CHINA EXPLORERScers/images/stories/downloads/cers_1603.pdf · Dires Usop, centenarian of Palawan by...

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EXPLORERSChina Exploration and rEsEa rCh soCi Et y

A N E W S L E T T E R T O I N F O R M A N D A C K N O W L E D G E C E R S ’ F R I E N D S A N D S U P P O R T E R S

CLOCKWISE FROM TOP:A parade to fundraise for temple, led by village dog at Masein along Chindwin River of Myanmar. Fish market of Penghu off Taiwan. Father of Jocelyn and her son in Palawan of southern Philippines. Dires Usop, centenarian of Palawan by the sea.

3 Old Man by The Sea 6 To The Spartly Islands, Almost 10 Endemic Delights 14 A Day With a Monk - Hsing Yun musing at 88 16 Year of The Horse at Offshore Taiwan20 Jungle Princess 22 Maps and Myanmar 24 On a Slow Boat Up Myanmar 28 A Chindwin River Odyssey31 Miracle Fruit

C H I N A since 1986

V O L U M E 1 6 N O . 3 A U T U M N 2 0 1 4

34 CERS in the Field35 News/CERS in the Media36 Thank You

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A N E W S L E T T E R T O I N F O R M A N D A C K N O W L E D G E C E R S ' F R I E N D S A N D S U P P O R T E R S

EXPLORERSChina Exploration and rEsEarCh soCiEty

C H I N A

V O L U M E 1 6 N O . 3 A U T U M N 2 0 1 4

President’s Message

Recently on a visit to Los Angeles, I had the good fortune of re-visiting an old friend Dr Charles Elachi, Director of NASA’s Jet Propulsion Lab (JPL). Over lunch, we caught up on some of the old days when Charles was

team leader in deploying the Shuttle Imaging Radar (SIR-A) which was the main scientific experiment on the second Shuttle flight in 1981. Some of the images thus gathered from the radar, as well as from the Large Format Camera (LFC), were used in my early exploration of the Silk Road and during the 1985 Yangtze expedition.

It was most gratifying that Dr Elachi’s lunch with me was at a small table, specially set up in the middle of JPL’s exhibit hall, among all the full-scale models of space crafts from its earliest days, to the latest Mars Rover. JPL in Pasadena is a major research facility administered by Caltech for NASA, with a contingent of 500 scientists and over 3,000 engineers, and a focused aim on all unmanned space missions.

Between the early 1980s and mid-1990s, my cabin home in the Angeles National Forest was just a short distance away from JPL. Their programs have contributed much to my early exploration including defining the Yangtze source, long before GPS, Google map and other related phone apps became a household word.

Those were my early days in exploration. As I turned 65, CERS is only 28, less than half my age. It remains more youthful than I am. With three Directors at ages of under 40 or just over, indeed we feel the Society has been rejuvenated. This is further complemented by all the young field staff we have attracted which would uphold our past, as well as help bringing CERS into the future. Working alongside with them, I still feel like a kid in some ways.

Recently several young researchers joined as CERS staff, among them Su Hlaing Myint, a field biologist from Myanmar, and Will Ruzek, a geographer/cartographer from the US. Will first joined CERS as an intern during his undergrad years, and later when he was attending graduate school. He was a member of our team to the Salween source.

Will, however, makes me feel a bit old, as his father Martin has been involved with my work since the early 1980s when he provided much needed satellite and Space Shuttle data to enhance my exploration goals. At the time, Martin was working at the Jet Propulsion Lab. He later joined CERS on three of our expeditions to the Yangtze, Mekong, and Yellow River sources. In this newsletter, Will contributed an article comparing old maps to new ones. Perhaps in a future expedition to define additional river sources, both father and son would joining on our team.

With respect to the entire contents of this newsletter, including its photographs:

All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2014. @ China Exploration and Research Society.

Please contact CERS for reprint permission.

Wong How ManHong KongOctober 2014

His features were Middle Eastern. His eyes had a special tint. His birthday - January 2, 1926. He is 88 years old. His two granddaughters in his house are in their 20s. His wife, just turned 20. His youngest son, or so he thought, barely a year and a half. His two names - Hadji Putal as well as Hadji Sabre.

Perhaps with each pilgrimage to Mecca, he took on a new name and looked a bit more Arabic. Putal, or Sabre, went there in 1982 and again in 1990. Of over 300 Muslims who went on the pilgrimage from the Philippines in 1982, he was the only one from Palawan. He remembered the voyage took him exactly one month and four days. The second pilgrimage saw 700 plus from the Philippines. Again he was the only one from Palawan. Being a Hadji, an honorific title bestowed on someone who had gone to Mecca on a pilgrimage, he could officiate at marriages. Perhaps even his own marriage.

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TOP: Hadji Putal of southern Palawan in the Philippines.BOTTOM: Wife of Hadji Putal holding their child with two granddaughters standing on the side.

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OLD MANBY THE SEAby Wong How Man

Quezon, Palawan


CLOCKWISE FROM CENTER:Dires Usop, centenarian of Palawan by the sea. Mosque of Mencerid Island with rain catcher. Inside of mosque. Village store front on island. Augustina at 77 years of age. How Man with Jackman’s family make four for the picture. Jackman’s wife with daughter. Beach of Mencerid Island.

On any usual Friday, there might be three attendees. Special occasions would have a crowd gathering; that is, about twenty Muslims.

Today, Muslims as well as Christians live congenially alongside each other. They may even intermarry if they so choose. All families are fishermen, as could be seen from the many outrigger boats along the sandy beach. Fish caught are sent off to Quezon, to be packaged in iceboxes for Puerto Princesa, a major transshipment hub on the way to Hong Kong. What some of us in Hong Kong may be enjoying in the finest of restaurants, especially the coveted reef fish, might very well have come from this little-known island of Mencerid, caught by the Muslims who have been plying the South China Sea for generations.

If the 88-year-Old Man by the Sea were any indication, his year-and-a-half son would inherit this heritage and continue going out to sea when he grew up. Perhaps he too, like his father, would become a Hadji after making a pilgrimage to Mecca.

Jackman was the Muslim who guided me through his village. His wife Naima had just had a child a year ago. The baby girl had long curly hair, dark complexion and big eyes. Their distinguished looks, as with other villagers here at Tabon, fascinated me. I asked for a family portrait, but Jackman said they had a taboo against having three persons, or odd number, in a picture. To make it even, I joined in on the photo shoot. I stopped by the Mosque, but the Imam was away at the market.

Off the coast of Quezon are many islands. One of them, Mencerid, perhaps with an area less than one square kilometer, has another Muslim community on it. Of the 200 odd adults eligible to vote, three quarters were Muslim. Augustina, at 77, came from Zambales but married to a Muslim here. Now a widow operating one of two tiny stores on the island, she was still highly regarded, as her husband’s family originally founded the community on the island. The tall coconut palms, as well as other fruit trees, were all planted by her father-in-law.

Mencerid Island had a small shed for a Mosque. Inside was a tiny three-step alter with a Koran resting on it. Outside, the tin roof collected rain water through an open pipe to be stored in a plastic drum, serving as water for cleansing before the devoted enter the Mosque for their Friday service.

We walked up to his house by the sea at Quezon, a town in the far south of Palawan. Upon calling his name, he took his time to dress up properly before answering at the door, adding as a final touch a green embroidered cap. He walked out with an obvious stoop. Even when standing, his back was heavily bent, perhaps from the weight of his age, years of working to save up for Mecca, or from years of taking care of his harem.

Being a Hadji, Putal was highly regarded in this small community of Muslim in the seaside village of Tabon. Indeed he even had his own small prayer house in the courtyard of his home. Fishing was part of his profession, and he was unique and old enough for me to think again of Hemmingway’s story. But Putal had better catch a lot of fish, as he had many mouths to feed.

Near Putal’s home lived another old man, quite a bit older, somewhere between 101 and 103, as the exact year of birth was lost to memory. Dires Usop sat on his bamboo bed, also with his back perpetually bent. But his relatives, maybe great grandchildren, attested that he could still dive and spear fish. As if to gain my trust, Dires asked the “kid” (an adult woman) to bring out his spear gun. It was very long, almost two meters in length, and with double barrels. It could shoot one spear after another, each could be fired by a separate handle and trigger closely aligned with each other. I asked to buy his spear gun. No, he still needed it for his occasional dive.

The Muslims here must have descended from ancestors in the Middle East. Generations ago, Arab sailors ruled the sea and traded all the way to China. Rounding India, they followed the coast of Burma and down the Malaccan Straits all the way to Indonesia and the Philippines. From these older folks in the villages, I could just see a shadow of that past heritage.


CLOCKWISE FROM LEFT:Map of disputed islands of Spratly group. Jodan, Jocelyn’s outrigger boat in Palawan. Fate of a Moray Eel from bottom of sea. Bill Bleisch’s moment with a Star.

“Bill can get on the boat. He has a US passport. Berry - no problem, with an Australian one. But for you, with a Chinese passport, they don’t think so,” Jocelyn informed me after talking numerous times on the phone with her boat operator contact in Palawan of the Philippines. We had been negotiating for a boat to take us out to the

Spratly Islands, west of Palawan.

Arguably within the southern border of China, this disputed archipelago had recently been catapulted into international headlines news and prime time television. And for countries contending for these islands, including China, “Taiwan”, the Philippines, Vietnam and even Brunei and Malaysia, it was more than just news, as a spate of claims threatened to pitch nations into a war of words.

If not handled diplomatically, it could mean real engagement at sea. For some, like Vietnam and the Philippines, anti-Chinese sentiments ran high and

various national flags staking claims and occupying many of these islands and reefs.

With my hope to make a dash for the Spratlys dashed, I was disappointed, but did not feel defeated. I have always been a stern believer in timing. What is not possible at one time can become workable in another. If one knows how to grab opportunity when it arises, there is always a way to a means. Hedged or leveraged right, as in business, what is dangerous or impossible can even become something welcomed and desirable. So we, a small CERS team of four, headed out to Palawan in the southernmost part of the Philippines to make a reconnaissance of the area. We were looking for interesting research and conservation projects for the coming months and years, while waiting out for a future opportunity to visit and do something worthwhile in the Spratlys.

Jocelyn, my helper in Hong Kong, is native from a fishing village in Palawan and knew that island, and the off-shore smaller islands, well. She has been managing the physical facilities of our Tai Tam Research Center, as well as other premises in the south side of Hong Kong. On this trip, she became our fixer, and handled multiple requests that we had, about natural history for Bill, and ethnic and cultural aspects for me. Another friend, Nelly Fung of Hong Kong, arranged with her contacts at WWF in the Philippines and they turned out to be most helpful.

So on the second day of our arrival, we left early in the morning in one of the colorful motor-tricycles for the beach. These toad-shaped vehicles are popular here in Palawan, just as the Tuk-Tuks are in Thailand. With capacity for five people, some even had a Porsche, Ferrari or Batman insignia painted on them.

At Honda Bay, we boarded a fishing boat belonging to Jocelyn. It was a kind of outrigger with a long float extended on each side of the boat for stability at sea. The boat Jodan was a combination of the names of Jocelyn and her husband Dante. The Sulu Sea off the east coast of Palawan was calm and the water clear. In many places we could see extensive corals and sea urchins on the bottom.

