Hong Kong travels: Discovery Bay to Mui Wo

There’s a saying about how the journey, not the destination, is the most valuable part of the experience. It makes sense in some cases more than others: nobody enjoys sitting in a cramped aeroplane seat for 12 hours. In this case, the journey was entirely the point. I had intended to do the walk in reverse - Mui Wo to Discovery Bay – but the ferry to the latter was leaving earlier, so I started there instead. 

From the moment you see the pier at Central with its own 7/11 and electric billboard, you know it is the destination of the bourgeoisie. It feels like an airport lounge; plants; flatscreen TVs; smoothly curved stone seating. You are fully prepared for the energy you will meet upon arrival. 

If in other journals I have mentioned an absence of Western palette, international chain restaurants, it’s because all of them are in Discovery Bay. Everything is in English except for the smaller local businesses. One shop in the mall that was closing down had large Chinese characters, but otherwise the shops entirely expect an English-speaking clientele. One of my friends who lives there tells me that the golf carts residents ride around in are the most expensive cars in the world, each one approximately HKD$2.4 million. There are around 500 cars in the small district, which collectively makes them no small change. 

You find quickly, however, that Discovery Bay is the place expats and internationalists thrive – there's even a handsome pub – and so there is very little local character. Even more reason to start the walk towards Mui Wo. 

When you begin, the escapism of materialism gives way to the reality of materialism: the beaches are piled with flotsam collected after storms or otherwise dumped. Highlights from the walk include a shopping trolley and a pushchair. I couldn’t resist the temptation to assume all the driftwood had been collected from other beaches. 

The path is surprisingly well kept. A concrete path and railings where necessary along with frequent signage make it as easy as possible to blame no one but yourself for being out of breath. The signs for Discovery Bay in particular are branded differently than the other destinations pointed out on the signposts, another example of its promoted exceptionalism.  

As usual, the fancy high-rises quickly turn into corrugated iron and reclaimed material. There is so much waste on either side of the first path that I find it hard how the situation came to be. Are the residents throwing things into the bushes when they upgrade their houses? Are they left over from some abandoned renovation adventure? Some of the more permanent concrete buildings are abandoned, or in complete ruins reclaimed by nature. But this could not account for all the crunching plastic that makes up the makeshift path.  

There are some beautiful gardens, however. There were more butterflies in the 50 metres of vegetable garden than I saw in the entire walk around the Butterfly Garden at the wetland park. It was a very pleasant surprise to see such a large community project thriving, but without any fanfare at the same time.  

From there, you pass more beaches, the time overrun with Styrofoam, and turn uphill into the forest. It was around this point, while I had time to reflect as I plodded up the hill, that I decided I have become desensitised to the side-by-side, rich and poor, decaying and developed, abandoned and improvised buildings of Hong Kong. These trips combined with day-to-day life have brought me into such frequent contact with both sides of society that I don’t think I recognise it as a novelty anymore. Repetitive descriptions of crumbled houses and rusted gates and poles tied into fences are just too tedious to write each time. Parallel lives exist all around me here, and I think I must take it for granted. 

The incline from the beach is hard, but the views are worth the sweat. There is an abbey partway up the trail. It first appeared to me as a very brutalist dormitory – grey walls and brown windows that made me think it too was abandoned- where you can book a room to stay in for a period. A little way further up is a small garden surrounding a glass-encased Mary dressed in white with a crown on her head. The entrance to the garden declares “Pax Intrantibus” - Peace to those who enter. I found the stone seats too far from the stone table to be of any practical use, but as a place for quiet contemplation it works well (at the current temperature at least). 

Further up still, and the Our Lady of Joy Abbey reveals itself. A high blue bridge reaches across the rocky river and running water below. Inside, the abbey had a few attendants. To me, it seemed a long way to hike to go to church, but maybe that is the point. For me, it would depend on how dedicated I chose to be. The interior is very simple: stone arches leading into the wings, baby blue and white paint. An upper gallery shows how they want space for as many people as possible, an especially important consideration, as the choir seating tasks up two thirds of the building.  

My photos of the bridge and abbey entrance perfectly framed the few people standing outside the entrance, so before leaving, I turned back around and shouted, “go big!” They obliged with outstretched arms and jumps, entertaining for all of us. 

One final push, and you crest the hill. It was cloudy when I visited, but you could still see for miles in every direction. Not just the highest buildings in Discovery Bay peeping over the ridge, but as far away as Hong Kong Island. On the other side, hinting at the relief of the finish line, was Mui Wo. The timing of the walk had been perfect. Afternoon sun began to break through the clouds and shone down on the vibrant green Lantau Island interior. Somewhere in there was Past Alex complaining about a Starbucks near a monastery.  

The descent is quite easy, just a long staircase with an occasional plateau to stop and take landscape photos from. A few final allotments, and you re-enter civilisation. 

Compared to Discovery Bay, Mui Wo is much calmer. There’s much less stress to spend money or walk with purpose. A stroll along the promenade can be for simple pleasure, uncluttered with shopping centres and business suits. Whoever owns the shipwreck grounded on the beach ma disagree though. 

As with Sai Kung, I’ll likely return later to write about Mui Wo in depth, since I was more focused on sitting, eating, and writing, than exploring so late in the day. 

I hadn’t intended to write as much as I have about a long walk up a hill, but that is the nature of Hong Kong. There is always something interesting to be found much closer than you think, and equally, something interesting further than you think. A small place lives where it can, including in a jungle halfway up a hill.