Paradise

There is something absolutely magical about walking out of our camp, into a blinding light, and onto a simply stunning tropical beach. It still takes my breath away every single morning.

Arriving at Lang Tengah came after a bumpy but enjoyable boat ride. The monsoon had left a patch of bad weather in its wake, and for a while it was unsure whether we would even make it out to the island. But as we approached the beach of Turtle Bay, the clouds cleared and the sun bathed it in all its tropical bliss – we had arrived.

Life at camp is simplistic in the most balanced way – we lack certain comforts such as a refrigerator or phone signal, but have the luxuries of a home cinema and bunk beds. The first week was a flurry of activity. Camp was filled to its maximum capacity with an international mix of volunteers. We explored the island’s many snorkelling spots, dove off cliffs, and played endless games. We enjoyed the cold beers at one of the resorts and the varying array of foods cooked in our camp kitchen. It was a week of settling in and creating the best possible experience for the group.

As the large group left, a small group of volunteers replaced them. Now, camp is smaller and the group has a more scientific background. From here on out we’ll be focusing on the research based on sharks, corals, and – of course – turtles.

The first week the turtles were simply not coming to shore. The tail of the monsoon caused rougher seas, possibly deterring them from coming to land. We patrolled the beaches religiously every night, checking for the tell-tale tracks of a turtle making its way up to the beach. It wasn’t until we’d been on the island for over a week that the phone call came.

I was sat on Lang Sari beach, patrolling for turtles coming to shore at about 1am. The phone rang: “Turtle on Turtle Bay! Head over!” So myself and Karim, the new volunteer, ran back across the island to our camp. We found everyone huddled around a dark shadow in the sand. She had already begun laying her eggs. Silently we worked around her, only to realise she was a Critically Endangered hawksbill turtle. The first nest of the year, and for it to be that species – what an absolute reward.

She was soon named Cathy, and as she finished laying her eggs we checked her carapace (shell) for any damage. As we brushed the surface, she lit up with phosphorescence, a brilliant blue illuminating her body. We carefully relocated her nest to a more suitable place where her eggs would be safe from fungi and predation. As we watched her make her way back into the sea, I couldn’t help but feel a tremendous sense of respect for this animal. Cathy had made her way hundreds, perhaps thousands, of kilometres across the seas just to lay her eggs in what she believed is the most suitable spot, trying to give her offspring the best possible chance of survival. It’s a privilege to help her make sure they make it.

So now we have our first nest slowly developing on the beach. In a couple of months or so, these 118 eggs will hatch and the hatchling will make their own way to the sea. For now, we wait for more turtles to come, more hatchlings to grow, and more turtles to make their way to the world’s oceans. I’ll keep you posted.