Bill spent much of the time snorkeling while I entertained myself with the sweet juice from a coconut taken from the palms on the islands. Some of the larger islands, like Snake Island with a very long sandbar, also had patches of mangrove along their edges. Bill had been reading a book about pirates of the South China Sea and now had a bandana over his head, looking just like one of them. From my iPad, I played the tune of Gilbert & Sullivan’s Pirates of Penzance to provide for the mood.

I took particular interest in what Jocelyn called a “kingfish” but was actually a Long-billed Halfbeak Garfish with a hard and pointed nose. These kind of fish flew over the water in an almost upright angle, with the tail barely touching the surface. This was the same kind of fish I saw at the Mergui Islands off the southernmost tip of Myanmar. The Moken sea gypsies there called them “Moken Afraid”, since such a fish could poke a hole and sink their dug-out canoes. The story seemed to hold true here as well, as Jocelyn recounted an incident when her brother came home with a big hole in their boat. Since then, when they go far out to sea for tuna, they would

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TO THE SPRATLY ISLANDS, ALMOSTWith reflections on Palawanby Wong How Man

Palawan, Philippines

spilled into the streets in demonstrations, including burning of Chinese-owned businesses and factories in Vietnam. But as Kissinger, the arch-realist, had noted about foreign policy, it is purely about power and interest. Values and morals, let alone history, have little to do with territorial disputes, and are only for the feeble-minded.

On one of the maps I used, the area is labelled “Spratly Islands,” further marked in large type “Dangerous Ground”, a historic term used as warning to mariners about the many under surface shoals and reefs. But today’s maritime claims by multiple nations had made that warning both materially, politically and perhaps even militarily true. A close-up look on this map illustrated the


CLOCKWISE FROM CENTER:Boys and girls heading to school. How Man with Return-to-Spratly T-shirt. Ferrari of Palawan. Long-billed Halfbeak Garfish in market. Jocelyn’s Spartan but clean home. Jocelyn’s father and grandchild.

always bring extra plywood to patch the damage if hit by a garfish.

Both boatmen were relatives of Jocelyn. One of them, Samuel, was an excellent free diver and could catch fish with a simple hand net. We saw him bring up a fair size grouper, an ugly stonefish which was very poisonous, snails, and clams, as well as chasing down a moray eel which kept hiding in the sand underwater. He finally confronted this eel with a long machete knife and killed it. When Samuel brought it to the surface, we could see three cuts which wounded this white colored eel with black polka dots.

A simple lunch with seafood was cooked and served on the boat. On the front of Jocelyn’s boat was painted a blue marlin, as they caught these large fish occasionally out at sea. I called Samuel the “Young Man and the Sea”, in reference to Hemmingway’s story about the old fisherman and the huge marlin. We returned home in the evening to a wonderful feast of prawns, steamed grouper (called Garoupa by Chinese) and a very large mud crab that they caught among the mangroves.

In Puerto Princesa City, the capital of Palawan Province, is the newly opened Robinsons Shopping Mall. It has many mid-range branded stores such as Geox, Nike, Vans and Crocs. At the Speedo Store, I bought much-needed wet socks and a pair of short flippers for snorkeling use. As I turned a corner, I saw many police and security officers in front of one shop. It turned out that September 12 was the inauguration of the new regional Consular Office of

the Department of Foreign Affairs, located in the mall. Many dignitaries would soon arrive for the ceremony.

Though I wasn’t invited to sit in the cordoned-off area, I managed to get a program for VIP guests. The mayor gave a warm welcome to those attending the event. Next came the Vice-governor of Palawan. The Governor was noticeably absent, and I read from the newspaper a day ago that he was at large. He had gone into hiding because of an arrest warrant issued, implicating him in a corruption case involving 12 policemen in a highly publicized highway robbery. Such problems are systemic, rather than incidental, in the Philippines. Obviously the policemen are not trained or paid well enough to maintain the dignity of their profession.

Perhaps the Philippines government should adopt what the Chinese practiced over two thousand years ago. A noted court advisor to the king during the Warring States period was asked for advice about governing. He simply said “employ corrupt official, reign in corrupt official.” This was in case an official disobeyed the king, he could be persecuted for corruption with confiscation of the money he had pilfered. It would be better than levying taxes; and the people would be happy to see a corrupt official punished. This strategy, what I call sustainable corruption, seems more far-sighted.

The consular office was set up to help process Filipinos who needed passports to travel overseas in a more expedient way. Why so many requests for travel? No doubt because of the large number of applicants who wanted to become overseas workers, generally as domestic helpers for the females, and laborers for the men. Together they make up the largest foreign exchange earners for the country.

I had always wondered why the government managed to provide college

education to so many, yet with so few jobs available for them to utilize their earned skills. Instead, these highly educated individuals, mainly women, were all sent overseas as cheap labor. It seemed like a major failure and blunder of the economic system. Many of these domestic workers were unsung heroes within households of more developed countries. There were occasional cases of abuse, while others were routinely insulted by their employers who were less educated than the employees. Not to mention that many children in the Philippines grow up with their grandparents, while their mothers were working overseas.

While I too am a beneficiary, it doesn’t preclude me from reflecting on such a

system. Few, if any, would take the bother to visit their employee’s home. Jocelyn, a graduate in computer science, is a classic case of these overseas workers. She is probably one of the luckier ones, having three of her relatives working along her side in Hong Kong at our multiple facilities. She sent home her first “pot of gold” 25 years ago while working as a domestic helper in Singapore, and her family built the simple yet clean house that we all ended up staying in on this trip for several days. To give an idea of how the situation is in these rural villages, electricity arrived only three years ago and there is still no running water or flushing toilets.

Her later stint in Hong Kong afforded the extended family additional houses, and several plots of farmland. One small plot is in the city and within short distance of the new mall. She even wanted me to help her design her house there. Today, three other close relatives of hers, including her husband Dante, are working for us in Hong Kong. Being childless, Jocelyn adopted a baby boy several months ago. Today, Jhoden, a combination in names of Jocelyn and Dante, is a very cute six-month old boy and living happily with Jocelyn’s parents.

The most popular chain shop in Palawan seemed to be the pawn shops, like 7-Eleven in other countries. At every town, large or small, there was the omnipresence of the Palawan Pawn Shops, to an extent that I thought the word Pawn was short for Palawan. The sign outside advertised 1% interest for every 11 days, a whopping 33% per annum.

Back at the Robinsons Mall, I was watching the tribal dancers performed at the inauguration of the new consular office. A troupe of indigenous Batak people performed a most colorful dances and songs. I browsed around a T-shirt shop appropriately situated right next to the performance stage. They made T-shirts to order and printed them right there and then.

There was one particular shirt that I liked. With design of an airplane and someone pulling his luggage, it read “I shall return, Palawan”. I asked the guy to make me one reading “I shall return, Spratly”. Within a matter of minutes, it was done. Bill didn’t want to have anything to do with this, and I had more sense than to wear it in front of the corps of Foreign Affairs officers. The last thing they need is another international incident on their hands just as the Philippine president was visiting the EU to solicit support for a solution to the Spratlys.

In my heart, however, I quietly promised myself that I would take up that challenge and return at a more opportune time, perhaps during a window when China and the Philippines would cherish warmer relations.


CLOCKWISE FROM LOWER LEFT:Outrigger boat. Palawan is famous for karst and caves. Palawan Long-tailed Macaque. White-bellied Sea Eagle. Palawan Bearcat or Binturong.

ENDEMIC DELIGHTSby William Bleisch, PhDSabang, Philippines

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as a dainty blue and black bird walked cautiously into the clearing. The blue elongated spots on its back and wings were almost iridescent in their intensity. The bird approached nearer and began feeding on grains of rice scattered by the lizards. I could see the eye-like patterns on its squared-off trail. Not a peacock, but the much rarer and more precious Palawan Peacock Pheasant. Only found on Palawan, it is the state bird and a symbol for environmental protection here. The Peacock Pheasant soon moved on and the next seating began; monkeys appeared from the forests, first one, then two, and then an entire troop. I would guess there were 20 in all. They were timid at first, but soon became bolder. The guards said that they used to feed them, but no longer, because they have become aggressive and have started riffling through tourists’ bags. Still they come anyway. For me, it was another treat, my fourth endemic animal species sighted in one morning. For these are the Palawan subspecies of the Long-tailed Macaque. They did seem smaller and darker than the common Long-tailed Macaque that is found right across southeast Asia.

While I was busy taking pictures of the monkeys, Jocelyn fixed herself an instant coffee and asked me if I wanted a cup. I take my coffee black, and in Asia, it usually comes with milk and sugar. So I always carry a packet or two of black instant coffee. At the sound of the word ‘coffee,’ all my years of experience flew out of my head. Intent on a cup, I opened the outer pocket of my binoculars bag and started to rummage inside for the sachet of coffee. The sound of a cellophane packet crackling inside was just the cue the monkeys were waiting for. In an instant, a young macaque jumped down from the tree, reached a hand in the pocket, and was up in the tree again holding a bag of scented tissues from my bag. As we watched and cursed, the monkey pulled the tissues out one by one, gave each one a sniff, and tossed each one to the ground in seeming disgust. I had also been lulled by the mild manners of our Yunnan Snub-nosed Monkeys at Baimaxueshan’s Xiangguqing. These Long-tailed Macaque are much more eclectic in their diet, and much less polite. A boatload of tourist service girls arrived, and soon the first boatload of tourists. I was distracted by a Long-tailed Macaque chasing crabs on the beach, living up to its other name of Crab-eating Macaque. So I missed the arrival of the second boat and the landing of the rest of the CERS team – How Man and Berry Sin. I had planned to get a picture of How Man wading ashore, like General Douglas MacArthur’s realization of his famous prediction, “I shall return!”

We woke up to a gray cloudy morning at 4:45 AM, even though yesterday was clear and promising. Soon we were in a blue and white trimaran scudding across the bay beneath the blue cliffs of karst. We rounded

a rocky point and beached at the entrance to the park entrance. We were early, but the park rangers were already up. So were the birds, despite the gray skies and dim light. Hornbills called from a large tree overhead, and I jockeyed for position until I saw their yellow-white of the bill, the horn-like casque above it, and the naked skin surrounding the eye. Then I saw the all white tail, which clinched it; these were Palawan Hornbills, a globally Vulnerable species.

Like an Asian Galapagos, the islands of the Philippines have each been independent natural laboratories of evolution, and each island group has its own distinctive species. The Palawan Hornbill is only found on the island of Palawan, a long, narrow strip of land, only 50 km wide at its widest point, that stretches

from the northern tip of Borneo 450 km to the northeast, thus forming the southeast edge of the South China Sea.

The hornbills disbursed and I quietly walked on. Suddenly I noticed an enormous lizard, its black skin flecked with yellow. It walked forward and began eating something from the ground. The rangers had put out rice and leftovers. Another even larger lizard appeared, perhaps two meters from snout to tail tip. Then another and another, the ground seemingly swarming with these determined monsters. Palawan Water Monitors, relatives of the famous Komodo Dragons, were recently also found to be an endemic species, Varanus palawanensis, known only from Palawan.

