By Jay Scott Kanes

LAMMA ISLAND, Hong Kong -- Having lived on the thinly populated Lamma Island for seven years, I decided to finally take one of its toughest tests.

On December 26th, I joined a five-member expedition with my European friends, Simone and Holger, plus our respective dogs Gail and Eric, to climb Mount Stenhouse, a 353-metre peak, Lamma’s tallest.

Simone, Holger and Eric had made the climb once before, but they’d misjudged Stenhouse and struggled mightily along the uneven, treacherous and overgrown trails. They wanted a rematch.

Under bright sunshine, we left Yung Shue Wan, our home town, at 10 a.m. and walked across the hills to Sok Kwu Wan, another village. Looking skyward, we turned toward the “main mountain”.

We trotted up a series of steps, passed hillside graves (presumably not the final resting places for earlier climbers) and started along steep dirt trails. Holger and Simone led, I followed and the dogs trailed.

Soon, we humans perspired and grunted, grasping at branches and bushes, even clumps of grass, to claw ever higher. At the steepest spots, we dropped to all fours and crawled. Our more sure-footed dogs looked amused.

Forced to focus on the precarious footing, we seldom gazed out at the panoramic views. Often I glanced back to confirm that Gail, my canine companion, kept pace. Usually, she humbled me by easily hopping higher, staying near my heels.

Stopping to look back, we noticed a group of Chinese hikers, perhaps mainlanders, trekking below us, also ascending. That seemed odd. Usually, tourists prefer the much-tamer trail from Yung Shue Wan to Sok Kwu Wan.

Three hours after starting, we clambered past the final boulders onto the summit. Then, with faces lifted to the sunlight, we collected a big payoff – spectacular views of Lamma, southern Hong Kong Island and much of Lantau brushed by blue seas and turquoise sky. Everything below, like Hongkong Electric’s massive power station, the adjoining beach, Yung Shue Wan and even the skyscrapers on Hong Kong Island, looked tiny.

Intoxicated by the sights, we felt immune to vertigo. Eric, a beagle, used the dramatic scenery to pose on every big rock within reach. By then, the dogs needed water. We did too. Everyone drank, relying on bottles from Holger’s backpack.

The descent by another route proved even tougher. Gravity tried to yank us face-first down the rocky slopes. Again, we humans clung to branches and bushes, this time as brakes. Often we sat and slid across loose dirt, riding on the seats of our pants.

At times, the badly overgrown path puzzled us. Had it vanished entirely? When peering through thick bushes, we kept our bearings by gawking at the rooftops of Sok Kwu Wan nearing as we descended. Finally, we emerged at one of the familiar green railings that mark Lamma’s main footpaths.

“We did it,” Simone said.

“Yes.” I nodded, feeling triumphant.

“Maybe only five per cent of Lamma’s people have climbed Mount Stenhouse,” Holger said.

Weary, with rubbery legs and aching limbs, we soon ended our six-hour journey back in Yung Shue Wan. We’d passed the test, but not before Mount Stenhouse had challenged us.

Holger, Simone and Eric plan to leave Lamma and return to live in Europe. Even so, I expect we’ll grapple with Mount Stenhouse again.

Maybe I imagined it, but when stepping off the final slope I could have sworn that I heard a throaty whisper, a parting message from the mountain: “See you next time. We’ll have more fun then.”

Whirling, I saw only Gail behind me. As a happy fellow-climber, she wagged her tail.


Simone views the neighboring Hong Kong Island.


Take a peek at Lamma's 'southern extremities'.



Descending proves even tougher.


Dogs conduct surveillance on Sok Kwu Wan.

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