Wootang01
Watching Hill Fires
After a brief repose which followed our initial ascent up the Longji terraced fields, our band of three left the hotel to resume again our hiking. To catch the setting sun, we set off for the high western hills that lay directly behind our residence. Another group of ardent Hong Kong tourists joined us on this trek.
Though we neither anticipated such an arduous journey, nor did we bring enough water to satisfy our parched lips, we nonetheless reached the peak of the acclivity without too much ennui to warrant a hasty departure. As if crack troops on the watch, we bunkered down on our hill, affectionately called "47," and from there we waited for the sun's final languid descent into obscurity.
No sooner had we made ourselves quite comfortable, exploring the adjacent mounds and running along the ridge while emoting in our Braveheart impersonations, than we noticed the ominous smoke billowing into the sky from the nearby mountaintops. The concentrated haze, the result of controlled brushfires, we concluded, was moving closer and closer towards us. Eventually, the crackling from the intense combustion of browned and dry foliage, that had been methodically placed on certain declivities, tinged our ears; and the smoke, which had so far been blown away by an easter gale whose ferocity also invited a biting cold to hill 47, at length enveloped our position, compromising our ability to remain there any longer. But by this time thankfully, the meek sun had ambled its way into the opaque distance and with our primary objective met, we gladly capitulated our untenable camp to our fiery nemesis. As the dark blanket of dusk settled on Longji, we swiftly fell back into the dimming wood, eager to return to our lodgings for a hot meal.
Watching Hill Fires
After a brief repose which followed our initial ascent up the Longji terraced fields, our band of three left the hotel to resume again our hiking. To catch the setting sun, we set off for the high western hills that lay directly behind our residence. Another group of ardent Hong Kong tourists joined us on this trek.
Though we neither anticipated such an arduous journey, nor did we bring enough water to satisfy our parched lips, we nonetheless reached the peak of the acclivity without too much ennui to warrant a hasty departure. As if crack troops on the watch, we bunkered down on our hill, affectionately called "47," and from there we waited for the sun's final languid descent into obscurity.
No sooner had we made ourselves quite comfortable, exploring the adjacent mounds and running along the ridge while emoting in our Braveheart impersonations, than we noticed the ominous smoke billowing into the sky from the nearby mountaintops. The concentrated haze, the result of controlled brushfires, we concluded, was moving closer and closer towards us. Eventually, the crackling from the intense combustion of browned and dry foliage, that had been methodically placed on certain declivities, tinged our ears; and the smoke, which had so far been blown away by an easter gale whose ferocity also invited a biting cold to hill 47, at length enveloped our position, compromising our ability to remain there any longer. But by this time thankfully, the meek sun had ambled its way into the opaque distance and with our primary objective met, we gladly capitulated our untenable camp to our fiery nemesis. As the dark blanket of dusk settled on Longji, we swiftly fell back into the dimming wood, eager to return to our lodgings for a hot meal.