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At play in the sea of the lord
ARTICLES, SPEECHES AND OTHER READING
WHAT OTHER'S SAY
AT PLAY IN THE SEA OF THE LORD
Simon Kind
"John Gray's Sea Canoe voyages are as fascinating and inspirational as they'
re fun"
Noel Maclain
Having booked a kayak tour with John Gray's Sea
Canoes, it's no surprise that the man himself shows up in a people
transporter to collect his charges from Cape Panwa Hotel, Phuket. But five
minutes into the 50 minute journey to the embarkation point at Ao Bo on the
north east of the island, I find I'm feeling rather privileged to be in the
company of someone so evidently larger than life, both figuratively and
literally.
American born John, a 6'4" giant of a man with a sparkling stare and long
greying hair tied hippie style in a ponytail, is no opportunistic tourism
entrepreneur staked out in Thailand in order to live a decadent lifestyle
unaffordable in the West, but a passionately committed conservationist, a
distinguished natural historian and a spiritual force, ploughing his way to
the core of life with never dimming wonder and wit - not to mention,
epidemiologist, journalist, lecturer, animal healer and author of "There are
those who murdered the thesaurus".
Though he has much he could complain about after experiencing the rough end
of life as a minority partner in a thriving business he mostly created
himself and being forced to start over again after twelve stellar years, he
has no time for self-pity. "Strip me naked and I'll always come back because
I am in harmony with the forces of nature," he says, laying to rest any
notion of bitterness.
An old friend of my companion, he is soon regaling us with the latest
bizarre episodes in his adventure-filled life. The previous night was spent
nursing a baby lemur, a flying mammal which had somehow crash landed on the
trail to his jungle hideaway. Successfully, re-released into the wild in the
wee hours, it hadn't left much time for shut-eye.
Before that there was the white bellied sea eagle that lost and then
rediscovered the will to fly and the exploits of the 2 metre black cobra
that already ate three of his 20 dogs, plus close encounters with a
cornucopia of other wildlife that just about get by in seams of primary
forest where rubber can't be grown.
And he carries the same infectious enthusiasm into his kayaking business.
John is clearly tickled pink to have stumbled across a group of caves midway
between Phang Nga Bay and Tarutao Island, thus opening up a new seven day
trek itinerary. "It's like a movie with a permanent crescendo," he drools.
At the same time, he is developing self-paddle trips for the broader local
market where economy is of the essence, for John doesn't just cater to the
rich and privileged but strives to infect all kinds of folks with a passion
for nature derived from having experienced its majesty and beauty first
hand.
With a 30-person pay roll to meet and ocean going ships to rent in order to
get his customers to their target "hongs" - open ceiling caves that are to
islands what holes are to donuts - he can't afford not to take his marketing
seriously. But here too he has taken a novel approach, teaching his team
in-depth natural history and sending them out to explain to tour operators
what they learn. "That should give them a better idea of what we're about,"
he says with an endearing air of vulnerability to having his motivation
doubted that contrasts poignantly with his robust form.
Indeed, no detail is overlooked, from planning new menus - the food on his
trips is worthy of a Hemingway safari - to plotting natural history
timetables for the entire Phuket Sea.
Now 59, the man who had a photo of a cute white rat sitting nonchalantly on
the head of a red tail hawk for whom it would normally be dinner published
in Life magazine about 1960, is celebrating his 20th anniversary in kayaking
- an amazing odyssey that began in Hawaii - 14th anniversary in Phuket, and
46th anniversary of being scuba certified.
Voyage of discovery
The bus journey skips by, and arriving at the
converted fishing vessel that will take us to our aquatic quarry, there is
already a sense of being in for more than a bit of splashing about in a
canoe and soaking up the sun. We tranship to the Sindamrong, a 14m
twin-engine converted fishing boat with a metre and a half draft, in full
anticipation of adventure.
A surprisingly good lunch of salad, spring rolls and fried noodles is
quickly served and soft drinks are passed around. "We're trying to phase out
the cans and introduce Thai teas," explains John as he samples a spring roll
made with a new recipe hammered out over the weekend. An Australian troupe
huddles around him in the bow, clearly chuffed at meeting the man who
inspired their Phuket visit after seeing him in a National Geographic TV
documentary.
