A ghost island comes to life

AS I walk off the ferry pier, I see a notice: ''Passengers are advised not to visit the outlying islands unless they have checked in advance that a reliable means of return transport is available.'' Sound though the advice may be, it is, I fear, too late - I am already on Ping Chau, and Hongkong's islands do not come any more outlying than this.

By the time the ferry rounded the north coast of the island, the hills of Sai Kung and Plover Cove Country Park were little more than low shapes in the haze. Now, China dominates the view.

The green, hilly peninsula that bounds eastern Mirs Bay is so close that, through binoculars, I can clearly see resorts, fishing villages, roads, and people walking on beaches.

Yet while nearby China flourishes, this far flung, improbable outpost of Hongkong, seems set on its own contrary course.

In the days when Shenzhen was barely a twinkle in the Chinese Government's eye, Ping Chau's population was reportedly over 1,000.

Today, with most houses abandoned and crumbling, the island is home to just two old men, and only at weekends do the remaining villages come alive.

Back-packers and day-trippers have arrived on the ferry. Also, there are island folk who might live in new towns, but can still call Ping Chau home. They set up stalls selling soft drinks and cooked food, and rent beds for the night.

Over lunch, I talk with a Ping Chau devotee. In the early 1970s, he tells me, robberies by people from China were so frequent that everyone left; with only the two old men returning to live here.

But the island is a pretty getaway for Hongkongers. There are stretches of fine, white sand, and the sea is a classic, tropical blue with coral chunks scattered along the tide-line.

Ping Chau is in the shape of a crescent, roughly two kilometres long and never more than 700 metres wide.

The path curves, and follows the cliff top southwards.

At the southern end of the island, I reach the highest point, a modest 48 metres above sea level. Then, down, to a place where the cliffs have all but eroded away, leaving two stubborn, tor-like masses: the Ping Chau Watchtowers.

From here, it is only a short walk back to the hostel, and I have time to explore trails which cut across the island.

My bed for the night is basic: a solid-looking bunk, with only a bamboo mat to lie on. But after dinner and a few beers, I sleep quickly, and soundly.

In the morning I go bird-watching - migrants are in evidence, and include a Hongkong rarity, a Radde's Warbler. Maybe Ping Chau, which is virtually ignored by birdwatchers, could be a hot spot for migrating birds.

Then it's back to the Wong Shek ferry, which rolls in a way that seems out of all proportion to the gentle swell, and takes me back to mainland Hongkong.

Getting there The Polly Ferry Company operates ferries from Ma Liu Shui (near the University KCR station) to Ping Chau; they depart at 9am and 3.30pm on Saturdays and at 9am on Sundays; return ferries are at 5.30pm on Saturdays and Sundays; $60 return.

Or there is the ferry I took back, running each Sunday, scheduled for 10.30 (it actually left at nearly 11 am) to Wong Shek pier, from where bus 96R leaves for Choi Hung MTR station, or there is transport via Sai Kung.

There are also ferries during public holidays.

There are hostels in Sha Tau, south of the Ping Chau ferry pier, and at Tai Tong, north of the pier (if you wish to book, phone 6612680, or 6610241; Cantonese only).

Food and drinks are available on the island. Ping Chau is included in the Countryside Series map of the North-east New Territories.