It has been a while since I’ve written a new post. Quite a bit has happened in the last few weeks, the key bit being that the position in Borneo has fallen apart on me unexpectedly shortly after arriving in Indonesia.
Despite the unexpected disappointment there was a lot to see and experience. I last left off in Pontianak, a rough and tumble Indonesian city in West Kalimatan, a hardy workman’s city perched on the borders of one of the largest rivers in Borneo. The name, Pontianak, refers to a specific type of vampire, a woman who died in childbirth, a somewhat strange thing to name a city after.
To get from Pontianak to Sukadana one may either take a round-about bus that runs over poorly maintained roads and may not make it during the rainy season, or a boat that races through broad channels in the mangrove swamp. The slow boat takes more than a day and the speedboat takes between 5 and 6 hours, more if either of the two massive outboard engines are damaged by the numerous floating logs in the water or fouled by vegetation, old fishing nets, or garbage.
I had been expecting the boat to head out into the ocean and run down the coast. I was pleasantly surprised that the route ran along the interior channels of the Kapuas River delta instead.
Mangroves are one of the most mysterious and interesting ecosystems to me, perhaps because I have spent so little time in them and because there are so few intact mangrove forests left in the world. In terms of carbon sequestration mangroves are one of the most effective ecosystems for carbon storage. Mangroves are the nursery for many species of fish and crustaceans, and protect coastal areas from storm surges and tsunamis.
The center for diversity of mangroves is in South East Asia where there are some 40 or so tree species from a variety of families that all have adopted the “mangrove” lifestyle. Trees falling into the general category of mangroves share a number of features despite coming from different families; some form of air-breathing apparatus on the roots (stilts, knees, aerial roots, root spikes that lift above the mud, etc), high tolerance to salt, and floating fruits/seeds.
One of the more interesting plants in the mangrove forest is the Nipa Palm (Nypa fruticans).
This palm is unusual in several ways. It often grows in areas where the trunk is completely submerged for long periods, making me wonder how it establishes itself in the first place. This in and of itself is only mildly remarkable, what is truly odd is that the trunk is horizontal, growing underground, parallel to the surface, with all the greenery visible comprised of individual fronds acting as mini-trees growing from a single stalk. In some ways the growth habit of this palm is more like that of a fern than a palm.
The fruits form in a large round mass, a little bigger than a basketball, divided into fist-sized floating seeds that break off and float away, sometimes germinating while still afloat. The flower stalks are rich in sugar and this is one of the palms used to make palm sugar, a laborious process akin to making maple sugar, but limited to collecting sap from the flower stalks rather than tapping the tree. Some studies indicate that this palm has a promising potential for biofuel production, but the process of cultivating or collecting enough to make this feasible would spell ecological devastation for immense regions of sensitive and already threatened habitat.
Mangrove forests are one of the most imperiled and under appreciated ecosystems in the world. They are limited to tropical and near tropical regions.
Many of the great tropical fisheries of the world owe their existence to mangrove forests; they provide nursery grounds for many aquatic species. When mangrove forests are cleared to make room for development or for the shrimp farms that feed the developed nation’s voracious consumption of shrimp and prawns, these fish nurseries wither away, taking with them the tropical fisheries hundreds of millions of people rely on for their primary source of dietary protein.
Mangrove forests are found in low-lying, flat areas, areas subject to immense tidal run-ups, storm surges, and, in earthquake prone regions, areas where tsunamis can travel great distances inland. The presence of mangroves acts as a buffer to these great movements of water, protecting both inland environments and human settlements.
In Southeast Asia the mangrove forests themselves provide a number of immediate resources for local people, including food, building supplies, medicines, and protected navigable waterways.
As in all areas people must make a living. For some the only option is land clearing, whether for agriculture or timber. In the Indonesian mangrove forests land is cleared for rice agriculture, aquaculture, and logging, primarily illegal. Logging in this area is an enormous problem. Large rafts of logs are often seen moored on the banks of the rivers and small-scale loggers carry short logs to local mills.
Nearly all the current logging in Indonesia is illegal. The legal logging concessions have been cleared, in many cases converted to palm oil agriculture. New land is legally cleared for palm oil, but current regulations prohibit the felled wood from being sold, thus this wood is often destroyed, resulting in an increased spread of illegal logging.
It is a cycle difficult to break.
In these areas dry land is a rare commodity and whole villages rest on stilts rising over the rivers and soggy ground. Boats and motorcycles are the primary methods of transport, motorcycles being driven over narrow plank walkways with a casualness that makes the uninitiated cringe and wonder how many motorcycles lie in the mud at the bottom of the river.
The trip from Pontianak to Sukadana took a little more than 5 hours, an exhilarating 5 hours spent zipping through wide channels amongst one of the more interesting and briefly glimpsed ecosystems it has been my privilege to view first-hand. I desperately want to go back to a diverse mangrove forest and spend months at a time clambering about, exploring and learning how it functions, but that will now have to wait until some undefined time in the future.
For this job in Indonesia I sold many of my things, put the rest in storage, spent a lot of money I would not have otherwise spent, and tossed my life in the blender with the assurance that the next step on my career path was well and firmly in hand. Instead of an interesting and tasty life-shake emerging from the blender, the blender was casually and abruptly knocked off the counter, leaving my plans and work spread across the metaphorical floor in a sticky mess from which I am now attempting to salvage what I can.
Back to the job hunt, back to evaluating my life choices, back to laughing at the impracticality of my dreams.
Despite all, I had an opportunity few ever have and was able to see things most never even think about. For that I am grateful.
Make the jump, take the risk. If you make that leap you don’t know where you will land, but if you don’t nothing interesting will ever happen.