Henry's Perspective on Hong Kong II | Endurance and Epiphanies: 100 Kilometers on Hong Kong's MacLehose Trail

Hello, everyone.

In my last post, I discussed the Hong Kong Trail, highlighting Lugard Road and Harlech Road on Victoria Peak, as well as Dragon's Back and Big Wave Bay.

This time, I want to talk about the MacLehose Trail.

If you know anything about hiking in Hong Kong, you've likely heard of it. It’s an iconic 100-kilometer long-distance trail spanning the New Territories and Kowloon. Hong Kong boasts several classic long-distance trails—the Hong Kong Trail, the Wilson Trail, the MacLehose Trail, and the Lantau Trail—with the MacLehose being perhaps the most famous.

For me, however, it’s more than just a hiking trail.

It is where I completed my first 100-kilometer race.

And it is where I finally understood the true meaning of a simple phrase:

The journey is the reward.

Henry tackling a steep ascent with breathtaking coastal views during the Oxfam Trailwalker 2023.

01. My First 100KM Was a Four-Person Team Effort

My introduction to the MacLehose Trail was through "Oxfam Trailwalker."

Trailwalker is a renowned charity event in Hong Kong where teams of four attempt to complete the entire 100-kilometer MacLehose Trail over a single weekend. The rules are intriguing: all four team members must cross the finish line together, and the team's official time is determined by the slowest member.

This was my first attempt at a 100-kilometer distance.

My three teammates, on the other hand, were all experienced trail runners. In short, everyone had run a 100-kilometer race before—except me. My only endurance experience was running a marathon (42 kilometers), and that was on a paved road.

Naturally, I was under immense pressure.

I was terrified of holding the team back. They reassured me, saying, "No problem, you can definitely do this." But internally, I thought, How is there no problem? It's 100 kilometers through the mountains!

So, I began training frantically.

02. The Training Nights Were More Memorable Than the Medal

To prepare for the race, I entered a few 50-kilometer events and frequently headed into the mountains alone to train.

Once, I joined a 50-kilometer race running the MacLehose Trail in reverse, from Section 5 back to Section 1. Lacking experience, I had no idea how long 50 kilometers would take, and eventually, the sun went down.

That was the first time I ran in the Hong Kong mountains with a headlamp.

By the time I reached Section 1—which is mostly flat and resembles a paved road—it was pitch black. Alone, guided only by my headlamp, I jogged slowly along the path. I wasn't moving fast, and there was no one else around, so I started singing as I ran.

Looking back, it was a surprisingly beautiful moment.

Another time, I was on the Pat Sin Leng section of the Wilson Trail. "Pat Sin Leng" literally translates to "Ridge of the Eight Immortals," consisting of eight peaks offering views over into Shenzhen. During that 50-kilometer race, I descended the ridge and entered the forest alone. Surrounded by massive trees in the quiet of the night, I walked forward with my headlamp.

That was when I saw fireflies in the Hong Kong mountains for the first time.

At the time, it didn't feel romantic. I was exhausted, moving slowly, completely alone, and unsure how much further I had to go. But looking back, those moments have crystallized into incredibly precious memories.

The dark mountain trails, the solitary beam of a headlamp, the singing on the MacLehose Trail, the fireflies below Pat Sin Leng—those scenes are etched far deeper into my memory than any finish line result.

03. The Race Itself Wasn't As Joyful As I Imagined

When the Trailwalker race finally arrived, I spent the first half constantly reminding myself to pace well. Don't push too hard, don't blow up later on. I knew as a first-timer, I couldn't afford to get overly excited.

But things took a turn around Section 8, the Tai Mo Shan segment.

Tai Mo Shan is Hong Kong's highest peak, standing over 900 meters tall. Upon reaching it, two of my three teammates completely hit the wall; they could only manage a very slow walk.

We dragged ourselves through the final 25 kilometers at a painfully slow pace.

I don't say this to complain. Trailwalker is fundamentally a team event; you finish together, and the slowest pace is the team's pace. I was already grateful that they were willing to take a rookie like me along in the first place.

Yet, something strange happened. When I finally crossed the finish line and received my first-ever 100-kilometer trail running medal, I didn't feel happy.

Honestly, there was zero sense of joy.

I stood there holding the medal, thinking, This is my first 100KM. Why aren't I excited?

I went home feeling slightly depressed.

04. On the Way Home, the Realization Hit Me

During the commute home, my mind wasn't on the finish line or the medal.

Instead, it flashed back to the training.

I thought about singing alone on Section 1 of the MacLehose Trail in the dead of night.

I thought about seeing fireflies in the forest below Pat Sin Leng.

I remembered the grueling, exhausting, and often lonely days spent preparing for this race. Looking back, every single one of those moments felt valuable.

In that instant, I truly understood the phrase:

The journey is the reward.

I had heard the phrase before, of course. Everyone knows it; everyone says the process matters more than the result. But this time, I didn't just "know" it—I actually "felt" it.

I realized that what I genuinely enjoyed wasn't the second they hung the medal around my neck.

I enjoyed the training demanded by those 100 kilometers. I enjoyed the night runs, the mountains, and those quiet moments spent alone with my thoughts.

This realization profoundly impacted my life.

Since then, I frequently remind myself not to fixate solely on the outcome. Results matter, obviously, but if your entire process is agonizing, numb, and anxiety-ridden, and you're relying entirely on the final result for salvation, you're in a dangerous position.

You must learn to enjoy the process.

