Unlike the sulfurous springs of nearby Beitou, Wulai's hot springs are clear and odorless -- a distinction that matters when you are soaking in them. The town's main bathing area sits across the Nanshih River from the tourist street. Cross the bridge, turn right, walk up the road, and a stairway leads down to the river where rustic outdoor pools, changing rooms, and even a sauna await. This is the free public spring, and on busy weekends it is packed. Proper etiquette requires bathers to wash thoroughly before entering, leave swimwear aside in the indoor baths, and keep hair above the waterline. For those who prefer privacy, the town's numerous hotels offer rooms with personal hot spring tubs, some with mountain views.

Wulai's scenic train -- a miniature railway that runs 1.5 kilometers up the valley -- delivers passengers to the base of a cable car gondola. The gondola rises from the gorge floor to the mountaintop, passing directly alongside Wulai Falls on the ascent. At the summit sits a park with paddle boats, nature trails, and a natural obstacle course. The waterfall itself is the town's signature landmark, visible from the trail called Lover's Path that winds along the river gorge. Local taxi drivers will tell you the falls are too far to walk. They are not: a pleasant 30-minute stroll from the town center, passing through the open-air market of Wulai Old Street.

Wulai's Atayal heritage shapes its kitchen. Wild boar, Reeve's muntjac, and bird's nest fern appear on restaurant menus alongside the town's most distinctive dish: seasoned rice steamed inside tubes of bamboo. The bamboo imparts a subtle sweetness to the sticky rice, and vendors along Old Street sell them by the handful. The Aboriginal spice maqaw -- Litsea cubeba, sometimes called mountain pepper -- seasons many dishes with its citrusy, aromatic bite. Millet wine, the traditional Atayal drink, is sold everywhere, and mochi candy made of sticky rice is a take-home specialty. The food here is not fusion or reinvention. It is indigenous cuisine served in the place where it was developed, adapted for visitors but rooted in Atayal tradition.

Shops on Old Street sell hand-woven cloth in traditional Atayal designs -- geometric patterns in red, black, and white that have been produced here for centuries. The weaving tradition was historically central to Atayal women's identity: mastery of the loom was a prerequisite for the facial tattoos that marked full adulthood. Today the cloth is sold as scarves, bags, and decorative pieces. The town is compact enough to cover entirely on foot, and a map posted near the bus stop marks every tourist destination in English. Weekends draw heavy crowds from Taipei, and the streets can feel congested. Weekday visits offer a more relaxed experience, though the summer heat -- Wulai is not high enough for meaningful cooling -- remains regardless.

Beyond the hot springs and the waterfall, Wulai serves as a gateway to the mountains of southern New Taipei. Hiking trails radiate into the surrounding peaks, and the town's position in a narrow river gorge gives it a sense of enclosure -- dense forest pressing in from both sides, the Nanshih River rushing below. At night, with the tourist traffic gone and the steam rising from the springs, the town recalls something of what the Atayal must have encountered when they first named this place for its volatile waters. The mountains are quiet. The springs still bubble. The name still fits.