down by the riverside

Shatin is the largest new town in the New Territories, with a population of around one million, although it was just a small village 50 years ago. It is located on the north side of the ring of mountains encircling Kowloon and is a 25-minute train ride south from Fanling—or about 75 minutes on a bike.

Although I do most of my cycling in the northern part of the New Territories, I mention the time taken by bike because all my regular bike rides include a lot of narrow paths and alleyways, and if I want to do a long-distance ride (100km+), then I need to head south, where I can comfortably maintain an average speed of 16km/hr almost entirely on dedicated cycle tracks.

And Shatin has an extensive network of these tracks. The town is split by the Shing Mun River, which runs north–south, and there is a cycle track running the entire length of the river on both banks. However, the cycle track along the west bank is dead straight for long distances and is therefore extremely boring to ride along, so I’ve rarely done so, because there are other (longer) ways to reach the same destination that provide more interest.

However, at the beginning of December, for some reason that I can no longer recall, Paula and I did follow this cycle track on our return journey north, and at one point I found myself riding past an elaborate mural:

We didn’t stop at the time, but I resolved to come back to photograph the entire work, because I couldn’t help but notice that it appeared to be depicting all the main points of interest in Shatin. I’ve now done so.

The following images are presented as they appear in the mural from left to right (south to north). You will notice that there are alternating zones of blue/green and red/orange, which represent night and day, respectively, although whether there is some symbolic significance in this I’m unable to say.

The first photograph is a depiction of Amah Rock, a freestanding rock formation on the summit of a hill overlooking the southern end of Shatin:

It resembles a woman carrying a small child on her back in a traditional meh tai, which you seldom see nowadays. According to Wikipedia, it is the wife of a fisherman who used to climb the hill every day to see whether her husband was on his way back home. Unfortunately, the poor woman didn’t know that her husband had drowned at sea, but Tin Hau, goddess of the sea, took pity on her and turned her into stone, so that she could be reunited with her husband in the spirit world.

Needless to say, I don’t believe any of this, but one thing does puzzle me. Why is this formation called Amah Rock? Amah is the Hong Kong word for a female domestic servant, who would have been responsible for any childcare.

The next photo is the first of several that includes an egret. These birds are extremely common along the river systems of the New Territories, but I’ve never seen one that is standing on one leg! All the egrets depicted here are of the lesser variety, because greater egrets, which according to my observations are equally common, have yellow beaks.

I’ve no idea what the yellow horn on the skyline is meant to represent, unless it’s a setting crescent moon.

The next photo shows Che Kung Temple, one of the largest and most visited temples in Hong Kong:

It is dedicated to Che Kung, a military commander during the Southern Song Dynasty (1127–1279). This is the identity of the statue seen here alongside the temple, although in reality the statue is located behind the temple’s main altar. And it is huge, at least 15 metres high.

And here is another egret:

There cannot be many surviving traditional villages amid the urban jungle of Shatin. I know of only one, and that isn’t the one depicted here, because the one I’m familiar with has distinctively curved gable ends, not simple inverted V’s.

I’ve no idea what is represented by the next image, although the Christian connotations are obvious, and Paula tells me that she has seen a cross on a hill somewhere hereabouts:

My guess is that there are meant to be two diamond rings in the foreground, but there is a glaring error here that is probably only evident to a geologist. The crystals attached to the rings are hexagonal, but diamonds exhibit cubic symmetry. And however much you cut a diamond, you cannot transform it into a hexagonal prism as depicted here.

Yet another egret:

I’ve also no idea what the next image is intended to represent, although I’m certainly curious:

I do recognize the subject of the next image though, but I’m puzzled as to why it has been represented as a kind of ghostly outline:

There are a lot of bridges over the river, but all but one are utilitarian concrete. I included a photograph of this single exception in Photographic Highlights: 2018–19.

And yet another egret:

I think that the next image is a representation of the Ten Thousand Buddhas Monastery, although I’ve never visited:

I do recognize the next image though:

Dragon boat racing first took place on the Shing Mun River in 1984. I know this because I took part—for the only time in my life. Back in 1984, the event was regarded by regular teams as merely a chance to practise for the ‘real’ races, but the traditional venues in Hong Kong have little room for spectators, so the races here are now considered the most important. I’ve already seen teams on the river practising. Incidentally, in case you’re wondering, paddling a dragon boat is bloody hard work, with a stroke rate of around 80 per minute.

There can be no mistaking the subject of the next image:

However, despite the background, it isn’t meant to represent run-of-the-mill cyclists like myself. This mural has been painted on part of the the wall surrounding the Hong Kong Sports Centre, which I believe contains a velodrome. Notice that the riders depicted here are wearing a kind of streamlined helmet that is impractical for general cycling.

Even more egrets:

I’ve no idea why the pavilion depicted in the last photo has been included. Structures like this are commonplace all over the New Territories, so there cannot be anything special about one in Shatin.

When the Hong Kong Jockey Club decided that it needed a second racecourse several decades ago, Shatin was the obvious choice:

I didn’t notice it when taking the photograph, but when I was processing the photos, I spotted what appeared to be the artist’s signature in the bottom right-hand corner. It reads ‘DIO 2019’. So this work is recent.

Finally, here is a view of the mural’s location from the next bridge downstream:

It is definitely worth going out of your way to take a closer look.