Islands With No Names
The Beam (May 1997)

Everybody dreams of an untouched island, a haven of white beaches and solitude, floating on a turquoise sea. Somewhere you can listen to those desert island discs while eagles soar and palm trees sway; where sand crabs scatter and no-one wants to plait your hair or clean your ears. The island with no name.

The world is so developed now that it’s hard to imagine that such a place exists, but it does. They do. Off the southern coast of Myanmar lies the Mergui Archipelago – hundreds of islands which have not only been closed to tourism until this year but are mainly uninhabited. Stretching over 300 kilometers along the coast of Myanmar, the archipelago is home only to the "sea gypsies" and a vast array of bird and wildlife.

The sea gypsies are a nomadic people who live on boats, fishing and going from island to island. A government official says that they estimate 3,000 such people live in the area. Although they belong to nowhere and have their own language, the Myanmar government is trying to settle and educate these people. On Pu Nala, there is a village of about 80 houses, a clinic, monastery and school (the head monk and his daughter, the school teacher, came from the mainland). Daily, the men go out to sea to fish but the government provides rice and fuel. The beach is littered with boats and fish, children play cards and seemingly healthy dogs relax in the shade. Once the sun has gone down, the one street lamp attracts the night insects and a lady sits beneath it selling prawn crackers. The only other light is from the small store and the numerous fires by the stilted houses.

Sailing the seas of the Mergui Archipelago is a peaceful life. The water is calm and apart from the occasional sea gypsy outboard motor, the sounds are of nature; monkeys chatter, hidden by jungle foliage; hornbills eagle and kites screech overhead and flying fish break the smooth surface of the sea. Just north of Pu Nala is the large (40 kilometers long) Lampi Island, which has been declared a National Park. Vast white beaches fringe the jungle-covered land where wild elephant and rhinoceros hide. Even tiger tracks on the beach have been reported. Huge shells lie on the shore and tiny crabs, almost invisible, scatter across the sand as if blown by the breeze. Amazingly, washed up on the beach is commercial debris – plastic bags and shampoo bottles from Thailand. The way our waste pollutes even the most remote places is unbearable.

Investigation up a small river leads into the mangroves. The water is incredibly clear and fish can be seen darting away (but there was no sign of crocodiles!). Intricate patterns of the mangrove roots are reflected perfectly and the tall trees reach up to the midday sun. Curled around a trunk, a python slithers slowly upward. Sheltered and serene, the scene has surreal quality.

Lampi Island is surrounded by many small islands, specks in the night with beaches that glow in the moonlight. At dawn, they appear to float on liquid gold and as the sea and sky become blue, the beauty of the area is revealed. A small island with no name spills white sand into the sea where a large variety of marine life flourishes. Snorkeling opens up a world of brilliant colors, many types of undamaged coral and an abundance of shimmering fish. A nurse shark lurks in a crevice, a lobster shelters under a rock and clown fish dive into their anemones. It’s a special feeling to be the first – the first to snorkel these waters, to sink into a powdery, white beach. There are so many unexplored islands that it will be a long time before they have all been visited and until then, it will be possible to be among the first to step on many shores.

That few people have been to the area in the last 50 years, that some beaches remain untrodden by man, that the seas are unspoiled and the coral thriving makes the Mergui Archipelago a unique place to visit.