This trip got off on a horribly embarrassing start, for the organizers that is. And yes, my Hubby and I were the organizers. Flashback to that day when we sat foot on Pulau Ubin again, this time with our "quarterly-outing-to-celebrate-birthdays-for-every-quarter" bunch of friends; four families in total, distributed largely to the eastern and north-eastern side of this tiny island we call home.
It was a Sunday, 6th November 2011, to be exact. The precise timing is beyond any recollection for at that time, I was still dazed from a slight sleep-in. I was getting ready to drag myself out of bed to start the day when the Hubby's phone rang. The caller on the other side sounded apprehensive. "Are you guys here yet?" the caller asked. "Friend, it's tomorrow," my Hubby replied. "Is it? But the other family's here too!" the caller informed the Hubby. I couldn't believe my ears, neither could my Hubby. So two out of our four families of friends were at the meeting place, how about the last family? My mind started wondering if they were by any chance making their way there. The Hubby called, and was reaffirmed (to our amusement and a trifle bit of relief) that the outing was to be tomorrow, 7th November. What's happening here? What sort of coincidence was it that caused 2 families to assemble on time at our meeting place on the wrong date, while the other 2 families happily got on with their lives (one family sleeping-in, and the other doing some house-cleaning), oblivious to the fact that the start of an adventure was brewing around the corner?
Basically, the date for our outing and birthday celebration for the 4th quarter was sort of settled a couple of months back, verbally. At that time, we set the date as the day after Hari Raya Haji holiday, which fell on a Sunday, and that means the outing was meant to be on Monday, 7th November. Somehow, in the midst of email exchanges to suggest a venue and activities, wait for replies and tidy down the details, the main organizer (which is the Hubby) got the date wrong. After filtering through his tons of emails, the Hubby located the source of our embarrassment. He had typed "6th November" instead of "7th November" in one of the emails. The two families who were already at the meeting place had worked on "black and white" mode, while the house-cleaning family and us worked on a "memory" mode. Well, no body's at fault (except for the fellow who typed the email ^_^ ).
After confirming that no one's interested in coming back the next day (personally I would not want to pack up and go home and then drive all the way back to Changi Village again the next day just to execute an outing, especially when I wasn't the one committing an input error), and the house-cleaning family was able to concede to such last minute demands, our 4th quarter outing to Pulau Ubin proceeded with no further hiccups.
Four families, 15 of us in total made our way via two bum boats to Pulau Ubin. It was lucky the weather was kind to us. A couple of days before this trip, blankets of dark looming clouds had been regurgitating tons of aquatic refreshments upon us, causing flash floods in many pockets around Singapore. We were worried that more refreshments would be served on our outing day, but luckily, the sun decided that some dehydration was due.
There was a light breeze blowing across the sea surface, but the ride to Pulau Ubin was pretty smooth. We divided ourselves into two groups, 7 of us over at this bum boat, and the other 8, over the other boat there.
When we reach the jetty, we were actually quite worried about the kids alighting the boats that were bobbing up and down a little alongside the concrete stairway of the jetty. But natural instincts of any parents put such worries to naught. All the Papas valiantly lent a helping hand...
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| Busily disgorging ourselves from the boat... |
Since this was my second visit to Pulau Ubin, I was in a better composure and had more time to observe the surrounding more carefully before embarking on our journey into the island. This was what I saw when I turned around to face the sea by which we came in.
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| Bum boats queue: wait for their turn to unload their human cargoes. |
When all of us were done unloading ourselves from the boats, we gathered, in a typical tourist-like manner, in front of the "Welcome" sign, to capture our presence on this island digitally.
We do need two shots to make sure that everyone's part of the picture. We had decided that all of us would rent a bicycle and head straight to Chek Jawa, climb up the viewing tower, tour the boardwalk and then head back to mainland for our lunch. Without much ado, we headed straight for the first bicycle rental shop that comes to view, not bothering to compare prices.
The older kids, having learnt to cycle, were enthusiastically choosing their bikes. The rest of the younger ones, having no say over the style and make of their rides, stood by the side while the Papas and Mummies checked for braking efficiency (that's safety for you) and accessories (meaning a front basket to dump our haversack in).
