A Walk Around Hong Kong

Hong Kong is small island. Small enough that one man of unremarkable athletic prowess (me) within the span of one day (21 hours 45 minutes 5.5 seconds by my watch) can circle the perimeter on foot subject to the existence of roads, paths, fences, ferrel dogs, armed guards, and a propensity to get lost (distance totaling 92.8 kilometers). (See my annotated map for the route.) Such an undertaking may make for a curious self inflicted birthday present, but with turn of a decade (my third), what better way to reflect than to take a walk and collect some stories along the way?

Hong Kong Island Western District Sai Ying Pun 04:00 — Too eager to sleep in. Time to get started. I was out the door by 04:30, turned left at the seaside. Returned from the right.

Hong Kong Island and Manhattan have roughly the same population (1.5 million). Though Hong Kong is larger (240 km²) than Manhattan (60 km², 52 km perimeter), the effective population density of Hong Kong (36,000/km²) is greater than that of Manhattan (27,000/km²) since at least 75% of Hong Kong’s mountainous center is undeveloped.

Most of the coastline, however, is developed with the exception of the South Eastern peninsulas. My circuit was intermittently scenic yet consistently fascinating with forests, vistas, and cliffs serving as pleasant respite from noteworthy manmade blemishes: two prisons, a military base, a gigantic quarry, and the shocking Redhill Peninsula development.

Redhill came as a surprise: a long row of seaside condos awkwardly transplanted from a mythical Californian shore guarded by security cameras and gated driveways. No sign of life except for a few Pilipino helpers making the trek to the nearest bus station and a SUV adding to the American dream. It all culminated with Red Hill Plaza, a parody of a Hong Kong cooked foods center: no cooked foods to be found, only a small grocery store, four real estate agencies, and a giant American international school nearby.

Dazed by the experience, I forgot to stock up on water at the grocery store. For the next few hours, I was on the Hong Kong trail out of the reach of 7-11s and public toilets. Eventually a beach looked hopeful. A sign on the way down promised an independent connivence store. It might not be open, but they might have a vending machine.

On reaching the beach, I was greeted by a big, bold “no dogs allowed” sign together with two dogs. Hong Kong has two kinds of dogs. There’s the pampered, well behaved, well bred, well looked after Pokémon kind. These two were the other kind. They followed me around as I inspected the beach.

I heard people calling to the dogs. Where were they? In a rowboat. The dogs, unsure how to handle the situation, became agitated. Some combination of territorial invasion, fear of umbrellas (I had expected rain but since it was sunny I was using my umbrella for shade), and master calling pushed the dogs over the edge. Just as the rowboat berthed, the dogs attacked. Fast footwork on my part saved my calves (though not my pants) from an earnestly intentioned bite. Fast footwork from a young man exiting the boat saved me from needing to dodge a second attack.

With dogs called off and umbrella stowed, I made the acquaintance of the boat’s occupants: a Canadian woman, her two sons, and an shadowy fourth person who put away the boat (a hired rower perhaps). She teaches at the international school on the far side of the bay. They commute by rowboat.

The teacher was kind enough to refill my water bottle and short order, I was back on my way. Aside from getting thoroughly turned around in Chai Wan, the rest of the trip was satisfactorily hangup free.