Falling for Redang's charm

The morning air zings with a refreshing saltiness though it is already 9.30 at the Merang jetty, 30 minutes' drive north of Kuala Terengganu. The jetty is teeming with island-holiday types (y'know, the healthily tanned assortment of muscle-bound diving hounds, snorkelling babes in shorts, all swaggering about in that seasoned seen-it-and-done-it air), as this humble writer makes her way towards a stranger in an underplayed (hence, earthy-toned) batik-shirt and baggy khaki shorts.

Call it instinct or sensibility, but she is spot-on in singling out the right boatman from amongst the motley lot of his peers waiting for their respective passengers. As unpretentious (though sturdy) as it appears, Merang jetty plays host to boats leaving for and coming from resorts around Redang, Lang Tengah and Perhentian islands. If you fail, however, to locate your friendly boatman, the trick is to play spot-the-exotic-name (of your chosen resort) - that is if you're lucky enough to have it painted on the side of one of the boats bobbing around. And don't worry, the boat won't leave without you, unless you are extremely late.

There is hardly a swell in the sea, and the boat ride is as safe as can be (with a lack of bouncing-about fun). But hang on, as we rev closer to our destination, the water takes on a most amazing hue of blue. Still mesmerised by the intoxicating colour of cerulean blue, I look up to find that the island has loomed up beside me like a sprawling, giant, dinosaur with greens sprouting off its back.

No fancy jetties here. With a grab of the ol' backpack and a hop off the boat, I find myself knee-deep in water on Pasir Panjang, Redang's most stunning stretch of beach (according to my hosts). Located on Redang's east coast, this long, unassuming stretch of sand is home to four or five unpretentious yet comfortable resorts that appear to blend in rather than clash with their environs.

The Coral Redang Island Resort awaits its guests. One is quick to notice that instead of the usual plastic smiles of sarong-ed maidens (of the "concrete-block" -type resort variety), the Coral's charm lies in the genuine flashes of friendliness and its prompt, courteous yet casual service from the staff here. In fact, service has been elevated into sincere gestures of friendship where the alienating division between staff and guest is blurred without offense to either party.

We are signed in at the Chicak Bar - presumably beneath the watchful gaze of resident lizards Sophia and Richard who live up on the rafters - where general guest reception takes place. And from then on, it's first name all the way. We meet Marvin, the barefooted resident manager, and we are immediately put at ease. For the next few days, we know the Coral will be as fine as home.

Be it standard room/chalet, the Coral provides comfort in the form of cushy beds, hot showers (though a cold one is better after a day in the sun), air-conditioning (though the ceiling fan is cool enough in ensuring a good circulation of the therapeutic sea-air), and an efficient supply of clean towels, toilet paper and general toiletries. But TV? - no way. You may now leave MTV, CNN, the X-Files and your regular favourite Malaysian newsreader behind.

At the Coral, there are no room phones and no television, no matter how much one begs. And which nerd would, really, when there is so much out there - the big sky, enticing sea, the marine life waiting to be snapped up by the mind's eye or on film (but no picking and pocketing for that carries with it a RM5,000 fine and other unmentionable punishments), the treks in the jungle, the rocks to climb, nooks and crannies to be stumbled upon, and a chance to venture forth, beyond the soft white sands of Pasir Panjang.

Snorkelling sensations for beginners

Being 'wet behind the ears' (here's punned irony for you) and somewhat fearful of vast bodies of water, mysterious depths and big aquatic life (which I associate with danger and ferocity), snorkelling was not on my agenda. "What? Not on your agenda? Are you crazy? Sowhat are you doing in Redang?" came a string of self-ridiculing admonishments.

One soon realises, that when one is at the Coral, there is no agenda. They take that away from you, to make you relax, and from then on, anything goes. Alistair, self-designated 'general gopher' at the Coral, sets me up for a date with the underwater sights of the neighbouring Pulau Lima, that same day.

