On April 29th, a friend asked me where I was going for the May Day holiday, and without thinking, I said I wasn't going anywhere. In fact, that was true; I had no travel plans. But upon reflection, with such a long holiday, there was no reason to spend all those days at home. So I decided on a short trip, with the destination being Dong'ao Island.
Dong'ao Island had long been on my list of travel destinations, but due to the pandemic, the ferry from Shenzhen to the island had been suspended. Coincidentally, during the May Day holiday, the pandemic in both Shenzhen and Zhuhai had been well controlled, and the ferry service reopened for a few days. So, on a whim, I booked a round-trip ferry for the 2nd to return on the 4th. I didn't think much about accommodation or activities; it's just my personal habit not to like overly planned trips. I decided to prepare slowly since I still had several days before departure.
That evening, I returned home and started planning for accommodation. In my impression, Dong'ao Island is definitely among the top tier of developed and commercialized islands in Zhuhai. However, when I searched for accommodations on various hotel and homestay platforms, I was stunned. There was only one hotel available, and the rest was just a 3000 yuan sea-view suite, which was not suitable for someone like me traveling alone.
At that moment, a thought suddenly crossed my mind: "Camping." Yes, camping. I had seen many articles about camping on Dong'ao Island while browsing the "Mafengwo" website, and I was convinced it was a feasible option. Considering that as a photographer, how could I comfortably stay in a hotel? I could barely stay in a hotel for a few hours. After some consideration, camping was definitely the best option for this trip. The only problem was that I completely overlooked that the last article I read was from 2020, which left a huge shadow over this trip.
An island, synonymous with sunsets, sunrises, waves, starry skies, and no light pollution, perfectly aligned with a photographer's occupational hazards. With these concepts and camping in mind, I had a basic plan for the trip:
- Arrive on the island on the 2nd, swim in the sea, head to the camping base to set up camp for the night, and watch the sunset.
- Explore the island's scenery on the 3rd, camp at the mountain top at night, and shoot the starry sky.
- Wake up early on the 4th to capture the sunrise.
I thought that a camping base would likely be manageable for a novice camper like me, so I didn't think too negatively about it. Thus, on the 30th, I set off to gather my camping gear.
I thought everything was ready, just waiting for the right moment. But reality can be cruel and often doesn't align perfectly with your expectations.
Departure#
Boarding#
Who would have imagined that on the clear days of the 29th and 30th, the night of May would bring heavy rain? The torrential downpour almost made me cancel my trip, but after checking the weather forecast and satellite images, I speculated that the weather would return to clear skies on the 2nd. The heavy rain on the 1st led to the cancellation of that day's ferry service, likely deterring most travelers from going out on the 2nd. As a result, there were hardly any passengers on the ferry that day.
I had previously forgotten to bring my camera's memory card and neglected to charge my camera, so I developed the habit of writing a travel checklist, detailing what needed to be done the day before and on the day of departure.
On the 2nd, I woke up at 9 AM to organize my things and checked off each item on my checklist, finding no omissions. I then headed out. I estimated that if I left by 9:50, I would have plenty of time to grab breakfast and head to the ferry terminal by 10. However, while having breakfast, I suddenly remembered that I might have forgotten my stabilizer and the connection cable for my camera. Even though that data cable looked just like a regular Type-C cable, I didn't want to take the risk; if it turned out to be incompatible, my stabilizer would be useless. This back-and-forth consumed 20 minutes.
It was this dramatic 20 minutes that led to a scene when I rushed into the terminal. In the area for departures, the ticket checker kept calling out, "Mr. Er, are you there? Mr. Er, have you arrived?" Anyone unfamiliar would think some dignitary was about to board the ferry, but little did they know it was just a poor soul about to be late because of a data cable.
The moment I stepped onto the ferry, the boarding gate closed behind me. For nearly an hour, I could relax in my seat, watching the waves and dark clouds outside. I also never imagined that after the pandemic, I would see Hong Kong Airport again in this way, which made me feel a bit nostalgic.
Camping#
The moment I set foot on the island, it didn't match my preconceived "stereotype" of an island. My impressions of islands were still based on Phuket in Thailand and Kenting in Taiwan, with vast coastlines and endless horizons, winding coastal streets. But what greeted me on Dong'ao Island was desolation and barrenness. There were hardly any people around.
