Weak-kneed in Tulamben 8 November 2006
Posted by cat64fish in Overseas high.Tags: Bali, diving, Indonesia, marine life, Tulamben
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Bali …. the mere mention of that island paradise conjures up images of terraced padi fields, exquisitely landscaped water gardens, and a gracious people.
Bali has always been one of my favourite places since I visited it in the early 1990s. This would be my 4th visit to the island, but my first solely for diving – besides Tulamben, I’d be hunting for one of the giants of the deep, the sunfish, also known as the mola mola (see story here).
Tulamben had three sites that I knew of, all within walking distance from Paradise Beach Resort, where I stayed. The Liberty wreck, Coral Garden (the house reef) and a site only known as The Wall. However, this small area has seen the likes of David Doublet, Gerry Allen, Roger Steen, Neville Coleman and many other great photographers had visited. Eunice, having been here before, acted as knowledgeable local guide to my blur foreigner tourist.
On the surface, the dives seemed simple enough. Textbook shore entry scenario – gear up on the shore, walk into the water, put your fins on and start your dive. Simple enough, except that what you read about in books doesn’t always translate in reality.
The “beach” was composed of wave-worn pebbles and rocks, that shift with every footstep and wave, making walking difficult … well, difficult for this city-dweller, at least. The porters didn’t seem to have a problem, even with 2 full sets of diving gear on their heads (yes, you heard me right … on their heads).
Our lady porter, with two tanks on her head
These ladies (yes, you heard me right again) have a posture to make a physiotherapist smile, and their daily walking (very rapidly, I might add) on the pebbly beach probably means they have no need for foot reflexology of any kind.
Anyway, in addition to the shifting beach stones, there were the waves to deal with. The waves were about 1m high on the first dive – a dusk dive, to boot. Getting in was trouble enough, but getting out was a “life-flashing-before-my-eyes” exercise. Crawling out wasn’t much of an option, due to the stones, so floundering out of the water like a fish stranded on land was the only way to get out. Luckily there were these two boys who dashed into the water the help me get to my feet – turns out they were the “night porters”, who’d been keeping watch to take the gear back to the dive shop. Each of them got a well deserved can of coke from me for their efforts.
We found out later from a trio of aussies who were eating by the beach-side cafe of our resort that the waves had been riding high for the last week, and that they (burgly fellows with thighs the size of tree trunks), were going to “take it easy” since they were on holiday here for the next month. Great … 
Luckily the waves and wind died down sufficiently the next day to make diving a less harrowing experience. Still, with the rocky beach, coming out of the water, especially with my “monster baby” in tow, was no small feat. Not to mention the walking back and forth from resort to dive site. Exhausting for the urban diver like me, who is used to diving off a boat, where you plunge in right on top of your dive site! I’ll have to prepare better (ie more exercise) before attempting this kind of entry / exit again.
The wreck is pretty much … well … wrecked. The ship has mostly broken up into several sections, with lots of hard and soft corals, hydroids and sponges, tunicates and anemones growing on the exposed parts. Inside the wreck, the spaces are filled with … water (what did you expect?). Seriously though, there were lots of fish, many of them extremely big – and un-shy of divers, which led me to believe that they were used to being fed. True enough, the dive operator later confirmed this suspicion. You’d think photographing these fish would be easy, but they came so close that with a macro lens on, the camera had difficulty focusing. And then you worry about the spines sticking out from the tail end of the surgeonfishes and *you* lose focus. But all in all, the wreck is a great heaven – for photographers and fish alike.
Parts of the wreck had fallen off, leaving archways such as this for you to swim through without entering the bowels of the wreck
A school of Golden Saddle Rabbitfish hovering above the wreck
A large grouper I nicknamed “Two Face”
And not just in / on the wreck itself – all around the edges of the wreck teemed with life as well – in the deeper part (about 20m), you’d see jawfish, darting in and out of their holes feeding; gobies and their shrimp partners, one keeping and eye out for the big, bad divers while the other busily upkeeps the house. At the shallow end, you’d see lots of garden eels … three types to be exact: the 2-spot type, a “grey” type and a barred type (no picture of this one).
Un-shy jawfish darting in and out of their cubby holes to feed
The “watchdog” goby and the “home-maker” shrimp
A field of garden eels (this species is mostly black in colour)
“The Wall” was in the opposite direction, away from the wreck, and involved a similar trek to get to the entry point. It wasn’t as fantastic as I was led to believe … where were the schools of jacks I’d been told about? Definitely not a site that can be compared to the walls of Manado, but the schools of anthias and damsels certainly provided a dazzling display of colour and movement on the reef – not to mention the odd long-nose hawkfish, an octopus and the giant-sized puffers.