Enough pictures taken of the monitors, I strolled back down the trail looking for the hornbills again. It was still too dark for photography in the canopy. “Stay nearby,” said Jocelyn. “The rangers say that once the lizards leave, then the peacock will come.” Sure enough, a moment later she called me back and we watched together


Soon, the four of us in the CERS team had switched to one of the smaller trimaran canoes that the Puerto-Princessa Subterranean River Park allow to enter the caves. Tourism is strictly managed at this well established park, inscribed on the list of World Heritage Sites by UNESCO in 1999. The underground river is a remarkable phenomenon, running for over 8 kilometers underground before emptying into the sea. The guided tour covered the first kilometer or two and lasted 45 minutes. As the guide quietly paddled the boat upstream, he gave interesting introductions to the other denizens of the cave – swiftlets who flew out of the cave low over our heads, clicking to echolocate, and two species of insectivorous bats. The dark bodies of the bats peppered the smooth dry walls of the cave, twitching nervously at our approach. The guide also pointed out the geological features of the cave – stalactites forming from above, stalagmites rising from below, and columns, where the two had met in the middle in the distant past. After a while, the tour degenerated into fanciful descriptions of the odd-shaped formations that lined the cave, as the guide barked orders to Jocelyn to turn the spot light first left, then right, then up then down. It went more smoothly after he realized that she was from the Philippines as well and so began using local dialect. Soon it was time to turn around and start back. We met another boat heading into the cave, and then another and a third that had all come in right behind us. Although the Park management spaces out the boats and uses no motors in the cave to give a sense of solitude and intimacy, the number of visitors has grown to the point that it must be controlled with a quota, even in the fall during the “off” season. In January the price will rise, we were told, to 1,000 Philippine pesos (about $25). Perhaps this is partly an effort to reduce demand and crowding. Despite the tourist crowds, I always enjoy visiting World Heritage Natural Sites, partly because I have a professional interest in studying how they are managed. It is also because these well-protected sites usually turn out to be the best places to view wildlife. When I see the animals unafraid of humans, I feel partly vindicated. For years, when I worked with nature reserves in China, I taught that it was only necessary to protect the animals for them to become tame enough for visitors to see, attracting a steady stream of tourists. This in turn could bring revenue to the park and help pay the costs of protection. I was told again and again that it could never happen in Asia, but today it is happening at one site after another.

indeed Orange Anemone Fish? (Nemo found!) What was that that little orange-yellow fish that I saw pop out of a tunnel in the sand and coral rubble, followed close behind by a determined little shrimp that repaired the hole after the fish had departed? I wish I could be sure it was a Yellow Shrimpgoby. I wish I knew the name of the pair of pipefish that I saw, swimming with their bodies exactly parallel as they glided across the coral rubble. I wish I could be sure that I had seen both the Moorish Idol and the Foxface, both with their striking black and yellow patterns. We were eager to see the Irrawaddy Dolphins in the Philippines. Here, they are called by the more descriptive name of Snub-nosed Dolphin, although they are distinct from the population in the Australian and New Guinean coasts that go by the same name. In fact, these dolphins are close relatives to those we have been studying on the Ayeryarwaddy River, considered to be the same species. So I was eager to learn more about their behaviour and conservation efforts here in the Philippines.

Our trip to Malampaya Sound near the northern tip of Palawan, however, was nearly a bust. The morning of our visit we were greeted by typhoon weather; high winds, choppy water and constant rain, at times intense. Later we learned that it was a Class 2 Typhoon, which turned into a Class 8 storm by the time it hit Hong Kong. Despite the waves and the grey water, thanks to the efforts and skill of Marivic Matillana, Palawan Director for WWF-Philippines, we were able to find and keep up with two or more dolphins as they dove for food amidst the fish weirs in the Sound. How Man’s boat got closer and had good views, and they noticed that one dolphin had a yellow cord wrapped around the base of its tail. This was probably the restraining rope from a crab pot, which seem to be set everywhere.

Later, we returned to the offices of the Bureau of Fisheries and Aquatic Resources, which doubles as the offices of the local community conservation project. While we browsed the books and posters displayed there, I noticed an ominous record on the white board, “Irrawaddy - by-catch August 29, 2014.” A dolphin had recently been killed, entangled in a crab-pot line. Marivic explained that, every year, two or three dolphins are lost, and the population in the Sound is already down from 99 in the 1990’s to 47 at last count. Surely it cannot sustain this much longer. Still, the posters, displays and the monthly plan on the white board showed that a lot of work has been started in an effort to save the dolphins and the fishery in the Sound. And Marivic recently discovered a second population of Dolphins, only the third known for the Philippines, in the bay at Quezon near Tabon Caves.

Before we left Malampaya Sound, Marivic showed me where Rufus Night Herons roost, right next to the office. They must feel safe and well-protected here, as they practically posed for pictures. Hopefully, the Dolphin will someday feel as safe and secure.

Just before we left, I stole a minute of time to check on a large nest located just behind the tourist reception area. It hardly looked like a nest just a small hill of sand and decaying vegetation, but it was created by two Philippines Megapodes, also known as scrubfowl. A very odd fowl indeed, the megapode does not incubate its eggs in a nest like other birds, but buries them like a reptile. The eggs are kept warm by the heat of a mound of decaying vegetation covered with sand, which is tended by the male adult. This has given rise to other names for these odd birds; ‘mound builders’ and ‘incubator birds.’ For this reason, scrubfowl have long been considered to be a kind of behavioral missing link between birds and their dinosaur ancestors.

The next day we had a good half day snorkeling in Honda Bay. While not a protected area, the bay still has some fine reefs that are habitat to abundant small fish. The reefs are the community fishing grounds of various villages, and the villagers protect them as fish nurseries and refuges. Excited, I swam the lengths of the reefs and repeatedly dove down to about 6 meters and swam up the slope of the drop-off, my nose up against the coral. The colours and shape of the fish and coral were other-worldly. I wish there had been time time to stay and learn more. Were those three bright orange fish with the fluorescent white bars on their backs that I saw hiding among the tentacles of a large sea anemone

CLOCKWISE FROM CENTER:Fish in a Palawan fish market. Macaque catching crabs on the beach. Rufus Night Heron. Palawan Water Monitor. Palawan Peacock Pheasant.

CHINA EXPLORATION AND RESEARCH SOCIETY CHINA EXPLORATION AND RESEARCH SOCIETY PAGE 15PAGE 14 CHINA EXPLORATION AND RESEARCH SOCIETY CHINA EXPLORATION AND RESEARCH SOCIETY PAGE 15

“A bad person rises easy and is difficult to bring down. A good person rises hard but easy to be brought down,” said Monk Hsing Yun as we sat and discussed his political view about both Taiwan and the Mainland. Hsing Yun is a renowned monk among Chinese, in Mainland China, Taiwan, and much of the world where there is

any concentration of Chinese community. His motto of “Truth, Kindness, and Beauty” has been carried by his followers all over the world. His many temples have become refuge for those seeking consolation and spiritual solace.

Hsing Yun has been labeled by some as a political monk, so it doesn’t seem totally inappropriate to discuss a topic of this sort. In fact, he is outspoken rather than political, but there is only a fine line between the two. His answer to my questions, be it political or civil, temporal or spiritual, has always been philosophical, often with some metaphor. This is to be expected from a man at the senior age of 88.

Following receiving the Hsing Yun Life-time Achievement Award in December last year, I was invited to his grand temple in Kaohsiung to stay for an overnight. I considered that Award, which comes with a rather large sum of money, my grand prize. After all, how often can a person collect alms from a Monk, except when the monk is conducting charitable work. I feel compelled to quickly do more meaningful work in order to pass on that goodwill.

I have decided to make a photographic record of my day with this famous monk. Thus began my morning at his spacious but humble abode/study. Humble in that it has few decorations. Spacious it must be as he started his morning by practicing calligraphy, and some of these require a very long table in order to accommodate his special writing style.

That writing has now become known as the One-brush Script. One-brush meaning only one stroke in completing an entire repertoire of writing, be it of one or multiple characters, connected effortlessly by a continuous single flowing motion of his hand and brush. On this very morning, his attending monks and

nuns watched in awe as the Monk “painted” one sheet of rice paper after another. Wearing a simple black robe, obviously he was in a very happy mood, as they all pointed out to me. The floor was filled with scripted papers he penned this morning, waiting to be dried.

Hsing Yun may speak at times with his hands shaking, but with the brush his hold was strong and with purpose. His eyes had deteriorated due to long illness of diabetes, and considered clinically blind with only 5 to 10% of sight remaining, his attendants told me. It might as well be, since the Monk is said to write from the heart, not by mere eyesight or concentration of the mind.

His calligraphy has helped raised funds for his temple, or extension of over two hundred temples all over the world. “Hard to ask even for one word,” was how others characterize the value of his

CLOCKWISE FROM LEFT:Giant seated Buddha. How Man accompanies Monk Hsing Yun on road toward seated Buddha. Monk, Nuns and layman going for a stroll. Hsing Yun scripting his calligraphy of “Drinking Water, Think of the Source”. Calligraphy of “Flying”.

writings. I was fortunate today to receive several scripts of calligraphy by the Monk. Single-word writing of “Crane”, “Flying” and “Zen”, even the four-letter idiom “Drinking and thinking of the source”, which I intend to grace a future exhibit on our exploration to river sources.

Born in Yangzhou near Nanjing, Hsing Yun was ordained as a monk at the age of twelve and spent his time studying and spreading Buddhism in Taiwan since 1949. Today the Buddhist Order he founded, Fo Guang Shan, has its main temple in Kaohsiung. It is more like a huge Buddhist palace court with ensemble of buildings for various museums, galleries, theaters, and even hotel and auditorium for not only Buddhist events, but even forums for intellectual gathering that discuss serious issues facing the world.

For Chinese New Year, they have put together a large lantern festival which many from nearby and afar come with their entire family to visit. The themes of these lit exhibits are both colorful and meaningful, often relating to some Buddhist teachings which common people can relate to. For the occasion, they have also brought in an acrobatic troupe from Mainland China’s Henan Province to perform for the crowd. I accompanied Hsing Yun to watch a rehearsal for its debut in the evening.

During that long day, we went for stroll in the garden, ate simple as well as sumptuous vegetarian meals, and enjoyed many lively chats. As he has difficulty in walking, due again to his long bout of diabetes, he is largely confined to a wheelchair when moving around. Whenever he chanced upon the public who flocked to his temple grounds, they all crowded up to him and wanted photo ops, which he graciously obliged. “This year is year of the horse, and I was asked to say something,” quipped the Monk. “I have to be very careful today,” he added. “As Ma, meaning Horse, is phonetically and in character the same as President Ma, I have to be double careful,” Hsing Yun reiterated. Others would likely interpret the connotation if he were to use the commonly used idiom – Horse Arrive and Success Will Follow. It would come to indicate his favoring of President Ma.

“Though President Ma is very honest and difficult to be in politics, I avoided the word Ma altogether and instead scripted a word referring to a galloping horse,” said the Hsing Yun. “Jun Cheng Wan Li” that Hsing Yun picked as a festive lucky phrase means “Strong Horse’s Journey with Ten Thousand Miles”. Before long it had become the most popularly used New Year idiom all over Taiwan. While explaining his choice, he also gave me a detailed history of the horse and why it is man’s dedicated friend.

