I haveΒ made aΒ habit of getting up at ungodly hours of late. While I mayΒ not be alone on that in Singapore since theΒ excitement ofΒ Brazil began last week, my motivation hasΒ littleΒ to do with the beautiful gameΒ and what I really am losing sleep over is a desire to acquaint myselfΒ with some ofΒ Singapore’s lesser knownΒ shores for a project I have embarked on.

One example of the colourful company one gets to keep that compensates for the lack of sleep: a noble voluteΒ –Β a variety of large sea snail.

One of the magical moments I am losing sleep over:Β first light over a submerged reef on Beting Bronok, exposed at low tide.
MondayΒ morning had me on a boat at 5 in the morningΒ bound for aΒ relatively remote and unheard shore north of the restricted military island of Pulau Tekong. A submerged reef with a rather curious sounding name,Β Beting Bronok, I did only hear of it when it came up as one of twoΒ natureΒ areas identifiedΒ for conservation in the 2013 Land Use PlanΒ that was released inΒ support of the hotlyΒ debatedΒ Population White Paper,Β which wasΒ confirmed in theΒ recently gazetted 2014 Master Plan.

Another viewΒ of Beting Bronok at first light.

Marine conservationists carrying out a survey on the reef.
We have added Beting Bronok & Pulau Unum and Jalan Gemala to our list of Nature Areas, where the natural flora and fauna will be protected from human activity. Beting Bronok and Pulau Unum extend the Pulau Tekong Nature Area. These sites contain a wide array of marine and coastal flora and fauna. Of particular significance are two locally endangered mangrove plant species (out of 23 species from 13 families), three very rare and ten rare mollusc species (out of 36 species from 16 families). Some of the wildlife species found here are the Knobbly Sea Star (Protoreaster nodosus) and Thorny Sea Urchin (Prionocidaris sp.).
Beting Bronok and Pulau Umun is one of two nature areas identified for conservation.
‘Beting’, as I understand, refers to a sandbar or a shoal in Malay. That sandbars were identifiable by names is perhaps an indication ofΒ the interactions thatΒ the people of the littoral might once haveΒ had with them. The opportunity forΒ interaction today has of courseΒ been drastically diminished with the tide of development sweepingΒ the people of the seaΒ to higher and dryerΒ groundsΒ and many of the staging points for such being closed off.

The view across Beting Bronok to the gaping mouth of Sungai Johor.

A glass anemone.
The Bronok Sandbar and the waters around it, are ones once rich in marine lifeΒ drawn to itsΒ reef, which is exposed only at low spring tides. The onlyΒ submerged reef left in the northern waters, it unfortunately is in poor health due to the effects of nearby reclamation work. The indefatigable marine conservation champion, Ria Tan, with whom I had the privilege of visiting the reef with, likens what are her annual visits to reef, to watchingΒ a favourite grandmother “painfully, slowly fade away” (see her recent post Beting Bronok is slowly dying).

A deformed biscuit star.

Walking with a walking stick on water – Ria Tan.
Staring into the gaping mouth of Sungai Johor, the reefΒ is fed byΒ waters where aΒ huge amount of fresh water is mixedΒ inΒ withΒ the sea. The river, is one that does have aΒ history. It wasΒ at the heart of the early Johor Sultanate that was established in the fallout from the loss ofΒ Malacca to the Portuguese, itsΒ waters disturbed by the movements of the floatingΒ instruments of colonialisation headed up river in the 16th and 17th centuries.

The incoming tide with a view of Pengerang on the left bank of Sungai Johor.

An octopus.
The cannons the waters hear today, are only imaginary.Β Fired fromΒ dry ground on nearby Tekong, in mock battlesΒ fought inΒ that rite of passage required of young Singaporean men as reluctant recruits. The bigger battle for many on Tekong, would be fought in their minds asΒ the young men, many fresh out of school, struggle to adapt to the rigours and physical demands of boot camp away from the comforts of home.

Another anemone.

And another.
The passage in the dark through knee deep watersΒ from the boat to the dry ground on the sandbar, while it did not quite require a battle, was one that was filled with trepidation – the graphic accounts told on the boat of painful brushes with the not so gentle creatures of the shallows does have the effect of putting the fear of God in you (see also:Β Chay Hoon’s encounter with a stingray at Beting BronokΒ and Ivan KwanΒ stepping on a stonefish). The utterance during the passage of what didΒ sound like “I see a stripey snake” did surely have added effect – especially in recalling an encounter from my youthful daysΒ that had aΒ similarly decorated creatureΒ sinking its fangs into anΒ ankle belonging to a friend of the family.

Probably a false scorpion fish I am told.
That encounter, wasn’t so far away, at Masai in theΒ waters of the same strait, taking placeΒ in the confusion thatΒ accompanied aΒ frenzied rush to vacate the waters, from which we had been harvestingΒ ikan bilis, that followed shouts of “snake, snake”. The family friendΒ was extremely fortunate. No venom was transferred in the exchange, and other than the shock clearly visible in the colour and expression that heΒ wore, there were no other ill effects.

A Bailer Snail making a meal of another snail.
Standing on the sandbar at the break of dayΒ isΒ as surreal as it is a magical experience, especially so at the moment whenΒ the luminescent early lightΒ reveals the sandbar’s craggy coral littered surfaceΒ –Β the magic is especially in the sense that is does also give ofΒ space and isolation, a feeling that does seem elusive on the overcrowded main island.

A nudibranch.

A seahorse taking shelter.
It didn’t however take very long before I wasΒ reminders ofΒ where in time and space I was, theΒ roar of theΒ emblems of the new colonial powers of progress and prosperity on an angled pathΒ from and to one of the busiest airports in the world at Changi, was hard to ignore. The area lies directly below one of the the approachesΒ to the airport located close toΒ Singapore’s eastern tip andΒ built on land that has come up where the sea once had been,Β sitting right smack over what had once been one of Singapore’s most beautiful coastal areas, andΒ anΒ area in whichΒ I hadΒ my first andΒ fondestΒ memories ofΒ our once beautifulΒ sea.


As didΒ the seemingly fleetingΒ momentsΒ I did stealΒ fromΒ theΒ lost paradise of my childhood days, the fleeting moments discovering Beting Bronok’s fading beauty will leave aΒ lasting impression on me. My hope is that, unlikeΒ the names of the places of the lost paradise that have faded into obscurity, theΒ curious sounding Beting Bronok is a name throughΒ which our future generations areΒ reminded of what had once been our beautiful sea.

The wild shores are perhaps a little wilder than you think.
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