Mount Stenhouse

Eamon wanted to climb the highest peak on Lamma Island, so I found myself back on the island after less than a week.

He thought it would be a fairly simple hike and that most of it would be paved, so I didn't bother bringing my water bladder or wearing any more specific hiking clothes.  Shorts with cotton t shirt and a backpack with a few bottles of water.  That all seemed to be enough.

As usual, I was foolish for believing my friends.

Rather than a simple walk up a paved path, I found myself in dense scrub, fighting up paths which were barely cut through the vegetation.  My legs were scratched, my arms slightly bloodied.  Thankfully, I had decided to wear proper hiking shoes instead of some runners, so I was able to at least bound up the path without slipping and hurting myself.

Still, it was fun all the same.  A good whack through the bushes in the Hong Kong jungles and paths is usually an enjoyable day out and you get all the benefits of the exercise as well.  The hike ultimately wasn't that long, but it definitely had some trickier and more taxing sections.  When the scrub closed in, there were sections where you could feel the air thickening and breathing became more difficult with the humidity.

The views were as you would expect, stunning once you reached the highest points.

At various points in the distance, I could see back to where Veronica and I had stayed only the week past.  Further off once you were higher, you could see all the way back to Hong Kong.

It's always one of the stranger feelings you get when you go on these hikes in Hong Kong.  You feel like you have fought through the wilderness, through parts which are remote to others and isolated from civilisation.  Then you look up a bit and you realise you are just on the neighbouring doorsteps of on of the most densely populated metropolises in the world.

The opening of something grand

I like modern art.  I like it a lot.  I grew up thinking that it was something silly and pointless, but I still remember my first trip to London and my visit to the Tate Modern.  Being introduced to the deeper meaning of it all changed my mind and I was opened up to an incredible world that still inspires me to this day.

Living in Hong Kong has been interesting from the perspective of my personal interest in art and culture more generally.  It hasn't been "bad" per se, but it certainly hasn't been amazing.  I had expected there to be more galleries and locations to satisfy this itch, but I had sadly found myself in a fairly similar situation to Sydney.  There was stuff around, but I definitely wasn't in a centre for arts and culture.

All of this seemed to be slowly changing though.  Hong Kong is making a big push to become the centre for culture within the region with major development of the West Kowloon Cultural District.  This huge park area is going to contain parks, restaurants, galleries, museums and theatres.  Some of this is already open, but must of it continues to be under construction.

However, one of the shining jewels of this new area has now opened! 

M+ is hoping to be the world's next great modern art museum.  It is an enormous new complex which has floor space which puts it on par with the Tate Modern and MOMA (which are two of my favourite galleries in the world).  The idea that we in Hong Kong now having something of this size and scale is truly exciting.

In anticipation of this opening, Veronica and I decided to become members.  Everything was going to be "free" in the first year, but we wanted to support the gallery and we also thought that there might be some benefits to getting in early.  This proved to be the case when we received invitations to attend the private members opening of the gallery!  Instead of having to fight with the throngs of people who would be queuing to get in when it actually opened, the gallery was opened for all members to attend a few evenings earlier.  We took the opportunity to go to work dressed a little bit better than usual, then headed over with all the others to see this brand new gallery.

It was amazing to see.

The space is enormous, and it is filled with wonderful and strange exhibits.  The focus was on art within Asia, and it was a pleasure to be able to see the various types of expression from the region all within the same space.

One particular highlight was the large gallery inside which had been set aside for one of the more unique works from Antony Gormley.  Hundreds of thousands of clay figures, each unique, each hand crafted by the inhabitants of a village in China, each of them silently looking up.  Standing in front of this crowd of figures was a strangely humbling and awe inspiring experience.

The rest of the gallery was no less intriguing, with installations, paintings, sculptures and other oddities designed to make you think and ponder.

It didn't feel quite like I was in Hong Kong.  Veronica even mentioned that she felt like she was back in New York again.

It was a privilege to be able to attend this opening.  As a members event, the space was far more open and we didn't feel any of the crowds that would normally be at a new location like this.  Instead, we were able to walk calmly from exhibit to exhibit, calmly taking in everything and enjoying it without any bother.

A change of art

I have never been an expert in art, but it's been an important part of my adult life.  It's been an interest (or possibly even a passion) which has driven me to travel more and seek or more things to see.

I've enjoyed visiting modern art galleries in particular, seeing how art has developed and changed over the last century.  But even that art now seems far less on the edge with the growing digital art trend.

