Thailand Flight 
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Diving in Batam, Indonesia And Building Paradise
I started to pack my dive gear the minute I learned I was going to Batam, one of the Indonesian Islands in the South China Sea. I’d been to the country once before and knew that it’s comprised of 17,000 islands constituting less than one percent of the earth’s dry land. I also knew that the tsunami had devastated Aceh in northern Sumatra, and wondered if it had affected Batam. Little has been written about the condition of the reefs or the diving and sports activities offered on the island. I hoped to see those for myself.
Batam was recently incorporated into the new province of the Riau Archipelago, a group of 513 islands scattered in the Malacca Straits and the South China Sea. Located 15 miles south of Singapore, the island currently boasts 17 industrial parks utilized by 720 foreign companies, worldwide banking facilities, a modern airport, paved roads, highways and six bridges linking the southern islands of Nipah, Tonton, Setoko, Rempang, Galang and Galang Baru.
My first layover was in Singapore. If it weren’t so hot and humid all year around, this thoroughly modern city would no doubt be known as the world's most marvelous metropolis. With map in hand and an undaunted spirit, I found it easy and safe to walk or take the underground to almost any attraction. Before embarking the ferry to Batam, I sampled as much of Singapore as my two days allowed, enjoying most of the tourist attractions -- Merlion Park, the Performing Arts Center, Chinatown, a French section and little India -- and dined like a native on fabulous cuisine in local restaurants.
Tours of Batam and the neighboring islands had been scheduled for me upon my arrival, and for the next two days I was transported to luxurious beaches, resorts and a golf club with three nine-hole courses.
Going Diving We boarded Century I, a 35-foot boat once used for transporting people to cruise ships. With an enclosed cabin, plenty of passenger seats and a working head, it already had the makings of a fine dive boat; the only overhaul required was outfitting the deck to accommodate up to 40 scuba tanks. Twin turbo Yamaha engines power the craft, which can transport divers to sites miles from shore. Including Yann, we were only four divers that day, but up to 12 arrive from Singapore to dive two to five times during a typical weekend. Our first dive was at Palau Petong, a tiny atoll west of Galang Baru Island. We entered the water and I was immediately aware that the clarity wasn’t as good as the other Indonesian islands I’d dived. Yann had told me earlier that the tsunami hadn’t affected the Riau Archipelago, and that poor visibility was common due to the islands' proximity to shipping lanes, where tankers and cargo transports bound for Singapore and ports farther north churn up bottom sediment. Still, the fringing reef surrounding the Palau is thick with giant gorgonian fans, some of which are big enough to obscure the entire length of a diver. It was a calm day with no current and I was able to find tobaccofish, sweetlips, nudibranchs and tunicates hiding in crevasses and among the human-sized fans. Black-tail barracuda frequently cruise this area, and hawksbill turtles stop here to feed on the algae-coated substrata. Robert, one of the divers in our group, was the first to spot a six-foot leopard shark resting on the sandy bottom. A restaurateur in Singapore, Robert spends every weekend diving and taking specialty courses with Yann. He appeared mild-mannered initially, until he found an abandoned bo bo (fish trap) in which a small shark had been captured. I watched in awe while he vehemently punched a hole in the net, then took hold of the fish and freed it. An Unwanted Interruption I wasn’t concerned at first. Coast guards sit on a hot beach all day. If they see a dive boat they’ll motor out to meet it. Usually they chat with the crew over a can of soda and have their picture taken by divers. But these young recruits didn’t look like they were after a cold drink and they wouldn’t allow photography. Instead they insisted that the captain show them an additional (and fictitious) paper. Yann left a budding debate to the Captain and Burhan, the senior member of the Sport and Recreation Department at the resort, and suggested that we prepare for our second dive. I became anxious when I heard Burhan utter “American.” “Oh oh,” I thought, knowing that I’m not the favored nationality in some parts of the world, and that my cameras, passport and money were in a case right under their noses. Nothing about their uniforms indicated whether they were from the Indonesian army or navy -- or a fundamentalist group. I didn’t want to go diving, knowing that I could be staring into the