Holiday in Cambodia: Dolphins on the Mekong

Cambodia can be a slightly frustrating country for a naturalist, as most of the wildlife is found in jungle areas where it is difficult to catch more than a brief glimpse of anything through the thick foliage. Compounding this, the traditional Cambodian view of wildlife is that it is either an agricultural pest or a delicacy, in the case of fruit bats- both. So while Cambodia has the usual tropical proliferation of  life, it tends to be cautious and hard to spot.

So it is with hope and a little optimism that I set out in a tuk tuk from Kampi to nearby Krabi over dusty gut-churning roads, scattering scrawny demented looking chickens in our wake to find one of the rarest populations of mammals on the planet. I'm going to see Irawaddy dolphins.

Unlike the probably extinct Bajii, the Ganges dolphin, and the Amazonian pink dolphins, The Irawaddy dolphins are not exclusively a fresh water species. Some of their populations just like riverine environments. As an evolutionary move, this has turned out to be a solid bet, as there is a proliferation of river fish and the fresh water tolerant  dolphins are now one of the apex predators in this environment. Things worked out pretty well for the dolphins until humans got involved. The usual cocktail of overfishing, pollution and motorized water vessels has left about eighty dolphins in the Mekong.

The Mekong even at its dry season ebb is an impressive waterway.  Large freighters are able to navigate it several at a time without jostling shoulders. The sluggish deep waters meander southwards from the Tibetan Plateau, a life giving artery to six countries along the way. It suffers from its own impressiveness in that it is difficult to accept that anything so immense can be fragile and might not always be there. Like all great rivers time slows in its presence. There is a stillness that takes hold on the banks of the Mekong.

 The main, and arguably only reason to visit Kratie is dolphin viewing. There are a few temples and local attractions but the temple with the turtle sanctuary is closed for some reason (I asked and got the customary five  explanations). So the cetaceans for me are clearly the top regional draw. Several businesses, including my guesthouse, are named in honor of the blunt nosed dolphins. There are statues and murals of dolphins all over. Partly due to amateurish rendering skills and partly that Irawaddy dolphins are somewhat stumpy and awkward compared to the photogenic Bottle-nosed dolphin, these efforts are unlikely to attract museum collectors.  My jarring tuk tuk ride, included my driver attempting to ingratiate himself to me by praising Donald Trump without ever noticing he chose the wrong audience. I was deposited at the ticket office lightly shaken to purchase my passage. When I presented my twenty dollar bill to pay, the clerk staged an elaborate mini drama until I told him I would be perfectly content to accept my change in riel. I got my change and ticket with an accompanying gesture telling me where to go. This wasn't the one I expected and probably on some level, deserved. A long flight of concrete stairs led down to the bank and a fleet of about a dozen elderly gondolas that did not inspire confidence, in spite of their fresh banana yellow paint. A dour scarecrow of a man approached he sniffed apathetically at my ticket and indicated which boat I was to board. We launched and my pilot took the oar. I expected him to review up the longtail engine as soon as we were deep enough. Instead he slowly guided the vessel upstream. "There" he grunted pointing at a decreasing series of ripples. I focused on it camera and binoculars at the ready. He pointed at another stretch of disturbed surface and grunted again. This happened a few times before I saw what was unmistakably a finned back. My guide's face split into an enormous dentured grin.

The dolphins were easy to spot but more or less impossible to photograph. They would surface with a heavy sigh. You would get a quick glance of a bulbous head, a glistening back with a trim dorsal fin or a fluked tail before the six foot animal submerged again. This whole performance from start to finish took about two seconds and could happen anywhere on the river. You could be focused on a riffle about twenty feet away only to have a dolphin pop up within arms length on the opposite side of the boat, much to my guide's amusement. I think reviewing my memory card, I have one recognizable picture of a dolphin and at least sixty shots of blurry ripples. We never l The entire outing was completely silent apart from the sound of water, the exhalation of dolphins, the oar and the boatman's monosyllabic indications of where the animals were. There were several other boats silently patrolling this section of river, less than a quarter of a mile from the stairs. Whenever a boat started it's engine, they were instantly greeted with palpable dirty looks from passengers and pilots alike, as though shouting in one voice: "Don't disturb the pod!". In what definitely seemed like less than my allotted hour, my guide steered us back to port. At the top of the stairs, just above where the off duty boatmen lounged, there was a billboard explaining the legendary origins of river dolphins. Evidently, in short, a young woman was inadvisably married to a hungry python. The snake attempted to devour his betrothed on their wedding night. The maiden was rescued, but not before absorbing enough serpent blood to transform her into a dolphin. One can only hope that the luck of this enchanting species continues to improve.