In a previous entry I mentioned how nature is tantalizingly close, but surprisingly difficult to navigate in Hong Kong. Anywhere in the city, twenty paces left or right should put you within sight of a mountain. Similarly, the same bus or subway lines that whisk Hong Kongers to their offices could easily diverge, en route, to a day-hike. Much of the populace has embraced the opportunities offered by such accessibility; however, this convenience and intimacy with the great outdoors betrays the fact that nature is unruly and that we’re often caught unprepared by its whims.  

A number of “death by selfie” incidents across Hong Kong’s tallest peaks have highlighted these perils and pitfalls, particularly for amatuer hikers. More routine injuries and an upswing in rescue operations for lost or incapacitated hikers have led authorities to damper the audor for outdoor excursions. I always mull over these incidents as I chose my next photography outing, weighing the risk and reward, but I found a place where I could sidestep all of these concerns.

The spot, Yam O, a tiny harbour on Lantau Island, is one of a long list of Hong Kong’s underappreciated outdoor attractions, and one of the most accessible. A quaint cove in the shadow of the city’s massive international airport, and along one of its main shipping routes, Yam O preserves the setting of a bygone era, sheltered from much of the development that’s overtaking the rest of the area. Much less crowded than other attractions in Hong Kong, Yam O is mostly popular with amateur fisherman, cyclists, couples, and families with children. There is not much to do here, except stare at the container ships as they meekly glide by. There is an absence of benches and shade as well, the entire length of the bay, making it clear that the space was not intended as a point of interest of any kind. It is more an afterthought, taken up as a local favorite. I imagine this is part of its appeal, natural, peaceful, and completely un-curated. This is reinforced by the bay’s particularly romantic view of the sunset, filtered through the many outlying islands that dot Hong Kong’s western edge.

I didn’t learn of Yam O until the end of my stay in Hong Kong, and was pleasantly surprised, and perplexed, with the ease which I was able to reach the harbor. Perhaps it’s a personal problem, but my hiking outings typical began with me disembarking off the metro, searching for the trail entrance for 30 minutes, stress-eating a pack of Hi-Chews at the nearest 7-11, and then serendipitously finding my way after turning homeward, resigned to my own incompetence. There was no humiliation this time. I was empowered.

I then wondered why I and so many others tempted danger and certain fatigue tromping up Hong Kong’s many mountains, when this was at our fingertips. Was it mere ignorance, or was there some dark Freudian analysis about our upbringing that could explain this preoccupation? This question is in a lengthy queue of topics that I intend to brood upon five minutes before going to bed.

One reason why Yam O is relatively unknown is that it’s located near Hong Kong’s most isolated station, Sunny Bay. Not only is the surrounding area uninhabited, there is a complete lack of convenience stores, food stalls, or even a bathroom within walking distance of the station, something unfathomable, or even apocalyptic in Hong Kong. The genesis of this station to nowhere is connected to the rise of Disneyland Hong Kong. In conjunction with its opening in 2005, a two station spur line was created to service the park, with Sunny Bay as the interchange. Sunny Bay also serves as a bus interchange to the relatively close Discovery Bay, but it appears to have no true purpose other than as a portal to the amusement park. An orphaned station would be routine in the U.S.; however, in Hong Kong it’s a curiosity, as it’s rare to find even an end-of-line stop unaccompanied by a mall and towering residential complex. Nevertheless, it may be best that the powers that be have forsaken Yam O, preserving it as quiet nook on Hong Kong’s rapidly developing Lantau Island.

In Chinese Yam O translates into “Cloudy Bay”, or in the rendering I favor, dark harbour. Yam is the Cantonese pronunciation of the yin of yin and yang fame. Yin is the dark or negative energy of the universe that supposedly compliments the positive yang in an constant cycle of interplay across reality. For geography, yam can also mean the north of a hill (the side that receives the least sun), which is the exact location of Yam O.

When the nearby station was created, Disney petitioned the Hong Kong government to rename the area Sunny Bay. The name Cloudy Bay was deemed too inauspicious and contrary to the atmosphere hoped to be created by the park. Nevertheless, the new name does not reach much farther than the station exit, as Yam O appears to continue on as the name of adjacent bay, per GoogleMaps.

Ironically, in its campaign to bring American kitsch to Asia, Disney employed a common Chinese strategy of renaming a location to signify the inauguration of a completely new state of being. That state of being continues to be the empty, uneven lot outside the station, but I imagine it is hoped that visitors will never leave the station and come across this view.

If you do leave the station and venture forth for half a minute, you will be met with a placid cove the gently curves to the north. It’s northern tip features an islet joined to the mainland by a thin sandbar, which disappears during high-tide. From the opposite side of the bay, it appears to form a gateway, a convenient frame ideal for photography. Ships sail directly across this “gateway” and planes also fly directly above at a rate of one per five minutes or so. With the tripod and some patience I was able to take a series of shots that captured both a plane and ship crossing the “gateway”, but the lighting made it difficult to get a balanced view of all three.

I made two trips to Yam O. The first trip I discovered that there was no bathrooms or shade, and realized it would be difficult for me to wait for sunset for a half a day in such conditions. For the return trip, I choose a clear day and remounted the positions I staked out with my tripod. This was one of my first photography outings with my current camera, so I was l wasn’t too familiar with the use of light with this camera, but I think came up with an adequate product.