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Ko Libong: Crab Capital Of Thailand

Wednesday, January 13th, 2010

Something clattered across the floor. A shell with legs protruding from it like a grotesque fist. Simon picked the thing up by its tip.

“This was right among the kittens!”

He pointed it towards the Swedes, who recoiled from the menacing pincers.

“I’ve never see such a monster hermit crab,” I said.

“Oh, they grow bigger,” Simon replied.

When I went beachcombing that morning, all the pretty shells had scuttled away from my reaching fingertips. Every shell big enough to house a hermit crab, did, with the juveniles sticking to the tideline rather than the rock pools as they do at home. And as for the adults: they are terrestrial. I think they feed on kittens.

And it’s not just the hermit crabs. Simon brought up a photo on his camera screen: a crab the size of my foot holding a toad by its hindleg.

“I’ll be sure to wear my booties,” I said.

But this is just skimming the surface. The terrestrial crabs have escaped the intense competition that is going on at sea. I can hear it in the clicking in the mud. The sand is covered by the neat pearls of their excavations. And crabs are part of the fauna that comprises the oyster-barnacle community which encrusts certain rocks like a belt just below the tideline.

An exuberance of life, above the surface and below.

Posted in Dugongs, SE Asia, Travel | 1 Comment »

Dugong Tour

Wednesday, January 13th, 2010

“Your new life begins tomorrow,” the Professor said.

We were in the bar, listening to the briefing he gave us about the tour.

“Seeing a dugong brings luck. Your life will change. Things are not the same afterwards…”

We were about to ask him what he meant with this mysterious statement when one of the children shrieked. I leaned across from my table to be confronted with an enormous cockroach scuttling past the half-empty dinner plates. The Professor shoo-ed it away.

“I’m sorry. Those creatures are completely harmless, but I’m afraid there are everywhere around the villages.”

“I think we could do with some luck,” the mother said, letting out a deep breath. I admired her fortitude; had the table not separated me from the roach, I’d have run screaming out of the door, arms flailing in the air.

The Professor suppressed a smile. “Perhaps. But back to the tour. Don’t worry if you don’t see any dugongs. There are no guarantees, but it doesn’t mean bad luck. It just means that your time hasn’t come yet.”

The longtail floated in the calm sea, illuminated by soft morning light. All three kayaks were tied to its stern. I felt a pang of guilt because I hadn’t helped to clean up the mess I’d made yesterday (I had literally been unable to lift the damn thing out of the water, and by the time I had recovered it was dark).

Today would be so much easier!

We climbed on board and sat down in the shade of the awning while our Chao Ley skipper cast off and agilely stepped along the gunwale to take the steering wheel.

The sea started to pick up, its surface rippling gently, just as it had done yesterday. Five minutes after we’d set out I saw another dolphin-sized splash. By now I was convinced that it was a fish, but what a fish!

It took us just over ten minutes to get to Stationary Beach, which the map labels as Laem Muda. The boat slowed just before we turned into the eastern bay. I squinted into the glare, but saw nothing.

Within a few minutes, another longtail arrived. It had farang on board but no kayaks. We all stared out to sea, but saw nothing apart from the gently rippling waves and small splashing fish.

“There,” The skipper shouted.

Three more minutes passed and the sea had calmed slightly, with fewer fish splashing. Both engines were silent as we continued to stare in vain.

“There!”

I took out my binoculars and started to sweep but still I saw nothing while our skipper made one call after another. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I lost vision in the left lens. I don’t know whether it was smudged or something was lodged inside, but it wouldn’t budge.

“The Chao Ley are the best stewards for the marine environment,” the Professor said. “They grow up with the sea. They can see underwater. Not like us. They can grab a fish with their bare hands!”

Until recently, the Chao Ley—or Sea Gypsies—have led a nomadic life, travelling across the Pacific and Indian Ocean in their wooden boats as many of them still do in Indonesia. But more and more are settling down as they are forced to assimilate into a country.