Once we were properly equipped with a bike, and back-load duly distributed (meaning which parent to take which child), we set off towards Chek Jawa. I was initially allocated my girl, but I have to admit, despite unwillingly (for she remains petite and tiny in my eyes), that she had grown beyond what my strength could cope. I could hardly balance her as my back-load, and was not able to cycle an inch without both of us veering dangerously left and right, and many a times into somebody's path, nearly causing a collision of metal and flesh. If you had ever driven a manual car, it was like having the engine dying off on you before you could even move. After umpteenth failure to edge forward, while the others sped off ahead of me, I switched back-load with the Hubby. The Tiny Man was considerably lighter. After a minute or so of getting adjusted to a different weight at the back, I was cycling off towards our destination decently, trying to catch up with the rest, who by now were no longer visible but remained audible in the distance ahead.
The ride on the tar-covered track was relatively easy. I would say it was quite a breeze compared to having to walk under some sweltering heat which we did on our first visit to this island. For the speed and ease on bicycles, I would say the opportunity to take in the surrounding scenery was sacrificed. But that didn't really bother anyone as we, especially those parents with back-loads, busied ourselves physically and mentally with focused determination to reach our destination and avert any accidents like flinging our back-load off their seats as some of us occasionally lost our balance. Along the way, a father-and-son's conversation provided some momentary relief from the arduous task of paddling.
"Daddy?" the son called out to his father. He is, if I am not mistaken, 4 this year.
"Yes, son?" answered the father, panting from the paddling effort.
"Are you tired?" The son asked.
"Er, no." The father replied, and later told us that he felt a loving surge of warmth and pride for the son, who had shown such concern for him.
"Then why aren't you paddling fast? Paddle faster."
As we neared Chek Jawa, the smooth tar-covered road gave way to meandering, sloping paths covered with mud and stones. We had to get off our bikes and push along for quite a distance until we reached the entrance to Chek Jawa. It was along such medieval paths that I had second thoughts about renting a bicycle (albeit too late). It was really easier to trudge along, leaving the kids to do the same sulking, then to trudge along while pushing the bike with the back-load still mounted and enjoying every bit of such luxurious treatment. But luckily, in no time, we reached the entrance to Chek Jawa. This was where we parked our bikes in a somewhat haphazard manner, and continued on foot towards the wetland and the boardwalk. On this visit, we had the chance to let our eyes feast on more varieties of flora and fauna compared to our first visit.
For a start, a family of wild boars, Mummy and three babies, crossed the narrow pathway from one side to the other to check out the mess of parked bicycles. I was excited about the family's decision to pay a gentle visit to "human-infested" area of the island, despite a small amount of apprehension that they might attack us. I always have the image that wild boars would come charging at you especially when they felt that their lives or their babies' lives are threatened. When I saw the family, I was torn between walking far away from them (lest I get bitten or snout-butted on my rear) and getting closer to them to get a decent picture of this rare view. The family though both curious and wary of their surrounding, were rather gentle in their approach to view us, the humans. They kept close to each other and an amicable distance from us. They were pretty nifty in their pace, and I couldn't get much of a good picture out of the family. Below is the best shot that one member of the boar family could bear to bestow on me.
Having whiled away some time getting excited over the wild boar family, I hurried to join the rest of the group. They had freshened up slightly and were raring to go. Look at them!
Our first stop was the viewing tower. All 15 of us made our way to the top, where we made this our first and only pit-stop to replenish.
The view was still as breathtaking as it had presented itself on my first trip here. But the kids were rather preoccupied with something else to take in the view. I know one of mine was busy "foraging". The Tiny Man had worked up quite an appetite from being a die-hard supporter of his Mummy's cycling ability, cheering and encouraging me on unabashedly along the way with "妈咪加油！妈咪加油！", only breaking off at certain points along the medieval paths to race down the path with his sister and some of the older kids from our entourage. As a reward to their cooperation and efforts for coming such a long way, one of the mummies started handing out goodies to satisfy all the kiddies' sweet-tooth.
Some of the parents were by now quite "shattered" by the exertions earlier on, so we decided to extend our pit-stop to revive ourselves adequately before embarking on the observatory part of our outing. The kids on the other hand, took the opportunity to socialize, silently that is. Standing across the stairways, I saw them at their relaxed self. Some seated comfortably, and others plastering themselves neatly on the hand-rail of the stairway. I couldn't resist it and took two pictures of our kids behaving candidly in a social gathering. I wonder if adults are able to achieve this. I suppose I would be stiff as a log in such occasions.