It shouldn't be surprising.

What is art after all?  It is merely something sitting within a gallery?  Something which someone with a degree in art history has deemed to be "art"? 

Or is it simply just an expression of thought and ideas?  Something intangible that someone, somewhere had tried to capture in some form, whatever that may be?

Walking through the different displays, I couldn't say I liked everything.  But at the very least, I could appreciate that this was a new medium with which to appreciate something a bit different.  For me, that was more than enough.
 

When everyone else is working

I remember back when I used to live in Coogee, there would those days when I wouldn't be working and would head to the beach.  It would always be lovely.  The sun would be out, the breeze would be cool and I would just spend the day lazing on the sands.  One thing that always confused me was what all the people also on the beach "did".  As in what did they actually do for a living?  For food?  For rent?  How was it possible that there were so many people who were able to be so free with their lives?

I had a day off so I found myself in the position of one of those people at the beach with nothing to do.  Eamon and John were also free, so we all went together.

The weather was perfect for a day at the beach.  The sun was shining and the temperatures were warm without being overbearing.

Shek O is a lovely place to visit.  It is one of the iconic beaches to visit on Hong Kong island.  The sands are white, the bay is well protected and there are shops just behind the beach where you can buy food and drinks.  I thought back to my Coogee days and wondered why I didn't take more time off to enjoy the beach on these more quiet days without the crowds.

Melting into nature

As I get to know a city more, I like to take short cuts everywhere.  Maybe it's just a personal quirk or maybe it's my own desire to feel like I know a place more intimately.  Whatever the reason, it means I often find myself walking down random alleys or through less than normal paths to get to where I need to go.

I walked past an old motorcycle that had definitely seen better days.  It had clearly been abandoned and it was slowly falling apart piece by piece.

It seemed odd that this motorcycle would just be sitting by itself in this alley.  It didn't look too shabby given where it was and the motor appeared intact.

Futher along, I found something in a far more advanced state of decay.

This was an old Vespa that had started to melt into the surroundings.  It was a shame.  Old Vespas are collectors items now, and if this had been saved a little bit earlier, it probably would have been worth a bit.

Seeing this got me thinking about what it was like when I lived in Singapore.  The intense heat and humidity seemed to eat into everything.  I had a watch that was sitting in a drawer for a while and I remember forgetting about it for a couple of years.  When I went to pick it up, the plastic strap crumbled in my hands. 

This old scooter was going through that same process.  Nothing seems to last too long here without a bit of protection and maintenance.

Quiet streams and secret waterfalls

With the constant work from home these days, there's a bit more time in the mornings.  Without having to make the journey into work, it seems that you effectively get an extra 30-45 minutes in your morning if you are able to manage the timing.  This doesn't seem like much, but if you are able to wake up a bit earlier, it means you really can fit in some extra activities that would normally be much harder to accomplish.

So the last few weeks, I made it a habit to catch up with my friend Candy.  She lived not too far from Quarry Bay and had been doing short morning hikes in the hills in the area.  The hikes up didn't take long, only about half an hour, but what was special was a little turn off that we would take to a secret little waterfall in the area.  It was a serene and idyllic location. The water formed into a small pool before flowing further down and it was nice to be able to sit and dip your feet in whilst relaxing.

On this weekend, I thought it would nice to bring Veronica up to see where I had been hiking.

On some of the walks up and down, we would also find ourselves meeting some of the neighbours.  There were several families of wild pigs in the area.  Completely fearless, they would sometimes be fast asleep on the ground, snoring and farting after having eaten their fill.

Every now and again, you would see the skyline of the city through the canopy of the forests. 

It was a reminder that even in these natural surroundings, we were still in the city.

Stilted village

Living in Hong Kong, everyone always talks about Tai O as a place to visit.  It's meant to be incredible, beautiful, unique... choose an adjective.

It had been on my list of places to visit since I had first arrived, and yet somehow I had managed to miss it.  It was now more than five years since I had arrived in Hong Kong and I had still never visited.

That was finally to change.

There wasn't that much else to do with the travel restrictions in place, so this now seemed to be a perfect opportunity to explore this local tourist spots which so many had spoken of.

Early one morning, Ron and I started our trip out to visit.  First we went to the MTR station in Hong Kong.  We sat on the MTR for about 40 minutes until we got to Tung Chung in Lantau Island.  From there we walked to the bus station and waited in the long lines (there were many others who had the same idea as us) for the bus across the middle of the island to Tai O.  That bus trip took another 40 minutes.  It was certainly not a quick trip to get to Tai O, particularly given how close everything else in Hong Kong normally is.

