Sunken treasure

Medical Tribune September 2009 P18
David Brill

If Subic Bay seems unremarkable you may be looking in the wrong place. David Brill finds that attraction lies beneath the surface.

Looking out over Subic Bay, you could be forgiven for thinking you’d booked the wrong trip. Tankers float out at sea, cranes loom over the shoreline, and litter washes up at your feet. Far from the glorious beaches of Boracay or Palawan, Subic does not at first glance appear an obvious destination for visitors to the Philippines.

A look below the water, however, tells a different story. An entire fleet of shipwrecks sits silently at the bottom of the sea, oblivious to the trivial goings-on at the surface. Anemones sprout on deck, while lionfish lurk in twisted metal crannies below. Barracudas swim down gun turrets, emerging in ghostly loading chambers long disused and overgrown with rust. Subic is a sunken goldmine – entry only for those with a diving license.

Back on land, Subic Bay was home to a US naval base until forces withdrew in 1992. The area of the base remains enclosed as the Subic Bay Freeport Zone – the shipyards making way for hotels, restaurants and casinos. International access is via Clark airport, some 2 hours drive southeast of Subic, or from Manila, a further 3 or so hours south of Clark, depending on traffic.

Some of Subic’s shipwrecks date back to the Spanish-American war of 1898, but the majority sank during the years of World War II. Twenty-five ships from Japan alone are claimed to have gone down during the war but with salvage operations undertaken in the 1950s, no one is quite sure how many wrecks remain in the bay. Best guesses suggest that there are some 20 wrecks in still waters – 10 or so of which are suitable for recreational diving.

The main attraction at Subic Bay is the USS New York. Launched in 1891, she played a key role in the Spanish-American war before returning to action in World War I as the USS Saratoga. She was eventually decommissioned in the Philippines in the 1930s and remained moored at Subic Bay until 1941, when she was deliberately scuttled by retreating US forces to prevent her from falling into the hands of the Japanese.

The navy’s loss proved to be scuba divers’ gain, as the 120-meter-long USS New York came to rest on its side with its topmost point just 17 meters from the surface. This depth leaves the top of the wreck accessible for novice divers, with the inside and lower decks offering a variety of options for those seeking more challenging, technical dives. The engine rooms lie at the very bottom of the ship and remain largely unexplored.

Visibility was mediocre during a trip in late July but the wreck is eerily impressive nonetheless. Its sheer, hulking size is enough to leave you feeling insignificant by comparison, while the sight of its three giant gun barrels emerging ominously from the gloom offers another reminder of the vast power the ship once wielded. A variety of wildlife circulates the site: dive instructors list barracuda, rays, octopi, lobsters and spotted sweetlips among the wreck’s inhabitants, although not all were seen on our trip.

Other wrecks at Subic Bay include El Capitan, a shallow site which is easily accessible for all comers. Even fairly novice divers can swim through the hold, and poke their head up into a pocket of trapped, ancient air (attempting to breathe it is strongly not advised). Also of note is the infamous Oryoku Maru – a Japanese cruise liner used for transportation of prisoners of war from Manila to Japan. Later dubbed ‘The Hell Ship’ for the nightmarish conditions in which prisoners were kept, she was bombed and sunk at Subic by US navy planes in 1944. Several other vessels are accessible – including a largely intact Japanese patrol boat – along with various sites of debris, scattered metal, and even a few coral reefs.

Beyond the diving, a few activities are available at Subic, including horse riding, watersports, go-karting and, of course, gambling. Much of the area, however, feels run-down and seedy, and considerable regeneration will likely be needed if tourists are to come in large numbers. In the meantime, however, Subic offers an enjoyable and convenient weekend for divers, especially given the proximity of the wrecks to the shore and the relative ease of transport from abroad. Don’t be fooled by the cranes and tankers – Subic Bay is to be judged on what lies below.

