Tap Mun

Tap Mun, known locally as Grass Island, sits off the northeastern tip of the New Territories, and reaching it involves a small chain of transport decisions that turns into most of the appeal — a minibus to Wong Shek Pier, then either a direct kaido from there or the longer scenic ferry that loops through Sai Kung’s inner waters first. I took the longer route on the way there and the direct one back, and I’d recommend the same order: let the approach build slowly, and let the return be quick once you’re ready to leave.

The island’s defining feature, and the source of its nickname, is the open grassland that covers much of its high ground — rolling, treeless, wind-flattened turf that looks more like something from the Scottish coast than anything I associated with Hong Kong before visiting. Wild cattle, descendants of animals abandoned when farming here declined decades ago, now roam this grassland freely, entirely unbothered by hikers, and watching them graze against a backdrop of the open sea and the distant hills of the mainland was one of those small dissonant moments Hong Kong seems to specialize in — this is still, technically, the same city as Causeway Bay.

The walk out to Tap Mun Beacon at the island’s northern tip takes you along cliffs that drop straight into the water, with views across to Crooked Island and, on a clear day, toward the mainland border itself. The village at the pier, small and quiet, has a Tin Hau temple dating back over two centuries and a handful of simple seafood restaurants where the catch is whatever came in that morning. I ate a plate of stir-fried mantis shrimp there that I still think about, cooked simply enough that the shrimp itself, rather than the seasoning, did all the work.

When to go: Autumn and winter for the clearest air and the most comfortable walking across the exposed, shadeless grassland. The island gets genuinely windy year-round, which is part of the character, but pack a layer regardless of season — it’s noticeably cooler out here than in the city.