When we finally arrived, we found something unique for Hong Kong.

Not only was still a town full of canals, it was a stilted village, with homes and shops protruding out into the water.

We walked around as much as we could.  We didn't feel at all like we were in Hong Kong anymore.  There was a strange feeling that this was much more like a developing world location.  There was a level of disrepair to everything which seemed to be part of the culture of this place.

After doing a couple of loops along the paths that we could find.  We jumped on one of the tourist boats that took visitors on a loop of the area.

Each bend we turned, we were brought into ever more intricately interlocked buildings.  There didn't seem to be any pattern or standard approach to how anything was built, but it all still seemed to match up and fade together like some bizarre patchwork.

After the boat, we did some more walking.  It became clear to me that many of these buildings were only being occupied on a limited basis.  This seemed to be more like a place that people would come on a weekend or when they had time off.  More than likely, the owners of the places had long ago moved to the city areas and only returned when they wanted some more space to relax.

Tai O isn't too easy to get to.  From a Hong Kong point of view, it's probably one of the more annoying places to get to when you take into account the number of transport changes needed and the long commute time in some uncomfortable buses on winding roads.  However, when you compare it to some of the treks I've done in the past in other places, it's really not that bad at all.  It all just goes to show how lazy you can become in Hong Kong.

Eggs and tomato

I was watching YouTube one night, not looking for anything in particular when a short story was featured from the SCMP.  It was about an old Hong Kong cha chaan teng inside one of the old buildings in TST.  This old cha chaan teng had been in the location for decades and was famous for serving a tomato and egg noodle that looked "like vomit".  It didn't seem all that appealing, but I thought I would go and see what it was like in person.

Walking through the intensely busy streets of Tsim Sha Tsui, we found ourselves at the building.  Even then, it wasn't immediately clear how we would get to the restaurant itself.  After circling the hallways for a bit, we realised we needed to find the staircases in the corner to go down into the basement area. 

Once in the basement, we were surprised to find what felt like an entire street that had been transported into the basement of a building.  The shop front genuinely looked like what you would normally expect at street level.  This feeling was made stronger when someone drove a scooter by (how did he get down to the basement?) and the people who were all sitting around smoking.

We sat down and ordered some tea and the famous "vomit noodles".  What came out to us matched up with the description.  It was a egg and tomato soup noodle, but the way in which everything had been prepared really didn't create the most appealing of appearances.  The eggs and tomato were blended into a slurry in the soup which made it all look a bit like it had already been partly digested.... like vomit.

Appearances can be deceiving though.  We each tucked into the noodles and we all found it to be quite tasty.  In fact, it was was tastier than many of the other cha chaan teng instant noodles I had tried before.  For some reason which is unknown to me, instant noodles are one of the beloved staples of cha chaan tengs and small street food vendors (the ones that remain) all over Hong Kong.  People talk about the "quality" of the soup and the "skill" of the cooks, with some of the famous places even having long lines of people waiting for their turn to try the noodles.  I've never quite understood the appeal.  There isn't anything particularly special about any of these stalls I've tried over the years and it's often seemed to be more of a case of reputation over substance.  This was a bit different though.  The soup and the noodles were genuinely very tasty and the entire approach to its preparation was unique.

Besides the food, the location itself was what made this place something worth visiting.  Sitting in this fake street frontage cha chaan teng in the bowels of a large industrial building felt like something out of a sci fi story.  It was like a scene which had been plucked from a description of a hive city, or some other story of an over-industrialised world in which people no longer see sunlight.  I wondered whether this had in fact been in the inspiration for some writers over the years.  Probably wouldn't be surprising at all if it was.

Outdoor cinema

There has been a lot of work over the last few years on the Hong Kong waterfront.  Since I arrived in Hong Kong, the area near the Star Ferry terminal has felt a bit under-utilised.  Lately though, there's been a bigger push to use it more and it seems that it's now been determined to be an ideal location for rotating through temporary activities.  One of these was a big outdoor cinema.  I was very keen, but sadly couldn't get tickets.... no matter though, as we had some friends who managed to get some tickets and had a couple of spares for myself and Veronica!

The set up was far fancier than I expected.  Everyone group was given its own cordoned off area with deck chairs and a little table.  There was even a QR code on each table so that you could order food and drink to be delivered to your area. 