In search of paradise

Medical Tribune June 2009 P18

David Brill

Halong Bay is a haven of spectacular natural beauty – once you run the tourist gauntlet to get there. David Brill seeks out the tranquility at the end of the conveyor belt.

The clues, in hindsight, were there from the start. Bundled from one minibus to another at 8 a.m., trying desperately to keep track of our luggage as it piled up on the sidewalk, it was clear that this trip was not going to be relaxing. We eventually squeezed into uncomfortable seats to be reassured by our unfailingly cheerful tour guide, over the death throes of the air conditioning system, that we were just a short trip away from one of the most beautiful places on earth. Suitcases loaded, we set off – joining an ever-lengthening convoy of vehicles on the bumpy pilgrimage to paradise.

This is the road to Halong Bay, where travelers flee the chaotic streets of Hanoi in search of the moped-free serenity of a cruise junk. One of Vietnam’s top attractions, the bay draws locals and tourists alike in their thousands all year round. In 1994 the area was designated a UNESCO World Heritage site – offering an extra level of attraction for the box-ticking Lonely Planet followers.

For most travelers, the experience begins at the hotels and high-street tour operators of Hanoi, where a disorientating selection of cruise packages is on offer to those who can successfully navigate a path through the traffic. Boats range from the basic to the seriously luxurious, and neither families nor students will find themselves short of choices. US$15 should cover a budget day trip, while 3-day, 2-night cruises start at around US$80 and extend anywhere up to US$600 for a deluxe double room at the top end of the scale.

The journey from Hanoi lasts around 4 and a half hours, complete with toilet stops at custom-built tourist traps. Weary-looking backpackers wander through aisles of paintings, wood carvings and conical hats, before rejecting it all in favor of an ice cream and a bottle of water. Many simply sit outside – eager to re-board the bus and reach the utopia they have been promised.

The prospects of relaxation and tranquility seem even more distant upon finally disgorging from the bus in the midday sun of Halong City. Tourists mill around in their hundreds, awaiting directions from their guides, who scurry frantically from office to boat and back, clutching papers, passports and money. Hawkers work their way through the increasingly restless crowd, selling t-shirts and hats to those who missed the earlier opportunity to buy them. Eventually the guides return to disperse the group, leading their followers into the armada of junks floating patiently in the harbor. Other boats lie further offshore, and some passengers must take a choppy connecting ride before finally putting their suitcases to rest.

For passengers on the luxury cruises, the tranquility of Halong Bay presumably begins as they step on board to be welcomed with a glass of champagne and a porter to carry their luggage. Those of us on the lesser boats had to wait a little longer, as we tucked into a disappointing lunch still moored against the backdrop of hotels and traffic. Our tour guide informed us that we had arrived and would shortly be free to relax, just as soon as we had visited a cave, gone kayaking, and explored a floating village. Definitions of paradise vary, but I had not expected it to run to such tight schedules.

It took some time yet to find the real Halong Bay, but there were no regrets upon arrival. As the boats escape the clutches of the harbor, it quickly becomes obvious why it draws so many visitors. A maze of limestone islands – some 1,600 in all – rises up from the sea, lining the horizon in every direction. Some are faceless, rocky outcrops, offering a surreal feeling of desolation, while others are overgrown with vibrant greenery that extends right down to the water. All shapes and sizes are present – from those resembling ancient volcanoes, to those no bigger than boulders poking their heads above water. One pair of miniature islands even appears locked in a stand-off, and is known either as the Fighting Roosters or the Kissing Rocks, depending on one’s romantic perspective.

The personal highlight of Halong Bay was to simply unwind and enjoy the beautiful surroundings. There are, however, several activities available for those seeking a distraction from the sunbathing. The caves were impressive, and there are many others to be explored if time allows. Kayaking is also enjoyable, offering the chance to find your own, quieter alcove if you have the inclination to paddle away from the crowd. Some islands have beaches – although a longer cruise may be required to reach those which can claim to be secluded – while swimming off the boat is also an excellent option when anchors are dropped for the night (a running jump from the top deck is highly recommended for those in a hurry to cool off).