“Otherwise they’ll be kicked out,” the Professor said. “But they belong to the sea. They’re international, from here all the way to Africa. It’s reflected in their music and their songs.”

“Do they really see differently underwater—I mean, do they have different vision from us?” the Swedish Engineer asked, still contemplating the first statement.

“No they don’t have different vision. They’re trained to see things that you’d never notice.”
[read on]

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Girl’s Own Adventure: Kayak Survey

Tuesday, January 12th, 2010

On the map at reception, the the dugong habitat looked to be around the corner from the Libong Nature Beach Resort, clearly marked in the bay off Na Barn village. I paddled into the calm morning with optimism, but when I reached the outcrop of rocks that marked the end of the resort’s beach, it turned out that this was not the island’s southern tip—far from it. The outcrop opened up into another secluded bay and, after that, another.

I remembered the three ‘secret’ beaches that could be explored by kayak or mountain bike as detailed on the wall posters next to the reception. The map was a much smaller scale, making the distance to Na Barn village and the bay of the dugongs appear closer. I had still some way to paddle, but it didn’t matter. It was still cool—I’d climbed into the boat just after 7:30—and the sea was mirror-calm.

I watched out for movements on the surface, but the spectacular coastline kept drawing my gaze.

It took over an hour’s paddling before I finally reached the eastern side of the island. Almost immediately, I spotted the first seagrass bed. Heart pounding I slowed down but the water was too turbid to make out any feeding tracks. Had I thought of measuring the depth, I would have found that it was probably too shallow for dugongs. One of the figures in the survey report¹ shows the depth around large parts of Libong to be 70cm or less.

The sea had freshened up to a State Two, the bay rippling with gentle wavelets, although there was no noticeable breeze. At 9:21 I saw a dolphin-sized splash somewhere in the middle of the bay, and eight minutes later another. Were there dolphins here, so close to shore? Do dugongs jump? Seals do sometimes, so why not dugongs?

Another hour’s paddling followed. By now the sun had climbed high into the sky and the village of Na Barn lay a long way behind me. Cursing, I had circled its ridiculously long pier—stretching at least half a mile into the bay—and crossed from there diagonally back to shore to find that I had already passed most of the village, including anything that might have been a shop or noodle house. There was no seagrass there, just shallow mud, and I felt cheated.

I took a sip from my water bottle and chewed on a stick of fruit leather, turning away from the sun to find myself looking at a stretch of golden sand behind the mangroves.

[read on]

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Libong: Wildlife

Tuesday, January 12th, 2010

It was a moonless night and there is no electricity on Libong after midnight. But the bathroom attached to my bungalow was impeccably clean, so I thought that the dark shadows scuttling around on the floor must be my imagination.

I felt my way carefully back to the safety of the mosquito net. I abhor aircon, and on an island with intermittent electricity it makes no sense at all, so I had settled for a fan room. Through the insect screens I could hear the chirping and rustling of the jungle. A cool breeze stirred the net which kept me safe from bites. Nature at a distance: just the way I like it.

The sight that greeted me the next morning was less gratifying. Lying flat on its back on the bathroom sill, legs weaving frantically, was the second fattest cockroach I’d ever seen.

I couldn’t get past the thing, let alone turn my back to it. So much for putting in my contact lenses. I grabbed my toothbrush and headed for the staff bathroom to do my business, then—with a shudder—packed up my stuff, my eyes never wavering from that roach.

Images of snakes and scorpions invaded my mind so I gave my booties a good shake. One of them flapped a lot more than the other, but I couldn’t see anything inside and nothing came out.

Shrugging, I headed to the bar where Simon would help me set up the kayak. By the time I was ready to slip on on the booties I had forgotten about the floppy left.

My toes touched cool, yielding softness.

With a shriek I hurled the thing away. But it had definitely not been a cockroach or a scorpion. Nor a snake. It’d been…

Gingerly I fished the thing from the floor and peered inside.

…a black marked toad (Bufo melanisticus)¹

¹ Thanks to the Lizardking for the identification!