Long-nosed Hawkfish on a red seafan (that looked purple in the underwater light)
A giant Map Pufferfish
An octopus, doing its yogi-squeeze-into-a-hole-smaller-than-itself trick
As it turned out, the school of jacks was right in front of the resort! The last dive was again on the house reef, this time in daylight hours – it was a relief not to have to trudge to the dive site carrying my baby monster. Imagine our surprise when, about 10m away from shore and in 2m of water, we encountered this wall of jacks (ok, it was just a small ball of jacks, but when you are close up to it, it looks like a wall). I happily snapped away (digital is free, after all), as they just swam back and forth, occasionally forming a tight ball … before dispersing back into a “wall ” formation.
The school of jacks, in front of the resort, in just 2m of water
The Coral Garden house reef held amazing creatures … most were found in clumps, clustered around the Neptune’s Cup sponges, that acted like mountain oases in this alien landscape. The clusters of featherstars seemed like the leafy branches of trees, in which fish, shrimps, and even clusters of snails could take refuge. So engrossed with these tiny creatures I was that I only realised I was running out of air when I felt a resistance in my 2nd stage. How time flies when you are having fun!!
A really strange nudibranch, Jorunna rubescens (formerly belonging to the Kentrodoris genus)
A cluster of well-camouflaged snails found near the mouth of a featherstar
A juvenile wrasse hiding in the feathery arms of the featherstar
Commensal shrimps blend perfectly with the featherstar host
All in all, my first visit to Tulamben was very good. No boxer crabs or harlequin shrimps, but that just leaves me with an objective for next time I come here; not to mention the new spot that has opened up not 20 minutes away, called Seraya, which by all accounts, is a macro haven as good as Lembeh. I’ll need to see it to believe, because Lembeh is just … WOW!
But that is a story for another time.
Cheers!
More pictures of my Tulamben trips can be found here.
Your friendly neighbourhood boatman – Mr Loh 1 November 2006
Posted by cat64fish in Land-lubber.Tags: people, Singapore
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Yesterday, my favorite boatman of 20 years, Mr Loh, informed me that he’d sold off his boat and that he was retiring. A sad day for us, as we bid goodbye to a character that has been one of the mainstays in the Singapore diving scene. There are more stories on our intrepid boatman here.
Mr Loh at the helm of SC2660G
Riding in a bumboat to the southern islands could be called a “Singapore” experience. These bumboats were the workhorses in Singapore’s success as a trading port, and were used to transport trade goods to and from the larger cargo ships anchored offshore. With their 2 stroke engines, the thump from the pistons produces a sound (and vibration) that is almost as distinctive as the roar of a Harley-D.
The deep, scalloped boat, with its raised front was ideal (or maybe we were just used to it) for loading gear, and could hold quite a large quantity of gear and divers. The slow chug out and back was a good time to get to catch up with friends, take in the sea breeze or just catch up on some sleep.
Some of the things we have loaded onto Mr Loh’s boat, besides the normal stuff like dive gear
During his 20 years at sea, he, along with different members of the NUS team, must have been to almost all the islands and patch reefs in the southern islands. His wealth of experience about the islands and their currents has been one of the factors that ensured a safe diving trip. He’d always know when diving was possible at which sites, or what possible problems might occur, so that we’d prepare for them.
He and his boat, have participated in coral surveys, coral photo-physiology studies (usually 2-week long trips), sponge collection (by visiting researchers), artificial reef studies – all to sites that a majority of Singaporeans don’t even know exist.
Reef Friends survey at Pulau Jong in 2005
Mr Loh setting anchor at Pulau Satumu
He was always cheerful and helpful, even that time at Kusu Island when he had to endure a bumpy topside while we were all underwater surveying the reef. He loved “tech”, and would discuss the merits of this and that hand phone (he had three, at last count), and the hi-fi system he rigged up on his boat. There was no shortage of, depending on his mood and what he brought from home, oldies, techno-music or Hokkien songs to accompany our surface interval.
Many of his family members were also boatmen – his dad, his cousin, and an uncle, all used to operate bumboats off Jardine Steps at what is now Harbourfront. It was a sad day when the powers-that-be decided it was time for Jardine Steps to close. Considered “unsightly” by the powers-that-be used to the sleek lines of passenger liners and fiberglass speedboats, and unable to compete in terms of speed (compared to the super-fast high power passenger ferries), they were basically put out to pasture, to irk out their remaining days as best they could. Many decided to call it quits, so from about 20 operating bumboats, only a handful survived the transition to West Coast Jetty.
The decline in the bumboat business coincided with the decline of interest in diving in Singapore (Malaysia is NOT part of Singapore, last time I looked). The usual crowd of 10 or more bumboats heading out to the southern islands was normal for a weekend; however, while perception that Singapore waters had “nothing to see” are largely unfounded, divers not used to training in Singapore waters found it difficult to cope, perpetuating this erroneous perception.
With his retirement, a chapter in Singapore’s history closes – one that sadly, will not go into any of the history books. Singapore may have started as a port town, but like many cultures before it, most Singaporeans have lost touch with their heritage – in this case, a link with the sea. Our world has gotten bigger, what with the internet, international trade and supersonic travel can offer; but also smaller, as we increasingly focus on what is within the “walls” and comfort zones of our own devising that surround us.
More stories and info about diving in Singapore can also be found on the links provided on this blog.
