Veteran Hong Kong photographer Bob Davis stands on the roof of his three-storey house high on Lamma Island and recalls a time when he had spectacular views. 'One was down through a valley to the beach and Mount Stenhouse, another was over the most wonderfully landscaped market gardens, and the third was across the water to Lantau. The market gardens have given way to houses, and we hardly ever see the other views these days for the pollution.' But the spectacle of Lantau from Lamma can be seen clearly in Central as part of Davis' exhibition, 30 Years Of Photography In Hong Kong, running at the Foreign Correspondents' Club (FCC) until the end of the month. Davis, 57, came to Hong Kong in 1971 from Australia via Britain and has been charting the region's changes ever since. The exhibition of 66 photographs, most in black and white, shows rickshaws and old London-style buses, wide open spaces now filled with skyscrapers and clear skies where there is now smog. One of the most poignant pictures for Davis shows Central from MacDonnell Road in 1972, with the Furama Hotel 'about the same height going up then as it is coming down now', with the Tamar site, Murray Barracks and Hong Kong Park (then Victoria Barracks) in view. 'You could see over to Kowloon in those days, it was before anything much was built there. The Peninsula hotel was pretty well the only landmark,' he says. Other favourites include a picture taken on the 100th anniversary of the Hong Kong Yacht Club in 1994, with the Black Watch regiment on the march, and a photograph of a rickshaw and an old man in his pyjamas near the Macau ferry terminal. Davis is also particularly proud of a picture taken to mark the opening of Chek Lap Kok. 'We were in a helicopter over Lantau and the sky was crystal clear until we reached the valley where the big Buddha is. Suddenly the whole area was encased in low cloud, and the picture looked more like it had been shot in Shangri-la than Hong Kong,' he says. 'It's virtually impossible to get any decent views because of the pollution. I don't know how the tourist board is coping with it - there are virtually no days when you can shoot decent scenic pictures.' Another memorable picture shows Vietnamese refugees climbing out of a rusting ship called the Skyluck, driven onto rocks near Yung Shue Wan, Lamma, by Typhoon Hope. The ship had been stranded off Lamma since February 1979, with the refugees denied permission to land; in late June, the desperate passengers sabotaged the Skyluck by slicing through the anchor chain. 'I lived near Power Station Beach,' adds Davis, 'and we used to eat breakfast and watch thousands of refugees starving on the Skyluck. Typhoon Hope hit us, and one morning I heard the ship's hooter sounding an SOS as it drifted out to sea. I ran all the way round to Yung Shue Wan in the pouring rain and photographed the ship on the rocks. Then the army arrived and I was told in no uncertain terms to leave - I remember hearing someone give the order to 'go get him'. 'But funnily enough, I was walking in Wan Chai a few days later and a couple of army trucks drove by. Some of the soldiers from that day recognised me and one shouted, 'Good on ya mate, hope you got the picture!'' Davis plans to publish his photographs in book form, and hopes to display them in a more accessible venue than the members-only FCC. 'Although there are a few places here where you can put on a show, most are in art centres or other venues most people won't bother to go into. I'd love to put this on in a public space,' he says. 'It's important people see the pictures because they are about them. They are about the people who have made Hong Kong what it is, including the expatriates who were here before 1997 and stayed afterwards. That's the bigger picture.'