Having amply revived and ready for more, we moved out of the tower onto the boardwalk, eyes peeled, vocal utterances kept to the lowest decibel possible in order to catch sight of life in the mangrove swamp. Our efforts at such self-restraint was immediately rewarded with this.
It was observing us with equal fervor: eyes peeled, vocal utterances, zilch. Both parties observed each other: with us breaking off in a mime of excitement, pointing out to the kids and "oohing" as silently as we could possibly manage, and the monkey maintaining its lofty surveillance of the lot of us. When we could do no more than gesture in excitement at it, the monkey bored with our monotony, turned away lazily and nonchalantly to offer its gaze at some other point of interest in the faraway horizon. Encouraged by our find, we moved on ahead and this time, it was something on the muddy swampy grounds that caught our attention.
Abundant as they were further down the boardwalk deeper into the mangrove, this particular mud-skipper was big and more accessible to our eyes. With its bulging black eyes, and gleaming brown looking scales, the mud-skipper seemed to have held its breath and tried with every ounce of effort to blend into its background of brownish mud and rotting leaves. It failed miserably for we had spotted it and were all crouching as near to it as we could without falling off the boardwalk into the muddy swamp, observing it. For the whole time we were at it, I thought how the mud-skipper would have thought of us. As much as we thought the creature queer in its structure, from its perspective, we probably were a rude and gibbering bunch of big and little oafs, some come equipped with a silver box protruding out of its eyes (that's me with my camera) ^_^
Having had enough of the mud-skipper, we moved along the boardwalk, hoping for more exotic finds, but life in the swamp is as unpredictable as ours. We could find nothing else (perhaps we did not look hard enough) apart from more mud-skippers, this particular fungus, which one of the mummies informed, is called the bracket fungus, and swamp crabs.
For the swamp crabs, there was a huge colony of it further down the boardwalk, at the Seagrass Lagoon. Over here, the adults and kids enjoyed some time admiring more mud-skippers skating across the mud and the countless numbers of claw-wrestling matches put up by the colony of crabs dwelling there.
The matches were really hilarious to watch. Of course the match would involve two crabs, but there will always be some onlookers by the side, waving their disproportionately large claw excitedly as the match proceeded. It was as if the onlookers were cheering the participants, and I would love to imagine that there is some sort of betting system on each match. The participants clash their claws, and with rapid movement, tried to jostle the other party out of some imagined boundary and into submission. The rapid claw movements looked like some form of arm rubbing, massaging gesture that it appeared cute rather than menacing to the human onlookers. As the participants clash their claws and moved in their version of belligerence on the mud, the onlookers would be pursuing the match diligently, sometimes in circles until a winner is decided, with the loser retreating dismally into a hole. It was these matches that kept all of us entertained endlessly for a while on the Mangrove Boardwalk above the Seagrass Lagoon.
As we had allocated some of our time to sort out a confusion over outing date and time, we found ourselves running late for lunch and (I still feel apologetic about it) the organizers' next appointment. With that, we ended our exploration of the Chek Jawa Wetland from the boardwalk and retraced our footsteps back to the entrance of the wetland on another side road. This path was also interesting in terms of the cooling effect offered by the overhanging foliage. Among the leaves of a plant along the side road, a friend spotted this colorful little insect and busied himself snapping away at it with his camera. I joined in the snapping fun too.
We took a short breather at the entrance of the wetland, to answer nature's call and replenish on the liquid. Some of us poke our heads around House No. 1, an English cottage that was built in the 1930s by the then Chief Surveyor, Langdon Williams. It was meant to be his holiday retreat.
Between the outpost to answer nature's call (in other words, toilets) and the magnificent House No.1 were some shrubberies bearing beautifully pink flowers. It was relaxing to take in such a vibrant color if not for its awkward location.
Once we had briefly cleaned ourselves up and adequately watered, we made our way back to the jetty. The ride back was just as we rode towards Chek Jawa: lots of pushing to get up those challenging slopes and beyond the stretch of medieval muddy stony paths. The sense of relief when we finally made it to tar-covered roads was beyond description, at least for me. For the rest of the ride on the tar road, the Tiny Man resumed his fervent support for my cycling again, and we made it back happily, peppered with the occasional imbalance, unscathed, to bicycle rental shop.