For all its nooks and crannies, however, there are few places to hide in Halong Bay. The junks spread out as they leave the port, but the sheer weight of numbers ensures that they are never far apart. Moor up too close at night and you may even have trouble sleeping over the blare of music from next door. Add to this the regular appearance of small boats selling snacks, drinks and other tourist-friendly goodies, and you’ll begin to realize just how beaten the track really is.

Our overnight cruise ended in much the same spirit as it had begun: rushed off in a hurry as the cabin crew scrambled to prepare for the arrival of the next guests. Even the consolation hope of avoiding another disappointing meal proved unfounded, as we were herded into a restaurant at the harbor for a mass-produced set lunch, before embarking on the sweat-inducing return to Hanoi.

In spite of the prepackaged nature of the pilgrimage, I was left wishing that our trip had been longer. Halong Bay is spectacular, and truly deserving of its UNESCO acclaim, but it can scarcely be enjoyed in a whirlwind 24 hours. Take an extra day or two, explore the islands, and you should begin to shake the feeling that you’re doing the exact same thing as everyone else. Venture far enough from the mainland, and you might even find that tranquility you had hoped for.

Enter the dragon

Medical Tribune May 2009 P18
David Brill

It may have taken 2,000 years but dragon boating is finally going global. David Brill finds out what makes paddling so popular.

Four p.m. on a Saturday afternoon an unlikely-looking crowd begins to gather. Twenty year-olds chat idly with 50-somethings – locals mingle with expatriates. Some look ready for combat, sporting Rambo-style bandanas with oiled biceps to match. Others look ready for bed, reluctantly stretching uncooperative muscles and swapping stories of last night’s excess.

Ten minutes later their connection becomes obvious. Armed with large wooden paddles and bright red lifejackets they squeeze into long, narrow boats and take to the water. The coach shouts the command and they move off – arms rising and falling in unison as the individuals blend into a synchronized propulsion unit.

The team is paddling a dragon boat, and it is their love of the sport that brings them together each week. This group represents the British Chamber of Commerce – just one of the many teams which make up the now-thriving dragon boating community in Singapore. The local scene wasn’t always so healthy, however.

“Two years ago there were some weeks we couldn’t even put the boat in the water because there weren’t enough people to carry it,” says Mr. Paul Robinson, captain of the British team. “Then suddenly it shot up. Now we’re putting out three boats a week – around 50 or 60 people.”

There are currently some 7,000 regular dragon boaters in Singapore and the numbers continue to rise. From one-off corporate events through to teams that paddle at international level, there is a full spectrum of competition that makes the sport feel welcoming to all comers. This accessibility is one of the main forces behind its rising popularity, according to Mr. Jason Chen, a former member of the Singapore national team and now a professional dragon boat coach. What first began as a hobby at school has now developed into a full time career as sales and marketing manager of SAVA – a Singapore-based private company which aims to develop and promote the sport.

“Dragon boating is very easy to learn – it’s not a sport that requires years of training,” he says. “Satisfaction is high and there is that sense of teamwork, of trying to achieve a common goal.

“The sport is really growing. If you go into a shopping center now you’ll probably see someone walking around carrying a paddle. It’s becoming a trend that people will at least paddle a dragon boat once or twice in their lifetime, or be in a team for some time,” says Chen.

Dragon boating originated in China around 2,000 years ago and the country continues to dominate the scene today with some 50 million paddlers, according to the International Dragon Boat Federation (IDBF). The appeal of the sport, however, is rapidly spreading: there are presently over 300,000 dragon boaters in Europe and nearly 100,000 in the US and Canada. The IDBF, formed in 1991, now comprises 61 member countries, representing all the different continents and a wide range of socioeconomic backgrounds.

Hong Kong has one of Asia’s most vibrant dragon boat scenes and plays host to one of the world’s best-known events – the Stanley International Dragon Boat Championships. Up to 20,000 people turn up each year to compete, cheer on the teams and sip champagne aboard the flotilla of corporate junks that line the harbor.