I found a place to drop off my luggage and rested for a few minutes, but the entire dock returned to its usual deserted state. It made sense, as all the hotels and beaches were on the other side, and only a few ferries docked here each day. Even the ticket lady at the service center had pulled up a chair and was snacking on sunflower seeds.
A restaurant owner waved at me, "Young man, are you here for food or accommodation?" Surprised that there were even homestays, I started chatting with the owner. It turned out that the 200 yuan small room was just a small partition on the second floor of their restaurant, which they had repurposed as a homestay to recoup some losses during the pandemic. But who would be foolish enough to travel to an island without booking a hotel? After all, once you disembark, you would have to wait until the next day for a ferry back.
To be safe, I asked the owner for a business card, thinking that if I couldn't find a place to camp, at least I would have a backup and wouldn't end up sleeping on the street.
Dong'ao Island boasts a 92% vegetation coverage rate, and with only a few ferries running each day, what does that mean? It means the number of people on the island is greatly limited. Coupled with the heavy rain on the 1st, the island was even more deserted. As I walked towards the coast, I seemed to be the only person on the island, aside from a few construction workers. Even when I reached the beach, there were only a handful of people; it seemed that everyone who had come on the same ferry as me had vanished without a trace.
After taking a few photos by the coast, it was around 3 PM. I thought I should head to the camping base to scout the location, in case it got too late to find a spot or if the staff had left for the day. The camping base was on the other side of the island, and once again, I was the only one making the trek, encountering only a few construction workers and a few stray dogs along the way. When I arrived at Dazhu Bay, the official camping base according to maps and players, I saw a warning sign on the coast that read, "No barbecuing, no swimming, no camping." The word "camping" stood out painfully. Accompanied by the howling sea wind, the words "it's over" popped into my mind.
At this point, I had explored every place on the island that showed signs of human activity, yet I hadn't seen anyone related to camping. Just then, I passed by a security guard and hurriedly asked about camping. The guard said that this beach indeed no longer allowed camping, and the only place on the island where camping was permitted was the "Cultural Square" by the dock.
The dock? The Cultural Square? I had just come from there, and it didn't seem like there was anything related to camping. I pointed to the large terrace at the mountain top and asked the guard, "Can I camp there?" I thought if I stayed on the mountain to take photos at night, I could camp there for the night. The guard said camping was allowed on the mountain, but to be careful of snakes. He also mentioned that security wouldn't patrol the mountain at night and that the tower next door wasn't as windy, making it a more comfortable camping spot.
After thanking the guard, I strolled back to the dock, both to confirm the camping site at the Cultural Square and to grab a bite to eat. On the way back to the dock, I finally saw a few people; it seemed that eating was still the top priority. At this point, I have to talk about the food on the island. Zhuhai is an island, and it would be impossible not to eat seafood. However, the dining scene on the island seemed to have formed a sort of monopoly, creating a cooperative model similar to Guangzhou's Huangsha and Nanhai, where you buy seafood, and the restaurant helps you process it. But the problem lies in the so-called "overall planning": there are only a few restaurants on the island, most likely collaborating with seafood vendors, or even part of the same group. I don't know if it was due to the weather or if it was always like this, but the seafood sold by the vendors didn't seem very fresh, barely surviving on oxygen from aerators.
Monopoly inevitably leads to bad products driving out good ones, and the chefs at the restaurants didn't seem to be very skilled. Overall, the meal I had felt even worse than a random eatery in Guangzhou, but this was one of the few places you could find to eat on the island. I heard that the expensive 3000 yuan hotel had its own restaurant, but I knew I wouldn't be able to enter.
After wandering around for a while, I still hadn't found any staff related to camping at the Cultural Square. Although the Cultural Square was open and had exhibitions, there wasn't a single staff member in sight. I returned to the dock's visitor center to ask the sunflower-seed-snacking lady and learned that there were no official camping bases left on the island. This meant I only had two choices: either go to the restaurant owner's 200 yuan small room or head up the mountain to find the tower the security guard mentioned.