Before leaving for mainland on our bum boat rides, we took two parting shots at the jetty. 8 adults and 7 kids ranging from as old as 12 to as young as 4, I think we fared pretty well for a bunch of city dwellers.
Back at mainland, those hungry kids charged hungrily to Charlie's Corner, with the adults who made it there first ensuring that we had a table long enough to take all 15 of us, in-separated. Charlie's Corner did, simply by joining up whatever tables they had laid out for the lunch crowd. We took one corner of the corridor and busied ourselves with our own activities: kids studying the menu intently, some of the adults making their ways over slowly, not the least bit worried about their possibly growling stomach, and I, snapping away happily at all the activities.
We made pretty fast time deciding on our orders and settled down to laugh over the confusion in the morning, marveled at the kids performance for the day and lament on how age had took its toll on our bodies. Some of us thought that we would probably be lying in bed for the next two days, nursing the sore joints and aching muscles back into function. In no time, our lunch was spread out before us as accurately as we had ordered. The parents inevitably leaped into action, portioning out the food for the kids and salvaging those morsels of greens that their offspring refused to have any contact with.
I had enjoyed myself thoroughly, even though it was the second time within the span of about a month. I am not sure about the rest, but for me at least, being able to paddle, push and heave the bikes along rocky paths together with our bundle of back-loads is a sign of health and youth (despite our youthfulness physically diminishing every day, bit by bit). To be able to enjoy a day not worrying about anything, but just getting to the destination, with whatever means you have chosen, taking in the surrounding, whatever that's been offered to you, is a gift that should not be taken for granted. As I paddled my bicycle, as I tried to keep my balance to prevent the Tiny Man from falling off and getting hurt, stopping many times along the way to regain my balance, I thought about the similarity this had with life in general. Moving along in my life, responsibilities either thrown at me or chosen by me, test and tribulations to throw me off the course. With focus and some pig-headed determination, I suppose I could make it to where I intend to be, and back, unscathed. Just as I had done with paddling, pushing and heaving the bike with the Tiny Man, lumbering and bumbling along bumpy roads, touch down on my destination and making our way back.
I wonder if the kids are ready for more visits to Pulau Ubin ^_^
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| Bicycle selection: test the brakes, style is not an issue. |
Once we were properly equipped with a bike, and back-load duly distributed (meaning which parent to take which child), we set off towards Chek Jawa. I was initially allocated my girl, but I have to admit, despite unwillingly (for she remains petite and tiny in my eyes), that she had grown beyond what my strength could cope. I could hardly balance her as my back-load, and was not able to cycle an inch without both of us veering dangerously left and right, and many a times into somebody's path, nearly causing a collision of metal and flesh. If you had ever driven a manual car, it was like having the engine dying off on you before you could even move. After umpteenth failure to edge forward, while the others sped off ahead of me, I switched back-load with the Hubby. The Tiny Man was considerably lighter. After a minute or so of getting adjusted to a different weight at the back, I was cycling off towards our destination decently, trying to catch up with the rest, who by now were no longer visible but remained audible in the distance ahead.
The ride on the tar-covered track was relatively easy. I would say it was quite a breeze compared to having to walk under some sweltering heat which we did on our first visit to this island. For the speed and ease on bicycles, I would say the opportunity to take in the surrounding scenery was sacrificed. But that didn't really bother anyone as we, especially those parents with back-loads, busied ourselves physically and mentally with focused determination to reach our destination and avert any accidents like flinging our back-load off their seats as some of us occasionally lost our balance. Along the way, a father-and-son's conversation provided some momentary relief from the arduous task of paddling.
"Daddy?" the son called out to his father. He is, if I am not mistaken, 4 this year.
"Yes, son?" answered the father, panting from the paddling effort.
"Are you tired?" The son asked.
"Er, no." The father replied, and later told us that he felt a loving surge of warmth and pride for the son, who had shown such concern for him.
"Then why aren't you paddling fast? Paddle faster."
