Wednesday, 10 January 2018

gone fishing

When we moved to our present house, on the eastern outskirts of Fanling, in 2008, it didn’t take us long to discover the Drainage Services Department (DSD) maintenance access road running alongside the Ng Tung River—and the notices forbidding access to members of the public However, we soon noticed that nobody paid any attention to these signs! Although access to this road is restricted by a locked gate at each end, there is a gap wide enough for pedestrians and cyclists to pass through:


…and they do, despite the sign:
Drainage Maintenance Access
No Entry
This photo was taken in 2011, and the sign is now illegible!

You will also notice the solar-powered streetlights, which appeared during the summer of 2011. They were funded by the North District Board, which must have had some cash to spare, which, if it didn’t use, would lead to its budget for the following year being cut. That’s how bureaucratic organizations work, but I wonder whether the board bothered to consult the DSD.

A year earlier, there was a classic example of how government departments fail to talk to one another. The DSD may prefer it if members of the public keep off its maintenance access roads, but the Home Affairs Department had other ideas. It had several covered seating areas built, presumably because it recognized the amenity value of the DSD’s access road to joggers, cyclists and casual strollers. Here are two:



There are also three footbridges that cross the river, presumably to provide access via well-marked footpaths from Fanling to houses on the north side of the river. This is the one visible in the first photo above:


Notice the signs on each side of the exit from the bridge. They read the same as the one in the first photo. In other words, you can cross the access road but not turn left or right:


I don’t think anyone even notices these signs nowadays, but there is an activity that has increased in popularity in the last few years that does involve active trespassing: fishing. I took the following two photos in the same place on the last two Sundays of 2017 as I returned from my usual Sunday bike ride. There are three or four of these platforms along the north bank of the river, and I’ve no idea of their intended purpose, but this one is clearly popular with anglers, while one further downstream is often used by operators of radio-controlled model boats.



That this activity involves active trespassing can be seen from the next photo. All these people must have climbed over the locked gate to reach the platform off which they are fishing, and there is a sign like the ones described above with the same exhortation.


There is also a sign that reads
PLEASE DO NOT FISH
Given that all the anglers I see are local Chinese, I assume that everything they catch is destined for the kitchen. There are certainly a lot of fish in the river, although I believe that most are carp and other species that I would deem inedible. However, this is not a dig at local eating habits. The upper part of the river flows through Fanling’s industrial district, and I took the following photo last weekend during a period of heavy (for the time of year) rain from a footbridge across a section of the river where the flow at this time of year is confined to a winter channel. Although the amount of oil coming down the river is obvious, it is the invisible pollutants—lead, mercury, cadmium and other heavy metals—that are the real worry. Fish if you enjoy the activity—I can think of few activities that are more boring—but you are dicing with death if you eat what you catch.

Friday, 5 January 2018

tunnel vision

The new town of Ma On Shan is located in a narrow coastal strip on the southern coast of Tolo Harbour between the inlets of Sha Tin Hoi and Kei Ling Ha Hoi. The nature of this geography means that there are effectively only two ways for someone riding a bike to enter the town. And only the southern entry point leads from a significant population centre, so unless that cyclist is planning to pass through the town—all the way on cycle tracks—on their way to the Sai Kung Country Park, which is not a course of action that I could recommend, especially at weekends, they wouldn’t see the mural in an underpass close to where the cycle track eventually peters out.

Although Paula and I used to come this way regularly until a few years ago, there was no mural then, but I’ve recently been looking for ways to create the longest possible long-distance bike ride, and my explorations have brought me to the northern end of Ma On Shan.

Like many of the things I come across when exploring the New Territories by bike, I can take no credit for what follows. I just thought that this mural was sufficiently interesting to be brought to the attention of more people.

