A Forgotten World
by Ron Leidich

Off the coast of Myanmar lies a group of largely unknown islands called the Mergui Archipelago. I've returned here for the third time to lead an expedition of discovery and adventure with an intrepid group of Americans eager to find remote islands, unspoiled beaches, and pristine coral gardens. And after a week into our journey, we'd not been disappointed.

Paddling from island in open topped kayaks, and supported by a live aboard dive boat, the Faah Yai (big sky), we've been carefully mapping and recording our daily discoveries. With only 1920's vintage British Nautical Maps, to guide us, every day delivers new wonders and discoveries. The islands themselves have proved to be a curious mix of ancient sandstones, intrusive granite, and volcanic tuft. The jungles are an untouched mix of seasonal monsoon and tropical rain forests.
After pulling our kayaks above the high tide line on a sandstone beach on Great Swinton Island, we take careful note of the myriad of animal tracks crisscrossing the wet sands. Crab Eating Macaques have let their long tails drag between their miniature human like hand prints. Their prints all lead to the same place. A Hawksbill Turtle has obviously dragged herself ashore to lay her eggs in the warm tropical sands. She's done her job well, and the best efforts of the primates have failed to reach her clutch of soft leathery eggs. Another set of tracks have circled the nest as well. A sweeping tail and widespread hand prints set with deep claw marks, tells us that a huge monitor lizard has circled the nest in search of a meal. The clawless pugs of small jungle cats, cloven hoof prints of wild boar, and the dinosaurian three toed steps of the weird Beach Thick-knees are all invitations to race off into the forest in search of mysterious beasts. But my curiosity will have to wait. I've promised to lead the guests on a swim into the cool waters of the Andaman Sea.
Gentle kicks of our fins carry us over the calm, current-less waters. Multi-colored corals appear below us in dense profusion. Giant golden table corals shadow the bright blue stag-horn branching corals below them. Enormous green boulder corals the size of VW bugs have grown into one another, all vying for space on a crowded reef. Brightly colored tropical fishes race amidst the maze of branches and boulders in search of their next meal. Even after fifteen years of leading dive and snorkel tours, I've yet to encounter a scene like this. What we're witnessing is an old growth coral forest. This snorkel is the underwater equivalent to a walk through the ancient sequoia trees of California!
This protected underwater oasis has yet to be disturbed by typhoons, disease, coral eating starfish, and has even escaped the waves of the recent tsunami, much to our relief. Without any physical disturbance, the corals' growth is only limited by space. When the corals grow toward one another they'll do anything to their neighbors to compete for space. Expansive table corals shade their smaller neighbors and block their access to sunlight. Aggressive boulder corals reach out at night with stinging sweeper arms to fight off their competition. The seemingly harmless fungus corals resting on the bottom are the worst of the lot. They release digestive enzymes on their neighbors to insure their right to space. I do my best to photograph this underwater jungle and explain its significance to my guests. As we're the first to ever snorkel this magic marine garden, I've insisted that we not touch the delicate combatants below us. We leave the reef as nature intended her to be.
Each day is a new journey into unknown worlds. We've paddled through untouched mangroves in search of Stork Billed Kingfishers and Golden Fantailed Flycatchers. We've hiked to mountain waterfalls to swim in the private seclusion of the forests. We've combed the beaches in search of exotic tropical sea shells. We've enjoyed the company of Burmese fishermen who were more than happy to share their catch in exchange for Polaroid photos. White Bellied Sea Eagles, Brahminy Kites, and Wreathed Hornbills have been our constant companions on our journey of discovery. But today is the day I've been waiting for.
Along our journey, I've been reading a book originally published in 1922. Based on the turn of the century adventures of an English missionary, the book is a living time capsule of encounters with the archipelagos only true inhabitants, the Moken people. Also known as the Sea Gypsies, these migratory people are of an unknown origin with a language and culture unique to them alone. Throughout their history they have been harassed by the more aggressive Malays, Chinese, and Andaman Sea Pirates. It comes as no surprise then that they avoid encounters with strangers, and we've thus gotten only distant glimpses of them so far. Paddling in standing oar lock dug-out canoes, they fish only the shallow waters for mollusks, sea cucumbers, and fishes.
Today, the book has led us to an un-named group of limestone islands off the coast of the larger Dommel island. Though the missionary author never reached this small island group during his journeys to census the Moken people, he does relate an alluring second hand account of the area. He writes that the area is "one of the sights of the archipelago". The second hand story claims that a boat at low tide can enter a "gloomy cavern" and that one can pass through "a long winding tunnel, just wide enough for our boat, with a glimmer of daylight at the far end". Once through the tunnel, they entered a marine lake and here encountered a band of sea gypsies, inside "a magic scene from a fairyland".

This is the moment I've been dreaming of. An explorers dream come true, feels as if it's within our grasp. Could the tunnel still exist? Would the Sea Gypsies still hide amongst these secret passages? Could time have truly forgotten this treasured world?
We sit atop of the sun deck still miles away from our destination. Even from a distance, I'm reassured that the islands ahead are composed of limestone by the vertical walls and jagged peaks. Could this century old story be true? My hopes rise as men in standing oar lock canoes disappear among the labyrinth of islands. These must be the mysterious sea gypsies.