For added assurance, Alistair accompanies me (I'd recommend this guru to any first-timer who needs all the assurance and support she/he can get). As the boat nears Lima, there are already around 20 snorkellers flipping about in the water which looks fairly normal from above. We find our own spot, Alistair explains the simple mechanics of snorkelling. Basically, ensure that the mask is sealed on your face - test for the suction effect - and remember to breathe through your mouth. That's all there is to it, and if water enters the snorkel, just blow out real hard - make like a humpback.

With his flippers on, Alistair jumps into the water. For a few seconds, I watch to see if he's being attacked by anything big swimming below. Nope, he isn't. Convinced, I join him in the water. Giving the mask and snorkel a test look-see, my brain is suddenly flooded with the amazing beauty below. All those "underwater books" had not prepared me for the real thing.

It is an un-paintable underwater world of a myriad of swimming, flirting, teasing hues - some brilliant, some reticent, some clashy, and some, as legant as tasteful evening gown ensembles decked with strings of tiny jewels. Un-paintable in the sense that no artistry and artful manipulation of paint on canvas, or even the most precise underwater photography, could ever produce the sensual effect of seeing this little-understood and intriguing world with one's own senses; of feeling the caresses of cool and warm currents, being buoyantly rocked by the gentle waves and being guided by one's longing to move over the ever-changing scenes of the sea-scape.

Instead of an erratic, insensible fear, a hum of calm descends upon me. We see a few bumphead parrotfish, blue-dotted underwater ferns, a lone, fat, sea cucumber, various coral formations in brilliant colours, and winking blue and orange barnacles.

Suddenly, with the flurried parting and hurrying away of several small fishes, two titan triggerfish are spotted. Notorious for their aggressive behaviour especially during the nesting month of April, the triggerfish are left to their own territory as we paddle off the other way. So much for a first flurried taste of underwater politics. (I felt safe, though, for Alistair, my sworn bodyguard, had assured me that if someone had to be bitten, he would be there to offer himself first.) It is later that I am told Pulau Lima is the "Home of the Triggerfish.'

When we return, I am aware of my lack of tiredness, but my mind is overflowing with a very pleasant assault of never-seen-before images. Later, I sit on the beach in front of the Coral, gazing at a sky close to sunset, escaping into a soft, blue, nothingness - before the call of the physical body reminds me to get ready for dinner.

Around the island

A stay at Redang would not be complete without the obligatory Round Island Trip. After all, this is an island of historical fables, myths and natural wonders. Tales of an inexhaustible pool of water at Pasir Gontang, sea-elephants turning into rock at Batu Gajah (literally, Elephant Rock), and fragrant scents wafting from a princess' abode - the Puteri Mayang Mas - at Pasir Mas Kepit, are just the teasers.

Then, there is the fabled Batu Pepanji (Turtle Rock) where the 'Guardian of all turtles' resides - between Teluk Dalam and Pasir Chagar. And close to Pasir Chagar Hutang, a 'cluster' of five stones is said to be messages in stone - Batu Surat - from the magical residents of Pulau Redang, the Orang Bunian. These 'fairies' have been known to offer catering assistance to the human-folk of Redang, if requests and offerings are made in advance. An assembly of stones nearby - Batu Tok Kong - is also said to resemble people immortalised in prayer.

The original human residents of Pulau Redang were believed to have been from the mighty Majapahit empire of Celebes, Indonesia. In the fables, they were people who could walk on water and were 'invincible' to attacks from their enemies. Some such dudes, both human and supernatural by the names of Awang Sulong Muda, his wife, Cik Hitam Pasir Panjang Muda Elok Terengganu, her lady-in-waiting, Dayang Sri Jawa, and a 'superman' of sorts, Awang Selamat, had apparently left some chooks tied at a rock on a beach named Pasir Macam Ayam. The size of the fowls is a source of wonder, as the 'unbelievably huge' and faithful rock still stands today. But enough of all that. Modern Redang is about to be revealed (albeit via a humble round-island boat ride).

First sight up along the way is a cave that is home to an extended clan of swallows whose saliva-spun nests are a delicacy (for the Chinese, of course, who else?). Soon, we zoom past Eco Bay, a popular diving spot, before arriving at Turtle Bay - which is named after the turtles whose egg-laying season is almost over.