“It’s a tremendous spectacle … like nothing I’ve ever experienced,” says Mr. John Pache, who coached the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club men’s team to gold in last year’s Stanley tournament. He describes the win as an “amazing feeling,” but feels that for many of the new recruits to dragon boating, it’s the fun of taking part that counts.

“I think there are a lot of people who do dragon boating who don’t necessarily do a lot of other sports. It appeals to people who want to do something as part of a team but don’t necessarily want to do ball sports or a lot of running, or anything high-impact,” he explains. “People also like the social aspect of it. You can meet up with your friends and become part of a wide community that all turns up regularly, and enjoy all the events that go along with that.”

Pache believes the popularity of dragon boating will continue to rise naturally but says that much will depend on the sport’s ability to gain inclusion in the Olympic Games. The IDBF is working towards this goal but without definitive success so far. In the meantime the major international event remains the annual world championship, to be held this year in Prague, Czech Republic. Thousands have already registered for the event, and many more are expected to do so by the time the boats hit the water in August.

Back in Singapore there are plenty of opportunities to compete locally as well as internationally, with a constant spread of events throughout the year. Robinson and his team are currently training for the annual Singapore Dragon Boat Festival, to be held on the last weekend in June.

New starters to dragon boating may wish to dip their toe in the water with a training session, but it is the grandstand experience of these race days that will keep them coming back for more. The cheers from the crowd, the beat of the drums – everything combines to create a nerve-wracking yet exhilarating day out.

“It’s a hell of a shock to the system when the buzzer goes off,” says Robinson. “It’s all going to be over within minutes so you just go for it with everything you’ve got. You’re becoming tired with every stroke but you have to keep your mind focused and keep going. As soon as you cross the finish line you absolutely think you’re going to die. If you don’t then you haven’t paddled hard enough.”

For some, it is the camaraderie and social aspect that attract them to dragon boating; for others it is the intensity of a good upper-body workout. Robinson acknowledges all of these things, but ultimately it’s a simple desire to compete which drives him to take out his bandana every weekend.

“It’s a great rush of adrenaline and testosterone. I’m addicted to it. It’s like going to war. I’m friends with all the other captains but as soon as my foot gets in that boat I want to destroy them,” he says.

For more information on dragon boating, see: http://www.idbf.org/ and http://www.sava.com.sg/.

Conquering Kinabalu

Medical Tribune April 2009 P18
David Brill

Mount Kinabalu is widely promoted as a straightforward climb for the everyday tourist. David Brill wonders whether Superman has been writing travel books in his spare time.

Pulling myself up a sheer cliff face in the pitch black at 4 a.m. I realized I’d been misled. With my hands slipping on the wet rope, the cramp aching in my legs and the insidious cold penetrating four layers of clothing, it began to dawn on me that climbing Mount Kinabalu was not going to be as simple as I’d been led to believe. When I saw a grown adult burst into tears, my worst suspicions were confirmed.

Rising to 4,095 meters above sea level, Mount Kinabalu is the highest mountain in Borneo although not, as often claimed, the highest in Southeast Asia (Myanmar and Indonesia boast loftier peaks). With 47,848 climbers in 2008 alone –26,595 of them non-Malaysians –it is considered to be one of the world’s most accessible mountains, and no specialist climbing skills are required.

Armed with a personal assurance that conquering the peak would be “easy,” we had arrived in the town of Kota Kinabalu on Friday night and travelled straight to the Kinabalu National Park, the UNESCO World Heritage site where the mountain is located. The drive usually takes around 2 hours but with heavy rain, thick fog and herds of cows mysteriously crossing the road, our progress was a little slower than might be expected. We arrived in the small hours of Saturday and, 5 hours sleep in a freezing dormitory later, were ready to begin the climb.

