One thing I can say for sure is that the people living in Li Shan (the Lishan Mountain range) are hardy people. And I can only imagine the strength and resilience of the ancient people who once lived there. Up at that elevation, the air is different—thin, crisp, and invigorating. Places around the world at a similar altitude include Aspen, Colorado; Taos, New Mexico; Breckenridge, Colorado; Mammoth Lakes, California; Crater Lake National Park in Oregon; and Strawberry Mountain in Eastern Oregon.

During a trip to Taiwan around 2007, I had an incredible adventure driving up to Li Shan. My friend lent me his car, but he didn’t have time to join me, so I studied the route meticulously before leaving. I memorized the cities and towns I’d pass through on my way up to Li Shan. As the road stretched further from the city, the landscape transformed, and I wound my way up the mountain on a beautiful day. At one point, I rounded a curve and noticed a sign with an arrow pointing to an alternative route. Though I knew I was on the right path, something about that sign—the promise of a road less traveled—called out to me. I couldn’t resist. I doubled back and followed the dirt road, and I was glad I did. This route took me past several tea farms, offering breathtaking views of the mountain landscape.

When I stopped to ask some locals if I was still heading the right way, they assured me I was, but warned that there were police up ahead. I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do since I didn’t have an international driver’s license. After a brief pause, I decided to press on—turning back would’ve been a major detour at that point. Luckily, when I approached the police, they couldn’t have cared less about my presence. They simply waved me through without a second glance.

Eventually, I made it to my friend's tea farm. I was stoked! I was about to learn all of the secrets of oolong tea production. After he greeted me and showed me the lay of the land, he said he had some business to attend to. He told me to hang tight and have dinner at the farm. But then I noticed every time it was mealtime, my friend would disappear. I didn’t know where he went at first, but soon I discovered why. There was something off about the food they served—it was definitely the oil they used. It was such a shame, but for my entire stay, I could only stomach rice and peanuts.

We drank so much tea, but we weren’t just drinking it—we were experiencing tea in every phase of production. The green tea was so fresh, it felt alive, though it definitely took a toll on my stomach. My friend would leave several times a day, and looking back, I wish I’d gone with him. I could’ve seen what he was up to, but I was so determined to immerse myself in every phase of tea production. No regrets, no rewards.

I suppose I could write more about the process of making tea, but honestly, I’ve don’t know where my notes are—and who really cares? By now, we all know how tea is processed. I like to think I gained something from the discomfort and hardships. Otherwise, what’s the point? What I did gain were some great stories.

Have I told you I really don’t like spiders? My phobia has improved over the years, but at the time, it was full-blown. That first night in the mountains, I was supposed to be up with the tea crew at first light. The problem was, there were spiders lurking overhead, and I just couldn’t bring myself to fall asleep. So I stayed up… and up… until I was so exhausted I had to sleep. I slept for only a few hours before it was time to get up and help with the tea.

But help was the last thing I was capable of—I was useless. So instead, I took photos and bore witness to the whole process. After the tea was picked, it was weighed, and the pickers were compensated for their hard work. Every two hours, batches of tea were brought back to the processing facility to ensure the leaves didn’t wither in the open air for too long. Batch after batch, the tea was cycled through the production steps in the facility, slowly being transformed into some of the best oolong in the world.