A walk through Hong Kong, and no concrete in sight

Hiking in this high-rise city of shoppers and traders may seem implausible, but Amar Grover finds a wealth of greenness, too

Silky butterflies flitted among lantana bushes, stirred by the smells and colours of their spiky little flowers. Cicadas whirred and droned dementedly in the pines. Yet, I was struck by a couple of wooden signs: "Sir Cecil's Ride" and, later, "Lady Clementi's Ride". The 1920s governor and his wife loved riding, and even now in post-colonial Hong Kong faint echoes of empire still haunt the hills.

I was strolling the Wilson Trail (named after, you guessed it, the penultimate governor), a 78km hike over the island and across to the New Territories. Steep stone steps ushered in one of many climbs. We panted up to Siu Ma Shan, where boys once drooled at the proximity of the old airport's runway and hair-raising flight path. Damp tunnel-like groves of bamboo led to the summit of Mt Butler and one of the island's great views – south across shaggy hills and jade reservoirs to Tai Tam Bay, north to glinting towers of glitzy commerce and the famed harbour beyond.

To the uninitiated, hiking in Hong Kong might seem implausible if not downright absurd. You come here to shop or eat or make a fortune. But consider this: 70 per cent of the land is farmland, forest or hillside; almost 40 per cent is conserved in 23 Country Parks; there are around 260 islands, some with ferry links, and some fine beaches. You can walk for hours and neither meet a soul nor glimpse even a smudge of concrete.

Hong Kong boasts three other long-distance hikes. The Lantau Trail wriggles across the largest island of the same name. The Hong Kong Trail starts on the Peak and ends 50km later at Big Wave Bay on the eastern coast. The longest, wildest and arguably best known is the New Territories' 100km MacLehose Trail, named after yet another governor.

Back on the Wilson at the foot of Mt Butler we pass a pavilion full of old men. The jungly hills and reservoirs of Tai Tam Country Park beckon. Terrapins bob in the green water and with the soupy heat I'm tempted to break the rules and risk a quick dip. We picnic at its edge, with just a few circling kites and iridescent dragonflies for company. It's quiet and utterly still, miraculous for what is among the most densely populated places on earth.

Tai Tam is a spaghetti junction of paths. We study the map and opt for Stanley. I choose a route signposted as long and difficult but nothing of the sort which follows an aqueduct winding round Violet Hill. It's lush, shady and we have it to ourselves. Occasional ravines plunge to thick forest in which I think I hear muntjac. We rejoin the Wilson but instead of climbing the ridgeline up to The Twins stay with another lazy water catchment. As Repulse Bay falls behind, Stanley fills the seascape. Thirty minutes later we're nursing ice-cold beers down near its market.

These are walks to dip into. We dabbled in the HK Trail. On the Peak, where the air is cooler, I retraced my childhood and climbed High West. From here, on crisp clear winter days, my parents said we could just see Macau and mainland China. We skirted Mt Kellet and gazed down at Aberdeen, its harbour a mosaic of little skiffs, tugs and the Jumbo Floating Restaurant.

The New Territories and MacLehose Trail in particular require a little more commitment. A glance at the map shows just how empty much of its eastern corner near Sai Kung is. The idea of "country parks" arose in the late 1960s when a rising population coupled with serious deforestation augured difficult times. The governor, a keen conservationist, strongly supported their creation and by the early 1970s four were up and running.

Hong Kong island has scant remains of the tiny fishing villages that once rimmed its puckered coast. You might glimpse forlorn little houses and underused rusty boats. But in Sai Kung and beyond, old rural China seems a little less remote. At the Sheung Yiu Folk Museum (at Pak Tam Chung, start of the MacLehose) one can see a restored hamlet set on a terrace and secured by an eaved gate.

The MacLehose starts life as a minor road, heading south round High Island Reservoir before turning back on itself to arc across the New Territories. It takes in some of the loveliest vistas, the steepest climbs and Hong Kong's two highest mountains. Dodging black-and-yellow tree spiders and keeping an eye out for the odd snake, we hiked around the coastline to the first of two dams and rejoined the main route.

You can, with a good start, get as far – and back – as Tai Long Wan, arguably Hong Kong's best beach. Closer and almost as satisfying is the smaller Long Ke Wan beach. Both are backed by unblemished hills, of which Sharp Peak is especially striking.

"You're not training are you?" teased the jogger as we sauntered back to the road. The annual charity race, where teams aim to complete the MacLehose in a day, was months ahead. A wonderful challenge, he said, which, until they left, the Gurkhas almost always won, adding: "They felt at home with all these hills," he added.