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.