Japanese Colonial Era

Baiyun Police Station (白雲派出所)

It’s a rare occasion when I’m able to combine my interest in the Japanese Colonial Era with another one of my interests, Urban Exploration. Today’s article will feature a bit of both. I’m also going to be touching on an unfortunate event that took place a few short years after the Japanese left Taiwan, and has had lasting repercussions on this beautiful country.

Today I’ll be introducing an abandoned Japanese-era police outpost in the mountains that dates back to the early 1920s. More than a century old, the station has played several roles over the years, but is most notably remembered for the suppression of both the indigenous people of Taiwan, and then later against those who opposed Chinese Nationalist rule.  

For some, the station is a dark reminder of an authoritarian history and the violent suppression of Taiwan’s indigenous people and the empty shell of a building that remains standing today is a fitting reminder of that history.

Recently recognized as a protected heritage building by the New Taipei City Government, funds have been available to clean up and preserve what little remains of the station. Still, it remains a skeleton of what it once was, and it doesn’t seem like there are any plans to restore any of the pieces that have been lost.

So, even though the historic police station is a somewhat obscure destination in the mountains of New Taipei’s Xizhi District, I’m not entirely convinced that I should consider it to be the type of ‘urban exploration’ that I’m usually interested in.

Sure, its an abandoned building, but its not abandoned in the same sense of other places that I visit. 

I’m going to try to keep this one somewhat brief in that I’ll spend a little less time introducing the history and architecture of the building than I usually do. However, given that I’m publishing this during the annual 2/28 Memorial Holiday, I will spend a short time introducing the events that made the police station a focal point for some unfortunate incidents that have become a stain on Taiwan’s modern history.

Given that 2022 marks the 30th anniversary of what many consider the formal end of Taiwan’s four-decade long period of White Terror (白色恐怖), which saw hundreds of thousands imprisoned and a still unknown number executed by the state - it’s important that these stories continue to be told and the crimes of the past continue to come to light.

Baiyun Police Station (十三分警察官吏派出所)

When the Japanese took control of Taiwan in 1895, opposition campaigns sprouted up with the Hokkien, Hakka and Indigenous inhabitants forming armed rebellions all over the island. To quell these movements, the Japanese authorities reacted violently, and as those who opposed their rule were pushed further into the mountains, the Japanese followed suit with a militaristic presence in areas that were once thought to be uncontrollable by the previous Qing rulers. 

For the first few years of Japanese rule, these opposition movements persisted around the island, but as was the case with almost every powerful colonial regime throughout history, they were violently silenced by the more powerful, and better equipped rulers. 

In 1920 (大正9年), the Jusanfun Police Branch (十三分警察官吏派出所) was set up as a mountainous outpost under the direction of the Shiodome District Branch of Taihoku Prefecture’s Police Bureau (臺北州警務部七星郡警察課的汐止分室). Located in the mountains of Shiodome (汐止街/しおどめまち), or what we refer to today as New Taipei’s Xizhi District (汐止區). Geographically located at the intersection of Nangang (南港), Shiding (石碇) and Xizhi (汐止), the outpost was meant to help keep keep the ‘Kypanas’ (峰仔峙社) of the Ketagalan tribe (凱達格蘭族) under control as well as to protect the local farmers as the area was famed for its tea production as well as its coal mines.

By the 1920s Japanese rule in Taiwan had more or less stabilized, so from the time it was constructed until the end of the Second World War, not all that much happened at the station. Records as to what happened after the Chinese Nationalists took over however remain a bit convoluted as resources about the station tend to provide conflicting accounts. Some of the historical information you’ll find about the building argues that it was occupied by the police until the late 1960s, while others argue that it was instead used as a dormitory for the principal of the elementary school next door. While I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case at some point, from everything I’ve seen I think its safe to say that the building was used as a police station and dormitory for the police until the late 1960s. 

What we do know for sure is that when the tragic ‘Luku Incident’ took place in 1952 (民國41年), the station was still in use as a branch of the Xizhi Police Station.

According to the information available from the National Culture Database Management System, in addition to the educational resources provided on-site, the station was still occupied in 1962 (民國51年) by a patrol officer, two administrative officers and a military conscript. The patrol officer was fortunate enough to have his own separate housing to the rear of the station, but the others stayed within the shared-dormitory section connected to the station. 

If my resources are correct, the station likely ceased operating as a police outpost in 1976 (民國65年), but it apparently wasn’t completely abandoned until 1992 (民國81年). My assumption is that during the sixteen year period from when the police left and the building was abandoned, it was probably used as a dormitory for the principal of the school next door.

If that’s the case, the accounts I’ve read could both be correct, but just not precise in the dates they provide. 

Finally, in 2009 (民國98年), the Taipei County Government listed the site as a protected historic building and slated the property for simple restoration, which included cleaning up the landscape and the abandoned materials that couldn’t be saved. Despite being abandoned for more than a decade, and both the building and the landscape in terrible shape, the empty shell of the building was protected as it was atypical of the construction techniques of the era for which there are very few still remaining intact.

Unfortunately, given that what remains of the outpost is an empty shell of its former self, I’m going to provide a couple of illustrations below to offer a better description of how the station originally appeared.

Before getting into the architectural design of the station, I’m going to provide a brief timeline of historic events for the station: 

Timeline:

  • 1920 (大正9年) - Taihoku Prefecture (台北州廳) is redistricted and Shiodome machi (汐止街/しおどめまち) falls under the administration of Shichisei district (七星郡/しちせいぐん) with the mountainous area falling under Shichisei as Jusanfun (十三分 / じゅう さん ふん).

  • 1920 (大正9年) - The 13th Branch Police Station (十三分警察官吏派出所) opens for service.

  • 1945 (昭和20年) - The Second World War comes to an end and Japan surrenders control of Taiwan to the Chinese Nationalists.

  • 12/29/1952 (民國41年) - Security personnel set up a blockade of the village of Luku (鹿窟), a short distance away from the station using the station for logistical purposes.

  • 03/05/1953 (民國42年) - The blockade of the village comes to an end and the security forces leave the area. 

  • 1976 (民國65年) - The building ceases operation as a police outpost and ownership is transferred to the local school for administrative usage.

  • 1992 (民國81年) - Having become run down, the building is completely abandoned, and is left to the elements. 

  • 08/20/2009 (民國98年) - The Taipei County government lists the station as a protected historic site (歷史建築).

Architectural Design

When I write about these historic buildings, I usually spend a considerable amount of time describing their architectural design. In this case however, I don’t really feel like I need to spend too much time on that this time as it’s currently only a skeleton of its original self, with only the concrete base remaining. 

Interestingly, even though the history is rather hit-and-miss in terms of the information that is readily available, when it comes to the architectural design of the building we’re blessed with a wealth of information regarding how it would have looked more than a century ago.

Constructed in 1920 (大正9年), the station was built in an era when Japanese architects were taking inspiration from the Art Deco designs of Europe and fusing it with traditional Japanese design techniques. making use of a combination of reinforced concrete and wood in a style known as ‘Wayō secchū kenchiku’ (和洋折衷建築/わようせっちゅうけんち), or literally “Japanese-Western Eclectic Architecture,” this architectural style spread throughout Japan during the Meiji Restoration (明治維新), and continued with Emperor Taisho (大正) and his successor Emperor Showa (昭和天皇).  

Essentially split into two sections, the eastern side of the building was constructed with concrete and was where the daily operation of the police station would have taken place. The roof of the building was higher than the western side and features the two-sided kirizuma-zukuri (切妻造 / きりづまづくり) style of roof design. The western side of the building on the other hand was a traditional living space for the employees of the police station and was constructed in a more traditional style featuring a beautiful four-sided yosemune-zukuri (寄棟造 /よせむねづくり) style of roof, creating a three dimensional design as illustrated below.

One of the most important architectural elements of Art-Deco style is the inclusion of flowing geometric shapes and it would be an understatement to say that architects of the time absolutely loved fusing traditional Japanese-style ‘hip-and-gable’ roofs in these designs. These geometrically complex roofs expanded upon the Art Deco style and ensured that traditional Japanese characteristics were plainly visible. So, while it may have appeared that the building consisted of two different roofs, they were actually connected with the eastern end having an arch facing outwards towards the entrance while the western side arched in the opposite direction. 

Obviously, since the only part of the building that remains today is the concrete administrative section, the only part of the roof that we can see now is the (recently restored) two-sided kirizuma roof, which is constructed to look like an ‘open book’ or the Chinese character “入”.

The architecture of this section was regarded by designers as the primarily western-inspired section of the station, or the ‘youkan’ (洋館 / ようかん) with high ceilings and a spacious open interior. 

When you visit today, you’ll find the outline of where the Japanese-style designed ‘wakan’ (和館  /わかん) once existed, with some of the cement pieces from the base still intact. The building itself however was demolished decades ago, and I doubt that there will be any efforts to reconstruct it in the near future. That being said, the building was constructed of wood and was a ‘shared-dormitory’ style building featuring a living space, kitchen, common area and a western-style bathroom (likely added in the 1960s).

The living space would have been connected directly to the station and employees would have been able to go back and forth during the day between the station and the residence.

As mentioned above, there also used to be a separate dorm building to the rear that housed the patrol officer, and I’m assuming his family. The building wouldn’t have been all that large, but it seems like it would have been completely covered by a beautiful tree, which would have been nice. There isn’t any record as to when that particular building disappeared, so I’m assuming that it was bulldozed around the same time as the other building, but there is little evidence that it actually existed today.

Today, the station is simply an empty shell with only a little evidence of what once existed on the grounds - The station grounds cover about 1000 square meters of land (300坪), and if you walk around you’ll be able to find other objects that once existed on the site, such as an old flag pole and the stone barriers on the hill in front of the station. If you take the time to explore and know where to look, you’ll be able to find quite a bit while walking around.  

The Luku Incident (鹿窟事件)

One of the first (as well as the largest) events of the White Terror Period (白色恐怖), the infamous ‘Luku Incident' was a several month-long massacre starting on December 29th, 1952 and spread over a several month period until March 3rd 1953.

While many of the facts about what happened are still unknown, records are slowly opening up thanks to the Transitional Justice branch of the government, tasked with discovering the truth of what happened during Taiwan’s period of authoritarian one-party rule. 

What we do know is a situation the authoritarian government perceived as a threat resulted in a heavy-handed response that saw thousands of police officers marching into the mountains, blockading a village for months, and ended in the arrests of hundreds of innocent people, many of whom were imprisoned on false charges, while others were executed for crimes against the state. 

Official records (currently) state that more than four-hundred villagers were arrested, one hundred imprisoned and thirty-six of them were executed for charges relating to treason or espionage over the four month period. For those that were arrested, interrogation and torture was pretty much a given, and if one ultimately submitted and admitted to a crime (as many do during torture sessions), it was a death sentence.

So what caused this mess? 

Reeling from their losses during the Chinese Civil War, the Chinese Nationalists were intent on eliminating anyone with communist sympathies here in Taiwan in fear that ‘collaborators’ would be able to assist those back in China in any future attack on Taiwan.

In 1949, looking for a strategic stronghold in Taiwan, the village of Luku (鹿窟) in the mountains between the port of Keelung and the capital of Taipei was selected to become a communist base of operations.

By 1950, it is estimated that the group had attracted around three-hundred followers, and named itself the “Taiwan People’s Self Defense Force” (台灣人民武裝保衛隊). In late 1952, one the members of the group was captured and gave up details of the group’s operations including those who were involved. The area was then put under surveillance, and within a month it was decided that the Security Bureau (保密局), the Security Command (保安司令部), the Taipei Garrison Command (台北衛戍司令部) and the Taipei County Police (台北縣警察局) would coordinate and dispatch a 15,000 man response to block the mountains and rout out the communist threat. 

For most people Taiwan today, the incident was one of those largely forgotten events of the White Terror period - Few actually knew what happened, nor what the government did to the people of this village. For the villagers however, life in the aftermath of what happened was never able to return to normal.

For much of the 1950s, the vast majority of the villages men had disappeared, or were dead - This left only widows, children and the elderly, most of whom were geographically isolated from the rest of Taiwan. Coupled with a sense of alienation from their fellow villagers (who were forced to point fingers at each other in their confessions) mention of what happened became taboo within the community, which was renamed ‘Guangming’ (光明里) by the government in order to erase memory of what took place.

In order to further ‘punish’ the people of Luku, the coal mines were shut down and roads in and out of the village weren’t maintained, forcing many to simply pack up and leave.

When the five-decade long Martial Law era came to an end in 1987, and the nation started to transition into a multi-party democracy, the crimes of the past started to come under scrutiny with the 2-28 Incident (二二八事件) given official recognition by the government in 1991, followed by the Luku Incident a few years later.

On December 29th, 2000, the 48th anniversary of the incident, the government unveiled the Luku Incident Memorial (鹿窟事件紀念牌) at the intersection of Luku, Shiding (石碇) and Nangang (南港) as a reminder of the horrible events and the hope that the healing process could finally start after so many years. 

Link: Luku Incident Memorial 鹿窟事件紀念碑 (Foreigners in Taiwan)

How does this terrible incident that took place 70 years ago relate to the Baiyun Police Station?

If you take into consideration the geographic location of Luku Village and the station, it’s easy to see why.

The station was used as a command center for some of the 15,000 armed security personnel who barricaded the village. It was also used for surveillance of the village for the month prior to the blockade.

Link: Gone but Not Forgotten: 7 Historic Sites to Learn More About the White Terror (Taiwan Scene)

Finally, as the village of Luku declined in the aftermath of the incident, the need for a police station in the area similarly became unnecessary ultimately sealing the fate of the building.

Today, the station, like the village above is an empty shell, but as we look back at the tragedies of the Luku Incident, it remains an important historic location with regard to remembering the mistakes of the past.  

Getting There

 

Address: #373 Xiding Road, Xizhi District, New Taipei City (新北市汐止區汐碇路373號)

GPS: 25.037180, 121.641720

Okay, so there is a bit of an issue with the address above, making getting to the area a little difficult.

Coincidentally, when I attempted to visit the station, I had thought I was going to have to jump a fence or something to get in, given the directions that I had read before departure.

The address listed above is officially the address for Linsen Elementary School (林森小學), but that’s not actually where you’re going to find the entrance when you arrive. It is essentially just the closest physical address to where you’ll find the police station given that it doesn’t have an address of its own. 

When you’re making your way up the very narrow mountainous Xiding Road (汐碇路), you’ll come across a sharp turn where you’ll find the entrance to the school on the left. If you’re arrived at the school, you’ll have already passed the entrance to the police station.

When the road curves, you’ll notice a stone set of stairs that ascends a tree-covered hill - from there you’ll simply walk up the hill for a minute until you arrive at the station. The problem for most people is that the station isn’t clearly marked on the road, so you really have to pay attention. 

If you’re driving a car or a scooter, simply input the address above into your GPS or Google Maps and you’ll be able to find your way there from wherever you’re going. A word of advice on that matter though, if you’re driving a car and you pass the entrance to the police station, it’s going to be quite difficult to turn around on the very narrow road. You’re going to have to pay close attention to your GPS and when you see the road start to curve just before you arrive at the elementary school, pull over on the side of the road where there is a grassy area that allows visitors to park. 

If you’re relying on public transportation to get to the police station, you’re in luck as there is amazingly a bus that services the (somewhat obscure) area. That being said, the bus doesn’t come all that often so you’re likely to find yourself waiting around for a while if you take that option. 

The bus is #F903 from Xizhi (汐止) to Tiandao Qingxiu Temple (天道清修院), and it only services the area seven times a day which means that you’re going to have to be very careful with your timing. 

From Xizhi Train Station (汐止火車站): 06:30 08:20 10:00 12:00 13:30 15:30 17:30

From Tiandao Qingxiu Temple (天道清修院): 07:10 09:15 10:40 12:40 14:10 16:10 18:10 

Not wanting to rely on the bus, I rented a GoShare from Nangang Train Station (南港車站) and made my way up the mountain and back by scooter. Unfortunately the only shared scooter services you’ll find in the Xizhi area are iRent and Wemo and they’re few and far between. 

If you were brave you could also rent a Youbike and make your way up the hill to the station, but the hill is quite steep and it’d be a pretty difficult ride, so I wouldn’t really recommend that method. 

The New Taipei City government has invested a bit of money on the preservation of this historic Japanese-era police station, but it’s certainly not a destination that is meant to attract a lot of tourists.

If you find yourself in the area hiking one of the trails, then you should probably make the effort to stop by to check it out, however I don’t think many people are as invested in these things as I am and aren’t going to make a special effort to travel all the way there just to check it out.



Rinan Train Station (日南車站)

Over the past few months I’ve spent quite a bit of time writing about the so-called “Miaoli Three Treasures” (苗栗三寶), a collection of one hundred year old Japanese-era train stations located along the western coast of Taiwan. The three stations are incredibly important for a few reasons - obviously as I just mentioned, they’re all a century old (as of 2022), they’re all located along a special branch of the Western Railway, they were all constructed at the same time, and finally because they were all constructed in the same architectural style, and appear almost exactly the same - save for a few modifications over the years.

The odd thing about these ‘three’ treasures, namely Dashan (大山車站), Tanwen (談文車站) and Xinpu (新埔車站), is that there are actually a couple more of them which are somewhat ironically excluded.

Purely for hilarious political reasons, I assure you.

You see, as I mentioned in one of my earlier articles about the stations, Miaoli is a special place, one that many jokingly refer to a ‘sovereign nation’ of its own. Miaoli-kuo (苗栗國), as it is commonly referred to has a certain a swagger about it, and even though it may only be a long-running social media joke, the county in central Taiwan does set itself apart from the rest of Taiwan in a number of ways.

So yeah, even though some railway aficionados refer to those stations as the “Miaoli Three Treasures”, if you’re from out of town and add the other two you get the “Coastal Railway Five Treasures” (海線五寶).

As far as most westerners are concerned, ‘five treasures’ likely sounds a lot better than ‘three’, but in Chinese cultures the term “Three Treasures” (三寶) is an especially auspicious and meaningful number than five, so linguistically it has more sway.

Note: “Three Treasures” (三寶) linguistically refers to “the Buddha”, “the Dharma”, and “the Sangha” (佛寶, 法寶, 僧寶) in Buddhism, also known as the “Three Jewels” or the “Three Roots” and is a term that has significant meaning throughout Asia. That being said, the term “三寶” (sān bǎo) has taken on a number of meanings ranging from a Hong Kong style of bento box featuring three kinds of meat (三寶飯) to an idiot driving on the road (馬路三寶), among others.

If you’re like myself and you don’t actually hail from Miaoli, you’ll probably just want to include the other two stations, located in Taichung, because they deserve the same amount of respect - and to tell the truth they’re in a lot better shape than the other three!

Given that this article is number four out of five with regard to these stations, I’m moving on to the two remaining ‘treasure’ stations along the coastal railway.

Today, I’ll be introducing Rinan Station (日南車站), the station that is closest geographically to the three in Miaoli, and one of the most well-loved and historically significant of the so-called five treasures.

Suffice to say, the neighborhood surrounding the station has developed and transformed considerably over the past century, but the amazing thing is that this historic station hall remains pretty much exactly the same as it did when it was first constructed, and it remarkably remains in great shape given its age.

Located only a station away from the much larger and more popular Daijia Station (大甲車站), home to the renowned Dajia Jenn Lann Temple (大甲鎮瀾宮), and the annual Dajia Mazu Pilgrimage (大甲媽祖遶境進香), Rinan Station is easily accessible and is an absolute pleasure to visit!

But, before I start to introduce the station, I think it’s important to take a few minutes to introduce the Coastal Railway, and why it was so significant.

Coastal Railway (海岸線 / かいがんせん)

The history of the railway in Taiwan dates back as far as 1891 (光緒17), when the Qing governor, attempted to construct a route stretching from Keelung (基隆) all the way to Hsinchu (新竹). Ultimately though, the construction of the railway came at too high of a cost, especially with war raging back home in China, so any plans to expand it further were put on hold.

A few short years later in 1895 (明治28), the Japanese took control of Taiwan, and brought with them a team of skilled engineers who were tasked with coming up with plans to have that already established railway evaluated and then to come up with suggestions to extend it all the way to the south of Taiwan and beyond.   

The Jūkan Tetsudō Project (ゅうかんてつどう / 縱貫鐵道), otherwise known as the ‘Taiwan Trunk Railway Project’ sought to have the railroad pass through all of Taiwan’s already established settlements, including Kirin (基隆), Taihoku (臺北), Shinchiku (新竹), Taichu (臺中), Tainan (臺南) and Takao (高雄). 

Completed in 1908 (明治41), the more than four-hundred kilometer railway connected the north to the south for the first time ever, and was all part of the Japanese Colonial Government’s master plan to ensure that Taiwan’s precious natural resources would be able to flow smoothy out of the ports in Northern, Central, and Southern Taiwan. 

Once completed, the Railway Department of the Governor General of Taiwan (台灣總督府交通局鐵道部) set its sights on constructing branch lines across the country as well as expanding the railway network with a line on the eastern coast as well. 

Link: Taiwan Railway Museum (臺灣總督府鐵道部)

However, after almost a decade of service, unforeseen circumstances in central Taiwan necessitated changes in the way that the western railway was operated, with issues arising due to typhoon and earthquake damage. More specifically, the western trunk railway in Southern Miaoli passed through the mountains and required somewhat of a steep incline in sections before eventually crossing bridges across the Da’an (大安溪) and Da’jia Rivers (大甲溪), which started to create a lot of congestion, and periodic service outages when the railway and the bridges had to be repaired. 

Link: Long-Teng Bridge (龍騰斷橋)

To solve this problem, the team of railway engineers suggested the construction of the Kaigan-sen (かいがんせん / 海岸線), or the Coastal Railway Branch line between Chikunangai (ちくなんがい / 竹南街) and Shoka (しょうかちょう / 彰化廳), or what we refer to today as Chunan and Changhua. 

Link: Western Trunk Line | 縱貫線 (Wiki)  

Construction on the ninety kilometer Coastal Line started in 1919, and amazingly was completed just a few short years later in 1922 (大正11), servicing eighteen stations, some of which (as I mentioned above) continue to remain in service today. 

Those stations were: Zhunan (竹南), Tanwen (談文湖), Dashan (大山), Houlong (後龍), Longgang (公司寮), Baishatun (白沙墩), Xinpu (新埔), Tongxiao (吞霄), Yuanli (苑裡), Rinan (日南), Dajia (大甲), Taichung Port (甲南), Qingshui (清水), Shalu (沙轆), Longjing (龍井), Dadu (大肚), Zhuifen (追分) and Changhua (彰化). 

(Note: English is current name / Chinese is the original Japanese-era station name)

Nichinan Station (日南驛 / にちなんえき)

When the Coastal Railway officially opened for service on October 11th, 1922, construction on Rinan Station as we know it today had yet to be completed.

Trains would have stopped in the area along the way,  but it wasn’t actually until about half a month later that the station officially opened to the public. 

After some delays, the station we know today as Rinan Station (日南車站) officially opened to the public on October 30th, 1922 (大正12年) as Nichinan Station (日南驛 / にちなんえき). However, unlike some of the other stations along the coastal line, which were used primarily for loading freight, Nichinan held a dual role in that it was constructed in a strategic location between Enri Station (苑裡驛 / えんりえき) and Taiko Station (大甲驛 / たいこうえき), located across the ‘Daian River’ (だいあんけい), what we refer to today as the Da’an River.

Essentially, it was an important way-point along the Coastal Railway that allowed for trains to standby, prior to crossing the single-rail Da’an River Bridge (大安溪橋 / だいあんけいはし), in addition to allowing local residents to easily cross the river into the much larger Taiko Village. 

Nichinan” (or Rinan), has historically been a bit of a confusing area in terms of its geographic administration. During the Qing Dynasty, it was known as Rinan Village (日南庄), one of the districts of Biâu-li̍k-sa-pó (苗栗三堡), with the name being derived by Han settlers as a Chinese transliteration of the name used by the local Taokas tribe (道卡斯族), one of Taiwan’s plains indigenous people.

Then, when the Japanese took control of Taiwan in 1895, it was initially absorbed into Byoritsucho (苗栗廳 / びょうりつちょう), which then became a district of Shinchiku Prefecture (新竹州). Finally in 1920 (大正10年) it became part of Taichū Prefecture’s (臺中廳 / たいちゅうちょう) Taiko District (大甲郡 / たいこうぐん). 

In today’s terms what that means is that it was originally part of Miaoli, then absorbed into Greater Hsinchu, and finally it became a part of Taichung.

When the Japanese era came to an end and the Chinese Nationalists took control of Taiwan, the Taichung area was redistricted several times, but since the 1920s, Rinan has remained a part of Dajia (大甲), whether it was part of the ‘village’, ‘township’ or the current ‘district’. That being said, Rinan is geographically closer to Miaoli’s southern Yuanli Township (苑裡鎮), as it is located on the same side of the Da’an River, separated from the rest of Dajia.   

Keeping Nichinan’s geography in mind, it’s important to note that the Yuanli area in south-western Miaoli is nicknamed “Miaoli’s Barn” (苗栗穀倉) or “Miaoli’s Granary” (苗栗米倉), referring to the nearly 3000 hectares of land used for the production of agricultural products. The flat plains in the area, and access to the river meet the conditions necessary for the production of rice.

Today when you visit, you may notice some Chinese characters engraved on the ground in the public square in front of the station which read “米倉驛站” (mǐ cāng yì zhàn) or “Rice Granary Train Station,” an obvious nod to the station’s history, and that of the local community.  

It’s important to note that the rice cultivated in the area wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill type eaten by regulars like you and me, it was the “tribute” (貢米) variety that would have been sent directly to Japan for the direct consumption of the royal family and the aristocracy. Similar to the famed rice grown in Taitung’s Chishang Village (池上), “Emperors Rice” (天皇御用稻米), as it has become known, has since been democratized, and remains one of Taiwan’s most prized exports in the Japanese market. 

When you take into consideration that the Kōnan Station (甲南驛/こうなんえき), known today as Taichung Port Station (台中港車站) was only two stops away from Nichinan, it would have been extremely efficient having the rice loaded and sent directly to port where it could be put on a boat, sent back to the Japanese mainland and in the emperors rice bowl in no time!

In conjunction with the Coastal Railway’s other agricultural fruit exports (pineapples, watermelons, etc.) the construction of the railway pretty much paid for itself within a few years as it contributed greatly to the colony’s annual exports. So, from 1922-1945, Nichinan Station remained a strategically important one for the export of rice, as well as a standby station for trains crossing the bridge.

When the Second World War came to an end and the Chinese Nationalists took control of Taiwan, things pretty much remained the same at the station (save for a name change) until the late 1970s and 1980s when the railway was widened into a dual-rail network. When that happened, the platform area of the station was expanded, and an underground walkway was added to ensure the safety of passengers boarding trains at the station.

In 2002, Rinan Station was recognized by the Taichung Cultural Affairs Bureau (台中文化部) as a Protected Historic Property (台中市市定古蹟) and efforts were made to clean the area up.

With the number of passengers at the station gradually decreasing over the years, the daily administration of the station has been relegated to Dajia Station (大甲車站), and the majority of passengers make use of the convenient card swiping system to board the train rather than purchasing tickets.

Currently the station is home to only a few employees who oversee daily administrative duties. 

As the station nears its centennial, the annual average number of passengers has steadily decreased from a high of 240,000 in 2013 to 175,000 in 2020. These numbers account for a daily average of about 250 passengers per day putting it at 160/240 with regard to Taiwan’s busiest stations.

So even though it isn’t the busiest of the nations railway stations, it isn’t the quietest either. 

Before I get into the architectural design of the station, I’ll provide a brief timeline of events over the station’s one hundred year history:  

Timeline

  • 10/11/1922 (大正12年) - The Coastal Railway officially opens for service.

  • 10/30/1922 (大正12年) - Nichinan Station (日南驛) officially opens for service after a delay in construction.

  • 1945 (民國34年) - The Japanese-era comes to an end and the station is renamed “Jihnan Station” (日南車站), the Mandarin pronunciation of the original name.

  • 1974 (民國63年) - The railway is widened into a dual-track line between Yuanli and Rinan Station.

  • 1989 (民國78年) - Coinciding with the construction of the new Da’an River Bridge (大安溪橋), the station undergoes some changes including a reorganization of the station yard, and the addition of an underpass from the station to the platforms.

  • 3/15/1994 (民國83年) - The station is downgraded into a ‘Type A Simple Station’ (甲種簡易站) and daily operation is coordinated out of nearby Dajia Station (大甲車站).

  • 11/26/2002 (民國91年) - The station is officially recognized as a Taichung Protected Historic Property (台中市市定古蹟).

  • 06/30/2015 (民國104年) - The station switches from primarily issuing tickets to card swiping.

  • 09/16/2017 (民國106年) - The station is again reclassified as a “Simple Station” (簡易站).

  • 10/30/2022 (民國11年) - The station will officially celebrate its centennial.

Architectural Design

When we talk about the stations that make up the “Coastal Railway’s Five Treasures” (海線五寶), the architectural design of each of the five stations differ only slightly - and most of those differences are the result of the past few decades of operation. This shouldn’t be too much of a surprise given that they were all small stations, each of which opened in the same year which means that some funds were saved when it came to architectural design. The design of these buildings is about as formulaic as you’ll get with Japanese architectural design, but don’t let that fool you, the simplicity of these stations still allows for some special design elements. 

The station was constructed in a fusion of Japanese and Western architectural design, and one of the reasons why it stands out today (apart from its age) is that it was built entirely of wood (木造結構), more specifically locally sourced Taiwanese cedar (杉木).

The architectural design fusion in many of the buildings in Taiwan that were constructed during the Taisho era (大正) borrowed elements of Western Baroque (巴洛克建築) with that of traditional Japanese design. In this case of these stations, the western aspects of its design are subdued (likely for cost saving measures), allowing the traditional Japanese design elements stand out more. 

To start, the station was constructed using the Irimoya-zukuri (入母屋造 / いりもやづくり) style of design, most often referred to in English as the “East Asian hip-and-gable.” The building was constructed with a network of beams and trusses within the interior as well as the exterior of the building that allow the roof to (in this case slightly) eclipse the base (母屋) in size and ensured that its weight is evenly distributed.

The roof itself was designed using the kirizuma-zukuri (妻造的樣式) style, which is one of the oldest and most commonly used designs in Japan. Translated simply as a “cut-out gable” roof, the kirizuma-style is one of the most basic of Japan’s ‘hip-and-gable’ roofs and basically refers to a section of the roof (above the rear entrance) that ‘cuts’ out from the rest and faces outward like an open book (入) while the longer part of the roof is curved facing in the opposite direction.

If you’re standing in front of the building, the roof will appear rather simple, but if you’re looking at the building from the rear you’ll see an almost 3D like shape where one section of the roof cuts into the other and forms a single roof. In conjunction with a lower covered portico that surrounds the building on three sides, you’ll discover more geometrically advanced shapes that make the design of the building stand out.

You’ll notice that the space between the highest part of the roof and the lower portico features several glass windows meant to allow natural light to enter the building. Unfortunately, at some point someone had the idea to place square lighted signs with the name of the station, somewhat blocking the windows. Fortunately the windows are located on three sides of the station hall, so during the day you’ll find that there is an ample amount of natural light coming into the building. 

The interior of the station hall is split in two sections, much like the example we saw the former Qidu Railway Station, with the largest section acting as the station hall while the other was where the station staff and ticket windows were located. Given that this station remains in operation, only one side is currently open to the public. Unfortunately, within the side that is open there isn’t a whole lot to see as they have covered up the walls with a bunch of notices.

While inside however, you’ll want to take note of the old cement floor and the large sliding glass windows to the left of the ticket window and to the right of the entrance. Likewise, I recommend looking up at the wall opposite the ticket booth where you’ll see the ox-tail window, and the usage of wooden beams used to ensure stability.

If you look closely at the photo below, while I was taking photos of the ox-tail window from the inside, I noticed that there was a family of geckos hanging out around the window catching any insect that flew by. Obviously this isn’t something that you’ll see happening at many train stations in Taiwan today, so I think it added to the charms of this small country-side station.

One of the most notable aspects of the interior is the wooden gate located near the ticket booth. Gate’s like this were once very common in train stations during the Japanese-era but few of them remain in the country these days. Constructed to look like the Japanese word for ‘money’ (円), the gate is set into the concrete near the ticket booth as a means to help filter people in an out while waiting in line.

Likewise, once you’ve passed through the building to the other side you’ll find a beautiful wooden fence that is also quite rare in Taiwan these days.

From the rear (and on the eastern side of the building), one of the most notable Baroque inspired elements is the round ox-eye window (牛眼窗) located above the cut section of the roof near the arch. These windows help to provide natural light into the office section of the building and is one of those western architectural elements that Japanese architects of the period absolutely loved to include in their buildings.  

One thing you’ll notice about station in relation to the others is that at some point it was painted, so the exterior appears a bit darker than the others. Coincidentally the other Taichung-area station, Zhuifen Station (追分車站) was painted the same color, making both of the ‘treasures’ in Taichung look as if they’re in better shape than the three in Miaoli. I’m guessing this is probably because Taichung is a considerably better off area than its northern neighbor, so some funds were appropriated to allow for some repair work on the buildings.

That being said, to the right of the station you’ll find a couple of (yet-to-be-restored) dormitories that used to house the staff working at the station. Both of the dorms are in pretty rough shape, but it looks like the Taichung City Government has slated them for restoration, which is pretty cool. In the future its possible that they’ll open up to the public as railway-related cultural buildings.

Getting There

 

Address: #8, Alley 140, Sec 2 Zhongshan Road. Dajia District, Taichung. (臺中市大甲區中山路二段140巷8號)

GPS: 24.378320, 120.653780

As is the case with any of my articles about Taiwan’s historic railway stations, I’m going to say something that shouldn’t really surprise you - When you ask what is the best way to get to the train station, the answer should be pretty obvious: Take the train!

Given that Rinan Station the first station you’ll reach as you pass from Miaoli into Taichung, you might be thinking that the best way to get to the station is to first travel to Taichung and then transferring from there.

Unfortunately, when you arrive in Taichung, you’ll discover that you’ll have to take one of the local commuter trains (區間車) south through the loop that connects to the Coastal Railway and the back up north to the station. The entire ride takes a little over an hour, which is pretty much the same amount of time it takes to arrive at the station directly from Hsinchu Station. If you’re traveling from the north and want to check out the station, I highly recommend you take the coastal route all the way from Hsinchu into Taichung and from there looping back along the mountain line.

If you’re already in Taichung, you’ll simply have to hop on a local commuter train bound for Miaoli along the coastal line. 

If you’re in the area and you have access to your own means of transportation, getting to the station is simple, but the neighborhood where it is located doesn’t offer many parking spots for cars along the narrow roads, so you may find yourself searching for a spot for a while.

To get there simply input the address or the GPS coordinates provided above and you shouldn’t have any problem.

When you arrive, you should be free to walk around and check it out, but if the volunteer who works there is in a bad mood (not likely) you may have to purchase a ‘platform ticket’ (月票 or 月台票), which will allow you to enter the station and walk through the turnstile without getting on the train. It’s the kind of thing people used to purchase when they were seeing off their friends or family, and should only cost about 10NT. You could also just swipe your EasyCard to go in and out, but that’ll cost more (the base price for swiping the card is higher) if you aren’t traveling on the train.  

With five of these Japanese-era stations still in working order along the Western Coastal Railway, it’s possible that a much more ambitious person than myself could attempt to day-trip a visit to all of them. Unfortunately given how much time I spent at each of these stations taking photos, that would have been impossible, and I would have missed out on some of their hidden charms. 

In retrospect, if I were to do it all again, I’d first visit the ‘Miaoli Three Treasures’ (苗栗三寶) on one excursion and then take another day to visit Rinan Station, Taichung Station (臺中車站) and Zhuifen Station (追分車站) in addition to the former Tai’an Station (泰安車站) on my way back.

That being said, there is a ton of stuff to see and do while in Taichung, so why not just stick around for a day or two and enjoy the city?

Given that I’m publishing this article in 2022, Rinan Station and the other so-called ‘treasures’ along the coastal line will be celebrating their centennial, so if you’re in the area why not stop by and appreciate these historic buildings? You won’t regret it! 

References

  1. Rinan Station | 日南車站 | 日南駅 (Wiki)

  2. 日南車站 (臺灣驛站之遊)

  3. 海線五寶 (Wiki)

  4. 日南車站‧找尋遺留在季風中的回憶 (旅遊圖中)

  5. 縱貫鐵路海線.日南車站 (臺中市文化資產處)

  6. 縱貫鐵路(海線)─日南車站 (國家市文化資產處)

  7. 日南駅 (れとろ駅舎)

  8. 日南車站︳台中大甲百年車站兼古蹟,值得鐵道迷專程搭區間車來訪 (金大佛)

  9. 鐵道迷最愛美拍!台灣「海線5寶」你去過幾個? (食尚玩家)

  10. 細說苗栗「海線三寶」車站物語 (臺灣故事)

  11. 木造車站-海線五寶 (張誌恩 / 許正諱)

  12. 海線僅存五座木造車站:談文、大山、新埔、日南、追分全收錄!(David Win)

  13. 臺中市文化資產 (Wiki)


Xinpu Train Station (新埔車站)

One of my local photographer friends is someone who most people in Taiwan would refer to as an “auntie,” one of those strong-willed, no-nonsense types who says what she thinks and never holds back. As the boss of a noodle restaurant that people around here swear by, she’s used to shouting orders and controlling a well-oiled kitchen. So whenever we meet up, my Mandarin skills are put to the test because she speaks at about a mile a minute. 

We’ve been meeting up for a few years at a local craft beer bar where we chat about photography, cooking and lots of other subjects. She’s always interested in the places I’m visiting and the photos I’m taking, because for her (and I guess a lot of other local photographers), I have a different perspective on things here in Taiwan. 

Coincidentally, one of her absolute favorite things to shoot is trains, and she travels all over the country to these amazing locations to take beautiful photos of trains crossing bridges, coming out of caves, etc. She’s also taken this hobby on the road and traveled to Japan countless times over the years that I’ve known her to do exactly the same thing.

Personally, I’ve never been a big fan of trains - Back home in Canada it’s uncommon for us to take a train, and before leaving the country, I probably only took a train once in twenty years.

That being said, as my interest in searching out and researching remnants of the Japanese Colonial Era in Taiwan has grown, I’ve also started to look for anything rail-related from that era. 

This is something that my friend is having a good time with, because I’ve often teased, “Why don’t you find something else to shoot other than trains?” to which she now says: “Why don’t you find something else to shoot other than train stations?” 

Fortunately for her, the railway is something that will be a part of Taiwan for a long time to come.

I’ll probably run out of train stations to take photos of within the next year or two (depending on how quickly I visit them all). So, I’ll eventually be the person looking for other things to take photos of.

Today, I’m going to be introducing the third (and final) of Miaoli’s Japanese-era railway stations. As I’ve mentioned in previous articles, Miaoli County (苗栗縣) in Central Taiwan is home to three century-old stations along the Coastal Railway that amazingly continue to remain in operation today. 

Known as “Miaoli’s Three Treasures” (苗栗三寶), these three historic stations have defied all the odds in a quickly modernizing Taiwan, and have stayed open forfar longer than anyone has ever expected. 

Given that I’ve already introduced Dashan Station and Tanwen Station, this will be the last piece with regard to the Three Treasures. In the future however, I’ll be expanding from the “Miaoli Three Treasures” to the “Coastal Railway Five Treasures” (海線五寶), because there are actually two more of these historic stations just across the river in Taichung - and likewise there are a couple of other stations along the Mountain Line as well.

Before I start introducing Xinpu Railway Station, I should probably first briefly mention a bit about the history of the Coastal Railway. If you’ve already read about it in my previous posts, feel free to skip it.  

Coastal Railway (海岸線 / かいがんせん)

 The history of the railway in Taiwan dates back as far as 1891 (光緒17), when the Qing governor, attempted to construct a route stretching from Keelung (基隆) all the way to Hsinchu (新竹). Ultimately though, the construction of the railway came at too high of a cost, especially with war raging back home in China, so any plans to expand it further were put on hold.

A few short years later in 1895 (明治28), the Japanese took control of Taiwan, and brought with them a team of skilled engineers who were tasked with coming up with plans to have that already established railway evaluated, and then to come up with suggestions to extend it all the way to the south of Taiwan and beyond.   

The Jūkan Tetsudo Project (ゅうかんてつどう / 縱貫鐵道), otherwise known as the ‘Taiwan Trunk Railway Project’ sought to have the railroad pass through all of Taiwan’s already established settlements, including Kirin (基隆), Taihoku (臺北), Shinchiku (新竹), Taichu (臺中), Tainan (臺南) and Takao (高雄). 

Completed in 1908 (明治41), the more than four-hundred kilometer railway connected the north to the south for the first time ever, and was all part of the Japanese Colonial Government’s master plan to ensure that Taiwan’s precious natural resources would be able to flow smoothy out of the ports in Northern, Central, and Southern Taiwan. 

Once completed, the Railway Department of the Governor General of Taiwan (台灣總督府交通局鐵道部) set its sights on constructing branch lines across the country as well as expanding the railway network with a line on the eastern coast as well. 

Link: Taiwan Railway Museum (臺灣總督府鐵道部)

However, after almost a decade of service, unforeseen circumstances in central Taiwan necessitated changes in the way that the western railway was operated, with issues arising due to typhoon and earthquake damage. More specifically, the western trunk railway in southern Miaoli passed through the mountains and required somewhat of a steep incline in several sections before eventually crossing bridges across the Da’an (大安溪) and Da’jia Rivers (大甲溪).

Issues with the railway in the aftermath of a couple of devastating earthquakes created a lot of congestion, and periodic service outages in passenger and freight service when the railway and the bridges had to be repaired. 

Link: Long-Teng Bridge (龍騰斷橋)

To solve this problem, the team of railway engineers put forward a plan to construct the Kaigan-sen (かいがんせん / 海岸線), or the Coastal Railway Branch line between Chikunangai (ちくなんがい / 竹南街) and Shoka (しょうかちょう / 彰化廳), or the cities we refer to today as Chunan (竹南) and Changhua (彰化). 

Link: Western Trunk Line | 縱貫線 (Wiki)  

Construction on the ninety kilometer Coastal Line started in 1919, and amazingly was completed just a few short years later in 1922 (大正11), servicing eighteen stations, some of which (as I mentioned above) continue to remain in service today. 

Those stations were: Zhunan (竹南), Tanwen (談文湖), Dashan (大山), Houlong (後龍), Longgang (公司寮), Baishatun (白沙墩), Xinpu (新埔), Tongxiao (吞霄), Yuanli (苑裡), Rinan (日南), Dajia (大甲), Taichung Port (甲南), Qingshui (清水), Shalu (沙轆), Longjing (龍井), Dadu (大肚), Zhuifen (追分) and Changhua (彰化).

(Note: English is current name / Chinese is the original Japanese-era station name)

The completion of the Coastal Railway was incredibly signficant for a number reasons - most importantly, it assisted with moving freight between the ports in Keelung and Taichung much more efficiently, especially when it came to moving things out central Taiwan given that one of the stations was located at the port in Taichung. Although the railway was primarily used for moving freight back and forth, another important aspect was that the railway allowed for the smaller communities along the coast to grow and become more economically viable.

On that last point, the construction of the railway along the coast not only provided passenger service to the communities that grew along the coast, but it also allowed for entrepreneurs in those areas access to a modern method of exporting their own products for the first time. If you know anything about the relationship between Japan and Taiwan, one of the things that the Japanese absolutely love about this beautiful country is the wide variety of fruit that is grown here.

The coastal railway helped to ignite that passion with the coastal area in Miaoli exporting massive amounts of watermelons and other produce.

Shin-ho Station (新埔驛 / しんほえき)

Coinciding with the official opening of service along the Western Coastal Railway, a number of railway stations simultaneously opened their doors for passenger and freight service, one of them was Miaoli’s Xinpu Station (新埔車站 / しんほえき).

Officially opened on October 11th, 1922 (大正11年), the station was originally named ‘Shin-ho Station’ (新埔驛 / しんほえき), and is geographically located closest to the coast of any of the stations along Taiwan’s Western Coast Trunk Line.

When you arrive at the station and look out the front door, the ocean is literally a short walk away. 

In fact, as you look out the door there is a sign pointing you to the beach.

These days, when you mention “Xinpu Station,” most people around Taiwan are likely to think of the MRT station with the same name located in Banqiao (板橋), just across the river from Taipei. So lets get that out of the way first - this certainly isn’t an MRT station - it’s a century-old railway station in southern Miaoli, and as mentioned earlier is one of the nation’s oldest (still-in-operation) stations. 

The interesting thing about Xinpu Station is that it was constructed in an area that only would have ever served a very small fishing community nestled along the coast while most of the other stations along the coastal line served practical purposes with regard to the export of fruit, produce and other goods.

I haven’t found any evidence that points to Xinpu Station serving any other purpose than acting as a mid-way point between ‘Hakushaton Station’ (白沙屯驛/はくしゃとんえき) and ‘Tsusho Station’ (通霄駅 / つうしょうえき), known these days as Baishatun Station (白沙屯車站) and Tongxiao Station (通宵車站).

One of the reasons why I think it’s so safe to assume that the station was never used for loading freight is because the road in front of the station is too narrow and the rear area of the station is home to a hill that would have prevented anything from happening there. If we look at both Dashan and Tanwen Stations further north, we can still see the areas where the freight would have been loaded on trains.

Anyway, despite being a century old, not much has really happened at Xinpu Station over the years - The Japanese era ended in 1945 and when the Chinese Nationalists took control, things pretty much stayed the same at this quiet little piece of Miaoli’s southern coast.

Compared to the first two of Miaoli’s “Three Treasures” that I’ve posted about, the timeline I’m providing below is evidence of how little has happened there over the years.  

Timeline:

  • 10/11/1922 (大正11年) - Shin-ho Station (新埔驛) opens for service.

  • 06/01/1986 (民國75年) - The station is reclassified as a Simple Platform Station (簡易站) under the operational control of nearby Baishatun Station (白沙屯車站).

  • 06/07/2005 (民國94年) - The station is recognized as a protected historic building (歷史建築).

  • 06/30/2015 (民國104年) - The station switches to the usage of card swiping services rather than issuing tickets.

  • 09/16/2017 (民國106年) - The station is reclassified as a Type B Simple Platform Station (乙種簡易站) and operational control is shifted from Baishatun Station to Tongxiao Station (通宵車站)

  • 10/11/2022 (民國111年) - The station will celebrate its 100th year of service.

The Interior of the Station Hall

Over the past few decades, ridership at the station has gone up and down, but as it goes now the number of people getting on or off the train at Xinpu Station is on the decline. In 2021, for example only 41,527 people passed through the gates, making the daily average just a little over a hundred people per day. 

While the daily ridership at Xinpu Station seems low, it is actually comparable with many of the other smaller stations along the Coastal Line, so it’s not like the station is close to death. Fortunately, even if ridership does continue to fall, the station will likely remain in service thanks to the fact that it is located directly next to the coast where you’ll find the popular Miaoli Bike Way (綠光海風自行車道) tourist bike path. 

Before I get into the architectural design of the station, I should probably mention that the the area is home to a bit of a strange neighbor in the form of the Qiumao Garden (秋茂園). The semi-abandoned amusement park is full of all sorts of creepy sculptures and in the past was an attraction for a lot of tourists who were passing by with their children. These days the park has been gated off, but it remains popular with urban explorers, who hop the fence to take photos. 

Click the link below to check out some photos from the park from almost a decade ago. 

Link: 通霄秋茂園 ‧ 墓園變樂園也太妙了吧 (烏秋的天空

Architectural Design

Interestingly, when we talk about the stations that make up Miaoli’s Japanese-era “Three Treasures”, the architectural design of each of the stations differ only slightly. I suppose this shouldn’t be too much of a surprise given that they were all smaller stations, each of which opened in the same year, meaning that they obviously saved some money when it came to architectural design and construction costs. These buildings are about as formulaic as you’ll get with Japanese architectural design, but don’t let that fool you - the simplicity of these stations still allows for some special design elements. 

Compared with the other two stations, Xinpu remains in relatively good shape, but it certainly does show signs of age in a few areas. Tanwen is obviously in the worst shape of the bunch while Dashan probably would have been the best of the bunch, if it weren’t for a drunk driver driving his truck through the front doors. 

The station was constructed in a fusion of Japanese and Western architectural design, and one of the reasons it stands out today (apart from its age) is that it was built almost entirely of wood (木造結構), more specifically locally sourced Taiwanese cedar (杉木), making use of a network of beams within the building to ensure structural stability. The base of the building, and portions of the wall however make use of concrete to help reinforce the building. 

The architectural design fusion in many of the buildings that were constructed during the Taishō era (大正) borrowed elements of Western Baroque (巴洛克建築), with those of traditional Japanese design. In this case however, the architectural design is somewhat subdued, which makes the traditional Japanese design elements stand out more. This was likely in part due to cost-saving measures as well as ensuring that the construction period of all the stations along the Coastal line would be completed between 1919 (大正8) and 1922 (大正11年).  

The station was constructed using the traditional Irimoya-zukuri (入母屋造 / いりもやづくり) style of design, most often referred to in English as the “East Asian hip-and-gable roof,” one of Japan’s most common architectural styles, and is one that you’d commonly find used for Shinto Shrines, Buddhist temples, Martial Arts Halls, etc. However, even though the design of the station makes use of irimoya, it isn’t comparable with those other more official buildings, which would have been more grand in their architectural design (and the amount of money spent on their construction). 

Nevertheless, keeping with the irimoya architectural style, the building was constructed with genius a network of beams and trusses located within the interior and exterior of the building that work in conjunction with the concrete base to allow the roof to (in this case slightly) eclipse the base (母屋) in size, and ensure that its weight was evenly distributed.

The genius in design, if not already obvious enough has allowed the base of the building to support the weight of the roof for a century. 

The roof was designed using the kirizuma-zukuri (妻造的樣式) style, which is one of the oldest and most commonly used designs in Japan. Translated simply as a “cut-out gable” roof, the kirizuma-style is one of the simplest of Japan’s ‘hip-and-gable’ roofs. What this basically means is that you have a section of the roof (above the rear entrance) that ‘cuts’ out from the rest of the roof and faces outward like an open book (入), while the longer part of the roof is curved facing in the opposite direction.

The roof was originally covered in Japanese-style black tiles (日式黑瓦), but similar to both Dashan and Tanwen Stations, the tiles were replaced at some point (I haven’t found a specific date) with imitation cement tiles that appear similar to the original sodegawara (袖瓦/そでがわら), munagawara (棟瓦 /むながわらあ), nokigawara (軒瓦/のきがわら), and onigawara (鬼瓦/おにがわら) elements of traditional Japanese roof design.

Closed up ox-eye window

One of the most notable ‘baroque-inspired’ elements of the building’s architectural design is the addition of the round ox-eye window (牛眼窗), located above the ‘cut’ section of the roof near the arch. The window helps to provide natural light into the station hall, and is one of those architectural elements that Japanese architects of the period absolutely loved. 

The interior of the building is split in two sections, much like what we saw the former Qidu Railway Station, with the largest section acting as the station hall while the other was where the station staff and ticket windows were located. Given that the station remains in operation today, only the station hall area is open to the public.

That being said, the daily operation of the station is (currently) coordinated out of nearby Tongxiao Station (通宵車站), so as I mentioned earlier, the only employee you’ll find working there is likely to be a volunteer hanging out. The station office is completely closed as is the ticket booth (the station shifted to card swiping for ticket purchasing) so you can’t even take a look at what the office looks like. 

Given that the ticket booth and the office are closed, the station hall has been more or less stripped down and is pretty much empty, except for a few notices on the walls. The relative emptiness of the interior however allows you to appreciate the design of the building a bit more as you are free to walk around and look at everything very closely. 

Interior of the station

Personally, while I did appreciate that the station hall was empty, I thought its size, the open windows and the natural afternoon light made it a really comfortable experience - especially in comparison to the modern stations you’ll find throughout the country today. That in addition to the beautiful planted flowers in the station front, and the sound of the nearby ocean waves, make this a pretty cool place to visit. 

Getting There

 

Address: #57, Hsinpu Village. Tongxiao Township (苗栗縣通霄鎮新埔里新埔57號)

GPS: 24.539850, 120.700350

As is the case with all of my articles about Taiwan’s historic railway stations, I’m going to say something that shouldn’t really surprise you - When you ask what is the best way to get to this train station, the answer should be pretty obvious: Take the train! 

Xinpu Railway Station is the southernmost of Miaoli’s ‘Three treasures’, so getting there from the north takes a bit more time than the other two stations. There are two important things to remember about taking the train: The first is that the station is located south of Hsinchu Station on the Coastal Line (海線), and the second is that the station is only serviced by local commuter trains (區間車). What this means is that if you take an express train from Taipei, or anywhere north of Hsinchu, you’ll have to switch to a commuter train once you’re there.

Be very careful about this, because the majority of trains leaving Hsinchu will take the mountain line, and that’s definitely not where you want to be (on this excursion anyway). That being said, if you planned on visiting this station and then making your way back up north, you could take a faster express train (on the coastal line) to Tongxiao Station and from there transferring to one of the local commuter trains mentioned above to backtrack northbound from there. 

Front portico of the station.

If on the other hand you’re in the area and you’re driving a car or scooter, but still want to stop by and check out the station, that’s okay as well. You should be able to easily find the station if you input the address provided above into your GPS or Google Maps. That being said, my English translation of the address above isn’t likely to show up on your preferred GPS - This is because there isn’t actually a ‘street address’ for the station, so I strongly recommend you copy and paste the Chinese-language address so that you won’t end up getting lost.

The funny thing is that this address problem is something that happens quite often in Japan, but is a little less common here in Taiwan. The Hsinpu Station however is quite a small neighborhood, and the area where the station is located can be considered more or less the middle of nowhere. 

The station is located along the side of a very narrow road near the beach in Miaoli’s southernmost Tongxiao Township (通霄鎮). If you’re driving a car, you’ll have to cross the train tracks on a very small country road, so its important to remember to drive very slowly in case you come across some oncoming traffic. 

When you arrive at the station, you’re free to walk around and check it out, it’s likely that you’ll only come across a volunteer keeping watch. Even if you’re not getting on the train, you can walk through to the back of the platform area without purchasing a platform ticket. So, you’ll be able to freely take photos of the front and back. That being said, the rear of the station is quite cramped as the original designers probably never figured that there would eventually be a sky walk platform constructed next to the station.

This makes taking photos there isn’t a little more difficult than Dashan and Tanwen Stations. 

Of the so-called Three Treasures, Xinpu Station is probably one of the easiest to visit and is where you’re likely to find the most tourists. This is probably due to the fact that it is so close to the famed Baishatun Mazu Temple (白沙屯拱天宮), and the popular Cape of Good Hope (好望角). It is however probably safe to say that it is the less photogenic of the three century-old stations even though it does have its own unique charm.

If you’re going on a tour of these old Japanese stations, then it’s one that you have to visit. Otherwise, unless you’re in the area, its probably not one of those places that many would go out of their way to visit.