In the evening, I was treated to a mass gathering of over 1,200 nuns and 100 monks. All assembled under one hall, they listened to the New Year sermon by their most senior Monk. It was followed by some singing by the head monks and nuns of the Order.

At long last, I was invited on stage and presented with a certificate of honor as the Resident Photographic Artist of his Buddhist Order. Just four months ago at another ceremony, Hsing Yun bestowed on Mainland writer Mo Yan, the most recent Chinese Nobel Laureate in Literature, as Resident Literary Writer of his Buddhist Order. I felt much honored and very elevating, with over a thousand monks and nuns clapping from below me.

A DAY WITH A MONKHsing Yun musing at 88by Wong How Man

Kaohsiung, Taiwan


Tide coming in, tide going out. Such has been the phenomena of nature since the beginning of time. Time of birth, time of death. Like tide, life goes in cycle, be it with our knowledge or without our knowing. First day of New Year, first day for the Year of the Horse. As the Zodiac goes, it repeats every twelve years.

Here I sat in a remote home by the coast. This morning I rose at 530am, to make sure this special day would be long, and to see the first sunrise. The receding ocean stretched out to a far-off peninsula across the bay, perhaps over one kilometer away. Now it is almost noon, and the ocean comes right up to the garden door front. The long continental shelf allowed for this tidal magical play.

“Winter wind can whip up like a storm,” said Ms Tsai and owner of this special abode by the coast of Penghu, an archipelago of over 100 islands off the west coast of Taiwan. I did not doubt her words as nearby were some huge wind generating turbines. “You have brought good luck as the weather forecast predicted sunny and calm days until after Chinese New Year,” Tsai added.

Indeed I was strongly advised to give up renting a motorcycle and instead took a car because of the unpredictable high wind that frequent these islands.

“You have brought the fair weather from the Buddha,” thus remarked Man Zhou, head nun of the FuGuangShan Buddhist Temple here in Penghu. “At times, we need to walk while huddled together so as not to be blown away, and we have not seen such a fair New Year within memory,” Man Zhou further qualified her statement. So I accepted that I have brought along some finer weather and went into town right after viewing sunrise from my balcony.

Town is Magong, the biggest city of Penghu, some 15 kilometers away.The name was derived from “Ma Gong”, meaning Maju Goddess’ Palace.And the Tian Hau Temple here, also called Maju Temple, is the oldest of all such temples of Taiwan. Record has it to be close to 400 years old, dating from the late Ming Dynasty. To be environmentally friendly, these days worshippers promote offering with just one joss stick, or incense. I too would abide by this new practice.

Now it is almost noon and time to go back to meet the nuns, as they have prepared a special vegetarian meal, a tradition for Chinese New Year.My mother, while living, had observed this tradition since our childhood days. Last meal of the year is a feast. First meal of New Year must be vegetarian, followed by another feast for dinner in the evening. Last night, all

YEAR OF THE HORSE AT OFFSHORE TAIWANby Wong How Man

Penghu, Taiwan

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CLOCKWISE FROM TOP: Coral sea off a cliff in Penghu of Taiwan. Fishing harbor of Penghu. Lighthouse of Penghu. Ancient Maju Goddess temple of Penghu.


restaurants were closed. But I lucked out and was invited by the family I rented a room from to join them for a sumptuous dinner.

That morning, I had gone to port with Ms Tsai to observe fishing boats coming in, delivering newly caught fish to the fish market right up by the pier. Being surrounded by ocean, Penghu is most famous for its fish products. The variety of fish, large and small, was most spectacular. She bought squid, prawn and a Sea Bream fish, all reserved for steaming in the evening. Another fish, a Skipjack tuna, sold at NT150 for a 1.5 kilo, was kept in the refrigerator to be served as sashimi, with remaining parts to be used for soup.

While leaving the market, I stopped and looked at a special vender cutting up small balloon fish called here as “six-banded pricky river pig” (Diodon holocanthus). “There are about 360 spikes on the outside of this fish, one for every day of the year,” said Tsai. “They are difficult to un-spike unless cooked,” added her. The deboned ones were sold on two plates, one with only the skin, the highest price part, and the other the head and body. A third plate was of entire fish with spikes, cheaper without the added service. My landlady bought some skin and promised that they taste excellent. Later that evening during the last meal of the Year, I tasted this special rubbery-textured skin, chilled and dipped in a sauce, and indeed it was tasty.

Out at Niu Yu (Bird Isle) twenty minutes away by boat, school master Mr Cheng told me that their village pioneered the eating of this otherwise useless bony fish. It started just over twenty years ago and was soon picked up by others

spectacular boulder sculpture carved by nature.

All houses were built this way in the old days, as Mr Cheng told me later. “It can take years, or even over a generation, to get enough coral to be put aside as building material,” said Cheng. “Because coral is porous, it is good for dissipating humidity. Inside is warm during the winter and cool during the summer. Unfortunately no one maintains such building structure anymore as everyone prefers something more modern,” Cheng spoke with a tone of regret. In one house, you can even see a small square hole left open next to the door. It was for the family cat to get in and out. Spread all over ancient villages of Penghu islands are many abandoned and dilapidated houses of such style. I quietly told myself that I would return to document and help preserve such interesting architecture.

Connected by a long ocean bridge at the top-end of the big island of Penghu is Xi Yu village. Here is the large fishing port of Qi Kan. Because of the

at Penghu. Not long after, it became a favorite dish even in distant Taipei.

Another favorite product of Niu Yu is seaweed. The type here is harvested only during the winter from rocks affected by tidal changes. When the water is rough, it grows well whereas calm sea is not conducive to its growing. Recently harvested, I could see ladies using their feet to squish over nets full of such seaweed. Afterward they were put inside a washing machine which would spin out the excess water before being dried on the coast. While it is considered a delicacy, I opted to buy some dried squid, assuming that they do not require the foot massage treatment.

Niu Yu has perhaps 150 families, mostly fishermen. Those working outside were returning home for Chinese New Year. The ferry boat rendered free service for locals during these festive days, whereas I paid a meager 50NT as fare. Nearby are all coral reef islands and the water was most clear and pristine on such clear and windless day.

While exploring the back side of the island, ancient village houses and walled courtyards caught my eyes. These were not the usual village houses of rural China or Taiwan. All the walls of the houses and walls surrounding the courtyard were built with coral. As the old cement or plastered wall began to collapse, it exposed a labyrinth of interior coral structure with motifs. This I consider as the most

New Year, most fishing boats were back at port. Some two hundred boats were still at sea when I visited but will soon be home. I stopped at a local seafood restaurant for lunch and the owner told me that Chinese New Year is relatively quiet, with everyone playing cards

and gambling a bit. While the boat owners were enjoying a well-earned rest, the migrant Filipino workers were still busy cleaning or fixing the nets. By the 15th of the First Moon, or Lantern Festival, all lights on these boats would be lit and it would come alive with festive activities.

Nearby is Yuweng Tao lighthouse built by the British during the Qing Dynasty. An exhibit displayed and showed some of the relics and equipment of the past. Rested in the courtyard were three rusted guns, once used to fire off canons toward the ocean as warning sound to passing ships during foggy days when the light could not be seen. Taller than the lighthouse and painted in camouflage is a radar tower, also for warning. Not long ago, invasion by the communist from Mainland China was a bigger threat than the shoals off Taiwan’s coast.

To the east of Penghu is Beiliao village by Kuibishan. Here many visitors, even locals, come to observe how the tidal changes split or merge the ocean due to a particular piece of slightly rising terrain along the coast. As the tide rises, what was just a moment ago dry land gradually became an ocean with waves coming from both directions. Conversely, as the tide goes out, suddenly the ocean would split in the middle and gradually become two separate seas. Walking out to an island as the sea split momentarily reminded one of the Old Testament when Moses split the Red Sea and led the Israelites across. I was lucky to view this special but natural phenomena on the first day of the Year of the Horse. Splitting up may seem sad, but soon to be merged again together in cyclical wholeness is most gratifying. Today I also saw the first sun rise as well as sun set of the Year of the Horse. Sunrise tend to last much longer as it would keep rising, whereas sun setting happens quickly and soon it would be gone. But then in just a matter of hours, I would cherish its brightness and warmth once again as a new day would arrive.

(Postscript – A most telling experience of how relaxed Penghu is. As I returned the rental car to the leasing company near the airport early morning before it opens, I was told to just leave the car outside with the key inserted and doors unlocked. Later my landlady dropped me off at the terminal, assisted me with check-in, before she purchased and sat down for breakfast with me. All this time, the car was left unlocked by the curb. 1/2/2014)

CLOCKWISE FROM CENTER: Fishermen offloading new catch to market at harbor. Tuna fish in market. Sea splitting sequence at low tide. Detail and house built from coral. Balloon fish at market.


JUNGLE PRINCESSby Franziska Weiser

My feet are destroyed. I have been hiking through the river the past four days with no rest, as it has been raining the entire day. The leeches are in full season and seem to have a taste for my blood, as do all the mosquitoes. Is all of this worth it, just to get some images from the cameras? Finally

I reach the remote camera traps, but I still cannot view the images properly until I hike all the way back to Luang Namtha town. This was the last trek of my 15 days of trekking in September, almost all of them rainy, they left me physically destroyed.

But it all seemed worth it when I looked at the images, especially the perfectly captured images of some of the last wild elephants of China and Lao. We even got an image of a small baby elephant taking shade under its mother.

This was just another success for the CERS Lao project. The project was started by current CERS Programme Director Bill Bleisch and former CERS Field Biologist Paul Buzzard, which then started my employment with CERS. Working for over a year in Lao has not always been filled with joy and excitement, but it definitely was a change from laboratory work in Germany. The project goal is to evaluate how ecotourism can support wildlife conservation in the Nam Ha National Protected area (NPA). Over the past year, 44 different camera trap placements have been set up and images gathered. The time they are left in the jungle has slowly grown to over 6 months. Of course there have been setbacks, difficulties and frustrations along the way, with almost 90 days spent trekking in the past year. Some cameras were stolen, others were destroyed from bad

Luang Namtha has become a popular destination for tourists from all over who are interested in trekking to experience the culture of remote minority villages. Many of the treks pass through undisturbed natural rain forest. Though the Nam Ha National Protected Area is managed like a national park and is utilized by many eco-tourism trekking companies, hunting is still legal throughout the park. It is allowed because many local people, especially minority people, still depend on wild meat as a key part of their diet.

The sale of the wildlife, on the other hand, is illegal. Despite this and the fact that the NPA is designed for sustainable subsistence hunting, wildlife sales can still be seen every day at the morning market in LNT town. Though other farm-raised meat is available, wild animals are still sold in alarming numbers. We have compiled a database of morning market wildlife surveys over twelve months of the last year. The results are shocking. Even rare and fully protected animals, like Asian Slow Loris, Black Giant Squirrel, Large Indian Civet, Siamese Fireback Pheasant and Reticulated Python turn up in the market.

CLOCKWISE FROM TOP RIGHT:Wild Asian Elephant. Sambar Deer. Black giant squirrel, grey peacock pheasant. Asian slow loris, indian giant flying squirrel. Asian Golden Cat. Northern Pig Tailed Macaque. Silver Pheasant.

