The Mergui Archipelago
An Untouched World - Part 1
Asian Geographic - Sept/Oct 2002

Practically every corner of the globe has been traversed, written about and ruined by touristic hordes. Yet, somehow, the Mergui Archipelago remains relatively undisturbed. Ronnie Shroff kayaks through this magnificent wilderness in a journey of discovery.

As the evening sun gently radiates ambient pillars of light from behind softly billowing orange-crimson clouds, stretching out along the stratosphere, I take several measured strokes of my paddle in the glistening water. Suddenly, an eye peers at me from under the water, just beneath my kayak. I hold my breath and remain dead still as a pod of curious Bottlenose dolphins come to investigate. Slowly, I glide my kayak along and am thrilled as they stay with me. Being with these gentle creatures in the open sea as I float across the calm aquamarine waters leaves me serenely introspective, a familiar side effect of exploration and adventure travel. I gaze towards the sunset and am overcome by a sense of awe as I reflect on what is going to be my last day spent in this timeless place known as the Mergui Archipelago.

Truly one of the world's last great, untouched and unexplored wildernesses, the Mergui Archipelago, made up of over 800 wooded, tropical islands, covering about 26'000 square kilometres in the Andaman Sea, remained closed to all but the nomadic Moken ( Burmese sea gypsies ) for more than fifty years, The Myanmar Government re-opened this vast area of low-lying islands in 1997. The area extends 320 kilometres from Kawthoung ( formerly Victoria Point ), the southern-most tip of Myanmar. Contemporary accounts by explorers agreed that the "rich luxuriance [ of these islands ] is beyond belief. They look as if they were forests sprung from the bottom of the sea. There is scarcely an inch of them that does not teen with life.

The Mergui Archipelago has always been a mysterious area: the haunt of wild animals and sea gypsies, a sea-faring race whose lifestyle has changed very little over the years and who still follow the same fishing and boat building techniques used for generations. This was the place for me to explore the unspoiled tranquility of secluded islands, discover a unique diversity and abundance of wildlife and experience the indigenous people of Mergui.

In order to get to Mergui, I first had to check-in with the outfitters, South East Asia Liveaboards ( SEAL ) in Phuket. From there, we boarded the company van for a five-hour journey to Ranong, a Thai port town at the mouth of the Pakchan River, across the water from Myanmar. With a brief stop at Thai immigration, we loaded aboard for the 30-minute trip across the river on a large local longtail. A longtail is, basically, a boat with a car engine precariously mounted on the stern. The drive shaft had a propeller on it that extends from the engine into the water. It sounds like a chainsaw when revved up and throws out a huge plume of spray as it slices through the water.

Not long after leaving the shelter of the Pakchan River, we encountered steady, two-foot waves splashing onto the bow of the longtail. There was nothing for it but to push on through the wind and waves for an hour before finally making it across the narrow channel into the sheltered village of Kawthoung, a thriving Myanmar port. With the immigration paperwork finished we boarded SEAL 1, our transport and support boat for the the entire trip. Leaving the pier at slow speed gave me a good view of the shore life. Longtails. with their elongated egg-beater-like shafts and noisy petrol engines buzzed in all directions.