My father built his first house when I was about five years old. Often, when he visited the construction site I would tag along, and I still remember how much I enjoyed climbing the pile of sand stacked there that would soon become part of our house. When the house was completed the sand pile was gone. Occasionally after that, I would scour other construction sites for a chance to play in the sand. It remained a habit with me for quite some time, until I grew up and found that playing in the sand was fun no more.
So when I learnt of the probably largest natural pile of sand in the country that lay along a Chumphon beach, it didn't take me long to make up my mind to go there and indulge in my favourite childhood pastime.
We set off on a late Friday afternoon - me, my wife, and our nine-month-old daughter - from Bangkok and drove for four and a half hours to reach Bang Berd District in Prachuap Khiri Khan Province where we spent the night at a resort by the beach.
The next morning I woke up early to find myself surrounded by beautiful scenery. The beach at Bang Berd - this section at least - was not the typical sand beach you find elsewhere, but here the sand was topped with pebbles of various sizes, just like in a stream.
I began walking and after a few minutes found myself in a narrow strip of beachside forest nourished by the sea. I was delighted to find some nice trees and shrubs like Hoo Kwang, Rak Talay, Pak Bung Talay and Gong Gang Hoo Chang, the latter belonging to the same family as gardenia (Dork Pud). It had small white flowers that gave out sweet fragrance.
By now the sun had risen above tree tops and fishermen were preparing to set out to sea.
Being a little too far to drive and too close to fly, Bang Berd is pretty free of tourists. This morning I found myself alone with a dark morph Pacific reef-egret my sole companion on a beach that stretched several kilometres. I walked back to the resort to find my wife and daughter waiting for me. We had breakfast and then checked out to explore the area.
Our first stop was Sithiporn Kridakara Research Station, the legacy of Prince Sithiporn Kridakara, the former head of Department of Agriculture. In 1920 he retired from government service and came here to start what can be described as Thailand's first attempt at modern farming. He coined the famous quote, "Money and gold are illusions; rice and fish are for real".
The agriculture research station is run by Kasetsart University. It also has a museum, in front of which, is a monument dedicated to the prince. We paid him our respects and proceeded to admire his life and works. I was delighted to know that the museum building was a replica of Prince Sithiporn's house and was built where his house once stood.
Partly self-funding, the research station is headed by Mr Sudprasong Suwannalert who has launched several projects to raise money, such as a fast-growing species of hard wood derived from only the best strain of the Kratin Narong tree. This wood, he said, is the preferred choice for building fishing boats. He then showed us a rubber nursery which supplies farmers with specially-bred saplings. Rubber now is one of our most valuable commodities.
Also, there were five large nurseries of cactus and succulent plants and a lot of rare plants too. I couldn't help but buy some and take them home.
Old-timers may have heard of the Bang Berd watermelon. When I asked Mr Sudprasong about it, he replied that they still kept its seeds at the station but it's no longer feasible to plant the fruit outdoors because insects and pests had cultivated a liking for watermelon and attacked it mercilessly whenever they had the chance. He now plans to grow it in a greenhouse.
The sand dunes were only a few minutes drive from Bang Berd farm. Driving south on a small local road for a while, we crossed into Chumphon and found ourselves surrounded by dunes large and small in various shapes and forms. We were in Ban Nam Phu. I parked by a sign that read, "The most prominent sand dune in Thailand", and off we went to admire the dunes.
Unlike the piles of sand I saw as a kid which were delivered by trucks, in nature, dunes take a long time to form.
They are originally formed as plants, particularly vines and grass, which catch the blowing sand in their roots and force it to pile up. Grass, which sends out special roots called rhizomes, actually stabilise the shifting sands. Constant wind, tides and ocean currents reshape the dunes for which many species of marine and aquatic animals and plant life call home. Of course, a bit of luck is also involved.
Being very poor in nutrients, the first life forms to colonise the dune are grass and vines. These plants are very efficient at turning sunlight into energy. Then come shrubs that feed on the remains of the dead pioneers - technically the topsoil - followed by trees, eventually leading to the growth of forest.
Here in Chumphon, the dunes are in various stages of development - some parts are practically bare sand, some with weeds and vines, and some very nice beach forests with large trees, ferns, and many other plants.
Being a very fragile system, to let people walk freely on the dune will harm its natural well-being. So stepping stones laid along designated paths. The path we took led us to the crest of this dune where - on our right was beautiful scenery dotted with other dunes and further up were limestone mountains, and on our left the sea shore and long beach dominated by towering sea pines.
The first part of the dune was practically bare sand with patches of seaweed and vines. A little downhill the forest was rather dense. There were many plants, some of which I knew by name - but most I didn't. Those I knew were Maka-tae, Kruatoa, Teoy Talay, Dongdung and Teen Ped Sai.
In nature, these plants grow in this kind of habitat only. Some of them I knew from the garden specimens I had seen over the years, but this was first time I was seeing them in their own environment.
Except for some insects, I couldn't find any other life forms except plants. Then my wife spotted something moving at the edge of the shrubs. It turned out to be a fully grown female butterfly lizard - Yae in Thai - perhaps enjoying the morning sun. This terrestrial lizard lives alone and builds its own system of tunnels to hide from predators. I took a picture and gently retraced my steps so as not to disturb it.
After about an hour, the stepping stones led us down a steep slope and we found ourselves at the U-turn of the trail. By now our arms were beginning to feel weak as we took turns carrying our daughter. She seemed to enjoy the morning sun and cool sea breeze. Every once in a while, she would beat my chest in excitement and smile, a gesture she usually repeats after she has had milk to her heart's content. We were all very happy.
A young Brahminy kite circled above our head and a young butterfly lizard, which was spooked by our presence slid down the sandy slope. I watched it hide under a thick bush, thinking how fun it would be to slide down this giant pile of sand. But that I knew would greatly disturb the dune's ecology and I refrained.
On the way back, by the path, there was a sculpture of dolphins. I assumed it to be the point for dolphin watch. But hard as we tried, there were no signs of them that morning, just the sight of gentle waves forming in the sea.
The trail led us down to the beach under neat sea pine forest and on to our car. All together, it took us about one and a half hours to complete the round-trip and we thoroughly enjoyed the unique scenery of the sand dune, probably the only one in the Kingdom. All this time we didn't encounter a single tourist. It was nice in a way, but then it was kind of strange for such a neat place to receive so little attention.
I can imagine this dune being promoted as an "Unseen" attraction by the Tourism Authority of Thailand in due course. That would be nice, but then, the dune and beachside forest are a very fragile ecosystem. Any promotion should be carried out with due responsibility. Sustainable use of natural resources is easier said than done.
Driving back I looked in the rear mirror for one last view of the dune, thinking how nice it would be to come back here when my daughter had grown up. What would I say then? Perhaps, "You see this? We have been here. Oh, the trees, they have grown and are even more beautiful than before."
That would be really nice.
Bangkok Post November 2005 www.bangkokpost.com
