The boulder rocks, or Intertidal Boulders, near the shorelines in Tanjung Bidara is crowded with varied organisms that thrive on the wet and moldy surface, some sessile, some mobile. Sessile organisms on the rock surface include teritip, algae, basically living organisms that do not move.
While the mobile ones, as the name suggests, include snails, crabs and other crustaceans. From far, the communities on the rock surface look like unsightly love handles hanging around the otherwise muscular boulders.
Growing teritip
The boulders by the brown sandy beach in the outskirt of Melaka are the source of side income for Pak Ramli, or more fondly, Haji Ram, a fisherman who harvests teritip, baby oysters – the ingredients for ‘O Jien’ or oyster omelets – during low tide season, when the boulder is not submerged in water.
Haji Ram
Haji Ram carries with him a metal rod that has a hook on one end, empty milk can, and a fork.
The dun-toothed old man picks a teritip that is more than 1.5” wide; otherwise, the flesh is too little for the effort. The wider part of the teritip is the face, where it opens up to feed when there is water, while the sharper end is the behind.
Knocking on the broader part on the teritip, Haji Ram pulls the grayish cover upward. The juicy larva is now exposed, which he picks out with the back of the fork.
On a good day, Haji Ram will do this for a few hours until the harvest fills up a milk can. On average, for two weeks in a month (during low tide season), Haji Ram would be able to fetch RM50 per day. If a specific request comes in, usually Chinese hawker, he would fill up the milk can and charge RM75 for the hard labour.
Promoting growth
When the larva is picked out of the shell, its eggs would drip on the rock surface and a new breeding cycle would take place, hence promoting growth. Besides harvesting the teritip for a living, Haji Ram is also regulating its growth, keeping the community on the boulder from dying. If left untouched, the community would reduce to mold and algae.
Life by the beach
On a good day, a fisherman would be able to pick up two loads of catch (dua pikul), approximately 120kgs. While that may sound a lot, it is hardly a daily celebration.
When the weather turns against them, they have to be patient and wait out the torrential rain and storm. Patience has to be virtue in this part of the world.
As I walk on the rock surface, stepping on layers of teritip beneath my feet, I am ashamed of my oblivion – folks here live a hard life. However hard life may be, everyone here still has a smile to spare.
After my aimless stroll on the beach, I met Shah, a 38-year old fisherman, who was kind enough to extend my adventure in Melaka to the sea. Thanks to Shah, my visit to Tanjung Bidara unfolds an all new adventure: we are going fishing for comel (squid as how the locals call it).
Shah, the anchor of my new-found adventure
Shah, when not fishing and not working on land, takes fishing groups out to the sea for fun-filled fishing trips. He knows exactly where the fish are waiting. The father of five have been out in the sea since the age of ten as a sidekick to his father.
Bhat, Shah's 4-year old son
Initially shy, this buddy soon becomes my pal on the deserted beach in Tg Bidara. Unlike other healthy growing child, Bhat’s growth is stunted by repeated surgeries to fix a serious birth defect -Imperforate Anus, also called anorectal anomaly. At birth, Bhat did not have anal opening. Since then, the minor has gone through four surgeries in General Hospital in KL. At such a young age, Bhat has been a patient in the hospital more times than he could endure.
Gerimis
Gerimis is a type of shellfish that the locals cook with soup noodles. It looks pretty similar to the lalas, only these are much smaller, and with patterns.
Girls digging for Gerimis
Girls spend their after-school time digging for gerimis for dinner. They will first wash the sand off the gerimis and cook them (with shell on) in soups, usually with mihun (rice noodles). This is literally cari makan.
Mee goreng special at Balai Nelayan
No travel experience is complete without a local favorite meal and the photos would have to be in color, of course. The scrumptious early dinner, mee goreng special, managed to stay where it should throughout my journey in the sea.
Shah gets ready his boat
After dinner and a little time thereafter to facilitate healthy digestion, we set out. The brand new engine is Shah’s new investment. Together with the boat, the gears have cost him around RM10,000, an amount that is substantial enough for him to strike any holiday plan in his reality.
After all is set, we ride against the waves for Shah to make a day’s living and for me to be a speck in the sea.
A makeshift lamppost
After ten minutes, the engine is switched off, and the anchor is thrown into the seabed 100-ft below us. This is a battery-powered lamppost. The fine string that curls below is a fishing line. Shah hooks a dead squid on the fishhook as bait and lets it dip in the sea. Squids are generally aggressive by nature. So, when a squid sees another, either one will launch attack. Once a squid swims close to the bait, Shah will scoop it, with a net. A less hassle way to fish for dinner, otherwise, a huge net is usually deployed.
As all this happens, the boat is rocked and buoyed by ripping waters. My head spins and my stomach churns. I feel my early dinner rises up to my throat, but it managed to stay in. My only regret during this trip is that I did not catch a single comel. I should have taken the anti motion sickness pill long before.
We move from one spot to the other for a couple of times. The movement helps ease my sufferings a little. To not waste my early dinner, I stay out of the action. I fall asleep, a couple of times but wake up in time to catch the action.
