Many seasoned travellers know Hong Kong as a teeming, throbbing metropolis famed for its lavish, over-the-top hotels, its exotic neon-lit streets, and hyper lifestyle. But there’s another, older, more traditional Hong Kong – an intriguing place that only a trickle of the city’s millions of visitors ever get to see.
Aside from Hong Kong Island itself and Kowloon, most outsiders don’t realise that this former British colony also boasts some 260 islands. Many of these jagged pieces of jade which rise high out of the blue South China Sea have a special appeal.
But the most dramatically beautiful of them all is Lantau. Its Chinese name, “dai yue shan” means ‘big mountain island’ – testament to the 900-metre peaks that set this rugged island apart from all the rest.
The most intriguing place on Lantau is the little settlement of Silvermine Bay, a fjord on Lantau’s craggy south coast – where I live.
Situated just 30 minutes by ferry from the world’s most frenzied high-rise city, arriving in Silvermine Bay is like stepping back through a kink in the fabric of time. As soon as your ferry docks, urban-dwelling visitors find a different world.
There are few cars – most village lanes are far too narrow. So, folks get about mostly on foot. Or by bike, which explains the hundreds of them parked by the pier.
Most of what I find charming about Silvermine Bay is probably completely unplanned and organic. And may even be an acquired taste. But what we lack in designer chic, we more than make up for in gritty Sino authenticity.
Leaving our ferry and heading toward the village itself, we pass a gaggle of hawker stalls selling everything from traditional bamboo Hakka hats to flip-flops and sunblock.
Just behind these stalls is Silvermine Bay’s culinary pride – an assembly of cheap and cheery ocean-side Chinese cafés. Think round wooden tables and plastic chairs, with the hard-working chef and his fiery wok always in view. The food offered here is some of the most mouth-watering in Asia, especially their seafood specialities, which are kept live in glass tanks.
My favourites include grilled South China Sea prawns, steamed garlic shrimp, and salt & pepper squid. Every dish is fresh, thanks to Silvermine Bay’s own petite fishing fleet. And it’s all served with ice-cold Chinese, German, or Japanese beer.
But save our appetite for later. Instead, keep heading inland, where we’ll see our sweeping white sand beach with the Silvermine Bay Beach Hotel right on the bay. City visitors mob this strand during the summer months, swimming, barbecuing, kayaking.
Strolling further into the village’s narrow back lanes, if we squint slightly, we might imagine being in a Chinese village of the 1950s. Here, elderly men dress in shorts and singlets and savour their afternoons playing mahjong. While their wives listen to Cantonese opera on tinny-sounding radios, puppies peacefully sleep at their masters’ slippered feet.
Now is a good time to mention our feral water buffalo. Once used by rice farmers as four-legged ploughs and now abandoned; today they number about 200. Silvermine Bay itself is home to a dozen of these big but gentle bovines.
Mostly they lollygag in the fields, but often you will see one leisurely waddling down the lane, moving from our wet market to the beach – to sleep under a sea breeze. When I first moved here, I enjoyed feeding them apples. But within a week, I had to stop because they all began to follow me home!
Continuing inland, with the towering mass of Lotus Peak as a dramatic backdrop, we can find a 400-year-old temple lit with fresh joss sticks. There are also 40-metre-high moss-covered stone watchtowers, built generations ago to alert villagers of approaching pirates.
Cooling in the bay or feasting on seafood are two of Silvermine Bay’s leading lures. But serious hikers also flock here from all over Asia in the cooler autumn months to experience the Lantau Trail. Called the “finest hike in Asia” by Time Magazine, this breathtaking trail (literally, when some inclines reach a steep 70 degrees) follows ancient mountain footpaths which linked various remote settlements.
Beginning in Silvermine Bay, the track connects two of the island’s loftiest mountains, Sunset and Lantau Peaks. On winter weekdays, we might hike for hours without seeing a single other soul.
Here, hawks wheel high overhead, while far below – in the densely forested valleys – barking deer thrive and Asian owls hide in hollow trees. Looking down from the lonely, stone-studded summits, trekkers can easily imagine themselves in the Scottish Highlands rather than within sight of one of the world’s largest cities.
Aside from its own charms, Silvermine Bay makes an ideal base for exploring the rest of Lantau. Though twice the size of Hong Kong Island, no section is more than an hour from Silvermine Bay by bus or taxi.
Once called “The Island of Prayer” because of its 90 monasteries, today Lantau’s most famous cultural destination is lovely Po Lin (“Precious Lotus”) Monastery, situated 600 metres up on the cool, misty Ngong Ping plateau.
With its ornate, incense-filled temples and gently chanting monks, the monastery itself is beguiling. But the compelling lure for international travellers is the giant bronze Buddha, the world’s largest outdoor Buddha. So big ships at sea can spot it.
Having climbed 270 steps to reach the lotus-shaped pedestal and staring up into the Buddha’s gentle face, a genuine sense of serenity seems to settle on you.
Another intriguing expedition from Silvermine Bay is to the fishing village of Tai O, built almost entirely on wooden stilts above a mangrove creek. Today, a ramshackle backwater, most inhabitants are Tanka, the robust sun-burnt fisherfolk of the South China Sea. So, you’ll see lots of their produce – salted fish and squid drying in the sunshine, plus vats of pungent purple cooking condiment called ‘shrimp paste.’
Another cool reason to come to Tai O: to catch a glimpse of Hong Kong’s rare pink dolphins. These endangered species are actually white. But when chasing fish, their skin seems to flush with effort, and the appealing result becomes a bubble-gum colour. I’ve only seen them once, but it was a thrilling experience, never forgotten.
Still, for all their silky skin, svelte figures and smiling rosy faces, I prefer my chubby apple-eating water buffalo. Now, if only my wife would allow me to keep just one!
