BACK IN ‘NAM
Presented the chance to visit a former warzone to look for fish, Stanislav Kislyuk takes a trip to Vietnam to explore a range of different biotopes.
Presented the chance to visit a former warzone to look for fish, Stanislav Kislyuk takes a trip to Vietnam to explore a range of different biotopes with labyrinth fish aplenty.
IT’S A typically cold European December which makes us migrate for warmer climes, and where better than to visit somewhere that our favourite fish come from?
First things first, we start this adventure by packing — air pumps, oxygen tubs and an esoteric selection of variously size nets. A local fish supplier kindly agreed to allow us to use his facilities and take care of shipping, should we return with a bounty. Then, after a sleepless night in the plane, we left the dull grey behind us to touch down in the sunnier surroundings of Ho-Chi-Minh-City, our base for excursions deep into Central Vietnam, Cambodia and the Island of Phu Quoc.
Ho-Chi-Minh-City, otherwise known as Saigon, is the second most important city in Vietnam. It’s a bustling Asian metropolis, where everything is in constant motion. As a first-time visitor I’m overwhelmed by the multitude of bicycles roaming the streets, and the myriad of exotic food smells carried on the warm sticky air.
Fascinating as that is, we are nevertheless happy to leave this chaos the following day and head north into the country. Our first stop is the small village of Phan Thiet, accompanied as it is by the scenic small stream of Mui Ne. The area is well known for beautiful red rock formations, but due to a periodically low water level it’s not inhabited by fish for the most of its length.
The last 100m or so of the stream is notably deeper, and close to a spring there is a pool of about 25m2, containing numerous trapped fishes — perhaps during the rainy season they can escape to spread further down the stream. Here we found Danio albolineatus, Poropuntius sp. and a small mystery barb species with several black spots over a silvery body.
Unfortunately, there were also some Nile tilapia and guppies — introduced and invasive species that blight resident fish — a pitiful but common sight in Vietnam.
To the falls
From this point we headed to Nha Trang, an uncharacteristically calm place with roads that were in fairly good shape; only the frequent symbols of the Communist Party of Vietnam reminded us of the country where we were. Here, our main point of interest was the Ba Ho waterfalls not far away from the town, steep waterfalls that can just about be climbed by those foolhardy enough to dare.
The Ba Ho waterfalls consist of three pools, which flit according to the seasons between either almost standing water, and wild and roaring powerful torrents. There are two ways to get to the top — a straightforward but flooded route and a more troublesome but dry one. The dry route is steep and treacherous, made all the worse by the absence of any safety ropes to cling to, but with all the camera gear we were carrying it was still the more useful one for us.
The dry season was only just beginning and the raging waters were still too powerful for us to enter at several places. But the rivers weren’t a write-off, and Channa gachua could be observed in the calmest areas. The water conductivity was 60μS/cm, pH 7.5 and the temperature 25.5°C.
The water was much clearer than in Mui Ne and so some underwater shots were possible. This particular biotope was mainly inhabited by Rasbora paviana and some Poropuntius sp., while loaches of Schistura sp. sneaked about between the boulders. The fish showed no fear in our presence, and in moments we were surrounded by tiny cyprinids grazing on our skin. The juvenile fish gathered in the shallows, where the adults were obviously spawning. Aside from the heavyset Poropuntius, the species here would make fine inhabitants for the home tank.
Past the warzone
Next day we continued our journey further the North. We spent a night in Da Nang before heading for the famous Cloudy Pass, also known as Hai Van Pass. This pass was a scene of intense fighting during the Vietnam War, being as it was then the border between the North and the South Republic. Nowadays bunkers can be visited, and the hills have been cleared of mines.
Cloudy Pass gets its name from its unpredictable weather patterns. During our stay it was rainy, and some neighbouring towns got flooded. Obviously, the dry season was delayed in this part of Vietnam and we went to bed unsure of what we would encounter the next day.
We woke to the sound of heavy rain. Foreigners are not allowed to drive cars, and our local driver was soon waiting for us at the entrance. Driving along the seaside road up the hill, we saw small creeks which were too insignificant to contain fish.
At the top, a few souvenir shops were open and I showed their owners photos of fish I knew were common to the area — two
Europeans who were looking for fish were a surprise for the locals. Suddenly our fortunes changed as our driver, who did not speak any English, noticed the fish in our photos. His face lit up: “Suoi!” he shouted and pointed at one of my pictures.
We jumped into the car and drove back almost to the foot of the hill before turning in the direction of a small cardboard sign with Tam Suoi (Vietnamese for ‘bathing source’) written on it. After a short ride along a mud road, we stopped at a river.
The river’s water was especially soft with a conductivity of just 30μS/cm, pH 7.5 and 24.5°C. A short part of the shore was set up for bathing, while the rest of the river was largely left untouched.
In the middle of the stream, we could see beautiful Opsariichthys and huge Poropuntius fighting the strong flow. Staying quiet and still, we observed Schistura and Rhinogobius moving swiftly among the stones. Sewellia sp. ‘spotted’ and Sewellia lineolata were also both present and peacefully grazing on bigger stones. The shallow water was full of Puntius semifasciolatus and a multitude of unidentified fry. Frequently we could spot Stiphodon males sitting on the top of the stones in slower parts of the river and trying to attract females by waving their bright yellow tails from side to side.
Interestingly Stiphodon (or any Sicydiinae) are not formally recorded as coming from Vietnam, and unfortunately we could not catch any of these masterful escape artists, but our sightings were confirmed by others who went to visit the same place later.
