Conserving The Last Frontier

Myanmar's once-paradisiacal Mergui Archipelago, the sprawling home to the country's Moken "sea gypsies", has become Southeast Asia's epicentre for unsustainable and illegal fishing

- Anuar Abdullah

We are told that the furthest reaches from civilisation are untouched and pristine. That days are spent under blue skies and swaying palm trees. That gentle waves lap the shore hypnotically. That birds sing to the rising sun and owls whoop to the rising moon. This is the idyllic tropical setting of our dreams. This is the last frontier. This is the Mergui Archipelago.

By the time we reach the stilted villages along the coastline, we wonder what lies ahead with a sense of foreboding. The stench of decaying seafood is almost unbearable. It is the end of April and an unforgiving westerly monsoon has washed ashore. The only vessel available to take us across to the island is an old longtail boat. The tide is dry and the captain has to wait. After hours pass, the tide is finally in our favour and the wind has stopped, but it is twilight. The sun is setting in an hour, but we must press on. This is Myanmar and it is not permitted to stay in the village overnight. If we do not make this passage, we will have to turn back to Khawthung, where there are designated hotels for foreigners, and we will lose a day.

There are silhouettes of islands on the horizon backlit by the glow from large fishing vessels. In calm weather, our boat might reach the island in four hours. But we estimate it will take six. We sleep and awake, and repeat, under the canopy of the loud and bone-shaking longtail. The only consolation is that the rain has stopped and the sky has cleared. Our inky ocean is illuminated by a silver moon.