At the north-east edge of Hong Kong Island — beyond its towering clusters of skyscrapers and buzzing streams of taxis and frenzied throngs of pedestrians — lies an understated and under-appreciated gateway to the extraordinary.
It’s the pier, the nexus between land and water, an invitation to trust your life to a vessel mere “inches from death,” as the Roman poet Juvenal wrote. But it’s worth it. It always has been. Islands are different kinds of places with a different kind of daily life.
Hong Kong’s pier is set in Victoria Harbour and is actually more than one pier, each with its own ferry. For instance:
Pier 6 (in the main photo) takes you to Peng Chau, one of Hong Kong’s most popular island destinations, and for good reason. A hub of development since the 1600s, and a budding center of industry in the 1960s, the small landmass is now a relaxing oasis of charm, a welcome respite from the bustle of Hong Kong Island. It has everything you’d expect: quiet beaches, scenic walking trails, historic temples, gorgeous sunsets, and, of course, fish (which as a vegetarian I don’t eat).
Peng Chau even has a secret avant-garde garden that showcases, depending on your point of view, either art of junk. And it has the best fishing-village cafe I’ve ever eaten at (Island Table Grocer Cafe — you really don’t want to miss it).
But as is so often the case, the sum has little to do with the parts, because the point isn’t what the island has, but rather what the island is. Peng Chau is a different world where different things matter.
Pier 4 takes you to Lamma Island, over ten times the size of Peng Chau. Though it has a larger concentration of shops, it is also home to remarkable and secluded walking trails, as if the island opted to trade some charm for sheer natural beauty.
From Pier 5 you get to Cheung Chau, where the preferred mode of transportation is the bicycle. You can ride away from the invasive commercialism that has overgrown the pier area and quickly get to the more islandy part of the island. But if you do walk, you’ll discover a whole secret beach. (As with many parts of Hong Kong, walking often means climbing up and down stairs and hiking up and down ramps. But — again as with much of Hong Kong — it’s worth it.)
All this magic is made possible by boats: Confisus ligno digitis a morte remotus quattuor aut septem si sit latissima taedae. “Go trust yourself to a log a few inches from death, four or even seven if it’s extra thick.”
Really, go do it. Get on a boat. There’s a gold mine out there.
