Lost at Sea!
For its unique, residential Training Programme in Environment Education (TEE) at the Centre for Environment Education, Ahmedabad, and as its Programme Coordinator, I regularly organized varying ecosystem camps for our trainees; the objective was to learn outside a classroom, and through exposure to natural habitats with its human population, the ecology and socio-economics in such habitats – all of this towards what is known as experiential learning.
My favourite ‘laboratory’ was the marine camp on a sand bar, popularly known as Dhunny Point, situated at the end of an inverted coma shaped island of Beyt Dwarka, off the port of Okha on the western coast of Gujarat.
The sand bar gives one, a ring side view of the Marine National Park in the Gulf of Kachchh that is so richly endowed with a diversity of marine flora and fauna. To all of us nature lovers, there is no place on earth that can match this under-the-open-sky, and in-the-midst-of-nowhere, ‘multi-star’ camp site - with majestic views of both, sunrise and sunset. One never forgets the gentle sound of waves, often rolling into our jute-bag tents from both the beach fronts at midnight during full moon tides. There is a certain awe in exploring live corals during low tides, sighting dolphins, studying the stars and the planets, and experience some real peace and solitude - that indescribable feeling of being so close to Nature God.
Except that, one wintry night in December 1992, I came too perilously close!
I was at Dhunny leading a group of 13 post-graduates representing a cross-section of Indian states and the Commonwealth. I was being assisted by Natubha, my colleague and an experienced marine camper.
During low tide at Dhunny, one can just barely see with naked eye, the exposed tiny, sandy white top of Pagar islet on the eastern horizon. One afternoon post-lunch, and as was routine for the trainees each year, we boarded a hired fishing trawler rigged with a sail. Natubha was at the rudder with a few kharvas (local fishermen) as his helpers. With a collective whoop of excitement, we set sail for Pagar. For a decade that I continued to visit Pagar islet in winter, the opportunity of re-visiting Pagar never failed to fascinate me! I counted each visit as a blessing!
It was to be a routine one-hour trip to the islet, and at the next high tide due early evening that day, we were to start back for the base camp. All of us boys and girls were down to shorts and T-shirts. There was a jerry can of drinking water but no food, no life jackets, not even a boat engine for emergency. After all, this was always the routine. We shall be back by nightfall as usual – or so I thought!
The one-hour sail boat ride gave us several sightings of dolphins gamboling in the rising tide even as we watched out for the endangered Dugong. The salty but fresh air, the turbulence of the quickly rising waters in the narrowing Gulf, the excitement of seeing marine species and the anticipation of just being on Pagar always gave us the goose bumps – a critical indicator for sensitizing the youngsters about their natural surroundings, the marine environment in this case. This was certainly no time for any misgivings!
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| Marine Algae |
Pagar is a dot on the wide mouth of the Gulf of Kachchh that narrows eastwards, merging into the Little Rann of Kachchh. The power of quick flowing tides rolling into the narrow Gulf of Kachchh and out back to the Arabian Sea, could be actually felt here. Jumping out of the trawler onto the cap of Pagar, is a rare, exhilarating experience that no one can forget. Just take a moment and imagine yourself standing on a white sandy top, not more than 100 sq ft, in the middle of ocean with curling waves washing your feet; and then, as the tide recedes, and within about 40 minutes, imagine the fast expanding visual of the vast island exposing the hidden treasure of corals and rare marine life! It is nature’s own theatre! Unknowingly however, the real drama was yet to unfold!!
Our boat was already anchored far away in deep waters to avoid grounding in a receding tide; soon it became a speckle, at the edge of the exposed two square kilometers of Pagar. We explored the island, observed different species of live corals, collected the algae (for making greeting cards), and noted the sea anemones, sea cucumbers, star fishes and crabs.
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| Brain Coral |
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| Sea Anemone |
Around 5 pm, the tired lot climbed into our tilted sail boat even as it creakingly started straightening upwards with the tide rolling in fast. There was just the hint of an unusually strong wind which Natubha assured me, was always associated with rising tide.
Of course, I know that, stupid! But isn’t the direction of wind against the sail for our return journey? And worse, it is changing all the time. What was not realized then was that it was a sign of an impending freak wind storm! And if Natubha knew, he didn’t tell us - either in his earthy wisdom or more likely, because of his usual over-confidence.
It was dusk when we managed to float out of Pagar, bound for the base camp at Dhunny Point, just an hour away! The expected arrival time was 7 pm; dusk gave way to darkness under a beautiful, star-embroidered charcoal sky but strong winds and buffeting of the boat kept our minds elsewhere. The crew kept changing the direction of the sail. I was looking for the reassuring beam of the lighthouse at Okha port on the western horizon but even at 9 pm, it was nowhere to be seen. Despite the whoosh of wind and the thrash of the waves, it was odd that I sensed an eerie silence on board.
We were wet, very cold and very, very hungry…and decidedly, lost at sea!
Both Natubha and I started telling anecdotes, cracking silly jokes to keep the trainees in good humour. He also started singing, trying to exude confidence but in the most unconvincing, clumsy manner; it was a brave effort to reassure us that all was well. The silence gave way to signs of panic among some girls who started praying; some were mumbling ‘Oh Ma’ or ‘Oh my God’; the group huddled together for warmth; one kharva brought out a smelly, salt eaten blanket, wrapping it around the entire group – well, almost! The tall gentleman from Zambia stood up and wobbled around looking for a non-existent shelter; he tried vainly to stuff himself under the narrow wooden seat ringing the boat, mumbling incoherently that he had phobia for seas. I was worried sick that he might actually jump into the sea out of sheer panic!
It was well past midnight and we were still in a stormy dark, probably heading out of the Gulf to the open Arabian Sea; if true, nothing would be worse than that, I thought. No one slept that night!
It was 2 am when the winds died down suddenly; the sail went limp for an hour or so before picking up once again. The ever-ebullient Natubha whispered to me that we were now in the right direction. Should I believe him? But then at 5 am, we saw the beam of the Okha port lighthouse in the west. To say that we were relieved is to make an understatement; if we were, it did not show - given the awe and shock of what we had just gone through, the excitement of exploring virgin seabed, followed by the freak of nature!
24 hours had gone by in the boat and it was breakfast time when I saw the most wonderful sight of my life – our jute tents on the sand bar! ‘Home sweet home’ may be a cliché but at that moment of our collective destiny, it made so much sense! As the sail boat glided silently towards the shore, a gentleman from Malta and me, out of sheer excitement of being alive, jumped from the boat and swam 100 yards to the shore.
Despite being a strict disciplinarian as a team leader, I had just broken a rule!
And who cares for the breakfast! We all disappeared into our tents and slept off the entire morning. At late lunch, the usual ho-hum of a clamour was missing; not a spoken word as heads down, we absentmindedly ate the food without really relishing it. I guess most of us were trying to understand what hit us, the statistical probability of some such thing happening to just a chosen few!
That evening, we silently departed from the island. The trainees were fighting emotions; some were crying unabashedly. It was once-in-a-lifetime experience, an adventure, a date with Nature that cannot, will ever be, replicated in our lifetime! And they knew.
And if this is Environment Education through the fiery process of learning through experience, so be it!
