When Bikinis Meet Bad Weather: The Tragic Tale of Taiwan’s “Bikini Climber”
Gigi Wu, a 36‑year‑old from New Taipei City, had turned mountain selfies into a full‑time hobby. On each of her more than 100 summit climbs, she’d shed her hiking gear for a bikini—just to see what the world looked like from the top.
One Kinda Match Made for Misfortune
On a rainy Saturday, Wu decided the weather was good enough for a daring rescue phone call. She used a satellite phone to tell her friends that she’d slipped down a ravine at Yushan National Park, falling roughly 20‑30 metres (about 65‑100 feet). The fall left her unable to move the lower half of her body.
She still managed to share her coordinates—so hope was not lost.
Helicopters and Hazy Horizons
Rescue crews, equipped with helicopters, hit a snag: wind and clouds made it nearly impossible to land at the ravine. After a grueling 28‑hour trek—sleeping only three hours because temperatures were dropping fast—they located Wu’s lifeless body the next day.
Lin Cheng‑yi of the Nantou County Fire and Rescue Services explained the plan: “We need to move the body to a safer spot and wait for the weather to clear before we can bring her down by helicopter.”
Waves of Wanderers Gone Wrong
Wu wasn’t the first social‑media adventurer lost to nature’s wrath. Just a week earlier, an Indian couple met a tragic end at a popular overlook in Yosemite’s famous cliffs after their camera gear got caught on the edge.
What Makes a “Bikini Climber”?
In a 2023 interview with local TV, Wu bragged: “I’ve climbed 100 peaks in four years. I wear a bikini on every one—I’ve only got 97, so a few repeats are inevitable.” When asked why she did it, she shrugged: “It looks so beautiful. What’s not to like?”
The Bigger Picture
While Taiwan’s tropical coast may remind people of beach vibes, the central ridge of the island is a bone‑shaking mountain spine that often rockets past 3,000 metres. Winter temperatures can plummet below zero, turning the scenery into a dramatic, frosty theater—perfect for the next photogenic tragedy.
Perhaps it’s a reminder that sky‑high selfies may be all fun, but nature’s forces are no joke. We’ll keep our feet—and backpacks—on the ground next time we climb.