As we neared Chek Jawa, the smooth tar-covered road gave way to meandering, sloping paths covered with mud and stones. We had to get off our bikes and push along for quite a distance until we reached the entrance to Chek Jawa. It was along such medieval paths that I had second thoughts about renting a bicycle (albeit too late). It was really easier to trudge along, leaving the kids to do the same sulking, then to trudge along while pushing the bike with the back-load still mounted and enjoying every bit of such luxurious treatment. But luckily, in no time, we reached the entrance to Chek Jawa. This was where we parked our bikes in a somewhat haphazard manner, and continued on foot towards the wetland and the boardwalk. On this visit, we had the chance to let our eyes feast on more varieties of flora and fauna compared to our first visit.
For a start, a family of wild boars, Mummy and three babies, crossed the narrow pathway from one side to the other to check out the mess of parked bicycles. I was excited about the family's decision to pay a gentle visit to "human-infested" area of the island, despite a small amount of apprehension that they might attack us. I always have the image that wild boars would come charging at you especially when they felt that their lives or their babies' lives are threatened. When I saw the family, I was torn between walking far away from them (lest I get bitten or snout-butted on my rear) and getting closer to them to get a decent picture of this rare view. The family though both curious and wary of their surrounding, were rather gentle in their approach to view us, the humans. They kept close to each other and an amicable distance from us. They were pretty nifty in their pace, and I couldn't get much of a good picture out of the family. Below is the best shot that one member of the boar family could bear to bestow on me.
Having whiled away some time getting excited over the wild boar family, I hurried to join the rest of the group. They had freshened up slightly and were raring to go. Look at them!
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| "Over here, over here! Will you hurry up?!" |
Our first stop was the viewing tower. All 15 of us made our way to the top, where we made this our first and only pit-stop to replenish.
The view was still as breathtaking as it had presented itself on my first trip here. But the kids were rather preoccupied with something else to take in the view. I know one of mine was busy "foraging". The Tiny Man had worked up quite an appetite from being a die-hard supporter of his Mummy's cycling ability, cheering and encouraging me on unabashedly along the way with "妈咪加油！妈咪加油！", only breaking off at certain points along the medieval paths to race down the path with his sister and some of the older kids from our entourage. As a reward to their cooperation and efforts for coming such a long way, one of the mummies started handing out goodies to satisfy all the kiddies' sweet-tooth.
 |
| Tiny Man "foraging", a group of Mummies and Daddies at the back of the picture taking in the view and trying to revive themselves. |
Some of the parents were by now quite "shattered" by the exertions earlier on, so we decided to extend our pit-stop to revive ourselves adequately before embarking on the observatory part of our outing. The kids on the other hand, took the opportunity to socialize, silently that is. Standing across the stairways, I saw them at their relaxed self. Some seated comfortably, and others plastering themselves neatly on the hand-rail of the stairway. I couldn't resist it and took two pictures of our kids behaving candidly in a social gathering. I wonder if adults are able to achieve this. I suppose I would be stiff as a log in such occasions.
Having amply revived and ready for more, we moved out of the tower onto the boardwalk, eyes peeled, vocal utterances kept to the lowest decibel possible in order to catch sight of life in the mangrove swamp. Our efforts at such self-restraint was immediately rewarded with this.
 |
| Sorry, this shot is really blurred. |
Abundant as they were further down the boardwalk deeper into the mangrove, this particular mud-skipper was big and more accessible to our eyes. With its bulging black eyes, and gleaming brown looking scales, the mud-skipper seemed to have held its breath and tried with every ounce of effort to blend into its background of brownish mud and rotting leaves. It failed miserably for we had spotted it and were all crouching as near to it as we could without falling off the boardwalk into the muddy swamp, observing it. For the whole time we were at it, I thought how the mud-skipper would have thought of us. As much as we thought the creature queer in its structure, from its perspective, we probably were a rude and gibbering bunch of big and little oafs, some come equipped with a silver box protruding out of its eyes (that's me with my camera) ^_^
Having had enough of the mud-skipper, we moved along the boardwalk, hoping for more exotic finds, but life in the swamp is as unpredictable as ours. We could find nothing else (perhaps we did not look hard enough) apart from more mud-skippers, this particular fungus, which one of the mummies informed, is called the bracket fungus, and swamp crabs.
