MYANMAR’S MERGUI ARCHIPELAGO IS ONE OF THE LAST GREAT UNEXPLORED MARINE ENVIRONMENTS. CHRIS MITCHELL DISCOVERS THIS SECRET UNDERWATER WORLD, AND, OMINOUSLY, WHY IT IS UNDER THREAT. PHOTOGRAPHY BY JEZ TRYNER
THAILAND’S SIMILAN ISLANDS ARE ONE OF THE WORLD’S most famous scuba diving destinations, attracting hundreds of thousands of visitors – but only a few kilometres north lies a vast archipelago of more than 800 islands that has barely been explored, above or below water. This is Mergui Archipelago, only open to tourism since 1997; a decade later, just a handful of intrepid liveaboard dive boats make the crossing from Thailand into Myanmar’s (Burma’s) waters to explore this last frontier of Asia’s underwater world.
It’s this sense of the unknown that is the major draw for divers, the allure of going where few have gone before. While Thailand’s dive sites usually have a cluster of boats visiting daily, it is rare to see another boat at any of Burma’s dive locations. This sense of welcome solitude is exacerbated by Mergui’s scenery above the water – where Similan only a few miles south comprises lush, forest-topped, white beach-fringed islands, much of Mergui is made up of craggy grey limestone karsts blasted by the elements, with a smattering of brown scrub clinging to the top. Eagle’s Nest, the first Burmese dive site that hoved into view as the sun rose over the Andaman, is a perfect example – two graceful eagles wheeled around this large weather-beaten rock out in the middle of the open ocean, the last outpost and refuge for these birds of prey.
Beneath the waves the landscape is equally breathtaking; the limestone taking on a purplish hue, suff used with anemones and red and purple soft corals that sway with the sea’s current. The countless nooks and crannies within the ocean-eroded rock provide an ideal home for thousands of creatures. Marine life in Burma is not as familiar with the presence of divers as the comparatively jaded Thai fauna, and is somewhat quicker to retreat as a result – three different octopi elongated themselves into seemingly impossible shapes as they sped away across the reef, shrinking their bulk into tiny cracks in the rocks. Of course, it may have been the arrival of a leopard shark – an iconic creature of Asian diving, thanks to its unmistakably long tail and yellow and black markings – that spooked them. Usually shy of humans, this leopard shark moved with deliberate precision towards and around us, as if investigating. It passed within a metre, and then as suddenly as it had appeared, the majestic creature vanished back into the depths with a sweep of its powerful tail.
The sighting of the leopard shark was a good omen that other larger creatures might be encountered as we headed further north along the Mergui Archipelago. Due to its geographical and political isolation, Burmese waters are a regular haunt for manta rays and whale sharks (the world’s biggest fish at a remarkable 12 metres). With no other dive boats in the vicinity to trade information with, we were fortunate to have a chance encounter with a flotilla of Burmese sea gypsies who were taking shelter in one of the bays carved out of the limestone islands. Living permanently on their tiny hand-built boats, roaming the archipelago as marine hunter-gatherers, the sea gypsies mentioned they’d spotted whale sharks grazing for plankton at the surface only a couple of days before.
Mergui’s unpatrolled wilderness may provide a haven for marine life, but its very isolation also creates danger for the ocean’s inhabitants in the form of dynamite fishermen. Once while submerged we heard the disconcerting muffled thud of a stick of dynamite exploding underwater (the fishermen were several miles away, but the sound carries over a long distance). It may be officially designated as a Marine Park, complete with marine rangers on patrol, but the archipelago is so vast it is near impossible to effectively protect it. While the sea gypsies live off the ocean, taking only what they need, the dynamite fishermen cause immense damage to coral reefs, fish stocks and the pelagic population with their crude tactics. Thankfully there are numerous dive sites that have escaped the fishermen, like the spectacular sea fans at the aptly named Fan Forest Pinnacle. These are delicate-looking yet incredibly robust corals which grow outwards from the rock at the base of the reef, oft en to a size far bigger than a diver. Burma’s waters are blessed with scores of these huge corals that explode through the gloom of the water in iridescent oranges, pinks and yellows.
Despite the advice of the sea gypsies, we had no luck spotting the huge shadow of a whale shark while heading further north to the Three Islets. This small group of rocks jutting out of the water is home to Burma’s most spectacular dive site – In Through The Out Door – so named because the ocean has created a ravine through the rock, which turns into a small tunnel, that emerges onto a reef teeming with life. Our first entry into the ravine revealed a tractor-wheel-sized stingray, contrasting with the tiny but beautifully coloured sea slugs clinging to the wall nearby. Rounding the corner into the ravine proper treated us to thousands of flsh schooling together in dense formation, sparkling under the rays of light filtering down through the top of chasm. They weaved around us as we passed through and headed out onto the reef, benignly ignoring our presence.
We repeated the dive at night, and this time there were some high-adrenaline occupants within the ravine – fearless, metre-long barracuda, who came to complain furiously about the torch beams in their midst, the light glinting off their lithe silver bodies.
While we had not spotted much of Burma’s big marine life, our final dive, at High Rock, yielded a surprise encounter with one of the ocean’s weirdest creatures – the pineapple flsh. This tiny, elusive animal looks exactly as its name suggests. After a painstaking search among the coral fronds, there was an excited tank clang from one of the dive guides. For those near enough to see it, this living, breathing fruit-like fish appeared for a glorious couple of seconds before it hurriedly vanished.
It’s this perpetual sense of never knowing quite what you might see that makes diving in Burma fascinating. There are few places left in the world that can be described as genuine wilderness, and the Mergui Archipelago now faces the challenge of whether its very isolation will be its downfall – due to the destructive practices of dynamite fishermen – or if it can continue to thrive despite human encroachment. The scuba tourists that join the dive boats into Burma are on the front line of witnessing the changes in the country’s coastline for good or ill, and their very presence is important to ensure Mergui’s ongoing environmental battle is not forgotten.
GETTING THERE AND AWAY
Siam Adventure Divers (www.mvjazz.com) run liveaboard trips to Burma from Ranong. Transfers can be arranged to Ranong direct from Phuket International Airport.
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