Patir with his 2 kilos garoupa
As we move to another spot, we stop to check on other fisherman’s catch. Patir fishes with gawai, a 2ft by 2ft round plastic container, that night.
The more rewarding catch would be Jenak/Jehanak (John Snapper). In the market, a Jenak below 10kg fetches a decent rate of RM28 per kilo, heavier than that, the price goes down slightly to RM22 per kilo. Shah had caught one that weighed 12kg and 800g once with a fishing line. The biggest one known to the locals was 20kg. The catch, when cut open, had 17 fishhooks buried inside its stomach. It is time to give in when you have no stomach for more fishhooks.
At midnight, lightning pierces through the clouds, the fierce veins threaten us with much aggression. We return to shore shortly thereafter. I hear from Shah the next day that after the rain has stopped, a turtle has come onto the shore to lay eggs.
Malam tadi, ada penyu datang. Dalam pukul 3 lebih lah. Kalau Joey tinggal kat sini, Shah boleh panggil Joey tengok.
(Yesterday night, a turtle came (to the shore) at around 3am. If you stay here, I can call you so you can see.)
How I wished I had stayed. Just a couple of nights before, Shah had seen a turtle on the shore which laid 181 eggs. The eggs were later transferred to the hatchery center in Padang Kemunting Turtle Management Centre. The turtles visit on a regular basis, apparently and usually, after rain.
If you are a fan in fishing, Shah is possibly your best guide and Tanjung Bidara has more to offer than you can stomach. Stay over at RNC Challet or Tiara Chalet (though basic) and hang out with local fishermen at the Balai Nelayan. Join the locals for a truly localised experience. Shah will wake you if there is turtle visiting the shore.
If you want a fruitful catch, there are a few local terms you need to know about the sea. Knowing them also helps you to prepare better for a fruitful catch.
Bani Terang a.k.a Spring Tide – strong tides that occur during the full moon.
Bani Gelap or Neap Tide – tide’s range is minimum and result in less extreme tidal conditions.
Air Besar – though I still couldn’t grasp the science behind it, but this generally happens during the first four days in Muslim calendar. The best catch during this period are prawns and shrimps, especially geragau that is used in making sambal belacan and cincalok.
Air Kecil – this generally happens during the last four days in Muslim calendar. The best catch during this period is fish.
These are the exact coordinates for the Balai Nelayan. Once you turn into a Jalan Bukit Tinggi, you will come to a narrow road overseeing the beach, you can only turn left. After turning left, the chalets will be on your left, and Balai Nelayan should be behind you. Ask the residents nearby for permission to park your vehicle and walk in reverse direction to go to Balai Nelayan. Don’t ask me how I remember.
In addition to this pictorial post, visit THE STORIES BEHIND for a more detailed account of my experience.
Next up is a story on how teritip (baby oyster) is harvested.
After my aimless stroll on the beach, I found a new purpose for my trip in Tanjung Bidara: to go fishing for comel (squid as how the locals call it).
At close to 6pm, I sit with Shah at Balai Nelayan, a simple canteen where he hangs out with other fisherman friends (not edible). A group of them usually occupies a corner of the canteen for a few games of carom and fill the wooden eatery with much good-natured banter.
At 7:30 pm, the darkness begins to loom over the ocean and the water horizon line begins to fade; soon, the water and the skies would be inseparable.
Under the dimming daylight, Shah fixes a motor to his small-size boat while his friend, Deli, helps pushing the boat out to the water. All is set. Shah walks up the shore again and retreats with his back facing the sea murmuring, perhaps a prayer requesting for a fruitful catch and a safe return.
We set out at 7:45pm, riding against the tide and bouncing over waves. I stretch my arms wide, holding both side of the boat, to keep myself from bouncing off the shallow vessel.
After ten minutes of chopping waves, Shah stops the boat in a spot only he knows where. The engine is switched off and the wavy waters now buoy the boat that has lost its momentum. The boat moves more vigorously when Deli anchors the boat. He pulls and loosens the rope to secure the anchor on the seabed that is approximately 100-feet deep.
Five minutes later, the anchor is secured and Shah switched on the battery-operated florescent lamp that is hanging on a wooden holder with a fishing line (and a fishhook) dipping in the greenish water. Shah hooks a dead squid onto the fishhook as bait. Squid makes excellent bait for cephalopod as no two can coexist in harmony. The bait will lure the squid close to it and the latter will eventually get caught.
As we wait and rock along with the waving water, a squid zooms in fast to the bait and starts to pick a fight. ‘Splash!’ Shah scoops the squid at once with a net.
Stuck in the net, the squid activates its self-defense mechanism by spitting ink. The translucent creature is tossed into a pail. Lying helplessly in the pail, it hisses and wiggles weakly. Eventually, the hissing stops and its body turns white.
When all this is happening, I feel my head pounding and my stomach churning. I think I feel my dinner rising up to my throat too. Getting away from the action, leaning on the backpack, away from the light, I close my eyes.
I find solace in the tender, albeit chilly, breeze, and the rippling sound of the water. Indifferent to my condition, the boat continues to rock. I soon fall asleep.
