Silent Reflections at Cihu Lake—A Day Trip to Cihu

Nestled in the mountains and waters of Taoyuan, Taiwan, lies a tranquil lake imbued with historical significance, known as "Cihu." The name itself evokes a sense of gentleness and reverence. However, upon setting foot on the Cihu trail, I discovered that this place is not merely a lakeside retreat for leisurely strolls but also a quiet, poetic narrative intertwining Taiwan's political memory with the serene beauty of nature. Early in the morning, I drove south from Taipei, reaching the Cihu Scenic Area in just over an hour. Before entering the park, I was greeted by rows of over 200 statues of Chiang Kai-shek—this is the famous "Statue Park." These statues, once scattered across Taiwan, were relocated here amidst the "de-authoritarianization" movement. Each statue bears a unique expression, whether standing solemnly or waving with a smile, seemingly narrating the diverse imaginations and projections of the people from different times and places. This park is not merely a final resting place for the statues but also a transitional station for historical memory. Walking slowly along the lakeside, Cihu Lake mirrors the surrounding mountains and pines, its surface calm and undisturbed. Occasionally, a water bird glides by, creating ripples that resemble the wrinkles of time. The trail is flanked by dense cedar forests, providing shade and tranquility, with few visitors around. The name "Cihu" originates from Chiang Kai-shek's dedication to his mother, Madam Wang, and the lakeside features the "Cimu Pavilion," a modern structure symbolizing Confucian filial piety, nestled harmoniously within the natural landscape. The lake area is divided into two sections: the front lake, open for visitors to explore freely, and the rear lake, which houses the tombs of Chiang Kai-shek and his wife. The rear lake was heavily guarded for years and has only recently been partially opened to the public. Standing outside the mausoleum, the architecture, modeled after traditional Chinese palaces, exudes solemnity with its high eaves and red-tiled roofs. Although the political significance has faded over time, the quiet whispers and lingering gazes of visitors suggest that the memories of power have not entirely dissipated. As the afternoon sun casts golden reflections on the lake, I sat on a bench, listening to the wind rustling through the pines. The history here does not shout or preach; it flows silently in the crevices of time and nature. My journey to Cihu was not just about admiring the scenery but also contemplating how a political figure is remembered. As dusk fell, I returned to the entrance, passing through Statue Park once more. The silent statues stood as they had before, yet I seemed to hear their whispers in the wind—about past glories, controversies, and the layered history awaiting interpretation.