The Faah Yai anchors in a sheltered lagoon as we launch the kayaks into the calm waters. Paddling between mountainous limestone walls, I still find it hard to believe that the islands were not chiseled out by man. Instead the stone work was the result of the tiny coral polyps who for millions of years deposited calcium carbonate to build their protective skeleton. Now we enjoy their physical protection from the strong morning winds. Entering a pincher shaped bay, I start to read the walls of the bay like a detective at a crime scene. A low "V" shaped section of the wall suggests that a tunnel had formed and collapsed below the crumbling walls. We paddle straight for the collapse in the hopes of finding a new tunnel. We are not disappointed. As described in our century old book, a tunnel appears with a gentle stream of water spilling out of the mouth. We cautiously enter and are amazed to find the walls covered in orange, yellow, and blue sponges and algae. Camera flashes give me quick glimpses of the color around us, but my attention is now drawn to the light at the far end. Moving with our hands on the damp ceiling we inch our way closer to the exit before us.

Darkness yields to bright sunlight as the mystery of the lake reveals itself. The shallow waters of the marine lake reflect turquoise on the clouds above us. We've safely entered a lost world, forgotten by time and enjoy a quiet moment of amazement. I break the silence with a description of how "lunar erosion" has created this tidal passage. I want to tell everyone how the porous walls of limestone have allowed tidal water to seep through into the lake, and through time created these navigable passages. My thoughts are interrupted by an even more amazing sight. A Sea Gypsy and his son come paddling towards us, from a hidden bay within the lake. They smile and bekon us to follow. Can this be happening?
Without a word, we politely oblige and are greeted to a wonder beyond expectation. This small gypsy family had built a bamboo home within the walls of the lake. Their precarious existence is perched on tall wooden stilts to allow for the rise and fall of the tides. A thatched roof and bamboo walls protect them from the seasonal monsoons. A few simple pots, bowls, and mattresses seem to be the sum of their possessions. They've even managed to plant papaya and banana trees on perches within the soil-less limestone walls. Their hospitality is flattering and I feel guilty that the only thing we have to give them in return is a few Polaroid pictures of themselves. How on earth can they make their living in this secluded oasis?

With candles in hand and not a word between us, they lead us to the answer. We walk along the carefully placed stones of a walkway, above the muddy lake floor. The pathway leads us into the mouth of an extensive system of caverns. The Gypsy family had built a series of bamboo scaffolds leading sixty and seventy feet up to the ceiling of the cave. And from this precarious scaffold, they collect the nest of an echo-locating swiftlet. The nest is composed of plant material cemented together with the swiftlets' own saliva. The nest is then traded or sold to Asian markets in order to produce the delicacy, "birds nest soup".
After an hour of spelunking the light of day and fresh air are a welcome reunion. The tide has risen in our absence, telling me that this encounter is on borrowed time. We paddle towards the tunnel exit, with the Gypsy family following behind us. What could they possibly think of our patterned surf shorts, broad rimmed hats, and designer sun glasses? I hope that we've at least given them an ounce of amusement in exchange for our once in a life time encounter.
Once outside of the tunnel we stop for some beach combing along the white sandy shores. We're undoubtedly providing some extra entertainment for the gypsies as we pick up sea shells with nothing to eat inside them! Their smiles and shaking heads reinforce my suspicions as we fill our pockets with inedible treasures.
The gypsies return to their tunnel as the water rises ever higher towards the roof of their tidal doorway. Wow! A Mergui tidal locking vault. We wave goodbye and wonder if we'll ever meet again. Have they ever seen foreign visitors before? Could we be the first to have rediscovered this lake for the last century? We paddle off flattering ourselves that this must be the case.
For three more days we continue our adventures through sandstone caves, tropical beaches, coral gardens, bird filled forests, and calm secluded waters. My thoughts though, have remained with our Gypsy friends from the lake. Their hidden oasis has for centuries protected them from storms, tsunamis, and invading marauders. It is as if time itself has passed them by. I can only hope that development, and even tourism, does not one day threaten or overcome they're peaceful existence.

Our return to the busy port town of Ranong, Thailand is uneventful. As I stroll around the city, I can only admire the energy each merchant puts into selling his wares. Stores are packed tightly together, each competing for space, like the corals on a healthy reef.
The noise and confusion of civilization finally get the best of me though. After ten days in a remote paradise I find myself shying away from the town's commotion. I'm lucky enough to find a small park in the midst of multi-story buildings. Sitting in the grass in the warm sun, my eyes are still alert to the movement amongst the branches. I follow a pair of Olive Backed Sunbirds, dipping their beaks into the red flowers of a giant Legume tree. The male, with a neon blue bib over his bright yellow belly radiates with beauty and confidence. With the walls of the city around them the pair of sunbirds survive only amongst the flowers of the park. As I collect my thoughts for the flight home, I can only marvel at the beauty of the small oasis I'm in, and leave thankful that nature has maintained a foothold even in the midst of our anthropogenic jungle.