This is what the underpass looks like when approaching Ma On Shan from the north:


However, as a Westerner I read things from left to right, and most cyclists will arrive for the first time at the left-hand end, so that is the way I’ve decided to present the mural. When approaching from the south, there is a promenade extending several kilometres, although I don’t think there are any facilities for sailing or swimming, any palm trees, or anywhere to sling a hammock:



…but there are many places for children to play, and pet ownership is almost certainly more widespread than it is in Kowloon or on Hong Kong island. The Sai Kung herd of feral cows does stray into the northern outskirts of the town, and I think that this is what is represented by the disembodied yellow face:


I don’t think that the images of buildings in the next photo refer to any real structures—unlike many of the buildings in town, which are instantly recognizable—and I can’t say that I understand the significance of the rose, or the dog on the top of the building on the left:


Before the development of Ma On Shan in the late 1980s and early 1990s, the natural vegetation along the coast would have been mangroves. And before we moved to Fanling in 2008, we lived further around the coast to the east, and I could see 20–30 species of butterfly during a 15-minute walk. But I don’t think you would see too many butterflies hereabouts nowadays:


This prancing horse is in the exact centre of the mural, and the ‘greenery’ extending on both sides is artistically unlike anything else here. But there is a reason: Ma On Shan translates as ‘horse saddle mountain’, and the town takes its name from the mountain towering above it (Ma On Shan is the second-highest peak in the New Territories). However, the profile of the ‘greenery’ does not match the profile of the mountain, which is very distinctive.


I love the clouds in the next photo, and of course kite-flying is a popular pastime all over Hong Kong:


In the next photo, the cat is sleeping on the roof of Wu Kai Sha station, the terminus of the Ma On Shan Line, which was opened in 2004. I’m not aware of any church in the area that would be recognizable as such from the outside:


…and there are certainly no windmills hereabouts:


The animal in the next photo is a muntjac or barking deer, which are reputedly common in this area, although I’ve never seen one despite spending a lot of time here in the 1970s. These animals are reputedly very timid, so it wouldn’t be nibbling the grass with someone thrashing a guitar behind them.


And we’re finally out in the countryside, although the girl on the bicycle, clearly a weekender, would be a liability to both herself and others once the cycle track has been left behind.

Monday, 1 January 2018

photographic abstraction #25

A new year, and a new collection of abstract photographs. There are no new motifs this time, but that doesn’t mean that there’s nothing new. Further details follow each image.

bar code blues

I haven’t used reflections on water since Atlantis from Photographic Abstraction #7. I’ll leave you, the reader, to decide what this is a reflection of.

cold front

I had thought that this was yet another image based on staining on a squatter hut in Hong Kong, but when I checked, it turns out to be an image of lichen on Penrith Castle.

jewels of the nile

I frequently see the most appalling scum on a particular section of the Sheung Yue River, which I presume is caused by industrial premises upstream. The only positive aspect of this environmental vandalism is that it gives me an opportunity to create interesting abstract images. The photo on which Jewels of the Nile is based was taken on the same occasion as the photos for Slime #1 (Photographic Abstraction #11), Slime #2 (#13) and Visions of the Emerald Beyond (#21).

lucky number
Leapfrog is the only photo in this collection to feature a completely new motif, and I’d be surprised if anyone can identify what it is actually a photograph of.
This is what I wrote when describing Leapfrog in Photographic Abstraction #24. I’m not about to reveal the origin of that image, but I will say that Lucky Number employs the same motif. However, this photo was taken in Penrith, while Leapfrog was taken in Fanling. In case you were wondering, the number 8 is lucky in Chinese culture.

rags, no riches

Rags, No Riches comes from the same source that I used for No Way Out (Photographic Abstraction #22). Although there is no overlap between the two images, the only real difference is that I cancelled the colour in the earlier image.

shadow dancing

I cannot work out where I took this photo, but it’s an image of staining on a concrete wall somewhere in the Fanling area.

Sunday, 31 December 2017

chainwords #2

This year, I have a different type of puzzle to give you a New Year’s Eve headache:

In the diagram below, each box between ‘torn’ and ‘age’ contains a two-, three- or four-letter word, as determined by the number of ‘bullets’ in each box. Can you identify these concealed words, given that each pair of adjacent boxes makes up a longer word (e.g., ram/page/ant/hem/lock)?


If you found this puzzle sufficiently challenging, you may also like these:

Cracking the Code.
Scramble Six.
Chainwords.