Even when that process is brutal, exhausting, and deeply uncomfortable.

Henry stands on a mountain ridge, gazing out at the vast green hills and distant coastline.

05. Long Ke Wan: One of the Most Beautiful Spots on the Trail

Returning to Hong Kong's geography, Section 1 of the MacLehose Trail mostly follows a reservoir. It's akin to a paved road with minimal elevation gain. At the end of Section 1, near the East Dam, you cross a small hill and suddenly spot a beach.

It is called Long Ke Wan.

Long Ke Wan is one of the most stunning bays I have ever seen.

The first time I saw it, I was stunned. I thought, My god, I never knew Hong Kong had beaches this beautiful.

The sand is fine, the beach is expansive, the water is pristine, and the seabed slopes down very gently. Without exaggeration, it feels like a beach you’d find on a top-tier tropical island.

So why don't more people know about Long Ke Wan?

Because it’s inaccessible by car.

You either have to hike in or take a boat from Sai Kung. Therefore, it isn't well-known to the average tourist like Repulse Bay or Stanley.

When I first moved to Hong Kong, every time I passed Long Ke Wan, I would stop and just stare at it for ten minutes.

Literally just stare.

Looking at the sea, the sand, and the surrounding mountains, I would marvel at how gorgeous it was. Over time, as I ran past it more frequently, I’d just glance and keep moving. But I will always remember the impact it had on me the first few times I saw it.

06. Arriving by Boat: A Different Side of Hong Kong

One sweltering summer weekend, I took a boat from Sai Kung to Long Ke Wan.

The ticket was only about twenty dollars.

Upon arriving, I saw the beach dotted with tents. People had set up canopies, brought their dogs, and were sitting by their tents reading. Entire families were just spending their weekend by the sea.

At that moment, I thought again: This is the real Hong Kong.

When people think of Hong Kong, they picture Central, finance, subways, crowds, exorbitant housing prices, and shopping malls.

But what I saw was a group of people, on a blazing hot weekend, spending very little money to bring their families and dogs to what I consider one of the most beautiful beaches in China—just reading, camping, swimming, and relaxing.

It represents an entirely different way of life.

If you never venture into Hong Kong's mountains and seas, you will struggle to truly understand the city.

07. Section 4: My Favorite Mountain Ridge

Out of the entire 100 kilometers of the MacLehose Trail, if you asked for my favorite segment, I’d choose Section 4.

It’s roughly 11 kilometers long with about 900 meters of elevation gain. It’s not a walk in the park for the average person, but the scenery is spectacular.

I often bring friends who are reasonably fit to hike Section 4. Most finish it, though there have been failures—once, a colleague from Singapore turned back halfway through.

The most captivating part of Section 4 is its ridge.

There is a section where both sides drop off steeply, leaving a narrow ridge in the middle. Walking along it gives you an immense sense of openness and freedom. On a clear day, the mountains and the sea unfold on both sides; in the rain or heavy fog, it takes on a completely different, moody atmosphere.

I have hiked it in summer, in winter, in the rain, and in the fog.

Every time I walk that ridge, I stop to look around and take photos.

That is the Hong Kong I love most.

Not the urban metropolis, but the Hong Kong found along the mountain ridges.

08. The Mountains Here Make Me Feel Safe

Running trails in Hong Kong offers another distinct feeling: safety.

Often, deep in the mountains and late at night, I will suddenly encounter a young woman with a large backpack, hiking entirely alone. No dog, no companions—just solo trekking.

Whenever I see this, I think to myself: Hong Kong is incredibly safe.

Obviously, you should never let your guard down entirely, regardless of where you are. But the general sense of public safety in Hong Kong genuinely affords people freedom. It allows individuals to confidently hike alone, trail run at night, or pack a tent and go camping.

I typically encounter two types of people in the mountains.

The first are the serious hikers—carrying massive backpacks equipped with sleeping pads, tents, and full gear, trekking with deep focus.

The second are trail runners like us—wearing minimalist vests, carrying a water bladder, dressed lightly, and charging forward at top speed.

Every time we cross paths and size each other up, I suspect we’re both thinking the exact same thing: Is there something wrong with this guy?

I look at their massive backpacks and think, That looks exhausting.

They look at us sprinting up a mountain and probably find it equally incomprehensible.

But that is the ecosystem of Hong Kong’s mountains.

People utilize the trails in different ways, and love this place in their own unique manner.

09. A Lifestyle, Not a Travel Guide

I’m not writing about the MacLehose Trail to tell you where to snap photos for social media.

What I really want to convey is that Hong Kong provided me with a lifestyle.

This lifestyle is built on 100-kilometer races, relentless training, headlamps piercing the night, fireflies, Long Ke Wan, mountain ridges, teammates, moments of disappointment, and sudden epiphanies about life.

To me, Hong Kong is more than just a place to live and work.

It is a place that continuously trains me, reminds me, and shapes me.

The greatest gift the MacLehose Trail gave me wasn't that 100-kilometer finisher's medal.

It was the understanding that the final result you achieve might not be as important as you think. What truly endures is the path you walked to get there.

That is the Hong Kong in my heart.

Next time, I will discuss Lantau Island and the Lantau Trail. It features Discovery Bay, Tai O, Mui Wo, airplanes soaring overhead, and the story of how I completed my first solo 100-kilometer race.

Disclaimer: Any reference to 'Hong Kong' on this website refers to the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region(Hong Kong SAR).