馬祖之旅
南竿機場>枕戈待旦公園>馬祖酒廠>八八坑道>牛角聚落
津沙聚落>藍眼淚生態館>馬祖境天后宮>媽祖巨神像>北海坑道搖櫓
>北竿>芹壁閩東古厝聚落>塘後道沙灘>戰爭和平紀念公園>螺山自然步道橋仔漁村(漁業展示館)>芹山播音站
>南竿福山照壁>大漢據點>雲台山>鐵堡>大坵島(尋鹿)>南竿機場
Six Days in Matsu — A Journey with My Wife
與太太的馬祖六日行
For six quiet days, my wife and I wandered among the islands of Matsu（馬祖）—a distant archipelago where the blue sea embraces rugged cliffs, stone villages rest beneath the mist, and memories of war have slowly softened into peace.
It was not merely a journey across islands. It was six precious days in which we walked side by side, listening to the sea, revisiting history, and quietly treasuring one another’s company.
Day One — Arriving on the Island of Memories
Our plane descended toward Nangan Airport（南竿機場）, passing over scattered islands surrounded by the deep blue waters of the Taiwan Strait（臺灣海峽）. From the sky, Matsu looked like a handful of dark-green jewels resting upon an endless sea.
Our first stop was the “Sleep on Spears, Awaiting the Dawn” Memorial Park（枕戈待旦公園）. The four enormous characters, 枕戈待旦, recalled an age when soldiers slept beside their weapons, always prepared for the coming battle. Standing there with my wife, however, we saw no battlefield before us—only peaceful mountains, silent villages, and sunlight spreading gently across the sea.
At the Matsu Distillery（馬祖酒廠）, the fragrance of sorghum liquor（高粱酒）filled the air. Nearby, the mysterious Tunnel 88（八八坑道）extended deep into the mountain. Inside the cool and dim tunnel, rows of wine jars rested silently, allowing darkness, time, and patience to transform ordinary liquor into something rich and mellow.
Perhaps love is much the same. After passing through the long tunnels of life, it gradually loses its sharpness and becomes warmer, deeper, and more fragrant.
In the evening, we walked through Niujiao Village（牛角聚落）. Its old stone houses（石頭屋）leaned quietly against the hillside, while narrow lanes descended toward the sea. The fading sunlight touched the tiled roofs, and the entire village seemed wrapped in the tenderness of another age.
Day Two — Old Villages, Faith and Tears of the Sea
The following morning, we visited Jinsha Village（津沙聚落）. Time appeared to move slowly there. Weathered stone walls, wooden doors and abandoned windows quietly preserved the lives of generations who had depended upon the sea.
Some houses had fallen silent, yet flowers still grew beside their walls. The village seemed to whisper that even when people leave, memories remain.
At the Blue Tears Ecological Museum（藍眼淚生態館）, we learned about the mysterious blue light that sometimes appears along Matsu’s shores. The tiny organisms hidden in the sea illuminate the waves when disturbed, creating the famous Blue Tears（藍眼淚）.
They are like stars that have fallen from heaven and hidden themselves beneath the water. Only when the waves arrive do they awaken, shining briefly in the darkness—beautiful, fragile and impossible to possess.
We then visited Matsu Jing Tianhou Temple（馬祖境天后宮）, where incense smoke（香煙）rose quietly before the image of Mazu（媽祖）, the protector of those who travel upon the sea. Outside stood the enormous Mazu Statue（媽祖巨神像）, gazing peacefully over the islands.
My wife and I stood beneath the statue and looked toward the horizon. We did not speak our wishes aloud. At our stage of life, perhaps the simplest prayer is also the most precious: may those we love remain safe, and may we continue to walk together for as long as possible.
Later, we entered the Beihai Tunnel（北海坑道）and boarded a small boat for the traditional sculling experience（搖櫓）. The boat glided slowly through the underground waterway. Drops of water fell from the rocky ceiling, and the gentle sound of the oar echoed through the darkness.
Once carved for military vessels, the tunnel had become a place of silence and reflection. War had withdrawn, leaving only water, shadows and the soft rhythm of our little boat.
Day Three — The Stone Village of Qinbi
We crossed the sea to Beigan（北竿）, where the mountains rise sharply above small bays and fishing villages.
Qinbi Village（芹壁聚落）appeared before us like a stone dream resting beside the sea. Its traditional Eastern Fujian houses（閩東古厝）were built closely along the hillside, with grey stone walls, red-tiled roofs and small windows facing the distant coast of China.