Only the bravest attempt to ascend and descend Mount Kinabalu in a single day, and the majority of tourists spend a night at Laban Rata –an accommodation compound situated around 3,000 meters up. With the mountain entirely shrouded in mist, it was left to our imaginations as to how high this might actually be, and we set off with the blissful optimism that accompanies blind ignorance.

Stage one of the climb is straightforward but cannot be described as easy. Five hours on a steep, meandering path, clambering over boulders and slipping in the mud, was achievable but not an experience I’d wish to repeat. When cramp set in it became genuinely challenging, and the need for effective hydration was a lesson learned the hard way. Cramp does not seem to be a problem for the porters, however, who regularly ferry supplies and equipment back and forth up the slopes, hardly breaking a sweat as they do so. There can be few experiences in life more demoralizing than struggling your way up a mountain, only to be overtaken by a man running full pelt with a dishwasher strapped to his back.

The relief upon arriving at Laban Rata was palpable. Accommodation here must be reserved before beginning the climb and is often booked up as far as 6 months in advance. There are a few different options within the compound, which can hold a total of 146 climbers on any single night, but the Laban Rata Rest House is promised as offering the greatest level of luxury. However with ice-cold showers and an electric radiator that struggled to generate heat but succeeded in unleashing a torrent of sparks during the night, I can only imagine what comforts await in the other buildings. The wisdom of reserving early was firmly reinforced.

Any last lingering hopes of a relaxing weekend break were finally shattered by the 2:30 a.m. wake up on the Sunday morning. Half an hour later we were on our way to Low’s Peak –an ironic title dedicated to British Explorer Sir Hugh Low who in 1851 became the first documented person to reach the summit. The warmth that was enjoyed at 3,000 meters quickly plummets along this stretch, and it is here that the rewards of a sensible packing list are reaped. A good pair of waterproof gloves and a head torch are extremely useful for sections where a rope is required, and a warm, windproof jacket will come in handy throughout. As the temperature drops so too does the vegetation –the lush greenery of the lower slopes giving way to sweeping expanses of bare rock that offer little shelter from the wind.

With altitude sickness, fatigue and depression setting in, we finally reached the peak around 2 hours after leaving Laban Rata. We did not have to wait long for the mood to lift, however. As the sun crept up over the horizon sometime after 5 a.m. the misery of all that had gone before was forgotten, replaced with a delirium-heightened wave of elation which swiftly swept through
the group. Aches and pains were put on hold as we reveled in the collective sense of achievement – 13 members of our motley crew had set off from Singapore and 13 were now sitting at the peak of Mount Kinabalu.

The view, as expected, is breathtaking. And as the sun began to provide some warmth, so the urgency to descend diminished. For the first time on the trip we were able to take in our surroundings without the sense of impending dread at what was to follow, leaving us free to return to Laban Rata in a more relaxed fashion than that in which we left. The rocks are significantly easier to traverse with the benefit of daylight, and we were breakfasting at the hostel around an hour after leaving the peak.

The rest of the descent is no simple task, and is considered by some to be the hardest part of the journey. Stiffness sets into the muscles and the height of the steps places considerable strain on the knees and calves. Buoyed by the knowledge that the worst was over, however, the pain became bearable and personally I came dangerously close to enjoying myself. Descending at a leisurely pace brought us back to base camp within 4 hours, while quicker members of the group made it inside 3. The porters, needless to say, sprinted past like Olympic mountain goats.

Climbing Mount Kinabalu is a physical and emotional rollercoaster. It took me a week to regain the full use of my legs, but it’s a small price to pay to know that I made it. Easy? No. Worth every second? Undoubtedly.

--------------------------------------------------
For details of accommodation and climbing fees for Mount Kinabalu, see: www.suterasanctuarylodges.com.my/climbing_mt_kinabalu.php

Darwin’s legacy in the balance: The splendor of the Galapagos Islands

Medical Tribune March 2009 P18
David Brill

The Galapagos Islands are treasured by naturalists the world over for their unrivalled diversity of wildlife and geology. David Brill visits the islands, and reports on the difficult challenges they face.

