Borneo has done two amazing things for me: it has overcome my trepidation about scuba-diving and emboldened me to willingly swim in shark-infested waters.
I arrived at Mamutik island, in the South China Sea’s Tunku Abdul Rahman Marine Park, a contented snorkeller and left as an aspirant diver. Being claustrophobic, as well as having had a bad experience the last time I tried to learn scuba, I’ve been quite happy to putter along on the surface admiring the pretty fish below.
But Joanne Swann of DownBelow dive school wasn’t having any of it: within 10 minutes she had gently persuaded me that I was capable of doing the Introduction to Scuba course and that she wouldn’t let me drown or get eaten. To my amazement, two hours later found me 5m underwater, face to face with a stonefish and a blue-spotted ray.
Swann and her business partner, Evelyn Binti Bernadinus, were a constant presence at my side, reminding me to breathe and helping me to descend when, corklike, I kept popping to the surface (apparently I have more natural buoyancy than anyone they’ve ever seen).
By the time I got to Lankayan Island in the Sulu Sea the next day, I was feeling a lot more competent in the ocean and less likely to start running across the water at the sight of a shark. Which is just as well, because the shallows of the island teem with black-tip reef sharks. While they may be only juveniles — measuring about 50cm from teeth to tail — for a selachophobic like me, at some primal level they invoked images of a really big mama shark just waiting to pounce.
One of the best things about Lankayan is that you don’t need to be a diver, or even a snorkeller, to appreciate its marine life — in fact you don’t even need to get your hair wet: the water is so clear that a walk down the jetty reveals angelfish, nudibranchs in velvety black and iridescent purple and a pack of prowling garfish hunting shoals of tiny silver slivers, which break the surface in a gleaming shower as they leap to escape.
At night the squadron of baby sharks that patrol the water are drawn to the light spilling from the dining room, which hovers just above the waves, where they share the spotlight with eagle rays and a fearsome barracuda, preying on the small fry.
The reef near the jetty provides some of the best snorkelling I’ve ever seen in such shallow water. In the space of half an hour I saw a skulking honeycomb moray eel, families of feisty clown fish that swim out of their anemone host in challenge and I was encircled by a vast, swirling school of snappers.
Taking a boat out to snorkel the deeper waters around the Sandbar reef, I noticed my guide, Zachariah, was holding a plastic bottle which made a scrunching sound as he squeezed it. I asked what it was for and understood him to say it was to scare away the sharks. Feeling brave I slipped alongside him into the coral garden several fathoms below.
We’d been bobbing along admiring the parrot fish and butterfly fish, when he gestured to me and I turned to see a two-metre black-tip reef shark gliding by. I inhaled about a pint of salt water, Zachariah crunched his bottle a bit more loudly and the shark flicked past us again, circled a few times and was gone. I surfaced, spluttering and coughing, to find Zachariah beaming and saying ”beautiful shark, huh?”
It turns out we’d had a miscommunication and the noise actually attracts sharks, instead of repelling them. He assures me black-tips aren’t dangerous to humans and that the only dangerous beast in these waters is the tiger shark. Suddenly aware of just how deep the water was, I decided I’ve had enough for one day and swam with indecent haste for the boat’s ladder.
I spent the rest of the afternoon lolling on the verandah of my chalet, looking out at the impossible shades of blue formed by a jade sea meeting a sky laden with amethyst thunder clouds. While most beach resorts market themselves as being ”right on the beach”, Lankayan is the only one that has really lived up to that promise: you literally step off the verandah on to the beach and into the water.
Built on a tiny, 5ha island near the border with the Phillipines, Lankayan is one of three islands making up the 46 000ha Sugud Island Marine Conservation area (Simca). When Lankayan was opened in 1999, the marine ecosystem had been badly damaged by fishermen engaged in dynamite fishing, which kills fish and destroys reefs. They also used cyanide to stun fish, which were then sold in the live fish trade.
Marine biologist Achier Chung runs the Reef Guardian station, which oversees conservation in the Simca Coral Triangle. She says live Napoleon wrasse command a price of 1 000 Malaysian ringgit (R2 500) a kilogram in Hong Kong restaurants, making it a lucrative trade for poachers. All fishing is forbidden in the Simca reserve and she and her staff regularly patrol the islands, looking for illegal fishing vessels and calling in back-up from the marine police if necessary.