 |
| Bracket fungus, some teeny weeny minute flies were buzzing around it. Made an otherwise interesting find rather disconcerting. |
The matches were really hilarious to watch. Of course the match would involve two crabs, but there will always be some onlookers by the side, waving their disproportionately large claw excitedly as the match proceeded. It was as if the onlookers were cheering the participants, and I would love to imagine that there is some sort of betting system on each match. The participants clash their claws, and with rapid movement, tried to jostle the other party out of some imagined boundary and into submission. The rapid claw movements looked like some form of arm rubbing, massaging gesture that it appeared cute rather than menacing to the human onlookers. As the participants clash their claws and moved in their version of belligerence on the mud, the onlookers would be pursuing the match diligently, sometimes in circles until a winner is decided, with the loser retreating dismally into a hole. It was these matches that kept all of us entertained endlessly for a while on the Mangrove Boardwalk above the Seagrass Lagoon.
As we had allocated some of our time to sort out a confusion over outing date and time, we found ourselves running late for lunch and (I still feel apologetic about it) the organizers' next appointment. With that, we ended our exploration of the Chek Jawa Wetland from the boardwalk and retraced our footsteps back to the entrance of the wetland on another side road. This path was also interesting in terms of the cooling effect offered by the overhanging foliage. Among the leaves of a plant along the side road, a friend spotted this colorful little insect and busied himself snapping away at it with his camera. I joined in the snapping fun too.
We took a short breather at the entrance of the wetland, to answer nature's call and replenish on the liquid. Some of us poke our heads around House No. 1, an English cottage that was built in the 1930s by the then Chief Surveyor, Langdon Williams. It was meant to be his holiday retreat.
Between the outpost to answer nature's call (in other words, toilets) and the magnificent House No.1 were some shrubberies bearing beautifully pink flowers. It was relaxing to take in such a vibrant color if not for its awkward location.
Once we had briefly cleaned ourselves up and adequately watered, we made our way back to the jetty. The ride back was just as we rode towards Chek Jawa: lots of pushing to get up those challenging slopes and beyond the stretch of medieval muddy stony paths. The sense of relief when we finally made it to tar-covered roads was beyond description, at least for me. For the rest of the ride on the tar road, the Tiny Man resumed his fervent support for my cycling again, and we made it back happily, peppered with the occasional imbalance, unscathed, to bicycle rental shop.
Before leaving for mainland on our bum boat rides, we took two parting shots at the jetty. 8 adults and 7 kids ranging from as old as 12 to as young as 4, I think we fared pretty well for a bunch of city dwellers.
Back at mainland, those hungry kids charged hungrily to Charlie's Corner, with the adults who made it there first ensuring that we had a table long enough to take all 15 of us, in-separated. Charlie's Corner did, simply by joining up whatever tables they had laid out for the lunch crowd. We took one corner of the corridor and busied ourselves with our own activities: kids studying the menu intently, some of the adults making their ways over slowly, not the least bit worried about their possibly growling stomach, and I, snapping away happily at all the activities.
We made pretty fast time deciding on our orders and settled down to laugh over the confusion in the morning, marveled at the kids performance for the day and lament on how age had took its toll on our bodies. Some of us thought that we would probably be lying in bed for the next two days, nursing the sore joints and aching muscles back into function. In no time, our lunch was spread out before us as accurately as we had ordered. The parents inevitably leaped into action, portioning out the food for the kids and salvaging those morsels of greens that their offspring refused to have any contact with.
I had enjoyed myself thoroughly, even though it was the second time within the span of about a month. I am not sure about the rest, but for me at least, being able to paddle, push and heave the bikes along rocky paths together with our bundle of back-loads is a sign of health and youth (despite our youthfulness physically diminishing every day, bit by bit). To be able to enjoy a day not worrying about anything, but just getting to the destination, with whatever means you have chosen, taking in the surrounding, whatever that's been offered to you, is a gift that should not be taken for granted. As I paddled my bicycle, as I tried to keep my balance to prevent the Tiny Man from falling off and getting hurt, stopping many times along the way to regain my balance, I thought about the similarity this had with life in general. Moving along in my life, responsibilities either thrown at me or chosen by me, test and tribulations to throw me off the course. With focus and some pig-headed determination, I suppose I could make it to where I intend to be, and back, unscathed. Just as I had done with paddling, pushing and heaving the bike with the Tiny Man, lumbering and bumbling along bumpy roads, touch down on my destination and making our way back.
I wonder if the kids are ready for more visits to Pulau Ubin ^_^
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