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Practice of diving-fishing in Thailand, by Guilaume Tougeron in Kung Wiman, Thailand, Monday 19 november 2007.
I had been waiting six months for the weather to calm down and leave Kung Wiman villages fishermen to start diving. After the rain and the wind stopped, I joined Shons team this Monday nineteen November two thousand seven. Shon is the captain and owner of the boat, a ten metes long rueeyon motor boat. Son is the diver. Wanlop and his son Ell will pull the traps, take care of the fish and the divers air hose.
We leave at six oclock in the morning, the sun is rising. A few long tail boats are leaving at the same time than us from this traditionnal fishermen village. They do carry large fishing traps made of wood, rope and wire. Our boat leaves the Kung Krabens laguna and slowly goes to the artificial reefs dispersed in the open sea. The sea here is quite shallow: about twenty meters of sandy bottom and this until two hours by boat in the open sea. The crew is preparing the equipment: three iceboxes, a rope to pull the fishing traps, a medium pressure compressor powered with gasoline, a long air hose for the diver, a GPS and a fish sonar. Son is dressing with a long leaves torn down t-shirt and skin-tight cotton pants. His dive equipment is composed of a mask with exhalation valve, a simple weight belt made with inner tube, two fins mended with bamboo, and most of all a plastic air tube balled-up the arm. I could talk about minimalism and thats for sure what is comforting Son when hes looking at my scuba. He doesnt have this complicated equipment that you need to assemble and disassemble and which heavy weight doesnt let you work efficiently underwater. During Shons briefing, I learn that today they will harness thirty five of their seventy fishing traps. Its six thirty oclock now, they should be back at six in the afternoon. For now I surely dont realize the huge work waiting to be done
One hour later we arrive on the first artificial reef. Shon is using his GPS to guide his boat close to the concrete boxes that the Fisheries Office sank a few years ago. Five minutes are spent, Shon gives the signal. Son catches the end of the traps rope, puts the air tube in his mouth, jumps and disappears quickly in an unclear water. The fresh wind of Tibet is blowing and moulding waves. Its a transition period between the rain season and the dry season. We wait five minutes before Son transmits a signal by the rope. Shon strives to pilot the boat in order to keep the rope and the air hose on the right side of the boat, away of the propeller. Wanlop pulls up the fishing trap, then its Sons turn to come on the boat. A hole is cut in the wire. Wanlop uses a landing net to take the fish out of the trap into the iceboxes, throws unwanted fish back in the sea, closes the hole by sewing it up with a thin cord, cleans the entire wire with a metallic brush and finally rinses the trap and the deck from which a dirty brown water leaks in the sea. Wanlop says that the fishes refuses to be trapped into dirty traps, so that he has to clean all the traps before putting these back to the sea. Now its time to go to the next traps location where they will replace a trap with the clean one they have. Thats the routine, the loop they have to repeat thirty five times today in order to exploit half of their fishing traps. Shon finds his way using the GPS and keep moving for ten minutes, a typical surface interval for Son. The signal is given, the trap is thrown in the water and sinks quickly to the bottom. A few seconds later Son pulls himself along the rope. As soon as he arrives on the bottom he looks for a good place to put in the fishing trap and affix it to a concrete box. Next step: tearing off the rope and attaching it to another trap full of fish, giving the ascent signal, going up to the surface and keeping a distance with the trap to prevent the rope and the air hose to snarl. During my two first dives with Son I cant stop stressing: the ascent rate is more than twenty meters per minute, there is no decompression stop neither safety stop, and the boat is moving only a few meters from us Of course the dive computer is crying wolf, but did anybody mention computer diving today? Son is here to catch fish, he has thirty five traps to carry up to the boat, and there is no way we could think about decompression or dissolved nitrogen. No, here is the place for tradition, practice and physiological adaptation. And I wont write much about his spear fishing dives he does on a twenty meters bottom for half an hour or more when he can see big fishes on the reefs. Each fish he harpoons is slipped into his air hose. Its a surprising show: the compressed air thats permanently leaking out of the breathing tube releases bubbles through the mouths of the slipped fishes. Generally, Son comes back to the surface a bit slower after these dives. He knows that a too fast ascent doesnt forgive. Maybe he doesnt know that a pure oxygen tank stored on the boat could save his life. Who could explain this to him? Isnt there a fishing office only a kilometer away from his village? Couldnt his own cousin teach him a safer way to dive? These questions run up against tradition. Tradition doesnt have anything to do with an unaffordable and haughty science.
The eight divers of Kung Wiman constitute an interdependent and traditional community whichs hard work doesnt allow bureaucrats and strangers to judge their way of life. Their fishing technique is one of the cleanest ever: their artificial reefs are dedicated environments that produce the caught fish. Also Shon and his friends keep only big enough eatable fishes. The other fishes are released in the sea alive on their home reef. The traps are taken down to the sand and moved on the bottom without ever harming corals. We could talk about long-lasting development, even if the labels sticker was slow to be printed.
I had been waiting six months for the weather to calm down and leave Kung Wiman villages fishermen to start diving. After the rain and the wind stopped, I joined Shons team this Monday nineteen November two thousand seven. Shon is the captain and owner of the boat, a ten metes long rueeyon motor boat. Son is the diver. Wanlop and his son Ell will pull the traps, take care of the fish and the divers air hose.
We leave at six oclock in the morning, the sun is rising. A few long tail boats are leaving at the same time than us from this traditionnal fishermen village. They do carry large fishing traps made of wood, rope and wire. Our boat leaves the Kung Krabens laguna and slowly goes to the artificial reefs dispersed in the open sea. The sea here is quite shallow: about twenty meters of sandy bottom and this until two hours by boat in the open sea. The crew is preparing the equipment: three iceboxes, a rope to pull the fishing traps, a medium pressure compressor powered with gasoline, a long air hose for the diver, a GPS and a fish sonar. Son is dressing with a long leaves torn down t-shirt and skin-tight cotton pants. His dive equipment is composed of a mask with exhalation valve, a simple weight belt made with inner tube, two fins mended with bamboo, and most of all a plastic air tube balled-up the arm. I could talk about minimalism and thats for sure what is comforting Son when hes looking at my scuba. He doesnt have this complicated equipment that you need to assemble and disassemble and which heavy weight doesnt let you work efficiently underwater. During Shons briefing, I learn that today they will harness thirty five of their seventy fishing traps. Its six thirty oclock now, they should be back at six in the afternoon. For now I surely dont realize the huge work waiting to be done
One hour later we arrive on the first artificial reef. Shon is using his GPS to guide his boat close to the concrete boxes that the Fisheries Office sank a few years ago. Five minutes are spent, Shon gives the signal. Son catches the end of the traps rope, puts the air tube in his mouth, jumps and disappears quickly in an unclear water. The fresh wind of Tibet is blowing and moulding waves. Its a transition period between the rain season and the dry season. We wait five minutes before Son transmits a signal by the rope. Shon strives to pilot the boat in order to keep the rope and the air hose on the right side of the boat, away of the propeller. Wanlop pulls up the fishing trap, then its Sons turn to come on the boat. A hole is cut in the wire. Wanlop uses a landing net to take the fish out of the trap into the iceboxes, throws unwanted fish back in the sea, closes the hole by sewing it up with a thin cord, cleans the entire wire with a metallic brush and finally rinses the trap and the deck from which a dirty brown water leaks in the sea. Wanlop says that the fishes refuses to be trapped into dirty traps, so that he has to clean all the traps before putting these back to the sea. Now its time to go to the next traps location where they will replace a trap with the clean one they have. Thats the routine, the loop they have to repeat thirty five times today in order to exploit half of their fishing traps. Shon finds his way using the GPS and keep moving for ten minutes, a typical surface interval for Son. The signal is given, the trap is thrown in the water and sinks quickly to the bottom. A few seconds later Son pulls himself along the rope. As soon as he arrives on the bottom he looks for a good place to put in the fishing trap and affix it to a concrete box. Next step: tearing off the rope and attaching it to another trap full of fish, giving the ascent signal, going up to the surface and keeping a distance with the trap to prevent the rope and the air hose to snarl. During my two first dives with Son I cant stop stressing: the ascent rate is more than twenty meters per minute, there is no decompression stop neither safety stop, and the boat is moving only a few meters from us Of course the dive computer is crying wolf, but did anybody mention computer diving today? Son is here to catch fish, he has thirty five traps to carry up to the boat, and there is no way we could think about decompression or dissolved nitrogen. No, here is the place for tradition, practice and physiological adaptation. And I wont write much about his spear fishing dives he does on a twenty meters bottom for half an hour or more when he can see big fishes on the reefs. Each fish he harpoons is slipped into his air hose. Its a surprising show: the compressed air thats permanently leaking out of the breathing tube releases bubbles through the mouths of the slipped fishes. Generally, Son comes back to the surface a bit slower after these dives. He knows that a too fast ascent doesnt forgive. Maybe he doesnt know that a pure oxygen tank stored on the boat could save his life. Who could explain this to him? Isnt there a fishing office only a kilometer away from his village? Couldnt his own cousin teach him a safer way to dive? These questions run up against tradition. Tradition doesnt have anything to do with an unaffordable and haughty science.
The eight divers of Kung Wiman constitute an interdependent and traditional community whichs hard work doesnt allow bureaucrats and strangers to judge their way of life. Their fishing technique is one of the cleanest ever: their artificial reefs are dedicated environments that produce the caught fish. Also Shon and his friends keep only big enough eatable fishes. The other fishes are released in the sea alive on their home reef. The traps are taken down to the sand and moved on the bottom without ever harming corals. We could talk about long-lasting development, even if the labels sticker was slow to be printed.