Hoping to spot some turtles, in we jump with our snorkelling gear. We are greeted by other astounding underwater sights, the calmness of an unbearably blue depth and the ghostly waft-by of a sting-ray approximately 20 feet below. Paddling along into the shallows where there is more of a reef to ogle at, Alistair suddenly points me the other way. Another trigger fish - a huge one, according to my host - has been spotted.

It is time to move on to other destinations. We go by Teluk Dalam (Deep Bay) where the built-up Berjaya Beach Resort has set up camp, and halfway round the island, we bob around off-shore taking pics of a turtle hatchery.

We are soon at the headquarters of the Redang Marine Park (this place is loosely termed as the Marine Park). The jetty is filled with people and the island of Pinang, where the park is based, is abuzz with tourists. This is a popular snorkelling spot filled with people and millions of fishes - both rare and common, but pretty in their own way.

For a bit of excitement, there is a shipwreck a "coral's throw" away from the jetty where only the brave dare to venture around. This rusty old monster, submerged in its death, sends off real spooky vibes. Seeing my discomfort, Alistair (once again my saviour of a bodyguard) signals for the boatman. The boat arrives in a jiffy, and thankfully, I clamber on board. Next tour stop: Kampung Air, or the fishing village.

Kampung Air

Across from the touristy marine park lies the bold-standing fishing village of Redang. Located at the mouth of the Redang river, Kampung Air (Water Village), a village on wooden stilts, has been standing in the face of uncompromising monsoons and commercial developers for 21 years.

The original folk of Kampung Air - who are believed to be descendants of one of seven Bugis siblings from Celebes, Indonesia - were fisherfolk who lived on Pulau Pinang, which is now home to the marine park. When the island became too populated, some of the villagers decided to move over to Redang. Eventually, the rest of the village followed suit. In 1976, the Terengganu State Government built Kampung Air - a weather-beaten village that still stands proud despite its half-rotted wooden-planked walkways and still-sturdy stilts.

While the high-and-mighty Berjaya Golf & Country Resort perches atop a hill right next door, life at the kampung still resonates with an organic homey-ness, replete with trays of "whiffy" ikan masin (salted fish) drying in the sun. The coy giggling of children, the sure-footedness of industrious little ones carting newly arrived produce back-and-forth from the make-shift market to the grocery stores cum homes, and the neighbourly chit-chatting amongst mothers minding their kids, all add to the tangibility of life at the kampung.

We stop at the Wakil Pos (Postal Representative), Mak Teh Yam's grocery store, for some snacks. She has no time for conversation as she is busy frying goreng pisang (banana fritters) - and they are the best I've ever had, no kidding. Crunchy, lightly caramelised batter on the outside, and a delightfully aromatic sink into the hot, golden sweetness of a pisang emas within. Simply yummy.

Visitors to the kampung appear to be tolerated rather well. The women at the market are rapt in conversation, seated in a wonky circle around a heap of plastic and rubber toys - ranging from dolls to balls and water pistols. A heap of shaved coconuts lies behind them. There are no off-day fishermen in sight lounging about, but there is a busy young boy wielding his fishing line and hook into the midst of a school of fish.

A pile of fishing nets shimmering with fish scales lies neglectedly at the jetty. Two young men are seated on a slab nearby. As it turns out, neither of them are fishermen. One is a secondary school teacher, Zainuddin Yusof, and the other is a police officer, Abdul Kassim. Both of them have been residents at the kampung for six years, and they appear to have fit right in.

Zainuddin reveals that there are around 200 students at the school, while Abdul estimates that there are currently 1,200 permanent residents in the kampung (with 200 homes). And when the work is done, 'board games, ball games, badminton and diving' would be the order of the day.

On the proposed plans to relocate the village approximately 3.4km inland, Abdul says: "There are those who like it, and those who don't. The young ones who work at the resort like the idea, but there are the old folk who feel sentimentally attached to their homes here. Then, there are those whose boats are docked here and it would be difficult for them to keep an eye on their fishing boats if there is a storm." (There are currently more than 100 wooden boats owned by fishermen at the village.)