When I looked up at the sky, the clouds had dissipated quite a bit. I estimated that the Wolf constellation would rise to a suitable position, and the clouds would clear enough for me to shoot the Milky Way. So I resolutely set off for the mountain top.
Dong'ao Island is vast, so much so that you rarely see other tourists; yet it's small enough that you travel the same road back and forth. As night fell, everyone chose to take the shuttle bus from one end to the other, leaving me alone once again on the dark street, with no streetlights or pedestrians around. I was completely alone, even the only convenience store in the middle of the road had turned off its lights early, with only the occasional croaking of bullfrogs from the roadside drains. To fend off the fear brought by the night, I played music on my speaker, which was probably the only action that could slightly increase the signs of human civilization.
I never imagined what it would be like to climb a mountain at 8 PM, especially after the security guard had repeatedly warned me about snakes on the mountain. During the climb, any rustling nearby would startle me, fearing a snake might suddenly appear. In reality, snakes aren't that scary; what's frightening is the security guard's words: "Be careful not to get bitten; at night, there might not be a boat to take you out for an antidote."
Even on a sunny day, the wind at the mountain top is astonishing, let alone on a night after heavy rain, when the wind is even more terrifying. On the way up, I thought the wind felt quite pleasant, but upon reaching the top, I realized something was off: how could I set up camp in such strong winds? I remembered the guard mentioning a pavilion at the top, which turned out to be a viewing tower. It looked like it had two or three floors and seemed like an ideal windbreak. However, when I reached the top, I found the entire tower emanating an eerie red glow. Indeed, the aesthetic of Dong'ao Island's scenery still seemed to be stuck in the phase of illuminating buildings with various strange colored lights. This tower, named "Honeymoon Pavilion," was lit up in red. Imagine this scene: on a pitch-black mountaintop, a tower glowing red appears, and your destination is there. Scary, right? It could easily be a scene from a drama where the characters fight inside, and a monster stands at the door beckoning you, saying, "Come in, come in, I know you're tired; come in and sleep."
Even I, who am usually bold, didn't have the courage to enter that "Honeymoon Tower." As a compromise, I chose to settle in a small pavilion at the top. I initially wanted to record a video of setting up camp, but the wind was so strong that it knocked over my tripod several times, so I gave up. Since I was in the small pavilion, I couldn't stake the tent into the concrete floor, so I had to tie the corners of the tent to the stone benches in the pavilion. The tent could only barely maintain its basic shape, and it was blown down several times throughout the night. After adjusting the tent's direction a few times, I managed to withstand the wind until the next morning.
I never imagined my first solo camping experience would be so challenging. As I lay in the tent, the sounds of the waves, the wind, and the buzzing of the tent being blown by the wind alternated, to the point where I could predict what would happen next just by hearing the waves. I also worried about whether a snake would appear, but with the tent zipped up, I wasn't too concerned about a snake getting in. Instead, I worried that some security guard might have a whim and climb up to the mountain at night, discover my tent, and chase me away.
Fortunately, none of that happened.
Photography#
Despite everything seeming to go wrong, there was a glimmer of hope when I got up to adjust the tent around midnight. When I woke up, I found that the clouds in the sky had mostly dissipated, nearing a clear sky. I was overjoyed; this was definitely a perfect moment for shooting the starry sky. But the next moment pulled me back to reality. Remember the construction workers I encountered earlier? It turned out that there were large resort hotel construction sites on both the northern and southern sides of the island, and the bright lights from the construction sites at night illuminated the entire island. The light pollution was comparable to that in the city center, and on the mountaintop, with no cover, I could see the entire construction site clearly under the lights. This might not make much difference to the naked eye, but it was a fatal blow to photography. Helpless, I had to give up and crawled back into the tent to sleep, but the only good news was that I was still looking forward to the sunrise in the morning.
The alarm went off at 5 AM. After packing up the tent, the sky began to brighten gradually. The wind at the mountaintop was so strong that even a windbreaker couldn't withstand it. Although the sunrise here couldn't be described as beautiful, it was merely ordinary, I felt that the buildup from the previous day made this sunrise worthwhile. After setting up my camera for automatic shooting, I wandered around to warm up and dispel the cold brought by the sea wind. To my surprise, there was no wind at all in the low-lying area just 5 meters from where I camped at night. I was genuinely shocked. Why hadn't I spent a few more minutes searching for a better campsite? Why did I have to sleep in a windy spot?
