a dedicated bikeway, with the atmospheric old rail tunnel running for nearly two kilometres, and then over an hundred year old steel bridge.

The ride into town is oddly sedate. We find backroads where there are small rice fields and little quaint stream bridges all the way until near the centre. Usually town and city approaches are a hectic mass of swarming mopeds, in between endless rows of traffic lights with ungodly waiting times at them. There are so many of them, and the towns are starting to bleed together, that time spent sitting at them adds so much time onto our day.

The bikes paths are gone now. The bike route becomes either a lane shared with motorbikes and mopeds on a main road, or just the main road. Taiwan has taken the UK approach to cycle routes – paint some markings on the road, change nothing else, and declare cycle routes have now been created. We have the wind with us, but it’s a bit of a grind – boring, and a little dicey through towns.

Near the beginning of the next day I start to feel horrible pain in my knee, which gets worse as the day goes on until I am pedalling over bridges only able to put pressure on with one leg. Fortunately it’s otherwise flat. In the evening I have no problem putting weight on it, but I can’t bend it and it’s agony even getting into bed. Later in the evening we see the news that Taroko Gorge has been closed indefinitely. There has been torrential rain in the north and west while we’ve been in a heatwave, and a landslide has created a dam lake and made the road through Taroko inaccessible. To say that I down in the dumps is an understatement. The weather reports show storm level winds and heavy rain in Taipei. We watch video of mopeds and riders being blown over and people not able to stand in the wind. I know I should be thankful that we’re in a pocket of the country unaffected by this, and that we didn’t go the other way around and get caught in a landslide, but my gloom just keeps getting the better of me.

A playlist for the ride: