An Archipelago in the Rift Valley
If someone says they are traveling to Wanrong, be
sure to ask: which Wanrong?
Administratively, Wanrong Township consists of six
controversies
—
Xilin, Jianqing, Wanrong, Mingli,
Mayuan, and Hongye. Though they share a single
township designation, administrative boundaries
and rivers divide them into four distinct living spheres,
with no direct connections between them.
This creates a fragmented, island-hopping
experience of movement that is difficult for those
accustomed to the plains to imagine. In Wanrong,
there is no single road that allows smooth passage
across the township, nor does the landscape unfold
in linear fashion as in urban areas. To travel from
Xilin or Jianqing to Wanrong or Mingli, one must
first detour through Fenglin; to go from Mingli to
Mayuan, one must pass through Guangfu. Such
lateral movement produces a start-and-stop rhythm
of commuting, repeatedly entering and exiting
Provincial Highway No. 9.
Why does Wanrong feel so discontinuous
—
like an
archipelago scattered across the valley? The answer
lies in the township
’
s present-day administrative
boundaries, which are a direct cartographic
projection of the Japanese colonial policy known as
the reorganization of government-owned forest. In
the 1910s, the Japanese government nationalized
forest lands and classified them according to
economic value and function. Areas with high
commercial value (such as cypress forests) or
strategic importance for watershed protection
were designated as reserved forest land, directly
managed by the state. Areas suitable for agricultural
development on the plains were classified as non-
reserved forest land.
Regions with lower economic yield, but deemed
necessary for Indigenous residence, cultivation,
and social stability
—
were classified as quasi-
reserved forest land, the legal precursor to
today
’
s Indigenous Reserved Lands. Wanrong
Township
’
s administrative boundaries largely follow
Administrative Boundaries and Displaced
Landscapes
As the train slows with a rhythmic clatter and the
carriage announcement declares,
“
Wanrong
Station,
”
travelers step off with their luggage, only
to find not the rugged atmosphere of an Indigenous
homeland they might expect, but instead rows of
orderly eaves and a Yimin Temple commonly seen in
Hakka settlements.
Administratively, Wanrong Railway Station belongs
to Changqiao Village in Fenglin Township. The
same dissonance applies to Wanrong Post Office,
and even to the township
’
s highest educational
institution, Wanrong Junior High School. Every class
dismissal bell rings not on Wanrong land, but on
Fenglin soil.
This spatial game of hide-and-seek becomes even
more tangible at the well-known Lintianshan Forestry
Cultural Park.
When Wanrong Township is mentioned, Lintianshan
is often the first place people think of. Visitors arriving
at this former mountain settlement
—
once known as
Morisaka
—
inhale the century-old scent of cypress
lingering in wooden houses, trace rust along logging
rail tracks, and feel as though they are reading the
historical texture of Wanrong itself. What often goes
unnoticed is that this park, cradled by Wanrong
’
s
forests and river valleys, is administratively part of
Fenglin Township.
Behind this lies a history shaped by forestry-first
priorities. During the Japanese colonial period and
the early years after the Nationalist government
took over, the state sought firm control over high-
value forest resources. Unwilling to place this
“
prime territory
”
under Indigenous administration,
authorities reassigned it to Fenglin Township
through administrative means, where Han settlers
predominated, facilitating resource extraction and
management.
Wanrong Township
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