This is a report of a privately organised dive charter trip.

This was a trip that started badly, with frustrating delays and deteriorating weather, yet progressively became better and better, until that incredible moment on the final day when we witnessed a school of more than two dozen Lesser Devil Rays* at Hayes Reef.

Many thanks to the organisers, Richie Samuel and Laurent Alessio, Mervyn Yap the divemaster, Captain Chris and the crew of the MV Baram for such an enjoyable trip.

Four of the eight divers on the trip celebrated special dives:-

                                                                                            Richie Samuel

                                                                                            Laurent Alessio

                                                                                            Lee San San        100th dive

                                                                                            Julian Chong         50th dive

                                                                                            Brendon Jones

                                                                                            Neil Hadfield       250th dive

                                                                                            Tony Fisher         100th dive    qualified as BSAC Sports Diver

                                                                                            John Elder

* The Lesser Devil Ray, Mobula hypostoma, comes from the same family, Mobulidae, as the famous Manta Ray, Manta birostris (also known as a Devil Ray). Both rays are characterised by the two flaps flanking the wide mouth. The Manta grows to a maximum width of about 6 metres, the Lesser Devil Ray to about 1.5 metres.

Saturday 2nd July: Piasau Jetty

After two delays from 10.30 pm to 11 pm, and then again to 11.30 pm, things looked grim. The MV Baram was nowhere to be seen. The appearance of the crew in a small RIB was encouraging, however, the indication that the vessel was "re-fuelling somewhere down the river" was less so. Facing mounting discontent, the Captain was persuaded to move the MV Baram closer to the jetty. While we waited for the vessel, Richie told us how the operators had failed to provide a spare compressor, there was no guarantee that the existing compressor would work, and without his intervention, the compressor air intake would have been mounted downwind of the funnel's exhaust! Richie had even considered cancelling the trip. I wondered what I was doing there!

Sunday 3rd July: Piasau Jetty

At about 1.30 am, the MV Baram appeared; it was actually faster than the RIB. Within 30 minutes, we loaded all our gear, and two filthy, heavy and unwieldy emergency cylinders of oxygen onto the vessel. The vessel itself was a pleasant surprise, having a spacious saloon, however, the air-conditioning inlet was also down-wind of the funnel exhaust (I still smell of diesel), and the only emergency exit from the cabins was underneath, and blocked by, a table. This was removed! I'm glad that I'm only 5' 6" tall, even then my legs were 6" too long for the bunks on board. Into a gathering storm we left the Miri River channel at 2.30 am.

The weather, contrary to the forecast, was poor, and getting worse. In fact for the first four days the seas ran between one and three metres with winds varying between force 4 to 7 depending on how many squalls were in the area at the time. The waterspout that greeted us on emerging from a dive at Louisa was far larger and closer than it appears on the picture!

Comus Reef:  N 5^o 02.180    E 112^o 55.950

Delayed by the seas, we didn't reach the closest of the South Luconia reefs until late in the morning. The 74 n.miles were covered at an average speed of under 7 knots. These reefs typically come to within half a dozen metres of the surface. This provides virtually no shelter from the swell, but drove the captain into an acute state of anxiety, since his previous trips to the area had been for fishing, not diving. Nevertheless, we anchored, and launched the RIB as a chase boat. This is absolutely essential when operating so far offshore.

This reef was dominated by fire corals and showed some fish bomb damage, but not as much as we had feared. It was, however, an excellent dive by any standards and we used the stern lift on the vessel to recover divers.   We managed to make two dives on this location and, although there were few pelagic fish around, one monstrous Great Barracuda was observed eyeing us balefully, the way that barracudas do.   Glass fish swarm around a coral 'bommie' on Comus Shoals.

The weather was still very squally, however, it was decided to make the long, 100 n.mile overnight voyage to Dogtooth Reef, a little known, dived, or even charted seamount, some 40 n.miles WNW of Louisa where we could always run for shelter.

Monday 4th July: 

Dogtooth Reef:  N 6^o 37.680    E 112^o 39.448

Once again, the weather, and another night of slow progress, saw us arrive in the mid-morning. Dogtooth Reef rises from more than a 1000 metres to within 20 m of the surface. Impressive maybe, but no shelter at all from the oceanic swell. Repeated attempts to anchor were unsuccessful suggesting (correctly), that a strong current was running. Eventually the anchor went in and held. The dinghy was then launched with considerable difficulty and, disaster, the engine was plunged underwater for a full 10 seconds before the winch operator got his UPs and DOWNs sorted out. Without a chase boat, the trip would be over. Amazingly, the crew, helped by a liberal supply of WD40, restarted the engine after an anxious 20 minutes.