The movie itself was terrible.  It was the first Transformers.  It wasn't good the first time I saw it, and it certainly hadn't improved with age.

Still, sitting outside and watching this movie with friends as food and drinks were brought to us was a lovely experience.

At times, living in Hong Kong, it's easy to forget just how spectacular the surroundings can be.  There is a scale and size to everything that is impressive when you remind yourself to have a look. 

Saying goodbye

Everyone will leave us.  That is just the part of life and living that we need to accept and understand.  It's still hard when it happens though.  Just before Christmas, my grandmother passed away.  She was very old and her passing was peaceful, but it doesn't make it less sad.

It had only been a few months prior that one of my uncles had passed away so I was now better versed in some of the rituals and practices for a Buddhist funeral.  Throughout the wake, a vigil was kept next to a small furnace and someone would keep continually burn the offerings of paper "money", "silver" and "gold" for her to use in the afterlife.  These aren't beliefs which I hold, so I respectfully kept them company whilst watching on.

To the side, a group of Buddhist adherents chanted as the monks went about their processions and read out prayers.  To my side, the family all sat and chatted quietly, all the while folding bags and bags worth of the "gold" and "silver" to give my grandmother the send off she deserved.  The number of mourners was far less than I had expected.  In fact, it felt quite empty compared to the funeral I had attended late last year.  Many people sadly couldn't attend as they were overseas.  Others were still concerned about the rise in local cases and didn't want to gather in larger groups.  It was sad looking around and seeing the empty seats, but there was nothing to be done about it.  

The year of coronavirus had taken a huge toll on myself and my family.  The passing of my grandmother seemed to be a fitting end to it all.  She had definitely been very lonely in the days leading up to her passing.  Many of the family had wanted to visit her more and yet at the same time, no one wanted to be an accidental carrier of a disease which would then take her in a painful and untimely manner.  It was a strange and cruel conflict that we had found ourselves in and ultimately one of the two sides had won.  

Standing in the hall where the mourners came to say their goodbyes, I felt a strange sense of distance.  I felt sad, but I didn't necessarily feel the depths of despair and grief that many of the others who attended clearly did.  I thought about whether I should have visited her more, whether I should have called more, but then I thought that was probably something that I could have always done "more" of no matter how much more I did visit her.  As the proceedings continued into the evening, an exhaustion started to creep over me.  What I did feel for certain was older, much older than I had previously felt.

Night time hiking

The weather was starting to warm up, so hiking season in Hong Kong was slowly coming to a close.  It didn't mean that people would now stop hiking, it just meant that the prime period for hiking was coming to an end.  With this warmer weather, one of the boys suggested we go for a night time hike.  I had never been hiking at night before, so I was very eager to give it a try.  It was CNY eve as well, so given I wouldn't be celebrating this CNY because of my grandmother's passing, it seemed like an excellent alternative.

We took the MTR to Choi Hong MTR station to get as close as possible to the start of the hike.  We had decided to climb up to Suicide Cliff, along the ridge and then go up to the top of Lion Rock all in one night.  I had been up to Suicide Cliff before during the day, albeit from a different direction, so I was quite keen to take this different and steeper route to get to the top.  The views from the top during the day were incredible and so I was looking forward to the evening views.  

The hike up was fun.  It was steep, but it wasn't anything overly taxing or uncomfortable.  At the start of the hike, some friendly and helpful hikers had actually set up a series of ropes to help people get up the steepest section.  We pushed through the dense vegetation for a little bit, but it didn't last long.  Soon it cleared and there was nothing but fully open and panoramic views back towards Kowloon and Hong Kong.

It was entirely as advertised.  The views were stunning. 

Certain sections of the hike were a bit narrow, but with our head lamps, it wasn't anything too difficult or dangerous.  At the top of Suicide Cliff, we stood around for a while, looking out into the distance.  The sheer brightness of Hong Kong against the dark backdrop is something to behold and this steep cliff created an additional sense of drama.

After that stop, we continued on our way.  It was a few kilometres hike to get over to Lion Rock.

The views along that walk continued to be as spectacular.

Eventually we reached the bottom of Lion Rock.  Looking up at the signs, we were a bit undecided as to whether we should continue to the top or to call it a night and go get some food and drinks.  Our decision was made for us as Eamon started to walk up.  We all slowly started following after him as he disappeared off into the distance and then around a corner.