"The young ones usually go to work at Berjaya once they finish their schooling. There are fewer of them these days who go out to sea," he says of the changing tides at Kampung Air.

Eco-impact

'Ecological extinction of small local island populations can occur when local climactic conditions become severe, or an efficient predator is introduced, or when habitats are destroyed. The small isolated populations are vulnerable to (natural and human-induced) perturbations in their environments.'
- Redang Under the Sun (Published by the state authorities and the Fisheries Department.)

Hence, it was in 1991 that Pulau Redang was designated a Marine Park. But it was 26 years ago, in 1965, that the first tourists (potentially "efficient predators"?) set foot on the island.

"I fell in love with it, and I've never fallen out of love since," says Yap Chuan Bin, general manager of Venture Holidays. Yap's first sojourn to Redang involved catching a fishing boat, travelling for five hours under the sun with "no canopy on the boat" and finally landing on Kalong Beach, and roughing it out there. "I went for a swim, (and) my God, there were giant clams all over the place. It was beautiful, those days," he reminisces.

From then on, Yap began organising small trips to Redang in his own speedboats, but "it wasn't serious until the 80s'" when Yap was contacted by the general manager of Mayflower Tours to organise a special 'adventure tour' for the general manager and his friends, "that was when we started thinking about getting serious."

As other tour operators jumped in on the action, Kalong Beach eventually became the tourist spot in Redang. Yap moved on to Pasir Panjang - that stretch of beach which is home to a handful of unpretentious resorts. (Construction on Yap's own resort close by is currently in progress.)

Forced to move with the tourist tide, Yap laments: "It's sad. I would love to remain camping, to maintain the camping trip. Eventually, nobody wanted to come camping anymore. They wanted a resort, luxury ..."

For the price of modern conveniences and development, and without adequate control over tourists then, the giant clams and lobsters that were in abundance are now gone.

As a protected marine park, Redang is only six years old. But certainly, not all has been lost. The magnificent coral reefs are still here. And so are the big but shy turtles, and fish - especially the small and curious ones that like taking taste-tests to see if you are edible. There is also the threat of a hefty RM5,000 fine for anyone who is caught removing any form of marine life - dead or alive - from its natural habitat. Only the locals - true-blue Redang islanders - are allowed to do as they have done before the laws came in.

No watchdogs, however, were in sight to catch the litterbugs. Fish, too, are given their daily (unnatural) bread by over-enthusiastic snorkellers - creating a rather unnecessary, frenzied situation in the water.

Shy kancils and a rocky traipse

Other than the sea attractions at Redang, there is the hilly "interior" that is just as fascinating - in its own way. Along the moderately well trodden and marked path between Pasir Panjang and Teluk Dalam beach, is the green calm of the island's jungle. And yes, the infamous (and perhaps over-rated) Tongkat Ali grows here too - but my honest guide tells me that he's not too certain if it works. (It was an unfortunate case of gulping Tongkat Ali soup and not having the opportunity to put its properties to the test.)

Along the 30-minute walk, we come across a small stream and pools alive with catfish. Then, a quaint yet mysterious body of chalky water comes into view. Five guavas, rotting in a blue plastic bag, have been placed upon a rock next to it. My guide tells me that this pool gives him the creeps, and the fruit, though rotting, is probably an offering. (Oh, if only such offerings could be offered sans the tackiness and non-biodegradability of blue plastic bags - a bad sign of ritual practice clashing with the times.)

Overhead, we hear the leafy rustling of primates watching and following us. On the ground, the jittery scampering of shy kancils (mousedeer) is a sign that we are on their homeground. We catch the rear end of a kancil skipping off.

The trees begin thinning out, and the shrubs get shorter as we get to then mangroves. Soon, rubbish - plastics, the remnants of a house swept out of its previously long-standing existence - appears. A modest stream runs out of here - but appearances are deceiving during a non-monsoon period.