Emerged plants were firmly in the claws of different shrimp species. All in all, it was a very exciting ecosystem full of life. The biggest surprise was to find Black paradise fish, Macropodus spechti in this river with its strong current! Obviously not very impressed by the fast flow, this fish was investigating the substrate for food in its usual, calm manner of swimming.
Alas, it turns out that M. spechti can also be pretty swift — too swift for us to catch. But, as a big fan of predatory danionines I couldn’t resist collecting some juvenile Opsariichthys, before leaving for our next station in central Vietnam.
Blighted by orange
After eight hours driving through scenic stone landscapes mostly covered with evergreen rainforest, we were at our next stop of Kon Tum, the capital of the province with the same name.
The region is rarely visited by tourists and the main point of interest are the indigenous people of the area: the people of the tribes Bahnar and Mnong, both have a distinct style to architecture their houses. In some of the villages we were the first Europeans seen here in over a year and a crowd of children followed us with great excitement.
Our main target, the Chu Mom Rai National Park, was closed for military drills and so we headed to Mang Den instead, a destination enjoyed by Vietnamese from other regions seeking the relief of its relatively cool climate.
Through December the area barely has any visitors as it is rainy and the temperatures hover around 16-17°C. Sadly, the rivers were mostly empty and aside few tiny unidentified cyprinids we found nothing.
On our way back we stopped at a Bahnar village and we were happy to accept an invitation for a coffee in a local family’s home. It was a typical Bahnar house standing on stilts in the middle of rice field, which was already flooded. Our translator told the family about our fishing tour, which was received with a fair portion of amusement.
Bahnar live within a matriarchal family order, with women doing all the hard work and taking important family decisions, while men stay at home to care for the children. Before we had any idea what was happening, the female head of the home had set off with nets into the storm outside, and half an hour later she returned with a hollow bamboo filled with water, where she gathered fish that she had caught. We took a closer look: a few crabs, guppies and a number of very slim bodied Paradise fish, Macropodus opercularus. This was an interesting find, as M. opercularis were never recorded so far south. The question remains — was the fish naturally at home in Kon Tum, or was it introduced?
Our last stop in Central Vietnam was the Kon Ka Kinh National Park. This area was heavily devastated by Agent Orange, a military defoliant used during the Vietnam War, and we only found few salamander larvae and shrimps here. Only in a small cool (19°C) stream near Dak So Mei a few flying barbs of the Esomus genus were caught.
Warming up
We left the chill of Central Vietnam for Phu Quoc Island. Its convenient location in the Gulf of Thailand made it a perfect showcase project for the Vietnamese government. Just few years ago this island was barely developed and full of tropical rainforests, but nowadays it was turned to an ‘Asian Vegas’ and ever more casinos and hotels are built every year.
Such projects rarely leave the local wildlife untouched, and Phu Qouc is no exception. The local night market was full of freshly caught live sharks sold for fin soup, as well as rare sea snakes and other exotic creatures sold to rich tourists.
It was a pleasure to escape the ‘civilisation’ one last time by heading to the north of the island. Vung Bau Beach is remote and named after the river flowing here into the ocean.
All in all, it was a very exciting ecosystem full of life
Here we dipped our nets into the water and investigated about 80m of the river. It was brackish and many juvenile ocean fish were seeking refuge in the calm waters, away from the prying mouth of big predators.
Fallen leaves stained the water black, making a unique blackwater brackish biotope. We caught juvenile Lutjanus, Datnioides, and few more marine and euryhaline species. Brackish species were presented by Rice fish, Oryzias javanicus, Duncker’s garfish, Zenarchopterus dunckeri and predatory Butis gymnopomus in the embankment.
Two more species — Pseudogobius javanicus and Redigobius bikolanus — were found in shallow water under fallen leaves.
We took several of these species back home, where they turned out to be both easy to keep and interesting in aquaria, though very difficult to breed as their larval stages are particularly tiny. Large schools of Rasbora sp. and Danio albolineatus were roaming through the salty environment and seemed unbothered by it.
Bathing snakeheads
Our last stop of the journey was Tranh River in the central part of the island. The upper part is stony with a number of boulders and small waterfalls with water flowing swiftly, while the lower part is calmer with some marginal vegetation and few deep areas.
Though the dry season had just started the river was already dry in parts. At the source of the river there was a big deep pool containing a big group of Channa cf. gachua snakeheads reaching up to 30cm size. The snakeheads were actively investigating the stony bottom of the river, moving rapidly in short bursts and stopping again. From time to time two of them met and a brief fight for dominance took place, while others were busy ambushing danios out of the boulders.
Some of the shallower pools contained many nicely coloured Danio albolineatus and their juveniles in all sizes, and smaller Channa were taking the opportunity to sunbathe out in the open. In the lowest part small schools of Halfbeaks, Dermogenys pusillus, were arrowing through the water’s surface.
But the most valuable find was hiding in the water plants — Betta prima! While it might not be the most colourful fish, it’s certainly an acquired and coveted taste for the niche Betta fan. Of course, it was the species we most eagerly collected and took home with us.
An adult Nandus nebulosus was found in the same plants probably preying on Betta, however we chose to leave it in the Tranh River due to its obligatory diet of live fish. The water conditions at this location were very soft with low conductivity of 25 μS/cm, pH 5.3 and a temperature of 26°C.
A journey into the tropics is a wonderful experience for collector and observer alike, and while we had mixed fortunes, we will surely come back once the conditions allow it again!