February 12th saw the world celebrate the life of one of its great scientific heroes. Two hundred years on from the birth of Charles Darwin, and 150 from the publication of his much-celebrated On the Origin of the Species, his theories of natural selection continue to this day to shape our understanding of the world around us and our appreciation of the history of mankind.

The Galapagos Islands, located around 1,000 km to the west of mainland Ecuador, played an integral role in the development of Darwin’s theories. He visited the archipelago in 1835 aboard the HMS Beagle, on its way back to England from a 3-year voyage around the coastlines of South America. An enthusiastic naturalist with a seemingly limitless capacity for taking notes and collecting specimens, it was here that he acquired the data which were to famously mould his thinking on evolution. The different sub-species of finch, each one perfectly adapted to its niche on the respective islands, has become perhaps the best-cited example of his inspiration.

To visit the Galapagos Islands today is to grapple with a difficult ethical dilemma. The national park authorities depend on the income from tourism to enact the conservation projects that seek to preserve the islands’ unique ecosystems, yet it is the influx of tourists which hastens their very demise. The annual number of visitors rose from 68,856 in 2000 to 108,436 in 2004 – pairing a substantial rise in income with an equivalent threat from pollution and the introduction of non-native species. Andrew Marr, president of the Galapagos Conservation Trust (GCT), warned recently that development needs to be brought under control, and suggested that tourists be restricted to one visit per lifetime. Marr himself, a well known British journalist and commentator, has pledged never to return despite falling in love with the islands on a visit in 2002 and taking up the GCT presidency in 2006.

For those who do exercise their right to make this literal once-in-a-lifetime trip, it is easy to see why Marr feels so strongly about the preservation of the Galapagos Islands. The beauty and diversity are every bit as spectacular as promised, and can scarcely be captured in words or photographs. There can be few spots in the world where you can watch a mother hawk teaching her young to swoop for marine iguanas, which scurry for cover in the cracks of a scarred volcanic landscape. With sea lions sunbathing on bright white sand to your left, albatrosses circling a haunted-looking scrub of a forest to your right, and giant turtles peeking their heads out from the shining blue ocean ahead of you, the list of possible locations is surely shortened to one.

The Galapagos Islands sit on a tectonic conveyor belt above a submarine volcanic hotspot. As new cone-shaped islands rise up from the seabed, they begin to move slowly away from the lava source, becoming cool and inactive as they are carried east and eventually worn down by erosion. At a pace of 75 mm per year this is a slow process: Espaňola, the oldest of the 13 main islands, is estimated to be around 4 million years old while Fernandina is the youngest at under a million years and remains volcanically active to this day.

It is this diversity of geology that has given rise to the islands’ astonishing range of wildlife, fostering the evolution of several species which do not exist anywhere else in the world. While Fernandina sits barren and lifeless, its red rocks resembling a Martian landscape, Espaňola is green and verdant and contains many of the natives endemic to the Galapagos. In the middle sits Santa Cruz, the second largest of the islands and home to Puerto Ayora, the major population center of the islands. Santa Cruz is also the residence of Lonesome George – the world’s last surviving giant Pinta tortoise and the most famous citizen of the Galapagos (pictured). Despite countless attempts to encourage him to bear offspring he continues to live out his days as a bachelor at the Charles Darwin Research Station, apparently oblivious to the demise of his species and the iconic status he has gained among environmentalists.

There are signs that tourism in the Galapagos Islands is slowing in the current economic climate. Some of the cruise liners have received unusually high numbers of cancellations and are down-scaling their itineraries for this year. It remains to be seen how the islands will cope with this drop in the income which has become such a double-edged lifeline, and whether the unique beauty of the Galapagos will benefit or suffer from this downturn. As long as tourism can be appropriately managed and regulated, however, there is little doubt that the Galapagos Islands will remain one of the world’s greatest destinations – as inspiring to travelers today as they were to Darwin himself.