Only 2 months prior, a magnitude 6.4 earthquake had struck the Kaohsiung district in southern Taiwan. The earthquake caused massive widespread damage, and it killed 114 people. The Malishan canyon, our new objective, was less than 50km from this earthquake’s epicentre. The quake’s damage to the area was obvious; countless landslides speckled the mountain sides. We knew the approach to the canyon would be no easy feat. Boy was that an understatement.

Well fuck. I was standing at the edge of the 4th rock spire looking down a sheer cliff that disappeared into the clouds below. We had just crossed a Tyrolean traverse to reach this spire, which we hoped would be the end of this 2 day epic. Last night we were forced into an emergency bivvy on top of the 3000m 2nd spire. The earthquake aftershocks gently shook us to sleep on the rocky outcrop during the night. Sticking to the ridgeline to avoid landslides no longer seemed like such a good idea. We might actually need a rescue to get off this thing.

Miraculously, we found a route down off the 4th spire, despite the map indicating a 500m bluff. After a good night’s sleep below tree line, we entered the canyon on Day 4. The day began with sunny skies and A4 water levels. The canyon quickly narrowed and the terrain steepened. The team snapped into a groove, and we were making a swift progression down. Then the progress stopped. The rock type changed, and our drill could barely penetrate the 200+ MPa rock. This wouldn’t have been such a problem if we weren’t at the steepest section where the canyon dropped 300 meters in a series of 5 waterfalls. Clouds rolled in, the temperature dropped, and it started to rain.

At 7:00pm with darkness setting in, I arrived at the top of the final 70m pitch to find Moritz standing on a 10cm ledge with his cowstails loose and his hands pulling vigorously upwards on the tensioned rappel rope below. He looked worried. I came down further to find the anchor was two marginal piton placements and it wasn’t equalized well. Moritz had discovered the same thing, and he was now trying to take weight off the anchor because it didn’t look like it would hold. Rainwater poured from every place alongside the cliff, and little rocks were being pulled down with it. I couldn’t have imagined a worse situation. At 51 kgs, Indonesian power-house Supii Liem offered to de-rig this pitch. I’ve never been so thankful. We’re going to have to get it together if we want to get through this canyon. Darkness forced another emergency bivvy.

Day 5 started with drops as far as the eye could see. The steepness was relentless, and we were already behind schedule. We needed to push hard to get through this section if we wanted to camp in an open area. We rigged quickly (and more safely) to navigate the terrain. Things were going better even though I almost killed Ryoji Onishi when I knocked loose a table sized rock on rappel. I didn’t know he could run so fast. More creeks entered the canyon, and our water flow increased to an A5 level. We were greeted by one of the coolest waterfalls I’ve ever seen: An 80m waterfall banked around a left-hand curve and barrel-rolled the water not once, but twice during its journey to the bottom. This is what it’s all about.

Unfortunately the delight of Day 5 didn’t last long. Night fell and we weren’t even close to the open area we sought for camp. We pushed until we found a small embankment that could hold us for the night, forcing yet another emergency bivvy. After all we had already been through, this was the night I questioned what we were doing. The embankment was formed by a recent rockslide above. House-sized schist plates clung precariously to the smooth rock slope, aiming directly at our camp if the slightest aftershock loosened them. The embankment was no higher that 30cm above the water, and we were far from safe if levels rose. Gus Schiavon summed up the night perfectly the next morning when he said, “I’m pretty sure I figured out every way in which we could have died last night.”