For the second day in a row, the passage times had limited us to two dives a day; not what we had hoped. Force Majeur, however, in the shape of a nasty squall, blew the boat round by 180 degrees, and once again pulled the anchor off the reef. It was decided, therefore, to move onto Louisa Reef and seek shelter.

Tuesday 5th / Wednesday 6th July:

Louisa Reef:  N 6^o 19.881    E 113^o 14.704   (The reef is about 2 by 1 km, these coordinates refer to the best dive site on the southern wall)

Louisa Reef's latest victim, a wooden fishing boat just to the right of the obelisk.

After the first day, the captain elected not to anchor at night, but to move off the reef and drift before the winds. Unfortunately, this provoked such a horrible rolling of the boat that some dive cylinders broke loose at 1 am, and it was only quick action by Neil (whose cabin was below the cylinders), that prevented an expensive loss of gear. The MV Baram definitely needs a bottle rack for further diving trips.

The next day, at last, dawned clear and we saw our first glimpse of blue sky. It was, therefore, something of a surprise to surface from the second dive into another fierce squall with the largest (and closest) waterspout I've ever seen. It's not very helpful for the diver in the water to shout at those in the RIB "I say; have you seen the waterspout?" The inevitable reply is "YES; now get in the **** boat. We want to get out of here!" 

Lunch, as usual was another cold, bouncy affair consisting of chicken, boiled cabbage and rice for the fourth successive day, however, weather and chicken aside, no diver with a soul can remain unhappy at Louisa, the diving is just too good.

One of our major concerns, the compressor, functioned flawlessly, albeit slowly. The crew were very patient as they took 20 minutes to fill each bottle. The benefit of the slow fill, however, was a reliable 200 bar.

Strangely, although we were on the height of spring tides, there were virtually no currents at Louisa, and none thereafter.

After the fourth dive of the day, it was decided to head back towards Miri via Luconia proper, on which we had only made two out of the 12 dives so far. As we steamed off towards the south-west, I sat on the top deck and peered into the bridge at the radar. All I could see was a band of green that the ship was approaching. That meant not just rain, but heavy rain. Indeed, another squall erupted out of the night, and calm became force 7 in a matter of seconds. The ship heeled over under the onslaught and simply stayed canted over to port for the duration.

Thursday 7th July:

Seahorse Breakers:  N 5^o 29.916    E 112^o 34.993

The storm blew itself out in the night, and for the rest of the trip the sea was like a mill-pond, in fact after four days of squalls, the weather forecast came into effect. Better late than never! 

We got off to a bit of a slow start at Seahorse Breakers since they weren't where the chart said they were! The Seahorse Breakers are in fact, a group of reefs strung out over dozen of square miles. None break the surface, however, they come close enough (six metres or so) to cause even a low swell to break. Ultimately, we saw a lightening of the sea, and indeed breakers some miles to the north. The Captain, in a heightened state of nerves, crept slowly forward at about half a knot, visibly flinching when the seabed rose from 200 metres to 199 metres. I shouldn't criticise. The poor Captain will get no thanks for running his ship onto the reefs, and they DO rise up rapidly, sometimes vertically from the depths. Eventually, he stood off the paler water, and the RIB went to investigate, finally putting a shot onto the reef top in about 8 metres.

After two dives and a Manta Ray sighting, we decided to move the six miles to Hayes Reef. Even tinned sausages for breakfast and chicken and rice for lunch (again) couldn't dampen our spirits. The sun shone, the sea was flat, the trip was just getting better and better.

Hayes Reef:  N 5^o 22.575    E 112^o 37.685

The Captain had fished here before and was far more confident. The old PSAC coordinates were accurate as well, and we quickly found this small reef and anchored on top of it. 

We made a night dive, confident in the total lack of current. Again, a few rays were around, and the blasted area of the reef came alive with lionfish and the denizens of darkness.

Returning to the boat, even the cook had had a rush of blood to the head, and having caught a Rainbow Runner, cooked it for us in a spicy Filipino sauce. What a magical end to the trip.

It's odd how boats can go faster downhill. In fairness, the Captain had no longer a need to conserve fuel for our wanderings across the South China Sea, and averaged over 9 knots on the 100 mile leg across glassy seas back to Miri. 

Conclusion

Reference:

With the advent of GPS, there's no excuse for missing a wreck or a reef, yet it happens all the time. Web coordinates are notoriously unreliable. Even reputable sources, such as PSAC, may be misleading if the datum is not quoted. There's the potential for a 350 metre error here. Not a problem you might imagine when trying to find a large reef, however, as Seahorse Breakers proved, we passed within 250 metres of the old PSAC marks and were still in 500 metres of water! Always quote the datum, and the system of degrees, minutes, decimal minutes.

All coordinates are GPS degrees, minutes*decimal minutes, based on Timbalai 1948 datum.