The island is a sanctuary for hawksbill and green turtles and the Reef Guardian team has set up a hatchery to ensure the turtle eggs are protected and laying females are not disturbed. On my last night the Reef Guardian staff beckoned us down to the beach, where we stood in reverential silence and watched as a vast turtle buried her eggs by the light of the full moon.
Each guest pays a fee of 20 ringgit (about R50) a night, which is used for conservation programmes in Simca.
Chung’s team ensures the resort adheres to its eco-friendly principles, such as not burning any waste, not discharging effluent into the sea and ensuring divers do not damage the reefs. ”Our supply boats arrive with water and leave with waste,” says resort manager Amillson Baragus. ”All food and water comes from the mainland and all waste goes back there,” he says, with a grin. A hydroponics plant converts sewerage into clean water and returns it to the jungle by a drip-irrigation system. Grease traps collect oils from kitchen water and used cooking oil is carefully stored in drums in a concrete-lined shed to ensure that not even one drop gets into the sand.
It’s an approach that is paying off: recent years have seen a remarkable recovery of the coral reefs, which not only host a variety of fabulous macro-life, but attract a great variety of larger creatures, such as turtles and the reef sharks, whose presence is an indicator of a healthy marine ecosystem. And this attracts divers from around the world, who want to be sure that their presence is helping, not harming, the oceans they love so much.
Nicole Johnston travelled to Lankayan at her own expense
For more information about Reef Guardian visit www.reef-guardian.org
Getting there
South African passport holders do not require a visa for Malaysia.
Air Malaysia flies from Johannesburg to Kota Kinabalu via Kuala Lumpur from R7 564 return (including taxes). Domestic flights from Kota Kinabalu to Sandakan cost about R700 but specials are available online. www.malaysiaairlines.com.
Lankayan is a one-and-a-half-hour boat trip from Sandakan harbour and all Lankayan packages include transfers from Sandakan airport to the harbour and boat transfers to the island.
Diving packages start at about R4 130 for four days and three nights, which includes three boat dives daily and unlimited dives off the jetty.
The price includes three slap-up meals a day as well as afternoon tea and snacks. (Vegetarians are also very well taken care of — the peanut pancakes are truly sublime). For more information go to www.downbelow.co.uk/lankayan.html
Mistress of the seas
”My mum was a bit shocked when I changed from a ladylike office job to being a hardcore dive woman,” says Evelyn Binti Bernadinus (24) , guffawing. She had a nice, safe job in a government bookshop a few years ago when she saw an advert for a Malaysian government scheme to train local divemasters.
”I had no idea what it was at the time, and I couldn’t speak English, but something about those words had a connection with my heart”. Fluency in English was a prerequisite, but she pretended she could speak it even though ”all I knew how to say was yes, no and alright. The interviewers saw I could be improved, so they picked the right person,” she says confidently. ”The first time I got in the water it felt like my second home. When I get out of the water my mind is free.”
She did an open-water diving course, then qualified as a dive master and is now a dive instructor. After working at a couple of dive resorts around Borneo, she is now in a partnership with Richard and Joanne Swann at DownBelow, a Kota Kinabalu dive school that also runs underwater photography courses. She now speaks English, a little Mandarin and is learning Japanese.
Bernadinus is from the village of Papar and is a member of the Kadazan tribe, some of Borneo ‘s original head-hunters. She solemnly assures me that was in the distant past and she is more interested in the future. She estimates there are only about 20 Malaysian women dive masters in the country, including her 20-year-old sister Clare, who followed in her footsteps when she saw how much fun she was having.
Her dream is to one day open a dive resort with Clare, in Kampong Papar. ”We come from a poor family that used to grow rice and tap rubber. I want to create jobs and employ people from my village and I know my family can help me.”
She is also immensely grateful for the chance she got to follow her heart, and wants to make sure other young people get an opportunity to do the same: ”I was trained through the government so I want to give something back to my own place. Many people in my village are afraid of the sea but I want my people to learn that there is nothing dangerous in the water. I want to teach kids to snorkel and dive, so they can learn about the sea and looking after our island.”