Wednesday Morning Hikes

I’m going to miss my weekly hike. Starting at 7.15 each Wednesday morning we have hiked through all weathers. I joined the group in January and it was cold enough to wear several layers plus a lightweight jacket. We’ve walked our weekly route through rain and fog, sometimes unable to see more than a few metres in front of us. I like it that way. Whilst you don’t get to enjoy the view you also don’t see the steep steps rising up and up ahead of you.

Now it’s getting hot and humid. Even the lightest clothes cling uncomfortably. And yet we persist. Always the same route, it takes us an hour and 40 minutes. There are those who walk faster, go ahead, others stop to catch breath and gulp water.

We talk, more or less out of breath, as we climb the many concrete steps. All current or one time GSIS mothers we have lived through the dramas of the school’s planned move to Ma On Shan during campus renovation, fierce parental opposition, a proposed attempt to replace the Board of Governors and the eleventh hour solution of an alternative decanting site on Hong Kong Island. It’s a social walk. Perhaps if we didn’t talk so much we’d walk faster.

There are ten or so who hike regularly but it is rare for everyone to be there, usually there are between four and seven walkers. This morning there were four of us and we walked through grey cloud, chattering like sparrows, unable to see far in any direction. Just as we made it home the heavens opened. We had a narrow escape.

Waking early on a Wednesday I always regret having agreed to go. The others are expecting me and will be waiting. I hate the thought of those rugged steps that rip the breath from you and make me curse and gasp. But when you return to the bottom you can finally stop knowing you’ve done your body a good turn and it’s over for another week. It is shortly after 9am, the morning lies ahead and you are exercised and bursting with feel good hormones. It’s a bit like banging your head against a brick wall: fabulous when you stop.

Two weeks ago there were only two of us: me and the super fit B who had a baby only five months ago. Had I not been there to slow her down, she would have skipped up Mount Butler like a mountain goat.

When we reached the top B was not even slightly out of breath and had barely raised a sweat while I was beetroot red and puffing. Every Wednesday we see the same Chinese man practising his Tai Chi. It is possible he walks up every day but we can only vouch for Wednesdays. This time, as the views were clear he offered to take photographs for us. I had my camera with me but he looked at it disdainfully and suggested using his and emailing us the pictures. Not sure I wanted to give out my email address to this charming stranger, I declined and said my camera would do fine.

So here we are, B and I atop Mount Butler with views over Hong Kong harbour and the Southside behind us. And in case you didn’t realise, I’m the red faced, sweaty one under the hat next to the gazelle that is my fit friend.