When I awake, the pail is already filled with more than ten squids. The catch soon reduces. I think the squid finally finds out our trick. We move to another stop. Deli repeats the anchoring and my head and stomach spins and churns again. I fall asleep, again.
When I awake this time, Shah has caught a baby swordfish. Then I hear a ‘click’ sound and the ‘sword’ is broken; its body is cut into half. Shah uses the tail half to make bait for Jenahak or in short Jenak (John Snapper). The gill-covers of the other half still open and close. I close my eyes again, just to rest.
Shah is fishing only with fishing line tied around his toes. His fingers and toes work together to trot the fishing line every now and then. At times when he feels the tension on the fishing line, he is actually merely feeding the fish below. Hence more baby swordfish are caught to make bait.
Just when my head and stomach adapt to the rocking, lightning pierces through the clouds and the ferocious white veins threaten us with much rage. Shah estimated that the rain should come in an hour after this phenomenon and we will return to shore in ten minutes. I am happy my misery will end soon but I am not quite happy because I have not caught any comel.
The light is off and the engine roars again. The boat starts speeding and bouncing its way back to the shore. In less than 10 minutes, we are back on the shore with a bucket of squids that weighs approximately two kilos.
It is 1:00am and my head and stomach seem to have lost its bearing altogether. I wave goodbye to Shah and Deli and wobble back to the car.
My body is ready to drop but my spirits is very much lifted. Catching squids is probably not a big deal; but there is something about the unplanned itinerary. I have not had such an impromptu adventure for a long time and this is a refreshing change. Having said that, I should have taken my anti motion sickness pills much earlier.
Getting lost is part of the agenda in this home traveling series. While I did not actively seek to be lost, it happened when I was in Tanjung Bidara.
Compared to other beaches in the east coast of Malaysia, Tanjung Bidara hardly strikes an impression on travelers. Its cloudy water and fishy aroma is hardly soothing for vacationers to begin with. I come here to see one thing: How teritip (baby oyster) is harvested. The locals call the harvest, ketuk teritip. Teritips, as we hardly know, are the main ingredient in oyster omelets.
On a sunny and humid late afternoon, I reach Tanjung Bidara but see no beachfront that warrants this mostly deserted place a worthy mention. I drive through arch that welcomes its guests to this faraway edge of Melaka. However, there are no road signs to facilitate navigation thereafter.
Off the beaten path by a couple of kilometers, I think. That side is where the resort is.
I try my luck and steer through narrow trunk roads at a cautious speed of 10kmph, passing low but well-kempt village houses along the strip of elevated tarmac. The quaint little kampung (village in Bahasa Malaysia) hardly seems like the place I intended on going.
As I approach more and more winding lanes, I pass by an immense farm on my right. At this, I believe I am lost. More houses rise before the windscreen as I drive on. Turning left or right seems to lead me to one place: nowhere.
Soon, I find delight in meeting a group of children who have gathered in a circle among themselves.
‘Dik, kak nak tumpang tanya. Pantai Tanjung Bidara kat mana?‘ I asked.
The school-going age children chirp and point to a doubly narrow road that is almost on par with the roof of the house next it, on my left: ‘Kat situ.’
‘Kereta boleh masuk ke, dik?’ Five of them nod in unison: ‘Boleh!’ And beam.
I did just as directed. Carefully, I maneuver into the lane. More huts and houses, that are tough and ready, ahead of me; quite a change from what I have driven passed earlier.
At the turn of a sharp corner, I finally see the ocean – waters rippling and waves beating the shores – that is about 50 meters from me.
Away from the coastline, few elderly men and women put their feet up below a shabby-looking hut.
They turn from each other and stare at the moving mobile. Hostility starts to taper off as I smile and nod at them.
To my delight, I pass 2 blocks of chalet facing the beachfront. Both have a renewed look with a fresh layer of yellow and brown color paint. I am not that lost after all; people do come here.
I continue to cruise on the narrow path until I reach the end of the tarmac, a dead end. I examine my surrounding and look around to find my bearings. I see huge boulder rocks thrust on the coastline and the rocks’ belly has rough deposits grown around it. I figure they must be the teritip that I am looking for. A man is sitting on top of the boulder with a fishing rod in hand. No one else is there.
No one else is there but a man with his fishing rod
Boulder rocks has teritips growing on its belly
An empty shell of a teritip. Its flesh has been harvested recently.
After twenty minutes of aimless strolling and pacing up and down along the brown-sandy beach, I get back to the car and contemplate my next move. I entertain the thought of giving up as it flashes across my mind.
In a place where I thought I was lost, I ended up making friends with Shah, Hussin and Pak Haji Ram, fishermen who have not only turned my adventure around but have widened, perhaps a little, my knowledge in fishing.
When you are lost, giving up, sometimes, may not be the best idea. Instead, you may find more than what you have come for. That particular day and the following day are my most memorable days during my stay in Melaka.
Tomorrow, joeygan.com will share an account on the author’s experience in fishing for comel – squid – as how the locals call it, with Shah. Another account will follow, the next day, to expose how teritip is harvested, with Pak Haji Ram.