barrel of a gun upon my return. I whispered my concerns to Yann and we waited. And so did the soldiers. The standoff ended when Burhan gave us the signal to go diving. We entered the water and watched while the uniformed trio got back into their skiff, circled our boat and boarded it again before speeding off. I sank below the surface, wishing for permanent gills in place of a regulator. An hour later, Burhan was still chuckling over the outcome. He told us that when the recruits offered to provide the captain with the document for US$200, Burhan agreed and instructed them to bring it to the resort where they’d receive remuneration from the head of security who’s also a retired two-star general. With this vital news, they performed a hasty inspection of the outside of the boat and, reporting that all was in order, departed. That afternoon’s dive and subsequent dives as well were as stimulating as the topside event. I’d never seen so many creatures before. A sausage-shaped sea apple was easy to spot, even though its colourful yellow feeding tentacles had retracted during the low tide. When I approached, the bright red creature inflated into a large round shape. Yann pointed out several pale, delicate Bullocki nudibranchs, originally described by famed naturalist Alfred Russell Wallace as indigenous only to the South China Sea. Now they're found on reefs from Queensland to Thailand. The most variable in colouration, and a wonderful find, was a nudibranch with five black rings circling knobby tubercles. Conspicuously displayed on the reef floor, the bright orange, gold and white of this Phyllidia Ocellata -- the most striking member of the Dorid nudibranchs -- advertised noxious chemicals to this potential predator with a camera. I would never have seen the miniscule lobster clinging to a thread-like coral frond had Yann not pointed to it. The 3mm-long hatchling was camouflaged against the coral, and it hid behind the thin shoot as well. Only its tiny eyes and translucent claws were visible. Conversely, clownfish rose to the occasion with acrobatic antics to protect their anemone hosts. Unfortunately, the bo bos, which damage the reefs in addition to indiscriminately trapping any fish that unwittingly enters, are ever-present. (Topside, one prominent ecological disaster is caused by the burning technique used to clear forests to plant cloves used for cigarettes. Once depleted, the soil is left fallow.)
Building Natural Parks and the Ecosystem I met the organizers of 11 divers of the Octopus Club, a group devoted to educating people about their coastal and underwater environment. Working in collaboration with the International Batam University, each volunteer goes into five classrooms in different villages every Saturday for ten weeks to deliver lectures on conserving mangroves and protecting beaches and reefs. Using posters, markers, seashells and found objects for visual aids (there’s no budget for projectors or film equipment), the group educates children, young adults and parents about the importance of preserving the environment, especially the mangroves, which are currently being cut down for charcoal. The club recently met with village authorities and presented them with 40 mangrove plants that were donated by a corporation as a start-up programme toward rebuilding the coastal eco-system. Future plans include continuing their hands-on approach with school children while working with the government and private concerns to expand their work. It’s hopeful that the industrially developing island of Batam and the entire Riau Archipelago will evolve into an ecologically developed region that will ultimately attract eco-tourism. If You Go
Denise Mattia is a freelance photojournalist living in New York City, traveling from concrete to coral. She is the recipient of two degrees in Theatre and Art and a grant for her work in reef conservation. Her worldwide travel features and photographs (topside and underwater) appear in national and international publications. She is also the Arts Contributor to OffbeatNewYork.
© 2005
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Traversing the six bridges to Galang, my van arrived on the afternoon of the second day at the quarters where Vietnamese refugees had sought shelter during the war. The camp is empty now, but walking around the site and among the gravestones was sobering. As one who remembers the Vietnam era, I feel sorrow over both our involvement in that senseless war and our inability to learn from the past. I couldn’t help thinking that, like the mammals and fish that decided for some evolutionary reason to return to the sea, at times I wouldn’t mind doing the same. The order in the world underwater seems better than the chaos above, I mused.
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