3 Days in Hong Kong: Peaks, Ports & Hidden Trails for Urban Hikers in December

The day begins in Sheung Wan, where the air still smells faintly of incense and wet stone from the morning street wash. You wrap your hands around a ceramic cup at Haus Coffee Club, the hiss of the espresso machine competing with the soft clatter of cups, and watch the light creep down Staunton Street. From there, Hong Kong Park feels like a secret understory to Central’s financial canopy—the sound of waterfalls muffling traffic, the slick railings cool under your hand as you climb toward the aviary. By lunch, you’re at racines in Sheung Wan, where French technique leans into Hong Kong’s markets: seafood that tastes of the harbor, vegetables that still smell faintly of soil. The afternoon is for the Peak Trail: the path hugging Lugard Road, concrete underfoot, railings damp from recent mist, the skyline curving around you in a slow, cinematic pan. As the light fades, Sky Terrace 428 turns into a balcony over Victoria Harbour, the water dark and dense, ferries tracing bright lines below. You ride the Mid-level escalators down into the evening, the mechanical hum and snatches of Cantonese conversation rising around you like a soundtrack. Neon reflections smear across wet pavement; the city feels both bigger and somehow more navigable now that you’ve walked its upper edge. Tomorrow you trade glass towers for wave-cut coastlines and the low, steady roar of the South China Sea.

Morning in Sai Kung feels different: the air tastes faintly of salt and grilled squid from last night’s stalls, and the light comes in low over the fishing boats. You claim a table at Pan da Cafe, surrounded by retro posters and the clink of china, the smell of fresh tiramisu and strong coffee cutting through the sea breeze that sneaks in every time the door swings open. By the time you reach Sai Kung Country Park, the soundtrack has shifted to cicadas and the crunch of dry leaves under your boots. The trail pulls you toward Sai Kung East Country Park and out to Long Ke Wan, where the sand is fine and pale, squeaking softly underfoot as small waves hiss up the shore. Lunch is simple and earned—packed snacks or takeaway from town eaten with bare feet in the sand, the sun warm on your shoulders and the water cold against your ankles. Afternoon hours stretch into more hiking through East Country Park’s rolling hills, the smell of sun-warmed grass and the sight of distant islands making Hong Kong’s urban core feel like a different country. Back in town, Cafe Alley wraps you in low-key warmth, all-day omelettes and light cheesecake arriving on mismatched plates as the sky turns bruise-purple over the harbour. Later, you slip back toward Hong Kong Island with a little salt still on your skin and that pleasant weight in your legs. Tomorrow, the climbs get higher and more spiritual on Lantau, but tonight you fall asleep still hearing waves.

Dawn on Lantau smells like incense and cold stone. As you arrive at Tian Tan Buddha, the plaza is still relatively quiet, the only real sounds the soft scrape of shoes on steps and the occasional bell from the nearby monastery. The bronze figure looms above, edges softened by morning haze, while the air holds that particular December chill that creeps under your jacket. It’s a different Hong Kong to the one you met in Central—wider, slower, with more sky than skyline. From there, the Ngong Ping Fun Walk pulls you away from crowds and into a corridor of trees, the path a mix of packed earth and worn stone that feels cool and slightly damp underfoot. You follow it toward the Lantau Trail, where the climb to Lantau Peak begins in earnest: stone steps, dirt switchbacks, and the satisfying burn in your thighs as the views open up to the South China Sea on one side and the airport’s runways on the other. Lunch is simple, eaten on the trail or back in Ngong Ping village, the air full of incense, frying oil, and the low hum of pilgrims and hikers. Later, as you glide back toward Tung Chung, the Ngong Ping 360 Midpoint Overlook offers one last suspended moment: cable car gently rocking, wind whistling faintly around the cabin, the green folds of Lantau passing beneath like a living topographic map. Evening is for coming back down to sea level—maybe a harbourfront walk or a quiet drink—but the day’s climbs linger in your legs. Tomorrow, the city will go back to being office towers and tram bells; tonight, you carry the image of Hong Kong as a chain of peaks fading into cloud.