The cool, green air of the forest leaves us for the baking glare of the sunny beach. Walking out onto Teluk Dalam beach, we come across an islander and her granddaughter knocking away at barnacle clusters on the rocks, harvesting clams. It looks like pretty pain-staking work, chipping away at the shells and fleshing those clams out of their shattered homes.

It is close to the twilight hour as we make our way back through the well-shaded jungle. It is the time for the kancils to make their run through our path - yet another unexplainable ritual. The monkeys begin to screech out aggressive warnings at us to quit their territory fast. Our pace quickens as the light fades, but our footsteps are kept as quiet as possible. We are soon rewarded by the endearing sight of a baby kancil five metres away. My guide, who is a hunter (not on Redang), can't help smacking his lips - "sedap," he says, to my horror.

A bewildered and innocent stare greets us from two huge, black orbs. As kancils suffer from bad night vision, we are able to get a wee bit closer before the nervous little dear takes off. An adult kancil is spotted up a slope - but it is a lot wiser to the ways of clumsy and salivating human beings and runs off without any deliberation.

All abuzz after a lovely trek through the jungle, a slow traipse up the rocks on the beachfront beckons. Mat Shah, my guide, has been most kind in offering to show me the places less frequented along that stretch of beach.

Battling a wee bit of vertigo, I follow Shah's sure-footing upwards, holding onto the crevices and jutting faces on the rough rocks. Except for a couple of scary leaps and crawl-throughs, it is quite a safe climb - with a confident guide like Shah.

We look down at the rocks, crannies and the waves slapping into the slow-carved curve of a cave. A dead triggerfish - bones and scales - lies high up above the sea, tossed by the force of wind and water to this height. With the wind blowing in and the low rumble and crash of the sea 75 metres below, the panoramic sight of Pasir Panjang and the neighbouring islands is simply exhilarating.

We reach a deep pool which Shah and his friends visit. Above the pool is a waterfall, and two old graves (which people still tend). Shah tells me that the water level of the pool is always constant, but its depth is beyond his knowledge. He has tried to dive his way to the bottom (he can dive down to 30 feet), but he has not succeeded in touching its bottom. But he also says that he would not try it if he were alone - it would give him the creeps. The calm-surfaced pool appears to listen attentively to the conversation of two awed visitors.

Evening seeps into the air as we begin to make the climb down. Along the way back, Shah takes a short detour towards a nook of a cave (with a bench, carved by Mother Nature, that would fit two). It is one of those private places that Shah ventures to when he needs some solitude. Amidst the roar of the elements, this is where angstful emotions may be released with abandon - if the need arises.

After the vertiginous traipse, my feet are glad to feel the soft sand of Pasir Panjang, my ears are greeted by the calm lapping of the waves, and the cool breeze takes the stickiness of my sweat away. I gaze up at the sky to catch the sunset hues, and the almost full moon gazes down.

Saying good-bye to the friendly staff at the Coral and the magnificent island of Redang was easy enough - because I knew I would be back. The Coral's charm lies in its unassuming hospitality and friendliness - they never seem to forget or neglect any of their guests when planning for the coming day's activities. Being nice, at this resort, is effortless for all concerned - because every gesture is genuine.

So, would I personally choose to stay anywhere else? Well, if things were to stay the easy-going way they are, I will remain, truly devoted to the resort that allows me to be the way I feel.

Facts about Redang:

Redang is located 22.5km off the fishing village of Merang on the mainland. The Redang Archipelago consists of nine islands: Redang, Pinang, Ling, Lima, Ekor Tebu, Kerengga Besar, Kerengga Kecil, Paku Besar and Paku Kecil.

The main island of Redang is 7km long and 6km wide, and is spliced in half by the Redang river.

Resorts shut down during the monsoon months. The northeast monsoon blows in between November and March, and resorts may close as early as late September if the change in weather dictates so. Visibility (underwater), however, is usually good in September.

During the monsoon, waves can get as high as five metres, and "high-velocity winds of 15 metres per second have been recorded."