Though all this is illegal, it is difficult for the government to curb the sales without upsetting the local balance. CERS is now planning future work to raise awareness of the wildlife trafficking and its impacts, and to assist in a sustainable hunting plan.

The future in Lao includes working with local villages on a sustainable hunting plan, surveying the wild elephants and continuing wildlife monitoring throughout the park. Overall the government officials, the ecotourism trekking tour agency operators and the tour guides, as well as the local villagers of Lao, have all been very cooperative with CERS. As in many conservation projects it takes time to understand the local culture and how to integrate wildlife protection in the community.

Actually, Luang Namtha is a wonderful place for a trek in the rainforest, at least in the dry season. I thought I should share some key bits of advice accumulated from a year of trekking in Lao:

• Don’t sleep without a mosquito net – it will be a very, very long night;

• Don’t be the first person on the trail - you will get all the spiderwebs in your face;

• Do trust your tour guide – he knows more than you;• Green leeches are very painful compared to the black ones;• Swimming against the current in the rivers is very hard;• Two pairs of shoes are very handy;• Watch what you touch, as the jungle is filled with spiky trees;• Keep your eyes and ears open. Despite the hunting, you might see

some wildlife.

This project was made possible in part by a generous donation from the Loke Wan Tho Foundation. The Foundation was established by the family in memory of Loke Wan Tho (1915–1964), founder of Cathay Organisation in Singapore and Malaysia, and Motion Picture and General Investments Limited (MP&GI) in Hong Kong. He was also a respected ornithologist and wildlife photographer. His beautiful black and white pictures of the wild birds of Asia, taken at time when wildlife photography required extremes of patience and technical skill, are an inspiration to us.

waterproof seals, but over 50,000 images were captured with over 3,000 usable images of animals. These included clear pictures of key species, such as Asian Golden Cat, Northern Pig-Tailed Macaque, Sambar Deer, Lesser Mouse Deer, Asian Bearcat, Hog-nosed Badger, Grey Peacock Pheasant, and many more animals. This helps us to assess the overall health of the forest and diversity of wildlife. We are setting up a website highlighting some of the best CERS camera images captured in Lao.

Besides camera traps and hours spent trekking in the jungle, we also focus on the conservation and appreciation of wildlife. In June, CERS organized a workshop on wildlife identification for tour guides and government officers, assisting them in understanding their great natural resource of wild animals, and the impacts of hunting and logging. Two sessions were held, one in Lao and another in English language.


MAPS AND MYANMARby William Ruzek

My eyes hurt. It isn’t due to the glaring sun or something lodged in my eye, but they are just simply tired. I have been constantly observing and experiencing everything I can while traveling up the Chindwin River in Myanmar aboard the CERS HM Explorer. The days seems to last for

weeks and I know I am very behind in my sleep. Nights are cool and filled with merriment while the days are filled with work and overall observations. I observe birds and geographic landmarks and just enjoy watching the landscapes unfold around every turn. Perhaps I should even stop writing this article and let my eyes rest, but the temptation is too great. A blink of the eyes and they can miss something spectacular, and a quick nap can mean a lost chance to see a beautiful vista. I would hate to get bad eyes, but I cannot seem to stop looking and staring at the world around me. Myanmar has been a spectacular place and seems to only be getting better.

We started in Mandalay, and a quick trip up the Irrawaddy allowed for spectacular views of the Irrawaddy Dolphin and various fishing villages. A bus and boat ride away and we were at Inle Lake, famous in a variety of historical journals and travels. It was magical, with seemingly huge communities floating on tall stilts above the water and floating gardens like barges soaking up the midday sun and water below, growing an enormous amount of vegetables. Now we are back on the HMS Explorer and heading up the Chindwin, each day getting more remote and more adventurous. The concrete jungles are left behind and replaced with real ones, the iconic blue metal roofs exchanged for

newest technology, maps can not show the feel of a landscape, a culture, or the experiences of travel and exploration. Google Maps can show you the snapshot of a region from space, but that does not allow you to experience the terrain and the feel of the trip for yourself.

This trip to Myanmar has revealed even more about understanding maps to me, which is a surprise, as I have been looking at maps and satellite images since the start of my undergraduate degree at Ohio Wesleyan University and through my graduate work at Florida State University. Until now, I have always been under the impression that newer maps are better in all aspects; better resolution, turn-by-turn directions and even real-time traffic conditions.

Surprisingly, this trip changed my understanding and views. In the end, I primarily used old 1910 maps of the Chindwin, and not the “up to date” Google imagery or Open Street Maps (OSM). I originally loaded the older maps on my tablet expecting to see the “drastic” differences between maps, observing how the landscapes have changed and how modern mapping is more accurate. However, the exact opposite was true! After a few days I only used the older British Military maps, not even consulting the newest maps of the region. The reasons were clear; the older maps had more detail than anything available from Google, Yahoo, MapQuest or OSM. Though perhaps the roads weren’t accurate or the elevations were not defined to the exact meter height, the key difference was in place names.

What appeared on Google as a large blank area, was actually populated with a variety of small villages. Some only had a few buildings. These didn’t even get a dot, name, or mention on the modern maps, while on the British Maps, they were clearly marked, named and identified. After consulting with the boat captain and CERS’s researcher Su Hlaing Myit, the names were exactly the same as those used in 1910. At each village where we stopped, I had a place name. Although perhaps spelled differently by the British than today’s English transliteration, it was still a name associated with a place. It was amazing that a map from 1910, which was actually surveyed in 1908-1909, had the most accurate maps of the region. We could mention a town shown on the 1910 map, and it was quickly recognized by the crew and locals, perhaps with a slightly different accent or syllabic emphasis - amazing for a map made over 100 years ago.

Though high resolution imagery exists for this region, it does not have place names or show where the villages are located deep within the jungle or far up the Chindwin River, as was our case during this expedition. Though one discrepancy was found, it was quickly fixed, as local villagers mentioned the town had in fact just moved slightly up the river due to flooding, with the same name, just a slightly different location. Despite this one error, the 1910 maps provided a much needed orientation to understanding the region. We could now know the location of places mentioned in conversations and interviews.

These old maps were created at a scale of 1:63,360 or 1 inch to 1 mile, a unique scale, as many other maps are 1:100,000 or 1:250,000. Originally they were created for the colonial government of Burma but under the directions of the Survey General in India (as Burma was lumped under British India until 1937). These maps have been used for over a century and still provide a more accurate picture. The Survey General of India, Colonel Francis Bacon Longe (1904 - 1911), was in charge at that time and oversaw the mapping of Burma. Besides Burma, the Survey General of India was renowned for ground-breaking mapping. The mapping of India and the Great Trigonometrical Survey of India, started in 1802, was an amazing feat, involving surveying-greats such as William Lambton and later Sir. George Everest. They developed the first accurate survey of an arc of longitude and measurement of the geodesic anomaly (variations in the earths gravity and the global ellipsoid). If the tallest mountain on earth is named after one of these great surveyors, one shouldn’t be surprised that the same organization created highly accurate maps of Burma.

Though I am reveling and praising the accuracy of the 1910 maps, I understand that it is only a matter of time, before modern maps “catch up.” Technology and open source data collection will quickly fill in the errors and place names, and create a new map. As is already evident in more developed areas of Myanmar, Google Maps and OSM have replaced dated maps and continue to gain popularity and accuracy around the world. I guess I cannot complain too much, as modern maps take more time in front of a computer than field measurements. I will not have to deal with multi-year long expeditions, teams of several hundred coolies running survey chains across the landscapes, or a gauntlet of deadly diseases and dangers. I can create more accurate maps from my computer in a few hours, compared to months or years previously spent in the field.

Despite the safety and ease of map-making work today, I cannot help but miss the days of true mapping and exploration; days when the boundaries between countries were not even mapped or defined, or your location could only be determined by the stars. Today a quick few seconds on my phone or tablet will accurately tell me where I am within a meter or two. But despite all the technological advancements, nothing can compare to the experience of exploring a new place.

thatched bamboo houses and large barges changed for bamboo rafts. It seems that I have traveled back in time, … and this is only day two!

I have been working with CERS since May, creating a variety of maps and databases. I have worked with CERS before, first as an intern in 2007, when I joined the Salween Expedition in 2011, and now working as the Geographer/Cartographer. It has been a fascination ever since I learned of my father’s involvement with CERS when I was a young boy. My father, Martin Ruzek, has been associated with CERS since 1985 when he was first consulted for Shuttle Imagery used in defining the source of the Yangtze. He then joined CERS on multiple trips, to the sources of the Yellow River, Mekong, and the Yangtze (2005).

In 2011, the reins were passed to me, a recent graduate in Geography, heading to get my M.Sc. in Geography, a perfect degree for an explorer. Since May, I have expanded the CERS map collection, making new updated maps of a variety of projects sites, wildlife habitats, and expeditions, and managing an online database of camera trap images. Many of these can be seen in the new 1939 Shek-O House exhibit in Hong Kong. I am finally doing what a cartographer/geographer/explorer is meant to do; though maps and exploration today are not what they were centuries ago.

Long gone are the days when maps were marked with large “uncharted” or mythical creatures that lurked on the corners of the unknown. Maps can now show you every corner of the globe, sometimes in ultra high resolution. Satellites can now capture more data each day than I could in my entire life on the ground. Technology seems to have squashed any real exploration or discovery. Despite all the

CLOCKWISE FROM LEFT:Comparison of British Military Map of Homalin (1910) and Google Map of Homalin (2014). Mythical creatures “lurking” in the unknown areas Olaus Magnus’s Carta Marina 1539. Mythical creatures were common in many early maps, warning sailors of the dangerous unknown waters.


CLOCKWISE FROM CENTER:Farewell party at Masein Village along Chindwin River. Excursion with Zodiac inflatable. Chef on HM Explorer. Meal time on upper deck. HM Explorer mooring. Dog-led parade at Masein. Beauty of Masein. Street-side haircut. Storm approaching at Chindwin River.

“Slow down, slow down!” So Dr Luk, my doctor, prescribed after my first, and hopefully last, bout of Transient Global Amnesia, a rather strange and usually one-off loss of short term memory. There seemed no better way to slow down than getting on a slow boat, with no phone and no internet, to cruise up the Chindwin River of northern

Myanmar. Though this trip was not promising for achieving Dr Luk’s other advice for me to lose three kilos. Each day we were served fresh food bought at a nearby morning market, with plenty of seasonal fruits during breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“This is usually the highest water season on the river, but somehow this year we are not flooded,” said Ma Ninn Wai Soe who was tending a shop by the bank of the small town of Mauk Ka Taw. Like many small village homes we chanced upon, education is most important for the Burmese as evidenced by

the graduation photos hung proudly by parents on the walls of many homes. Ninn Wai Soe, despite tending to her small family shop by the Chindwin River, has a degree in Economics from Monywa University. Wai Phyoe Thant, the quiet first mate on our boat has a degree in Geography. At that moment our boat, the HM Explorer, was moored more than three meters below on the bank of the Chindwin, and watermarks on Ninn Wai Soe’s house bore witness that flood water could go upward another meter or so above current ground level. Such annual fluctuation of the river was routine. When the water comes, residents simply abandon the ground floor and move upstairs, maybe for a couple of weeks, until the water recedes.