Above the sun is shining, below the sea is surging and all around are craggy
limestone karst islands through which we glide without site of another
craft. First stop is Koh Penak in Phang Nga Bay where we disembark into
bright yellow kayaks made from the strongest inflatable boat fabric known to
man and shipped specially from Oregon.
Before we know it, we are pushing through a pitch black cave. Following the
torch beam upwards, we see the high ceiling is packed with sleeping bats,
lending an eerie edge to our expedition. However, we are comforted by the
humorous forewarnings to keep our mouths shut while passing beneath the
harmless sentinels lest we taste their guano. In fact, there are no direct
hits.
Once through the cave we emerge into the hong where bright sunbeams echo the
impact they must have had when light was originally let be, the first of
many reflections on the origins of life that are inevitable on John Gray's
sensitively tilted tours.
Throughout the afternoon we visit three or four more hongs, each with its
own fascinating flora and fauna and each illustrating particular points
about continental drift, evolution and the elements which John and the crew
are only too happy to explain.
As a bank of dark brown sludge comes into focus we see jousting mud
skippers, "the evolution fish" as John calls them, that are just making the
transition from water to land, as evidenced by the elbow joints in their
legs. However, they seem to be taking their time about it, as John points
out they are already 360 million years old. Meanwhile, among them, red
clawed fiddler crabs burrow and forage, keeping out of sight of fish-eating
monkeys rattling the branches of the trees that cling to the cliff far above
as they ineffectually try to scare us away, as we have them, so they can
resume their repast.
Inevitably, we are also made aware of the serpent in this paradise - man.
Since the whole ecological system is dependent on dead mangrove leaves,
man's insatiable appetite for the timber, which makes the best charcoal
known to man, makes you wonder how long such sites will be available to
tourists, whatever they're prepared to pay.
We strain our eyes for a first sighting of a banded monitor lizard but
instead find ourselves suddenly within touching distance of a pair of
charcoal grey egrets taking time out on a rock and not at all bothered by
our close proximity.
John is a constant stream of information and insights, pointing out here a
120 million year old cycad species there an island that a mere 18,000 years
ago was a high mountain range and there again an incongruous cactus imported
from central America in the 1700s.
His eyes take in everything and spotting a rare mangrove species, he whips
out his plant book, flips to a page, confirms it's a rare one, then takes
several close-up photos to send to his botanist friends, for once oblivious
to the rest of us.
At the next anchorage there are leathery green back crabs swarming over
towering barnacle encrusted cliffs clearly banded with multi-million year
old strata around which we skate in our low slung but trusty craft.
We talk of the next ice age, still thousands of years away and learn that
another cataclysmic event, one of the heat spikes that come along every
120,000 years or so, is due much sooner.. Hot or cold, it's a chilling
thought that at that point Thailand will become desert and Stockholm will be
tropical.
Then suddenly we spot a monitor striding slowly over thick brown mud, unable
to escape our prying eyes because of the low tide. Indeed, the water level
is so low that we are able to haul our kayak over the ooze through a rocky
archway and approach the boat from upstream, so saving on oar power.
Man's astonishing inventiveness is thrown into cosmic relief as a jet booms
overhead momentarily disturbing the tranquillity of the multi-million
year-old landscape. Then a white bellied sea eagle breaks cover looking for
supper. "That must be Matilda," says John. How does he know when there's no
ringing in the area? He just knows.
As we set sail in the ship for our last port of call, some of the team throw
slivers of chicken skin overboard attracting the attention of a pair of
Bremany kites, glorious seabirds with one meter wing spans, golden brown,
white and black against the shiny grey of the late afternoon sky and
iridescent greens of the islands. There is a deep sense of appreciation of
nature as they swoop towards the water's surface then suddenly stop within
clawing distance of the scraps is if frozen in a film frame. Within minutes,
five of them are cawing and careening behind the boat.
The outing is capped by an out of season Loy Kratong expedition where we
paddle inside a hong after dark and float kratongs we have made ourselves
from banana leaves. We watch the tiny candles float away with the stars
above, as fireflies flit in the overhead bush and every splash of the oar
kicks up a quicksilver of phosphorescent algae like fairy dust in the water.
"Absolute magic, this planet earth," says John as we paddle back to the ship
ready for another feast fit for a ship's captain and the long, velvety night
time voyage back to base. And you have to agree. |
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