Jiaoxi Township

Nestled between a lowland plain and the foothills of Taiwan’s Xueshan Mountains, Jiaoxi Township has served as both a seasonal retreat and a settled community for millennia. Its landscape shifts from wetlands at the Erlong River’s mouth to peaks exceeding eleven hundred metres, all within a swathe little more than ten kilometres across. Beneath these slopes lie relics of pottery and stone tools dating as far back as 3,900 BC—evidence that Jiaoxi’s warm springs and fertile soils attracted human habitation long before written records began.

The township’s terrain outlines a broad leaf, with its western “tail” rising into forested mountains and its eastern “petiole” sloping gently toward the coastal plain. Here, accumulations of river-borne sediment have created fields that sustained hunter-gatherers first and, later, waves of irrigated rice paddies. Peaks such as Xiaojiaoxi and Dajiaoxi—each surpassing a thousand metres—form a backdrop to settlements huddled below. In the northeast, swamps lie barely above sea level, their channels feeding into the Toucheng and Yilan rivers before reaching the Pacific.

Archaeological digs at Baiyun and Qiwulan have uncovered light brown-gray and yellow-brown pottery, stone axes, scrapers and, for the first time on Taiwan, a large wooden barrel. These finds, spanning 3,900 BC to the dawn of the second millennium AD, reveal sustained use of Jiaoxi’s watercourses and springs. When Spanish forces arrived in 1626 and carved Kavalan Province from what is now the Lanyang Plain, missionaries built churches among the Kavalan people, prompting hundreds of baptisms over a decade. Their departure in 1642, driven by advancing Dutch troops, ended Spain’s brief tenure. The Dutch later negotiated with tribal leaders or subdued them by force, yet the plain remained sparsely settled by Han Chinese until the late eighteenth century.

By 1768, the first Han settlers attempted to clear land along rivers near Li Zejiang Port, but initial efforts faltered under indigenous resistance. A successful reclamation came in 1776, when Lin Yuanmin opened the floodplain near Qiwulan and began cultivating rice beside longstanding Pingpu villages. Smaller groups such as Wu Sha followed during the early Jiaqing reign, methodically expanding fields from Toucheng southward. In 1812, the Qing administration formalized these gains by creating Kavalan Prefecture and bringing Jiaoxi Village under the jurisdiction of Qiwulan Fort. Under Japanese rule (1920–1945), that fort became Jiaoxi Village within Taipei Prefecture. In 1946, provincial reforms renamed it Jiaoxi Township and, four years later, the new Republic of China government placed it within Yilan County—its present designation.

Today’s township spans 101.43 km² and comprises eighteen villages whose names—Baiyun, Deyang, Erlong, Linmei and others—echo a blend of geographical features and cultural memory. By the close of 2024, just over thirty-five thousand residents lived in roughly sixteen thousand households. Population densities vary widely: Deyang Village houses nearly four thousand eight hundred people, while Erjie counts fewer than five hundred. Yet all draw sustenance from the plain’s rice paddies, the spring waters and the rising tourist economy centered on Jiaoxi’s underground heat.

Hot springs define the township’s reputation. Unlike Taiwan’s mountainous spa resorts, these springs bubble at only thirty-odd metres above sea level, drawing water heated to nearly sixty degrees Celsius from deep fractures in the earth’s crust. Their high concentration of sodium, calcium, magnesium and carbonate ions renders the water smooth on the skin without residue. A government-sponsored festival at year’s end promotes both communal soaking and the local hospitality sector, which sees spikes in occupancy and dining revenue each weekend during winter. In March 2012, Taiwan’s Tourism Bureau named Jiaoxi among its ten most appealing small towns—an acknowledgment of its steady rise on the national leisure map.

Beyond the baths, Jiaoxi’s waterways have long shaped local life. Wufengqi Waterfall tumbles in three tiers along Dezikou Creek, each level accessible by trails and bridges. Its name refers to five rock outcrops above the falls, likened to the triangular pennants of Chinese opera. Farther downstream, the Houdongkeng cascade spills over layered cliffs, although it runs only in Taiwan’s rainy months; villagers once channeled its flow into farmland, leaving the friendlier lower drop visible year-round.

At Longtan Lake, mist drifts across seventeen hectares of placid water ringed by mountains. Known historically as Dabei Lake, it ranks among Yilan’s largest ponds and anchors a “New Eight Scenic Spots” designation by local authorities. A visitor centre now offers information on regional flora and hiking routes that ascend toward nearby peaks.

Those trails form a network that cones out from each village: the Linmei Shipan path clambers through bamboo groves, the Holy Mother route explores temples framed by terraced fields, and routes from Yushi and Baiyun offer panoramic views of the plains. In Guangwu Village, a stone bridge marks the entrance to Wunuan Fude Temple, its moss-darkened pillars bearing silent witness to centuries of worship.

Two communal festivals conserve Jiaoxi’s intangible heritage. At Xietian Temple—founded in 1804 and devoted to the Daoist figure Guandi—villagers of eight major hamlets rotate hosting duties for spring and autumn ceremonies. In spring, participants enact the “begging for turtles,” a ritual prayer for rainfall and fertile harvests; in autumn, the “Four Yi Dance” honors ancestral protectors with drums and ritual footwork. Erlong Village’s dragon boat contest, held each year on the fifth lunar month’s festival day, carries on a practice more than two centuries old. This contest dispenses with starters, timers or referees; crews begin by mutual drumbeat, and any team can call for a restart if they question fairness. Such rules have earned it the epithet “gentlemen’s race.” In 2001, Taiwan’s Ministry of Transportation and Communications recognized it among the island’s twelve principal local festivals.

Governance and movement alike trace the township’s slender geography. The Yilan Line of Taiwan Railways runs parallel to Provincial Highway 9, linking Jiaoxi and Sicheng stations to Taipei in under ninety minutes. The Snow Mountain Tunnel on National Highway 5 shaved over thirty kilometres off the journey by road; buses ply the route hourly, connecting to Taipei, Yilan City and towns beyond. Supplementary county roads―191, 191A and 192A—thread through villages and farming hamlets, granting motorists access to ridge roads and valley lanes. Ferrying students and faculty are the campuses of Fo Guang University and Tamkang University’s Lanyang division, both tucked into low hills where mist settles at dawn.

Amid bustle around its springs, Jiaoxi retains a rural heartbeat. Rice fields still reflect mountains in waterlogged winter paddies, while apricot and loquat trees line lesser-traveled lanes. At sunrise, vapour drifts from pools into the valley beyond—an elemental reminder of why people first settled here. Through dynastic change and colonial ambition, this patch of the Lanyang Plain has never lost the winding thread that links earth, water and human ingenuity. Each spring-fed spa bath, silent shrine and village path manifests a visible strand of that thread, ensuring that Jiaoxi Township remains both a point on a map and a place shaped over centuries by the steady flow of warm water beneath its fields.