I have a rather international team on our boat during this trip. Bill, our Chief Scientist, is from the US, and so is Will, our Geographer/Cartographer. Franzi, our Field Biologist with a background in Molecular Biology, is from Germany. Caspar, a student of Animal Science, is from Denmark. Su Hlaing, Field Biologist with emphasis on fish, is Burmese. Berry, Ryan and I are from Hong Kong. Together with a crew of five, four service staff, boat manager Ko Tin Min, and Min Min the interpreter, we are a group of 19 in total.

As my hair had been growing long, I had wanted to have a haircut, locally by a village barber. The opportunity came when we visited the morning

ON A SLOW BOAT UP MYANMARby Wong How ManHomalin, Myanmar

market at Mingin, a short walk from the bank of the Chindwin River. There was a one-seat shop with one young barber, a rather stylish fellow with part of his hair dyed. Next door has a beauty parlor with two young ladies, but they refused to cut a man’s hair. I settled into the wooden barber seat, sitting cross-legged like the guy who had his hair cut just before me. Wearing my longyi, the skirt-like Burmese sarong, and flip flops under my feet, I too looked quite a local.

“Make sure he takes out the locks of white hair on both sides above my ears,” I asked Min Min to translate for my barber. Two mirrors, one facing me and the other on the back side set at an angle, allowed me to view in real time the barber’s repertoire while he danced around my head. Twenty minutes later, I looked a bit younger and refreshed. The rest of my party enjoyed the last act the best, when I stiffened my entire body against the sharp, or worse, not-so-sharp razor knife shaving my face and neck. The entire ordeal cost me 1000 Kyat, or a meager US One Dollar. A real local may have paid half that.

At a dangerous bend of the river where pagodas lined both banks, we stopped by Masein, a most beautiful and clean village. Clean in that the streets were all nicely swept, and little trash was visible, unlike many riverside villages where the banks became dump sites. Beautiful in that the ladies were all very pretty. I noted the location on my iPad Galileo map so I could return in the future.

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Will our geographer tried two local whiskeys, Grand Royal and High Class, the latter being a new contender for a rather closed market in Myanmar. Both cost 1500 Kyat, or Two US Dollars, a bottle. Will found the new whiskey far more superior, whereas the rest of us preferred the Havana Club rum that I brought along. During this time, Bill and his team were busy preparing and examining many fish specimens, be they caught by Ryan, our young fisherman, with hook and line, with cast net, in our nets set next to the boat during night anchor, or purchased in the morning market. Before long, our bar on the upper deck was lined not only with local and foreign liquor, but also with bottles of alcohol of a different kind. Bill used 70% alcohol in which to store all his fish specimens!

Occasionally, our attention was drawn to interesting looking insects, like a huge dung beetle with a rhinoceros horn. A green mantis took up residence in our bouquet of flowers at the bow of the boat. Each morning, I would inspect the stern where two lights were kept lit throughout the night. Many colorful moths would stay there until we pulled anchor again and set sail. On an outing, I caught three shiny blue beetles. When they took flight, the wings were bluish as well. After taking some pictures, they were released and one settled on my shoulder for quite a while. On the Chindwin at night, the fireflies were most bright, perhaps due to the darkness surrounding us. And they flew faster than those at our Hainan and Taiwan sites.

There was one light-hearted episode when we found something else unusual on my plate. “Everyone look, this little worm, partly transparent, could be a

new species,” I called out. “It looks like some kind of a maggot,” snapped Ryan, our young fish-maniac. “How would you like a new species named after you, with the italics in Latin incorporating “Ryan”, and it is a new kind of maggot!” I exclaimed. Soon Bill our expert cut in, “Come on now, it is just a piece of the pomelo on your plate.”

Our corps of biologists would train their binoculars on any moving objects along the banks. At one point, they saw a male Green Peafowl or peacock as I knew them. There were a few encounters with Woolly-necked Storks, including one flock having over two dozen birds. Among them, strangely, was one single juvenile Painted Stork. Bill thought it might be a strayed bird. On a previous trip, I had also seen an Asian Openbill Stork in the region, so the Chindwin seemed to be regular habitat for storks of all kinds. Egrets were too plentiful to be of interest to us anymore.

In such a remote location, I saw how happy and simple a life the villagers led. I came to understand the notion that, in poor countries, people do not realize they are poor. Whereas in highly developed countries, if you are poor, you know it. I reminded my staff, both foreign and local, that to maintain our standing as a 1st class organization, we must do 1st class work, whether we are in advanced or developing countries. Such exploration journeys were for us to accumulate knowledge, such that in time we can set up a baseline as reference for future studies.

At one point, we almost lost all the baseline data we had collected. Bill, in order to provide a better background for his photo of some fish specimens, put a folder against a tank of his fish. Within moments, the folder, with all the team’s fish measurement data, flew off into the river. Alarm was called and the Captain quickly turned our boat around. We found the floating plastic folder just as another riverboat plowed past it. Fortunately it missed the folder by less than a meter, and we were able to fish it out of the water. It took a long while to blow dry its contents, with some sheets already soaking wet.

Our boat, HM Explorer, is basically a supercharged local ferryboat of 106 foot length, with a shallow three-foot draught, perfect for operating in rivers

with shifting sandbars below. However, our superstructure looked quite fancy, enough so to turn heads along our way. Those with a mobile phone often took pictures of us as if ours was a mega yacht. Two Zodiac inflatables and a colorful kayak on the upper deck perhaps added to the fascination. I kept many magazines about super yachts on board so my staff would feel more humble.

Our boat cruised up river slowly at 7 knots, or about 13 Km per hour, against the fast running Chindwin during rainy season. Going downriver, it sailed at a respectable 15 knots, upward of 27 Km per hour. I noticed that some riverboats would go downstream just the way cars go downhill in some poor countries. They would idle the engine and intermittently accelerate, so as to save fuel. Like our own progress upriver, time remained slow in the villages. In fact, time was not measured in hours, days, weeks, or months, but in seasons. And as far as seasons were concerned, there were only two, rainy or dry. People tend to lead their lives according to those two extremes. By far the slowest boats on the river were the bamboo rafts, usually being floated down using the natural rainy season currents. If people were impressed by Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn, there were many Huck Finn look-alikes on the Chindwin.

We finally got the opportunity to make geographic history as we headed back downriver. On the evening of August 21, our boat reached Latitude 23.5

degrees. This was the line marking the Tropic of Cancer. During the Summer Solstice, the sun would be directly overhead above this line. The line also defines the division of tropical zone from subtropical. We stopped our boat, chose a noticeable tree on each bank, and painted the trees’ trunks white. This was for future identification so all boats passing would know that they are crossing the Tropic of Cancer. In time, I want to erect two pagodas, one on each bank of the river.

I allowed Will Ruzek, our young staff geographer, to have the first opportunity to spray-paint a tree. This would be his first-ever significant contribution to the career of his choice. From a distance, I suddenly saw Will go into a frenzied dance, jumping and shaking. I thought to myself that perhaps he was carrying some sort of a ritual dance from his native Wisconsin, perhaps something that Native Americans perform during important rites. Getting closer, I soon found out that not only was the sun directly overhead of this tree, but there were also a colony of ants above head, raining down on Will. They had covered his body and penetrated inside his clothes, and were biting. No wonder his sudden breakout into a dance! Though the boat may seem slow, it was soon time to leave, after over two weeks on the Chindwin. On the upper reaches we went as far as Homalin and visited a nearby elephant camp. My plan was to return later this year and start from where I left off. As my staff and interns got off the boat, I spent a quiet day with Bill and Berry, together with the crew and boat staff, and passed my 65th birthday. As my father had also just passed his 95th birthday and remained highly active, it seemed to be an indication that I may have another 30 slow years ahead.

CLOCKWISE FROM LEFT:Two types of liquor on HM Explorer. Bill, Su and Ryan dissecting river fish. Four types of insect along river. How Man painting Tropic of Cancer marking. Will performing ant-rain dance. Woolly-necked Stork and Painted Stork.


A CHINDWIN RIVER ODYSSEYby William Bleisch, PhD aboard the HM Explorer on the Chindwin River

The Chindwin River flows by the boat, brown and impatient, a hot humidity rising from the surface. The hammering and clanging remind everyone that we are going to be underway tomorrow, heading upriver from our berth in Monywa towards Kalewa and beyond, to parts that we have not yet visited.

Two ancient volcanoes, weathered to rounded hills, appear across the river above the trees lining the west bank. Both have been defaced by recent excavation, road work and mining. Behind me, the muddy banks are lined with bits of plastic, wrappers and bags filled with kitchen garbage and household refuse. An entire nation throws its garbage into its streams and rivers. A generation ago, it would hardly have mattered, as the waste would have comprised banana leaves, bamboo and occasional shreds of worn leather; little of the refuse would have lasted a week in the river. Now Monywa is a busy town, poised to become a major river city, and the persistent plastic waste is a rapidly growing problem.

The girls disembarking from the simple cross-river ferry this morning look elegant in their long lungyi, each a different colour, gracefully climbing the steep bank carrying their lunches in neat tiffin sets. Perhaps they are on their way to new factory jobs, displaced from their farmland by the giant new Letpadaung copper mine across the river. I find myself wondering how many

line and a worm. He catches a small Mystus catfish, and then two larger catfish, each with very long whiskers. The deep hole below the roots of a giant tamarind tree must be a favorite spot for these catfish.

As we push upriver on the Chindwin, the forest along the banks steadily improves. In the evening on the upper deck, I hear a huge insect fly smack into the plastic awning. It must have been homing in on the light above the deck. It is a giant water bug, a Lethocerus, according to Hong Kong University Professor David Dudgeon’s excellent book on tropical streams. Voracious predators, these bugs will attack almost any aquatic animal, even a tadpole or a fish. These huge bugs are, in turn, the prey of humans, who serve them boiled in salt water or fried in oil. Professor Dudgeon’s book also tells me that the male Lethocerus will tend the eggs laid by a female above water level on emergent vegetation. If later another female encounters the brooding male, she will destroy his egg mass and take over his services as mate and babysitter.

The next day, we travel up a tributary to visit an elephant camp. It is a beautiful spot, but there are no elephants there; they are already in the forest working. The oozies in the camp are reluctant to answer any questions. Perhaps they are nervous because they think we are from the government, here to enforce the ban on logging or to collect taxes. After examining the chains, pack saddles and palm leaf mats that make up elephant tack, we start up the trail towards a promised waterfall. The trail follows the stream up, skirting the bank, then climbing up the slope in great elephant-sized giant steps, then down to the bank again. The mud is treacherous when smeared on the rocks, and several of us slip on the ice-like surface of rocks covered with a thin green slime of diatoms. Finally, the trails ends at the waterfall, which is actually a long cascade where the water tumbles about 20 meters down a rocky ramp. We admire the view, take photographs and then start back, but we promise ourselves that we will return the next morning before the elephants begin their work.

