In the dying years of the Southern Song dynasty, Emperor Duanzong — a child emperor on the run from Mongol forces pressing south — made his way through what is now Hong Kong, sheltering at various points on the coast. One of those points was Kwu Tap on Tung Lung Chau. The island was already called by different names then; it would not appear on Western maps as Tung Lung Chau until around 1845, when the British were beginning to chart these waters in earnest, superseding an older romanization, Tam-too. The emperor's stay was brief and his dynasty ended regardless — the last Song court made its final stand at the Battle of Yamen in 1279, where the remnants of the imperial fleet were destroyed. But the memory persisted. Hong Kong accumulated these fragments of dynastic history the way it accumulated everything else: densely, in a small space.

Older than the fort, older than the dynasty, older than any recorded name for the island, is a carving in the rock near the northeastern shore. Measuring 180 centimetres by 240 centimetres, it is the largest ancient rock carving in Hong Kong — a swirling, spiralling image whose exact age and meaning remain matters of scholarly debate, but whose craftsmanship is evident even to a casual eye. The carving was notable enough to be documented in the 1819 Gazetteer of Xin'an County, the regional administrative record for what is now Shenzhen and Hong Kong, which means it was already considered a significant local landmark two centuries ago. Both the carving and the fort are declared monuments of Hong Kong. They sit within the Tung Lung Fort Special Area, designated in 1979 under the country parks framework and covering 3 hectares, which includes a campsite for those who arrive in the evening and want to be on the island when the morning ferry is still hours away.

The narrow Fat Tong Mun Channel separates the northern tip of Tung Lung Chau from the southern tip of the Clear Water Bay Peninsula. To the west, the island forms the eastern wall of Tathong Channel, which funnels shipping north toward Victoria Harbour through the gap at Lei Yue Mun. Whoever controlled this island controlled the sea lane. That strategic reality explains the Qing-era fort on the northeastern promontory, 35 metres above the water with cliffs on three sides. The fort commands both the channel and the bay beyond; its builders understood the geography. At its peak, the garrison numbered around 25 men. A World War II Japanese gun emplacement near Tathong Point guarded the same channel for the same reason, more than two centuries later. The Allies eventually bombed the island; historians believe the gun emplacement was the target. The ruins of both installations remain.

At Nam Tong, a hamlet site on the island, stands a Hung Shing Temple built before 1931. Inside, in the right chamber, a large rock protrudes from the rear wall — called the Holy Rock by worshippers who have venerated it for decades. The temple is a common feature of Hong Kong's coastal settlements, Hung Shing being a Tang dynasty official elevated to deity status and associated with seafarers, fair winds, and southern China's maritime communities. On a largely uninhabited island, the temple is a reminder that Tung Lung Chau was not always empty. Fishing communities used the island's shores, built a temple, named a peak — and eventually left, leaving the structures behind as evidence of the life that was lived here.

Rock climbers discovered Tung Lung Chau's potential years ago, and the island now hosts some of the most popular sport climbing venues in Hong Kong. Technical Wall and Sea Gully Wall are the two main areas — sea-cliff climbing above open water, the kind of setting that makes falling in a direction other than down seem briefly plausible. The ferry from Sam Ka Tsuen near Lei Yue Mun runs on weekends, a 30-minute crossing that delivers climbers, hikers, and history-seekers to the same pier. The island has no shops, no hotels, and no café. What it has is the fort, the carving, the temple, the rock walls, and the channel wind that never entirely stops. For a place reachable only by boat, it is remarkably full.