Walking through its winding lanes, my wife and I often stopped to look back. Below us, the sea changed colour with the passing clouds—sometimes bright blue, sometimes silver, and sometimes a deep and solemn grey.
Qinbi possessed a quiet beauty that did not need decoration. Every stone seemed to carry a story of fishermen, soldiers, separation and homecoming. Sitting beside my wife and looking across the sea, I felt that happiness did not always require grand words. Sometimes it was simply the warmth of having someone beside you while the wind passed gently through an old village.
At Tanghoudao Beach（塘後道沙灘）, the white sand stretched between the airport and the sea. Waves arrived one after another, erasing our footprints almost as soon as we had made them.
Yet although the sea removed the marks from the sand, it could not erase the memory of our walking there together.
Day Four — From War to Peace
At the War and Peace Memorial Park（戰爭和平紀念公園）, abandoned fortifications（廢棄防禦工事）, military tunnels and old weapons recalled Matsu’s difficult years as a frontline island（前線島嶼）.
The words “war” and “peace” stood together, reminding us how closely the two are connected. Peace may appear quiet and ordinary, but on these islands, every peaceful morning was once something people deeply longed for.
We continued along the Luoshan Nature Trail（螺山自然步道）. Mountains, cliffs and the open sea accompanied us along the path. The wind was strong, carrying the salty fragrance of the ocean and the cries of seabirds from far below.
At Qiaozi Fishing Village（橋仔漁村）, we visited the Fishery Exhibition Hall（漁業展示館）. The old fishing equipment and photographs told stories of island families who lived according to the tides. The sea provided food and livelihood, yet it also brought storms, danger and separation.
Later, at Qinshan Broadcasting Station（芹山播音站）, the enormous loudspeakers reminded us of another era, when voices and music were sent across the sea as instruments of psychological warfare（心戰廣播）.
Now the loudspeakers had fallen quiet. Only the wind continued to cross the strait freely, needing neither permission nor political boundary.
Day Five — Fortresses among the Clouds
Returning to Nangan（南竿）, we first visited the Fushan Screen Wall（福山照壁）. Its great inscription stood firmly against the mountain, carrying the solemn atmosphere of Matsu’s military past.
At Dahan Stronghold（大漢據點）, we entered tunnels carved directly into the coastal cliffs. Looking through the old firing openings, we saw the sea extending endlessly before us. Once, soldiers watched that same horizon with vigilance and uncertainty. We could now look upon it peacefully, accompanied only by the sound of waves striking the rocks.
We climbed Yuntai Mountain（雲台山）, one of the highest points in Matsu. Clouds drifted across the slopes, while distant islands appeared and disappeared in the mist. From above, the sea seemed boundless, and the villages below looked small and peaceful.
Life, too, may appear complicated when we stand within it. Yet when viewed from a higher place, many worries become smaller, while the people beside us become even more important.
At Iron Fort（鐵堡）, the military passageways twisted through dark rock. The cold walls still bore traces of the young soldiers who once guarded the coastline. Leaving the fortress and stepping back into the sunlight, we felt once again how precious ordinary freedom can be.
Day Six — Seeking Deer on Daqiu Island
On our final day, we travelled to Daqiu Island（大坵島）to search for its famous deer（尋鹿）.
The island was quiet and green, with no busy streets and few signs of modern life. As we followed the trail, Formosan sika deer（臺灣梅花鹿）appeared among the trees. Some watched us cautiously from a distance, while others approached with gentle curiosity.
Their bright eyes and graceful movements brought a childlike happiness to our final morning. My wife smiled as the deer gathered nearby, and at that moment, the journey seemed wonderfully complete.
Eventually, we returned to Nangan Airport（南竿機場）. Through the window of the departing plane, the islands slowly became smaller beneath us. The stone villages disappeared into the mist, the military tunnels returned to silence, and the coastline faded into the blue sea.
We had arrived in Matsu as travellers, but we left carrying something more than photographs.
We carried the fragrance of old sorghum wine, the sound of an oar moving through an underground tunnel, the blue mystery of the sea, the solemn memories of war, and the peaceful sight of deer wandering freely across an island.
Most of all, I carried the memory of my wife walking beside me.
Six days may be brief in the long passage of life, yet some journeys are not measured by their length. They are measured by the moments in which two people stop, look at the same sea, and quietly understand how fortunate they are to have travelled so far together.
