the house on the hill

I like to boast to myself that I know where every lane, track, path and alleyway in my neighbourhood leads to, so I was surprised last week to discover that I was wrong. There is a road leading off the misleadingly named Lok Tung Street next to the abandoned and now ruined mansion of Shek Lo, which is mentioned as a point of interest on the Lung Yeuk Tau Heritage Trail, although it isn’t possible to gain access:

This photo was taken five years ago, when access was still possible.

The side road leads eventually to a Christian cemetery, although I’d forgotten this fact when I went there last week because I suspected that there might be a path hereabouts that leads over the mountain and thence to Taipo. There isn’t.

However, as I walked back down the road, I noticed the kind of track that does look as though it should lead somewhere:

So far, so good:

It wasn’t long before I reached somewhere familiar. I’d been here before:

The gate is locked, but it’s possible to see that it leads to an elaborate grave, clearly the final resting place of someone important. The structure behind the gate is a shelter where relatives of the occupant who come here to tidy the grave during the Ching Ming festival can rest.

There is also a broad concrete path heading up the hillside to the right of the camera position. As I suspected, it leads to another grave:

According to the inscription, this is a grave of the Chiu family:

The guarding animal—there is another on the right-hand side—may be a lion, but to be honest it looks more like a dog.

This photo shows just how elaborate the grave is:

When I returned to the road, I almost didn’t continue over the hill, because I thought I remembered that the road quickly reached a dead end . However, I thought, I’d better make sure:

The yellow car marks the furthest that it’s possible to drive. There are several substantial squatter houses around here:

Just after I reached this point, I noticed an old lady ahead, so I decided to stop to take a couple of photographs to give her time to get to wherever she was going:

The high-rise blocks in the first photo define the eastern edge of Fanling (the yellow-tiled structure in the foreground is a small ossuary). The second photo is a view through the next gap in the trees, at an angle about 60 degrees clockwise from the first, of a cluster of very substantial squatter houses.

The old lady was still ahead, but the path is wide, so I could overtake without causing her any inconvenience. And it clearly goes a long way:

This was the most obvious legacy contribution of Typhoon Mangkhut that I found hereabouts:

I can’t imagine this tree ever being removed, or the railing repaired!

A short distance further on, I came to a cluster of at least a dozen substantial squatter houses over a distance of about 50 metres:

Judging by the canine cacophony that I encountered here, they are all still occupied.

The red signs in the third and fifth photos carry the following information:

The areas in the vicinity of this sign are subject to landslip risk. Some squatter huts have been recommended for clearance. Locations of the affected squatter huts are available from the Geotechnical Engineering Office at 2760 5715. Please stay away from the areas during Landslip-Warning Signal, Typhoon Signal No. 8, or heavy rains.

I wouldn’t describe any of these dwellings as ‘huts’, and the possibility that they could be swept away in a landslide here has, in my opinion, been exaggerated. However, Hong Kong does have a history of landslides that could fairly be called disasters, which is why the Geotechnical Services Department was created in the first place.

The path continues beyond this cluster of houses, but it doesn’t appear to be cleared too often, and nature is gradually encroaching on the sides:

Up to this point, I’d been optimistic that I’d discovered the path that I’d conjectured led over the mountain. I could now see that I didn’t have much more height to gain before I reached the col. I was beginning to dream of a major cycling option—remember, I was on foot—but I was about to hit a snag:

Three steps doesn’t constitute a barrier, and it might even be fun to see if I can ride up them. The sharp turn to the right is likely to be tricky though. The ramshackle dwelling behind the steps has been abandoned.

However, even if I could get past this obstacle, the next would be impossible on a bike:

…although I could always get off and push:

Unfortunately, the next section appears to be impassable, even on foot:

However, when I reached this point, I did think that I could make out some kind of built structure through the foliage, and by getting down on my hands and knees, I was able to reach it. This is a view from the opposite side of the building to the approach:

I was struck immediately by the quality of construction: neatly pointed stone blocks in parallel courses. Why would anyone go to the considerable trouble of hauling the stone all the way up here?

The door was wide open. It was very dark inside, but I was able to take two photos using flash:

Somebody lived here once, but it has clearly been abandoned for a while—the calendar on the wall is open at February 2002. I wonder if it has been ransacked since the original occupant left, given that the drawers in the chest of drawers have been pulled out and up-ended. But who would come this way? There is no continuation of the path beyond this building.

Given the quality of construction, not only of the ‘house’ but also of the approach path, and the fact that the path goes no further, I wonder if the building originally served some other, possibly official, purpose. But what? I cannot resolve this conundrum. Can you help?