As I was annoyed, the mountaintop gradually became lively. A few stray dogs from the construction site also came up to play, and a sanitation worker began maintaining the area. Seeing me up there so early, she guessed I was camping and joked, "Hey, young man, did you encounter any snakes?"
After capturing the sunrise, I headed down. At the beach around 5 AM, there was no one around, and the nearby shops hadn't opened yet. I took out my sleeping pad and lay down on the grass, enjoying a true sea breeze, unlike the howling wind at night.
To be honest, both beaches on Dong'ao Island face north and south, so even on a day suitable for swimming, you can't see the sunset or sunrise from the beach's sea level. This is probably the most disappointing aspect of the entire island. Camping by the sea, watching the sunset fade into darkness, and the sunrise brighten the sky would be a beautiful experience. Unfortunately, none of this is possible on Dong'ao Island, and both the east and west sides are still under development, with only a small path leading there.
While resting on the lawn until around 9 AM, I ran into the guy I had met the day before by the coastal rocks. The first thing he said upon seeing me was, "Did that guy catch any fish yesterday?" I really didn't know if he caught any fish; I only knew that we had spent nearly 20 minutes pondering how to climb out to the outermost rocks. He thought that going out would make it easier to catch fish, while I was thinking about how to get to the adjacent rock to capture him fishing. After a few dozen minutes of effort, he began his fishing journey, and I started my photography journey. It was a good match, but unfortunately, it happened to be the domestic fishing ban period; otherwise, there might have been fishing activities on the island.
Return Journey#
I was fortunate that the strong winds from the previous night blew away all the clouds, and the next day I saw the long-lost sun. The green flags indicating swimming were raised along the beach. The weather gradually warmed up under the sun, and by around 9 AM, people had already started swimming in the sea.
At that moment, I lay on the grass, enjoying the sea breeze and sunshine while contemplating what to do next. The starry sky at night had been ruined, and there was no hope for the beach's sunset or sunrise, so I decided to return a day early. Little did I know that after I finished thinking, I found that there was only one return ticket left for that day. After purchasing the ticket, I felt particularly good, not considering that some poor soul would have to stay on the island for another day. I changed into my swimwear and joined the swimming crowd.
Was this my first "saltwater immersion" of 2022? I couldn't even remember the last time I went to the beach. There were already few people on the island, and even fewer willing to go into the water, making the entire swimming experience incredibly comfortable. Time flies when you're having fun; I had already been swimming for over an hour. Having skipped breakfast and lunch, as soon as I stepped onto the beach and felt gravity again, I was so exhausted that I could barely walk straight and stumbled over to a chair to rest.
After freshening up, I set off to eat at the dock before taking the ferry. I don't know if it was lunchtime or if everyone had a bit of disappointment with the island, but I encountered quite a few people on the way, and the shuttle bus gradually filled up. When I returned to the dock, recalling the bad meal from the previous day, I decisively went to a Western restaurant. To say that their black pepper beef pasta was the best I've ever had would not be an exaggeration, and paired with a mojito, it was simply delightful. I couldn't help but marvel at how I could find such good Western food in a place where seafood should be the main attraction. But I wasn't sure if it was just because I hadn't eaten well the day before.
At the return dock, the announcements calling for Mr. Er finally ceased, and I smoothly boarded the ferry. While waiting in line, I noticed several guys with travel bags, clearly carrying tents and sleeping pads. Curious about why I hadn't seen any other campers the day before, I approached them.
"Hey, where did you guys camp last night? I didn't see you."
"Oh, we camped on Wanshan Island. How about you?"
"I camped on Dong'ao Island."
"Is it easy to camp there?"
"The ground doesn't allow staking, so I camped on the mountain."
Looking at the fishing gear in the guy's hands, I had a realization. Ah, so they camped and fished on Wanshan Island, no wonder I didn't see them. But now I understood.
Next stop, Wanshan Island!