The next morning, sure enough, we find one male elephant still in the camp. He is 30 years old with a small set of tusks. After the elephant poses cooperatively for photographs, I show CERS intern Ryan Ma where to fish in the clearer waters of a small tributary stream. Ryan is a young man fascinated with fish. When he first told me this, I asked him what he liked about fish; raising them, watching them, catching them, or eating them. “Everything!” he answered, and he has proven it on this trip. Now he brings the cast net that we bought at Nam Pan market on Inle Lake. Berry was angry with me because it cost 35,000 kyat, nearly $40 US, but I think it is worth

CLOCKWISE FROM LEFT:Four species of frog found singing in one marsh. Ornamental fish from small tributaries of the Chindwin River. A predatory Giant Water Bug.

years it will be before these girls trade their longyi for leggings and shorts, just as the girls in Yangon have already done.

The next day finds us underway, heading upstream. The boat shudders as it skims over the brown water. Later, the low afternoon sun gives no quarter on the boat deck, and there is no escape from the heat. The only relief comes from the knowledge that soon the sun will be down below the high banks and the day will be over. The banks slide by, gliding from perception to memory to forgotten in one smooth flow. A pre-fab row-house, perhaps a school, sits behind boats moored on the bank below. One is sleek and low and white, the others, older with faded paint. The largest boat has a curve to its roof and lentils that mirrors the practical curves of its deck.

In the evening, we dock at another town and the first mate, always busy, uses his time to fish using a bare

it. It is hand-made, and weighted with a dozen lead bars. Ryan has already learned how to cast from our boat hands, and has practiced ever day until he can make perfect casts most of the time. It is a pleasure to watch; the net gathered up in his hands and partially perched on the crook of his elbow, then gracefully fanning out to its full extent, the lead weights pulling the net apart centrifugally before they hit the water and drag the net quickly to the bottom before the fish below can escape. Even though it takes some skill to wield a cast net, it hardly seems sporting in a small, clear pool. The fish, clearly visible from above, are an easy target for the net. Ryan’s first cast nets a half a dozen silver fish, while several smaller ones struggle through the mesh of the nets and flip back into the water. We take back 5 fish to watch and identify. They are beautiful danios, just as I had hoped. One is larger, with silver sides highlighted by a dozen blue-black vertical bars extending from the top of the back to the midline. It is Barilus barnoides according to the big book of Freshwater Fishes of the Indian Region, by K.C. Jayaram. The other three fish I recognize at once. They are a perfect match with a picture sent to me by our friend Tin Win from Yangon, an expert on the fish of Myanmar. They are Devario aequipinnatus, resplendent with turquoise bars and yellow scribbling along the midline, the “Giant Danio,” which can reach a whopping 100 mm – large for a danio, but still just right for a fish fancier’s aquarium. Indeed, this species is sold worldwide as an aquarium fish. In addition to the Giant Danio, Myanmar is also the home of Danionella translucida, the smallest danio, which is also believed to be the world’s smallest freshwater fish. Individuals can become fertile at only 10 mm length, and the longest specimen known only has a length of 12 mm.

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We return downstream to the village and the HM Explorer on the main river. On the way, we watch as local men float teak logs down the river using yellow plastic jugs as pontoons. Surprisingly, this is a Shan community, not Burman. The villagers tell us that nearby there are monkeys, but tiger and leopard are rare here, and there are small turtles, but no crocodiles. The fishing is poor now. Local people make a living from logging the tropical rainforest that still rises above the banks of the tributary.

At Yuwa Village at the confluence of the Yu River and the Chindwin, villagers report that there are still monkeys, gibbons, wild elephants, bears and even tigers in the forest. Travelling upstream on the Yuwa in small boats the next morning, we see Red-vented Bulbuls, Black-hooded Orioles, Pied Hornbills, and a large flock of Oriental Turtle

TOP TO BOTTOM:CERS researcher Su Hlaing and intern Ryan Ma measure a specimen. Logging the rainforest. Intern Caspar Jebsen explores a cascade. Wooly-necked Stork in a cattle pasture. A working elephant.

I’m late getting out on the trail after lunch, but travel quickly at the beginning. I have hiked this trail before, and I know it will be hot in the scrubby jungle and open areas that separate the patches of trees, which are all that remain of a once vast forest that covered this entire region. On the road just above Hong Shui Village, a hawk

flies off from the side of the road carrying something heavy. It is a freshly killed young chicken. The hawk flies up the road, the legs of the chicken dangling at a weird angle. The hawk, it is a Besra sparrowhawk, cannot get aloft. It lands and rests, then, flies again as I approach with my camera, but again it cannot get lift. Finally, it abandons the dead chick by the side of the road and waits nearby for me to pass.

A good omen. I continue quickly, despite the overnight pack that I am carrying, with tarp, mosquito net, a light sleeping sack, water and food for dinner and breakfast. It is not a heavy load, perhaps 15 kilograms, but in the heat it feels heavier. I hike up the irrigation canal beside the clear flowing stream. It looks inviting, crystal clear and beckoning me to wade in, but I push on, crossing the stream again and again as the trail winds back and forth to avoid cliffs and steep banks on one side or the other. By 16:30 I have passed first one, then a second rock shelter, both showing

MIRACLE FRUITby William Bleisch, PhD CERS Hong Shui Li Minority Cultural Village

signs of recent habitation. When I first turned off on the trail, I passed two old women and an old mute man on their way into the forest– perhaps it is their old camp I see here. They may have come to collect jungle fruits and medicinal plants. Li people still come from the villages into the forest to set traps for small animals. And they come to look for the famous, rare and very valuable hualimu fragrant rosewood, Dalbergia odorifera. With a price of 20,000 RMB paid for one small tree, it is no wonder that few if any of these precious trees remain in the forests now, even inside well-protected national nature reserves. A few young transplanted trees can still be found tended and protected in villages, as at our Hong Shui Li Cultural Village.

The second rock shelter is a spacious overhang facing the stream just below a cataract falls. I will stay here tonight. I park my pack and

MAIN: A Hainan fig tree demonstrates ‘cauliflory’ - its large fruits hanging directly from the trunk.

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Doves. A startled Green-necked Peacock flies right across the river directly in front of our boats. The presence of this large threatened bird is a good sign. In surveys in tropical China and Lao, I realized that it is often the first species to succumb to hunters and disappear. It is precariously close to extinction, unlike its deep blue domesticated relative from India, which has been introduced all over the world.

Elsewhere we see a flock of enormous Wooly-necked Storks, and one poor juvenile Painted Stork, sharing a pasture on an island with a herd of domestic cows. The birds are surprisingly tame. A walk into the wet meadows beside the bank that evening reveals a world of life, with four species of frogs, each calling its own distinctive croak, as well as freshwater crabs and even a snake out looking for a meal.

We go back to the HM Explorer and head downstream, docking again on the banks of the Chindwin. We wake the next morning to a raining sky the colour of a grey flannel suit. The rain during the night seems to have awakened the urges of thousands of insects. Heaps of tiny bodies of flying ants lie under the deck lights, and small black beetles pepper the outsides of the windows, punctuated by little green leaf hoppers. While others complain about the buggy veneer all over the deck furniture, I marvel at the abundance of insect life. Overuse of pesticides must not have reached this stretch of the river yet. But other changes have.

The floats of a fisherman’s net twist in the current of the river. Su Hlaing Myint asks the fishermen what animals are there in the forest here; crocodile, turtle, otter? “Only bamboo,” they answer. The fishing is also not very good here. Perhaps it is because of all the silt being washed down after logging. Or perhaps it is the poisons released from the mines upstream, including mercury, used to amalgamate gold dust in the muddy slurries churned up by the miners.

As we glide downstream back towards Monywa, I find myself wrestling again and again with a question that has been bothering me for some time now; What will all of the efforts to develop this country mean for its natural heritage? Will development be possible if the natural environment is destroyed?

We return to the dock at Monywa. As I relax on deck and write, multi-coloured fruits sit on the table in front of me in a lacquer bowl; papaya, mango, pineapple, apples, limes and a thick-skinned pomelo – all of them grown in Myanmar. The fragrance wafts past, stirred by the breeze from the open window. Then the wind changes direction and the odor of garbage and diesel exhaust overpowers the faint fruity scent.

Who can know the future? The next few years will decide whether Myanmar will make the same mistakes that other countries have made as they developed, thus squandering its natural heritage. Or will it husband its resources, protect its treasures, and thrive?


CLOCKWISE FROM LEFT:Two views of a Besra hawk that caught a chicken. Traditional Li weaving with a back-strap loom. Hongshui waterfall in the dry season. The yougan miracle fruit – tart and bitter, then sweet.

continue on. I climb up over the falls and then scramble up onto the trail as picks up again on the opposite bank and climbs the dry ridge above the left bank of the stream. The trail then descends back down to the stream and over huge boulders worn smooth by the power of the water. I leap from rock to rock to cross the stream again, the tenth time so far since I started. On the opposite bank, I pass a fig tree whose trunk is covered with large red fruit, as big as oranges. They hang from the trunk itself, perfect for heavy fruit bats to dine upon in the evenings. Continuing up the stream, I discover a third streamside camp, this one with cooking pots laid out on the rocks under a tarp. There is a big pile of the shells of longgan-like Calamus fruit next to the fresh campfire. No one is there; perhaps they were frightened off, or are still in the forest looking for any last precious hualimu tree. As the light begins to fade, I head back and return to my pack and my own temporary home for the night under the overhanging rock.

As I drift off to sleep, I think of the two village women who were kind enough to show me their weaving. One of the women working on construction in our Li Cultural Village is a master weaver. I had asked Xiao Han if I could watch the weaving, and she had invited me to her house and called her friend over. They had taken out their looms and mats, sat down on the porch, and started weaving. Xiao Han is working on a tapestry with intricate “secret” patterns of frogs in the central panel, painstakingly constructed thread by thread. She told me it would take 3 years to complete the piece. This kind of traditional weaving is extremely expensive right now, sought after by collectors, but she will not sell it. She wants to give it to one of her children. Her friend was weaving a simpler but no less colourful piece to wear as a head covering. Xiao Han had advised me that it would not be possible to teach our international students how to weave, and

having watched her at the loom, I now believe it. Just setting up the looms would require hours, and the patterns must all be learned by memory. But she reassured me that young girls in the village are still learning.

While I photographed and made short videos, grandma woke from her nap and came out from the back room, stooped over at almost a 90 degree angle. She is too old to weave now, since she can no longer see the threads. When she noticed me watching the weaving, she got very excited. She went back inside to bring out her elaborate old skirt and waistcoat with woven panels. These looked to be quite old, and may have been tinted with natural dyes that are no longer used. She was quite merry about it, laughing and even dancing as she showed me. It was a very special moment. All the while, jet fighters were buzzing overhead, perhaps on their way to patrol the southern border. They are a reminder of the modern world and the reasons why rubber plantations are replacing the forest of frogs and wildlife.