I had hiked Lion Rock before as well, it wasn't too long a hike, but this felt much harder given we had already come up from Suicide Cliff.  It was a silent hike up.  There weren't any others on the trail and after a little while, all of us got lost from one another.  I found myself hiking along trails without anyone near me, I would jog ahead a little bit, wait a little bit, and no matter what I couldn't seem to find anyone.  It didn't matter too much as we all knew our final destination so I pressed on.  At the final turn before reaching the top, I found a couple of the guys waiting, with others still to follow.  The final steps up were a pain on the legs, but we made it up.

The views were good.  Very similar to those as Suicide Cliff, so from that perspective it may not have been necessary to do both of these peaks in the same night.  But it was still lovely to be here.  To stand in the quiet, looking out at the lights of one of the busiest cities in the world.

Hanging Lantern

My friends and I had been enjoying hiking in the New Territories.  Many Hong Kongers rarely come so far out to hike, often discouraged by the "distance" it takes to reach the various locations, but this is just an example of how lucky we all are in Hong Kong.  It is incredible that a thirty or forty minute car ride is considered to be an inconvenience for some and it really does demonstrate how lucky we are to have so many options available.

This was the first hike I had ever done this far north.  In fact, I think it was very possible this was the furthest north I had ever been in Hong Kong.  We were doing a very difficult hike around Plover Cove Country Park that was about 16km in length.  Some of the boys had become a little bit obsessed with "peak hunting", and I was being taken along for the journey.  We started off near the famous "Bride's Pool" (though we walked straight past it without looking at it) and immediately started our ascent to the ridge.  Within a short time, we could see out across to Plover Cove. 

It was a pretty sight to see.  The area is tranquil and undisturbed by the developments and construction in the rest of Hong Kong.  In the distance, we could see the damn that had been created to create a fresh water reservoir for Hong Kong.  Over the last few years, there has been discussion about draining the entire reservoir and using the filled in land for more housing for Hong Kong.  It would seem a shame for this all to be developed into more housing, but beyond that point it feels very far away from the city for such a development to be convenient and useful. 

The day was far hotter than I expected.  We had been fortunate up until this day with cool temperatures which made hiking easy and comfortable.  After about an hour, I was struggling.  The others looked a bit more haggard than usual, but my legs were screaming at me.  Luckily, we reached a peak, and we started our first descent towards the old village of Sam A. 

Walking along the water and the mangroves, we were now far away from the hilly terrain we had been climbing earlier.   There was a cool breeze and there were now people everywhere.

There were clearly easier options for arriving at this location and it seemed to be a very popular hiking location with families.  It was understandable.  It was fun to walk and there were lots of different things to investigate and explore.

After a walk along an artificial walkway built up to protect small enclosed waterway (was it a damn or a dyke, I wasn't sure), we could see across to part of the village of Sam A, sitting in the shadow of Tiu Tang Lung.  It was one of the more picturesque scenes I had come across in my time hiking in Hong Kong.  This small village was once the home to one of the local clans in Hong Kong, but circumstances and lack of work had forced the clan members to leave searching for work.  On weekends, some members would come back here to this beautiful location to open the restaurant for hikers and other visitors.  Unfortunately for us, we could only stay for a short time (just enough for a drink) before we had to push on.  If were going to climb up and over Tiu Tang Lung, we didn't have any more time to spare.

The hike up was extremely steep.  We scrambled up the side of the peak, at times using our hands to drag ourselves up.  Every now and again, we passed small groups who were going the other way and heading down the side of the peak.  I wasn't sure which was the better idea.  It was tough going to get up, but going down some of the more slippery sections definitely seemed more than a touch dangerous.  Once reached the peak, it was clear that the effort had been more than worth it.

This was one of the best views I had seen in my hiking.  We could see far off into the distance towards China as well as all of the surrounding islands in the northern parts of Hong Kong.  In Cantonese, Tiu Tang Lung, roughly translates to "hanging lantern".  With the unobstructed views in all directions, I could get the sense of why it had been given this name.  It stood out in the surrounding areas and from here, it would be definitely been able to act as a focal point for finding your bearings.

At the top of the peak, there were several instagram models who were getting ready for their photos.  They had come up an easier route, but still looked exhausted nonetheless.  They looked at us curiously, all of us covered in dust and dirt.  We kept on walking as we needed to get down the peak before it got too dark.  My legs were now starting to give out.  The long hike had completely drained me.  I could feel my left quad cramping and I had lost all strength in my hamstrings.  By the time we reached the bottom, my legs had no energy left.  Even if I had wanted to climb another set of stairs, my body would have said no.