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The Necessary Means

Monday, January 11th, 2010

It appears that most people do not come to Ko Libong to see the dugongs, which is a relief as I had visions of hordes of boats chasing the few remaining animals across the sea grass beds where they are trying to feed.

On the other hand it made it difficult to go out to see them.

Ko Libong has no banks or cash points. I’d changed a hundred quid in Trang—thinking it a generous amount, but it turned out that that isn’t a lot of money for a solo traveller out here. A dugong-watching tour would come to 3,600 baht, admittedly for up to six people.

If only I had a kayak, like in Trinidad. No sooner had I thought it that my gaze fell on a sign near the bar. There were kayaks for rent.

“How much?” I asked Simon, forgetting for the moment that dugongs do not live in tranquil canals and rivers but in the sea, including the busy stretch between Ko Libong and the mainland.

“400 baht per half-day,” he said. “800 baht for a full day. Means you can come in for a break and head back out, no pressure.”

I regarded the map. The main habitat of the dugongs was indicated along the eastern side of the island. The Libong Nature Beach Resort was practically around the corner of its southern tip.

“I’m in,” I said, hesitating for just a moment. It is true that I’m prepared to watch my animals from a raft if necessary, but it is also true that my mother once followed me for over a kilometre along the bank of the fast-streaming river flowing past our former home, waving her arms and shouting as the current worked loose the ropes around my homemade contraption. And I had seen the kayaks for hire at seaside resorts around here. Little plastic bowls that would capsize if hit head-on by a wavelet.

“Eh, what kinds of boats are they?”

“Oh, racing kayaks. Some New Zealanders sold them to the Professor after a competition. Too expensive to ship them home.”

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Eco-Tourism: The Element Of Guilt

Sunday, January 10th, 2010

It was a little early for lunch but I felt peckish, so I stopped at the village of Lang Kow for some chilled soy milk and peanuts.

I bought the soy milk because it came in a glass bottle, remembering the Professor’s disdain for plastic. Perhaps the bottle would be recycled. I narrowly avoided the straw and plastic bag that came with it, drawing a surprised look from the man at the counter as I dropped the thing into my daypack.

There was seating outside the shop, so I decided to drink the soy milk there instead of carrying it back to the resort, by which time it would be warm again. Besides, I didn’t think that soy milk was on the menu.

It was rich and refreshing and not too sweet. Finishing it too quickly, I regarded the empty bottle. Should I put it into my bag and smuggle it into the resort to put with the recycling crates? Would it be obvious that I’d put it there? Would it matter?

A rivulet of liquid ran down from the rim, congealing in the hot sun.

Perhaps the shop had a recycling crate.

It didn’t. It had a large bin instead. With a guilty pang, I put the bottle inside.

I got back, sweaty from my walk, and ordered an ice-cold soda.

It came with a plastic straw 🙂

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Dugongs Of Libong: Orientation

Saturday, January 9th, 2010

The Libong Dugong resort comprises a fetching row of palm-thatch bungalows lining the beach, and they could still fit me in for 400 baht a night. However I had made a mistake in my choice of accommodation. They didn’t know anything about the dugongs.

The Libong Nature Beach Resort—situated on the other side of Lang Kow Village—costs a little more, but it’s the real thing. Run by a retired professor, every baht of the profits goes back into conservation and training of local people. As Prof. Laurence put it, “if I wanted to get rich, I would write books!”

The resort uses local fishing boats for their tours and 70% of the money goes straight back to the fishermen who own them. Another 15% are taxes, which Professor Laurence insists on paying. He instils on his staff the importance of paying taxes and insurance. Things are very different here from the West.

The resort is about a lot more than dugongs and birds. There is a women’s batik group that now trades through Oxfam. Accounting is carried out by volunteers so that the books remain transparent. At present there is Simon, a Swedish web programming student, here for 3 months for “a bit of a change”. Sadly I failed to convince him to ditch the computers and study dugongs instead.