I am awake and up at about 3:30 a.m. in my rock shelter. In Hainan, it is already so warm in March that a light sleeping sack was completely adequate. But black flies did make their way through the mosquito netting. By 4:00 AM I am climbing up the ridge top in the dark with a headlamp. I sit and wait for the dawn, listening for the sounds of the morning. I know that there are no gibbons here, previous surveys have searched this area and heard none. Still, there is that slim chance. Hunted gibbons and solitary individuals may only rarely sing. Perhaps one or two has held on somehow in these small patches of forest lining the stream, or high up on the ridge top where a fringe of forest bounds the north face of the escarpment. It is windy and I strain to hear distant sounds over the noise of the rustling foliage nearby. My mind imagines the high thin sound of a male gibbon and the crescendo of bubbling calls from his mate as they duet together in the typical ‘great call’ of the species. I have often heard calls like these in Yunnan’s Ailaoshan, where the related Western Black-crested Gibbon still occurs in significant numbers. Once, several years ago now, I heard the Hainan Gibbon in Bawangling Nature Reserve, and even saw and photographed them calling. I hear no gibbons this morning, just as expected. But researchers have found that gibbons rarely call on windy mornings. I can leave with still a faint bit of hope and a reason to return here.

I had begun this exploration immediately after returning from an International Conservation Planning Workshop for the Hainan Gibbon, held at a resort in Bo’Ao. Organized by the Zoological Society of London, the Chinese Primate Specialist Group of IUCN and the Bawangling National Nature Reserve, it was a chance to take stock of the hopes for a species in which I have long had an interest. It is a species that must once have numbered in the thousands of individuals, living at one time throughout the forests of Hainan. The current best estimate for the global population is 25 individuals, all confined to one ridge in one nature reserve. Despite extensive searches, no other sightings have been confirmed. Debate at the conference was sometimes heated: What is the carrying capacity of the remaining habitat for the expanding gibbon population? Should more land be commandeered from the local people to add a buffer zone around the remaining gibbons? If the population starts to fall instead of continuing to grow, how low should it be allowed to drop before emergency measures are put in place and the remaining animals are rounded up from the forest and put into a captive breeding facility?

Twenty seven years ago, when I first came to China, hosted by CERS in one of its first projects, I came to Bawangling to seek the Hainan Gibbon. I wrote then that the situation was hopeless, “unless things change.” Not enough did change in the 20 years followed, and the situation became even more desperate for this species. But no species is extinct until the last individual is gone. It will take careful protection and a good bit of dumb luck for China to save the Hainan Gibbon, but effective action finally has been taken. Bawangling National Nature Reserve is now

well protected. Guns have been confiscated and hunting has been stopped. The area of protected habitat has been expanded to connect all the way in an arc to the southeast and south along the ridges, to Jiaxi Nature Reserve south of Hong Shui Village. This is all just what I and others, had recommended years ago. And, serendipitously, now I find] that our little CERS Li Cultural Village project site is strategically located in the middle of one of the most important protected area complexes in south China. Perhaps we can help build support for gibbon protection and forest regeneration.

Despite the growing heat, I continue up the trail towards the rim of the valley where I can see a larger patch of remaining forest. The growth in this part of the forest is short and scrubby, still growing back from past logging and fires. I have grown to appreciate hiking in secondary forest, however. Sometimes it is even more inspiring than a hike through the cathedral –like old-growth forests that have become so rare the world over. In old-growth forest, I always feel the tension of knowing that these beautiful, quiet places are so vulnerable to destruction. How will they be impacted by collecting, poaching, climate change? How long will they be protected from profiteers and their puppets, the kleptocrats who sell off public resources for their own gain? A degraded, damaged secondary forest, on the other hand, resembles an economy recovering after a crash – everything that remains seems to be growing, recovering, healing. There is a sense of excitement and hope for the future.

The trail traverses the ridge through a field for treacherous razor grass. It reaches a stream, lined by moist forest of old trees. I wash off the dust and have a drink, then continue on. A dark hawk with a flash of white on the head flies through the mid-story like a bat, careening around and directly into a mixed flock of small birds. I hear but do not see, as the small birds all begin alarm calls at once. After a few minutes, the forest is back to normal, filled with the calls of bulbuls, barbets, warblers, laughing thrushes and mynahs.

As I descend the trail, the heat of mid-day saps my strength. I must soak my head in the stream every half hour or so just to keep from over-heating. On the dry ridge, I find some fruits on the forest floor beneath a small tree growing from the baked clay soil. They are the large berries known locally as yougan, with translucent greenish skin and a crisp flesh like an apple’s, but tart and a bit

bitter, with only a hint of sweetness. But chewing the fruit pulp and rattling the remaining pit around against my teeth somehow quenches my thirst as I hike under the hot sun. And when I take a swig of the precious remaining water, a wonderful sweet after-taste explodes in my mouth and lasts long after. For this modest looking green berry is a “miracle fruit,” containing a chemical that mimics sugar’s sweetness without providing the calories. Its impact on the taste buds is many times more potent than sugar’s. Presumably the plant gains some evolutionary advantage by this clever sleight of hand, for it does not need to pack the fruits full of precious carbohydrates, but can still attract seed dispersing fruit eaters like myself.

My visit to Hong Shui Village is also bitter then sweet, just like the yougan fruit. That sadness that comes with seeing the destruction of the forests and the twilight of the Li culture is followed, with time, by a sweet feeling of hope. I imagine the trees returning to the old abandoned fields and the scrublands growing back into forests. I see the Li people, old and young, once again proud of their culture and striving, in some small ways, to preserve the best of it. It may be only a deceptive promise, like the sweetness of the yougan, but it is a precious feeling nonetheless.


C E R S I N T H E F I E L D

CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT:Experts and students over electro-microscope. Ryan on HM Explorer deck. Bill the pirate. Bill lecturing to students and staff. Team at remote Indian border with Myanmar. Yung Yau students exploring Irrawaddy. Interns and CERS scientists on Chindwin River.

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LEFT TO RIGHT:Dr Charles Elachi with How Man at JPL Exhibit Hall. Yung Yau students and other interns on HM Explorer. Qijala with How Man in Lhasa.

TOP TO BOTTOM:How Man with photography students in Havana Cuba. Lecturing at Harvard University. Bill Bleisch, How Man and other dignitaries attending lecture at Singapore University of Technology and Design.

n CERS conducted our regular summer Student Intern Program for 2014. This year, students went on field expeditions in both Yunnan and Hainan.

n A second summer program for CERS interns went to Myanmar and visited several CERS projects as well as assisting in research on HM Explorer, the CERS Research and Exploration Vessel. This included five students of Yung Yau College specializing in animation filmmaking, led by teacher Owen Chan.

n How Man paid a visit to Captain Moon Chin in the San Francisco area. Moon is a long-time friend of CERS, now 101 years old.

n Peter Goutiere, former pilot for CNAC on the HUMP, took to the sky in the captain seat at age 100, flying a C-47 (cargo version of the DC-3), the same plane he once delivered from factory to China in 1945. Coincidentally the plane was designated as Ship 100 by CNAC.

n CERS invited two senior Cuban Chinese ladies to HK and organized a special event for them to perform. Both Ho Chau Lan and Wong Mei Yuk were noted Cantonese opera performers in the past. CERS is documenting their illustrious history and career overseas. n Dr Charles Elachi, Director of NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena California hosted lunch for How Man inside the Exhibition Hall of JPL.

n Qijala, Party Secretary of Lhasa, met with How Man when he passed through Lhasa on expedition to northern Tibet. Qijala, formerly Chief of Yunnan’s Zhongdian region, is an old friend of CERS.

n Bill Bleisch traveled to Nepal and joined Dr. Mukesh Chalise and two of his students to trek deep into the Api Nampa Conservation Area on the China border, continuing a CERS project for wildlife research there started in 2013.

CERS IN THE MEDIA

n The Jebsen Company Shanghai office organized a visit to CERS Zhongdian Center in Yunnan.

n Diplomat Lodi Gyari met with How Man and discussed joint research interest in Tibetan Buddhism and other cultural issues of the Tibetan plateau. Lodi will become a Research Fellow with CERS in the coming year.

n Bill met with Eu Yang Sang in Singapore to discuss furthering research on musk deer, continuing an ongoing project supported by this leading traditional Chinese medicine company.

l How Man wrote an op-ed column on the current situation in Hong Kong for the New York Asia Society’s ChinaFile online publication.

l How Man and Dr Bill Bleisch lectured at the Singapore University of Technology and Design in September. He also delivered a half-day program at the CERS Shek O 1939 Exhibit House to students attending the Shun Hing University Internship program. He lectured at Harvard University on October 11, and at Havana Cuba on October 17 to the School of Creative Photography.

l Bangkok Airways inflight magazine published an article fea-turing CERS’ joint project with our Myanmar partner Yin Myo Su regarding reintroduction of Burmese Cats into the country.

l Irrawaddy Magazine, a leading journal of Myanmar, featured a story on the CERS Burmese Cat project.

l Zhang Fan, CERS China Director, was invited by the Yunnan Tourism Bureau and delivered a lecture on October 30 in Xi Shuang Ban Na.

l World Journal, the leading Chinese newspaper in America, published a story on How Man’s lecture at Harvard in Boston.

CHINA EXPLORATION AND RESEARCH SOCIETY

n Sir David Tang, Honorary Consul General of Cuba in Hong Kong, helped expedite invitation of two former Cuban Cantonese Opera actresses to Hong Kong. He also made a financial donation toward covering the two ladies’ passage.

n Mr Wayne Tam of Los Angeles continue to donate to CERS his collection of WWII and CBI artifacts, cameras and magazines.

n Mr Lung Koon Tin and Ms Susan Tse, both iconic Cantonese Opera artists, for accompanying our Cuban guests in their singing performance.

Hong Kongl Gigi Ma Arnouxl Dr Joseph Chanl William E. Connor l William Fungl Victor Hsul Hans Michael Jebsenl Anish Lalvanil Christabel & Ricky Laul Afonso Mal Albert Mal Patrick Mal David Mongl Daniel Ng’s Familyl James & Mary Tienl Betty Tsui

l Patrick Wangl Dora Wul Eric Xinl Sonny Yaul Wellington & Virginia Yeel Billy Yung

Overseasl Eric Chenl Betsy Cohenl Judith-Ann Correntel Ingrid Ehrenberg & Joe Chan l Richard Friedmanl Ester Goelkell Joel Horowitz

l Zhengyu Huangl Barry Laml Derrick Quekl Oliver Silsbyl Chote Sophonpanich

Corporatel Bull Capital Partnersl City Developments Limitedl Coca-Colal Dragonairl Eu Yan Sang Int’l Ltdl Jebsen & Co. Ltd.l Omegal Shun Hing Groupl Toppan Vite Limited

CURRENT PATRONS

A subscription to this newsletter is US$100 for three issues. All proceeds support CERS projects.

Please contact us directly if you are interested in signing up. See the bottom of page two for contact details.

The production of China Explorers is made possible through the generous contributions of Toppan Vite Limited

CERS’ MISSION:The mission of the China Exploration and Research

Society is to enrich the understanding of our cultural and natural heritage.

T H A N K Y O U T H A N K Y O U

n Sin Sin Man and Lyew Hui Ting helped in organizing a performance for the two Cuban Cantonese Opera guests. n Conny Klimenko, a long-time friend of CERS, donated an original prototype Sevylor inflatable kayak for CERS field use.

n Mr John Hsu joined as CERS latest patron.

LEFT TO RIGHT:Ho Chau Lan sings while accompanied by Ms Susan Tse. David Tang and David Mong with company at Shek O Cantonese Opera. Ho Chau Lan accompanied by iconic Cantonese Opera performer Mr Lung Koon Tin.

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