Island. Haunted island or not, we do not want to spend the night sleeping on the beach.
Tung Lung Chau
The constant wind off the South China Sea has stripped much of Tung Lung Chau clean of its former dense bush covering, revealing rounded hills. The north end of this island at the southern tip of Clear Water Bay in the eastern New Territories is largely bare and open, allowing great views of the surrounding seas and approaching ships. Among the most rugged of Hong Kongâs many islands, it is distinctive for its large, rocky outcrops and high, sheer cliffs.
From the ferry we turn right, joining passengers going to see their ancestral homes, shabby little buildings with some elderly folks working in the small gardens. The overgrown path leads through a forest, silent except for the quintessential sound of the Orient, the creaking of bamboo. At the end, we climb down a steep, rough path through waist-high thickets to the rocky shore. The ancient rock carving that we have come to see supposedly represents a dragon. In fact, it looks more like a childâs scrawl etched deeply into the rock.
Returning back along the same path, we reach the north side of the island, where the golf course across the inlet is so close it appears that if someone teed off from there the ball could land at our feet.
Tung Lung was once a sort of Gibraltar, with its 18th-century Fat Tong Mun Fort guarding the sea passage between Hong Kong and Guangzhou. The Qing dynasty fort was built between 1719-1724 to fight off pirates preying on junks that sailed through the Fat Tong Mun channel into Hong Kongâs sheltered waters. The fort, armed with eight cannon, and manned by a detachment of one officer and 25 men, was abandoned in 1810 when the garrison moved to Kowloon. Today, instead of pirates in junks, yachts, speedboats and coastal freighters now pass through the narrow channel.
The ruins were overgrown with vegetation when the Antiquities Advisory Office started excavation work in 1980. The partially restored fort on the edge of a cliff, with waves crashing againstthe rocky shore far below and spindrift whipping along the sea like shredded plastic bags, conveys an eerie sense of those dangerous early days.
The open-air Holiday Store on the main path sells drinks and basic food -- the âHong Kong Ferryâs school of cuisine,â with baloney slices, luncheon meat or fried egg plopped on bowls of packaged instant noodles.
The ramshackle restaurant is like a beachcomberâs hut, with a patchwork roof of canvas and a Marlborough cigarette awning stretched across bamboo poles. A few cats wander around between the rusty metal chairs set on a bare concrete slab floor. Large plastic water barrels, boards, bricks, driftwood, old life buoys and wood pallets clutter the dilapidated, but pleasant spot.
Dozens of squares of Styrofoam packing scribbled with messages or sketches are tacked to the rafters or nailed to the ceiling. Mostly in Chinese, they are mementos of individuals and groups who have visited the island. Police Adventure Training Unit, Outward Bound and various cadet groups have all trained on Tung Lung, and TVB has used it as a setting for some of its melodramas.
The restaurant appears to be the unofficial center for Hong Kongâs dedicated rock climbers, and photos of climbers clambering up the sheer cliffs decorate the shop. On one wall, a photo shows the last Governor of Hong Kong, Chris Patten, looking slim and tanned, visiting Tung Lung Chau on May 30, 1993. It is unlikely that he dined at the Holiday Store.
Tap Mun
Despite the bovine distractions, Tap Mun, in Tolo Harbor, is mainly a fishing community. From the deck of the ferry approaching the dock, we see aged fishing boats, people working on the nearby fish-breeding rafts and a fishing village stretching along the shore. The island is also reputedly a smuggling center, and, sure enough, a grey hulled marine police launch patrols inthe harbor like a street cop
Tung Lung Chau
The constant wind off the South China Sea has stripped much of Tung Lung Chau clean of its former dense bush covering, revealing rounded hills. The north end of this island at the southern tip of Clear Water Bay in the eastern New Territories is largely bare and open, allowing great views of the surrounding seas and approaching ships. Among the most rugged of Hong Kongâs many islands, it is distinctive for its large, rocky outcrops and high, sheer cliffs.
From the ferry we turn right, joining passengers going to see their ancestral homes, shabby little buildings with some elderly folks working in the small gardens. The overgrown path leads through a forest, silent except for the quintessential sound of the Orient, the creaking of bamboo. At the end, we climb down a steep, rough path through waist-high thickets to the rocky shore. The ancient rock carving that we have come to see supposedly represents a dragon. In fact, it looks more like a childâs scrawl etched deeply into the rock.
Returning back along the same path, we reach the north side of the island, where the golf course across the inlet is so close it appears that if someone teed off from there the ball could land at our feet.
Tung Lung was once a sort of Gibraltar, with its 18th-century Fat Tong Mun Fort guarding the sea passage between Hong Kong and Guangzhou. The Qing dynasty fort was built between 1719-1724 to fight off pirates preying on junks that sailed through the Fat Tong Mun channel into Hong Kongâs sheltered waters. The fort, armed with eight cannon, and manned by a detachment of one officer and 25 men, was abandoned in 1810 when the garrison moved to Kowloon. Today, instead of pirates in junks, yachts, speedboats and coastal freighters now pass through the narrow channel.
The ruins were overgrown with vegetation when the Antiquities Advisory Office started excavation work in 1980. The partially restored fort on the edge of a cliff, with waves crashing againstthe rocky shore far below and spindrift whipping along the sea like shredded plastic bags, conveys an eerie sense of those dangerous early days.
The open-air Holiday Store on the main path sells drinks and basic food -- the âHong Kong Ferryâs school of cuisine,â with baloney slices, luncheon meat or fried egg plopped on bowls of packaged instant noodles.
The ramshackle restaurant is like a beachcomberâs hut, with a patchwork roof of canvas and a Marlborough cigarette awning stretched across bamboo poles. A few cats wander around between the rusty metal chairs set on a bare concrete slab floor. Large plastic water barrels, boards, bricks, driftwood, old life buoys and wood pallets clutter the dilapidated, but pleasant spot.
Dozens of squares of Styrofoam packing scribbled with messages or sketches are tacked to the rafters or nailed to the ceiling. Mostly in Chinese, they are mementos of individuals and groups who have visited the island. Police Adventure Training Unit, Outward Bound and various cadet groups have all trained on Tung Lung, and TVB has used it as a setting for some of its melodramas.
The restaurant appears to be the unofficial center for Hong Kongâs dedicated rock climbers, and photos of climbers clambering up the sheer cliffs decorate the shop. On one wall, a photo shows the last Governor of Hong Kong, Chris Patten, looking slim and tanned, visiting Tung Lung Chau on May 30, 1993. It is unlikely that he dined at the Holiday Store.
Tap Mun
Despite the bovine distractions, Tap Mun, in Tolo Harbor, is mainly a fishing community. From the deck of the ferry approaching the dock, we see aged fishing boats, people working on the nearby fish-breeding rafts and a fishing village stretching along the shore. The island is also reputedly a smuggling center, and, sure enough, a grey hulled marine police launch patrols inthe harbor like a street cop
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