The rain has finally come to California, bringing with it the promise of new growth and greenery. As it rains outside the window I am inside, surrounded by loosely organized piles of clothes, books, outdoor gear, and laptop peripherals attempting to fit my life into two 20kg bags. Before I go I need to take care of all those technological tasks our life is filled with as well, back up my computers, transfer my iPhone and iPad to a different computer (Apple, you really need to make that easier to do), and do the final run-through on what I am taking with me. Despite all this, my mind is only partially on the task at hand.
Several weeks ago I was offered a position working on primate conservation in northern Vietnam and my mind is on the location, the people I will be working with, and the upcoming tasks.
This is exciting, not in the least because Vietnam, like much of South East Asia, (and Southern China) lies firmly in one of the great biodiversity hotspots of the world. Northern Vietnam is on the edge of Sundaland, a name for the vast expanse of what used to be land connecting the Southeast Asian mainland to Borneo and the Indonesian islands, now mainly under water and expressed as the Sunda Shelf. During the last ice age this is thought to have been a broad grassland spotted with mountain forests and laced with broad rivers. For nearly 100,000 years plants and animals moved back and forth across this landscape, becoming wide-spread and subsequently isolated as the rising seas flooded the lowlands, leaving the complex arrangement of islands and peninsulas we now see.
This exposure and inundation of land in this part of the world has been taking place for a long time. This combined with the vigorous tectonic activity of the region has led to a wonderfully complex region topographically, and subsequently (or in conjunction) biologically.
This submerged region is now thought to be the cradle of the Asian population, the “Out of Sundaland Theory”, although there is a competing “Out of Taiwan Theory” as well. Where I will be working is only loosely in former Sundaland, a melding point between Sundaland and the complex geography of Southern China and Northern Laos. In any event hominids, and later humans have been exploring and living in South East Asia for a long time, and that span of time has allowed tremendous cultural and linguistic complexity to develop as well. This is one of the places that our most successful and long-lived hominid ancestors, Homo erectus, lived.
I will be on the edge of this region, just off the coast of northern Vietnam, on the northern margin of the Red River delta not too far from the Chinese border. The location is Ha Long Bay, a dramatic karst landscape that is both mature and submerged. The ingredients for a karst landscape are limestone and time, lots of both. In some parts of the world the only signifying features of kart landscapes are rich soils (lots of cations) and , if it is wet, periodic sinkholes. Where water is in abundance caves are common, as groundwater is often mildly acidic which erodes the limestone. Over time continued erosion wears down the limestone bedrock to such a great degree that all that is left are startlingly steep sided hills, separated by flat valleys. This is a mature karst landscape. In Sundaland some of these mature karst regions were flooded when the sea level rose resulting in a dream-like landscape that looks like something Hayao Miyazaki would imagine if he were to direct a pirate movie.
Places like Ha Long Bay are excellent examples of island biogeography. Islands are often home to endemic species, the tortoises and finches on the Galapagos Islands are the classic example of this, made famous by Darwin. Animals and plants that make their way to an island, or are trapped by rising seas or continental drift become isolated and diverge from their ancestors. This is the essence of island biogeography and the recognition of how finch beaks on the Galapagos changed in response to the limited food sources available on the islands helped Darwin to recognize how evolution takes place. My personal hero in the tale of evolution, Wallace, worked in the submerged island remnants of Sundaland and experienced the same insights as Darwin. Ha Long Bay is a small area, but has its own endemic species, many of them we probably know little to nothing about.
One we do know of is the Cat Ba Langur (Trachypithecus poliocephalus poliocephalus), a dark haired leaf eating monkey with white heads and brilliant golden furred babies. They are found only on Cat Ba Island, one of the largest islands in the Ha Long Bay, and are critically endangered. Critically is an understatement, there are less than a hundred of these primates alive in the world. And. That. Is. All. There. Are.In 25 hours I get on a flight to Hanoi to take part in an effort to both keep these primates from going extinct and to conserve the biodiversity of the island. There are a lot of moving parts in the project, many partners at all levels, and only a few of us on the ground to keep everything running smoothly.
I’m excited, eager, and somewhat intimated. I leave tomorrow.