Then we got wet.

I have to thank Tim Willis and Robert Thorgeirson for these great pictures. Yes, I know there are a bucket of photos here, but if you saw what we saw you'd want to share everything too.

We met some really nice people there. Fareed, Glen and Emi, all divemasters, were such a pleasure to dive with. Helen and I were very sad when they left. We also got to know Tim and Dess who vacation as dive professionals about a month or two out of the year. Yes, they have the lifestyle thing down. We look forward to seeing them in the future. There was also Prima and Senna and the kitchen staff who were lovely.

The front office of Uncle Chang’s in Semporna is as well run as any I’ve seen in Malaysia. Beth, a very professional and courteous representative, sat with us while we  figured out how long we were going to stay and the number of dives we wanted. The next morning at 7:30 we were off. Uncle Chang’s, like all the operators, require the customers to pay in advance - and now I understand why. Unfortunately, the actual resort was nothing like the front office. First of all, for what you pay, the rooms are…how should I say this – crap. The slightest gust of wind starts the corrugated roofs slapping like they will peel off becoming airborne food processors. The stilts supporting the shacks sway like maze ripples in the wind every time a boat passes, which is every 15-20 seconds. The worst part is somebody created a Frankenstein-like drum set out of buckets, tape, and rebar. I’ve seen these before in New York, and yes, I really do appreciate crafty ingenuity, but not when the staff are banging it right outside of my door until the wee hours of the morning. I swear the next time I hear “Wierdo” by Radiohead I’ll go mental. A few of  the Malaysian divemasters are fall-down drunk every night. When you dive with them you just pray they won’t get sick at 30 meters. To save my relationship with my loving readers I won’t even begin to describe the bathrooms which are located at the end of a hall that is lined with mattresses of the staff boys. If Uncle Chang has two daughters that he sends to boarding school in the UK then I would think that he could spend $50 to buy enough plywood to build a couple of walls for staff quarters. Ah, yes, the boys on the staff…well, someone needs to give them a swift kick in the butt and a few lessons in consideration and hospitality. As a matter of fact, as I sit writing this there is a crash next door followed by a scream. The poor girl who just checked in sat on her bed and it collapsed. So, as the hammering begins it barely masks the sound of some talentless moron banging aimlessly on the drums to no apparent rhythm.

On the other hand, not all the dudes were numskulls – Aboon and Daniel were as helpful as anyone could be. Also, we cannot thank Mary Jane, the ladies from the kitchen, and the dive shop girls (Prima and Senna) enough. Their lovely smiling faces and sweet jokes (mostly at our feeble attempts to speak Malaysian) made our stay tolerable. After staying there for 10 days and talking to many of the guests, the general conclusion is that Uncle Chang’s is one of those places that has so much potential, but they just dropped the ball. It's like this, you dive in one of the greatest places on earth, then you have a beer on the deck as the sun sets into the horizon, how bad can it be, right? I'm just saying that if you're over 25 (yes, I'm 47 and cranky...you got a problem with that?) and coming to this neck of the woods, or if you're a serious diver with the intention of staying on Mabul, I would suggest checking out Borneo Divers. They may be only a few ringgit more, but the experience will be exponentially better.

BUT, One day while trolling around the streets of Semporna I came across a little shop that had a sign in the window advertising a place called Singamata. I went in and struck up a conversation with Vicky. I really liked her no nonsense approach and I ended up dragging Helen in so we could book. It turns out Singamata is a resort built on a sandbar just off the coast. I have to admit, after our experience at Uncle Chang’s I was pretty ambivalent about any pay-up-front operation. Wow, I was wrong. It is a beautiful spacious place that serves great food and there were no friggin’ drums to drive us insane. Singamata is a tastefully designed resort that offered us calm serene quiet while being surrounded by water. They have a huge fish farm to supply restaurants that can't get fish anywhere else. We did 3 to 4 dives a day and our divemaster, Romie, really took good care of us. They can also arrange trips to Sipadan. But one really nice trip is to Mantabuan, the smallest inhabited island I've ever seen. And as you can see, there are no candy shops there. It ain't Sipadan, but it's a very nice dive site that hasn't been dynamite fished to oblivion. Singamata is the only resort that goes there.

Dynamite fishing is when you seal an explosive in a coke bottle so it’s nice and heavy and has just enough air for the fuse to burn. When underwater, the force of the detonation is deafening and pressure can scramble the insides of everything in the vicinity. The dead fish float to the surface and the fishermen collect them. Unfortunately, the blast not only kills a lot of fish, but the repercussion of the force also pulverizes any other kind of life in it’s vicinity including the coral. There is virtually no noise on the surface of the water, it’s peaceful as pie. As one would imagine, the practice of dynamite fishing is highly illegal. One day, Helen, another diver named Joe, and I were diving at about 17 meters just off the coast of an idyllic little island called Sabongkat when a deafening roar broke the underwater silence and a force shook us in one big throw. I aborted the dive immediately. Those of you who dive know that we couldn’t just shoot to the surface, we had to do a decompression stop first. We ascended to 5meters for 3 minutes and covered our ears in anticipation of another blast. Luckily, we were able to exit of the water without any further incident. I will say though, it was a the longest 3 damn minutes of my life. I don’t think it was until later that afternoon that we realized how lucky we were. I called the local World Wildlife Federation and they sent someone out immediately to talk to the locals. The sad things is that while diving around Mabul and Sipadan was amazing, the islands near Semporna were bleak. There were no wildlife. None. The place was completely fished out.

So, we spent a month diving in heaven. We saw some of the most beautiful and strange creatures I've ever seen. The complex yet serene landscape under the sea continues to baffle and amaze me. I wish everyone I know was a diver so they could see what we've seen.

Our next stop is the jungle, and I don't mean New York.

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