The resort is respectful of the local Muslim culture. You can buy beer at the bar, but there is no dancing or music and the bar shuts early. Pork is off the menu. The Professor is opposed to expanding the amenities which would attract more tourists but put a strain on both the environment and the community. Instead of scooters, he rents out bicycles. Plastic bottles are not used in the restaurant.

I don’t think I have to say that I was won over the moment I got talking to Professor Laurence and Simon. I moved my stuff across as soon as I could.

Posted in Dugongs, SE Asia, Travel | 2 Comments »

The Isle Of The Dugong

Saturday, January 9th, 2010

Watch this place for entries from Koh Libong which will (hopefully) appear from 15th/16th January, but may be a bit later.

I’m currently offline.

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Trang

Friday, January 8th, 2010

I’m still not the only farang in town (and far from the only German), but it felt like that at the Kasikorn Bank where they photocopied my passport and the bills. The whole operation took twenty minutes.

Next time I’ll use the ATM.

While I was still peering at my map, plotting the way from the bus station to the town’s only cheap backpackers’, one of the Germans called for the driver to stop at “Hotel Koh Teng”. They weren’t such flashpackers after all, although they carried unwieldy luggage.

The driver delivered us right to the door of what is a place after my own heart. It has some of the charm of the cowboy hotel we stayed at in Rockhampton, although none of its elegance. I booked two nights in a huge room with a ceiling fan, an ashtray and a stone floor on which to burn my mozzie coil and went to update my blog.

Look out for back-dated entries.

[P.S. Later last night I met American/Italian wildlife artist Francesca Owens. Go and have a look at her amazing art!]

Posted in SE Asia, Travel | Comments Off on Trang

Farang Trang

Thursday, January 7th, 2010

Entries will be backdated. Scroll down.

The rain pelted down with renewed strength as we reached Nakon Si Thammarat. (The adage that the east coast of Thailand is sunny when the west coast is wet due to ‘different climate systems’ is rubbish. According to the Lonely Planet, the Andaman coast—where we were headed—is simply the wettest of them all. This is the dry season.)

We boarded the microbus to Trang to the drumbeat of rain drops on a tin roof. The minivan driver had delivered us directly to the correct shelter for the Trang service, thanks to the old man who’d sat next to me.

“Where is your destination?” he said quietly in flawless English, which took me so aback that I asked him to repeat himself.

“Trang.”

“Phuket?”

“No, Trang.”

“Phuket.”

“No sorry, Trang. I have a map.” I fumbled for my guidebook.

The old man peered at the map and said “Phuket.”

He really wanted to help. Perhaps he was conveying that I was making a mistake by insisting on going to Trang.

I pointed at the map. “Trang Islands. Very beautiful. Koh Libong, Dugongs. National park.” Remembering the colour map in front of the book, I turned to it. Perhaps it was clearer since I had marked both Khanom and Koh Libong with red crosses.

The old man fumbled around in his bag and—after a while—produced a pair of glasses.

“Ah…Trang.”

He gestured and I leafed back to the map of the Andaman coast. He peered closer, then opened his bag again and rummaged deeper, eventually pulling out a case which he opened with great care to reveal an enormous magnifying glass. “My eyesight is not so good.”

By now we were driving through Thakon and people were getting off in ones and twos.

The old man carefully stowed away the magnifying glass and addressed the driver while he put his glasses carelessly somwhere in the top of his bag. I was praying that he wouldn’t lose or drop them when he pulled out something else.

He had spoken quiety throughout, but now he was talking to the driver in the strong, clear voice of a much younger man. It carried right across the minivan. I only understood two words.

“FARANG TRANG!”

No sooner had he made certain that the driver understood than he hastily bade me goodbye and got out. I hope he hadn’t overshot is stop in his eagerness to help me.

So it was that we were conveyed to the cover of a roof with a fruitseller and ticket desk inside and the Trang microbus waiting outside.

They don’t call this the Land of Smiles for nothing.

Posted in SE Asia, Travel | Comments Off on Farang Trang

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